Chapter Text
The alarm went off, but Katsuki was already awake.
He’d gotten used to waking up on his own.
With a sigh, he rolled over and slammed the clock quiet, then stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds before dragging himself out of bed. He pulled on his uniform with barely a thought, the motions so familiar they didn’t require effort. Shirt, blazer—his fingers worked through each step automatically.
When he went to grab a pair of socks from his drawer, he noticed his laundry basket was getting full.
Katsuki huffed, grabbing the whole thing and hauling it to the washing machine in the utility. He dumped everything in, added detergent, and started the cycle without a second thought.
It wasn’t a big deal. Just something that had to be done.
After that, he made his way to the kitchen.
The fridge was mostly stocked, at least. He pulled out a carton of eggs, cracked a couple into a pan, and waited as they sizzled. Toast popped up in the toaster, slightly burnt on one edge. He scraped off the worst of it with a butter knife and then sat down at the table.
There was no one across from him.
He took a bite of his eggs, chewing slowly. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t good, either. His dad made better eggs. His mom always put in stupid little extras, like pickled vegetables, saying stuff about “balanced meals” while he rolled his eyes.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t cook.
It just wasn’t the same.
The house was too quiet. No sounds from the bathroom, no half-heard conversations between his parents. Just the faint hum of the washing machine and the occasional click of the refrigerator.
Katsuki finished eating, rinsed his plate, and set it on the drying rack. Pulling out his phone, the screen lit up, the blank lockscreen staring up at him. He opened messages, group chat with Kariage and Dehisa pinned at the top, filled with nonsense from last night. Scrolling past that, his parents’ names sit lower down the list. The last message was from his mom, over a week ago.
[Old Hag] We’ll be out of the country this month. Don’t burn the house down.
Nothing after that. No follow-up. No “How’s school?” No “Did you eat?” Not even a half-assed “Call us if you need anything”. He locks the screen with an irritated tap of his thumb and shoves the phone into his pocket. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he needs them to check in.
As he was about to head to the door, he paused.
The Roomba.
Right.
He turned back, pressing the power button. The little machine beeped to life and started rolling across the floor, bumping into a chair before adjusting course.
Then, finally, he grabbed his bag and left for school.
-----
Slumping in his chair, Katsuki propped an elbow on his desk, resting his chin in his palm. Morning classes dragged on, the droning voice of their teacher blending into the background noise of shuffling papers and the occasional murmur from students who thought they were whispering quietly enough not to get caught.
He wasn’t really listening.
Not that he needed to, he could skim the textbook later and still ace whatever test they threw at him.
His eyes flicked to the side.
Kariage sat next to him, his head down, pen in hand, but he wasn’t writing anything. His notebook was open, but the last thing written was from twenty minutes ago.
Instead, he was just… staring.
Not at anything in particular, just at the edge of his desk, eyebrows slightly drawn together, his fingers curled loosely around his pen.
Katsuki knew that look.
It was the same one Kariage got when he thought no one was looking. When his mind was somewhere else, somewhere Katsuki wasn’t sure he wanted to ask about.
Tch.
Katsuki leaned back in his chair slightly, the front legs lifting off the ground just a little. He waited a few seconds, then—
Thump.
He dropped the chair legs down with a loud bang.
It startled Kariage out of his thoughts, just enough to make his head snap up. A few students turned their heads, and the teacher barely paused in his lecture, only sparing Katsuki a tired glance.
"If you’re done playing around, Bakugou, maybe you’d like to answer the question?"
Katsuki smirked. "Maybe if the question wasn’t boring as hell."
A few people snickered. The teacher sighed, shaking his head and moving on, clearly unwilling to waste energy scolding him. It wasn’t the first time Katsuki had disrupted class, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Next to him, Kariage huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he finally picked up his pen and started writing again.
Katsuki didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
Kariage was back. That was enough.
-----
School had ended, and the street was full of students on their way home. Katsuki walked slightly ahead of his friends, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight. Kariage was next to him, his bag slung over one shoulder, lazily flicking a lighter open and shut. Dehisa trailed behind, half-listening to some other kids' conversation, but mostly just watching the flow of people heading home.
Then someone ran their mouth.
"Lotta freaks come outta that family, huh?" The voice came from their right, a little too loud to be an accident, aimed just enough to be bait. "My brother knew yours, Ashikari. Says your parents are total headcases."
Kariage’s smirk barely wavered, but his fingers curled tight around the lighter. He shifted, turning toward the guy with that easy, undecipherable expression of his, like he was deciding whether or not to bother.
Katsuki didn’t give him the chance.
He turned sharply, closing the distance before the guy even had time to process it. The hit landed fast and brutal, a hard right hook straight to his jaw. The guy staggered back, nearly knocking over another student before catching himself.
A few people turned at the commotion, half-interested. No one intervened.
The guy clutched his face, blinking like he couldn't believe what just happened. “The hell—?”
Kariage let out a breath through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. “Damn, man,” he muttered, watching the guy stumble. “Didn’t even let me get started.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Didn’t need to.” He grabbed the front of the guy’s blazer and yanked him forward just to shove him back again. “Say that shit again.”
Silence. The guy’s gaze darted around, looking for backup that wasn’t coming. He hesitated, then muttered something under his breath before shoving Katsuki’s hand off and stumbling back.
Dehisa let out a low whistle. “Ain’t even gonna let him finish his sentence, huh?”
Huffing a quiet laugh, Kariage flicked his lighter open again. “Guess I’ll just stand back and wait next time.”
Katsuki didn’t look at him, just wiped the back of his hand against his gakuran. “Do what you want.” But there was the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
And that was that. The air shifted, interest fading as quickly as it sparked. The guy Katsuki hit rubbed his jaw but didn’t say anything else, weakly turning and walking off.
-----
Katsuki’s house was big, especially compared to the cramped apartments most of their friends lived in. It was also empty , which was exactly why they always ended up here.
No parents to bug them. No one to tell them to be quiet.
Always them, some snacks, and whatever dumb thing they decided to waste the afternoon on.
Dehisa was sprawled on the floor, legs stretched out in the middle of the living room like he was trying to take up as much space as physically possible. Kariage sat on the sofa next to Katsuki, absentmindedly messing with the sleeve of his gakuran.
Katsuki glanced over and frowned.
There was a tear near the cuff of Kariage’s uniform, small, but noticeable. The threads had started to fray, the edges uneven like it had been caught on something and pulled.
"Tch," Katsuki clicked his tongue. "Oi, lemme see that."
Kariage blinked at him. "Huh?"
Katsuki didn’t wait for permission. He just grabbed Kariage’s sleeve, inspecting the damage up close. It wasn’t bad , but if he left it like this, it’d only get worse.
"You got a sewin’ kit?" Kariage asked dryly, amused.
"Yeah. What, you think my clothes just fix themselves?" Katsuki shot back, already pushing himself off the couch.
Dehisa propped himself up on his elbows, watching Katsuki disappear into the hallway. "Katsuki, I swear, if you pull out a whole-ass sewing machine, I’m gonna start thinking you live a double life."
"Shut up, dumbass," Katsuki called from the other room. A minute later, he came back, a small sewing kit in hand.
Kariage raised an eyebrow. "You actually—?"
Katsuki sat back down and flipped open the kit, threading a needle with practiced ease. "Gimme your damn sleeve."
Kariage hesitated, then held out his arm. Katsuki took it, carefully lining up the torn fabric before starting to stitch.
Dehisa immediately saw an opportunity.
"Wow," he grinned, watching Katsuki work. "You’re really good at that. Man, you’re gonna make someone a great housewife someday."
Katsuki stabbed the needle through the fabric just a little too hard.
"Say that again, and I’ll break your fingers."
Dehisa cackled, rolling onto his side. "Nah, nah, for real! You’re, like, weirdly good at this. How many times you patch up your own stuff?"
Katsuki didn’t answer.
Instead, he knotted the last stitch, biting off the excess thread before flicking the sleeve back at Kariage.
"Done. Don’t tear it again, dumbass."
Kariage flexed his wrist, testing the stitches. "Damn. That’s actually—"
" RAH! "
Katsuki barely had time to react before Dehisa launched himself off the floor, tackling him onto the couch.
" The housewife strikes back! "
"GET OFF ME, SHITHEAD!"
Kariage, traitor that he was , started laughing . Then, before Katsuki could shove Dehisa off, Kariage joined in , grabbing Katsuki’s arm and trying to wrestle him down.
" You wanna go too?! " Katsuki growled, twisting to grab Kariage by the waist and yanking him sideways. They crashed onto the sofa in a heap, laughing breathlessly as they fought to pin each other down.
With the racket filling the house, it managed to not feel so empty.
-----
Saturdays were Katsuki’s days.
No school, no alarms, no people. Just him, his house, and silence .
Or at least, that was the plan—until he heard a thud outside his window.
Katsuki turned just in time to see a shadow moving past the glass, then the quiet click of the latch giving way.
Then, with all the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, Kariage hauled himself over the windowsill and landed in a crouch, one knee bent, the other foot steady against the floor.
He straightened up like someone who hadn’t just broken in.
" Yo, " Kariage grinned, dusting himself off. " What’s up, princess? "
Katsuki scowled. "Use the damn door."
"Where’s the fun in that ? " Kariage stepped further inside, stretching his arms over his head. "Thought you’d be bored without me, so I graced ya with my presence . "
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but he didn’t tell him to leave.
Kariage flopped onto the bed like he owned the place, stretching out with a lazy sprawl. His movements were loose, his expression as easygoing as ever. His grin never faltered.
But something was off.
Katsuki saw it the second he got closer.
The way Kariage was holding himself. The slight stiffness in his movements. The way his left sleeve was pushed down just a little lower than usual, like he didn’t want to move it too much.
Katsuki didn’t say anything at first. He just walked over, grabbed the sleeve, and pushed it up.
Kariage flinched.
And there it was.
A fresh bruise, dark and ugly, blooming across his upper arm.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Kariage pulled back first, clicking his tongue. " Damn, man. Buy me dinner first."
Katsuki didn’t laugh.
Didn’t react at all, really, save for his grip tightening around Kariage’s sleeve
He just turned, grabbed his first-aid kit from the drawer, and shoved it into Kariage’s lap. " Take off your jacket . "
Kariage hesitated.
"It’s just a bruise, bro," he said lightly, still playing it off like it was nothing . "You act like I got stabbed or something—"
" Take it off. "
The words weren’t loud.
But something in Katsuki’s voice made Kariage stop.
After a beat, Kariage sighed. "God, you’re stubborn," he muttered, before finally shrugging the jacket off. His breath hitched slightly when he moved his arm, but he covered it quickly with a smirk. "Y’know, if you wanted me to strip, you coulda just asked."
Katsuki smacked him on the head.
Not hard.
Not enough to actually hurt .
Just enough to make him shut up.
"Ow," Kariage muttered, rubbing his scalp. "Abuse."
Katsuki sat down beside him, flipping open the first-aid kit. The cold pack was at the bottom, pressed against the bandages. He pulled it out, smacked it once against his palm, then handed it over.
Kariage didn’t take it.
Katsuki huffed, then reached over and pressed the pack against the bruise himself.
Kariage definitely flinched that time.
"Shit, man—"
"Hold still."
Kariage shut up again.
He didn’t have to ask questions or demand explanations. He knew who it was, and Kariage knew he knew.
Neither of them brought it up.
He just worked.
Careful hands. Focused movements.
Kariage didn’t look at him.
He stared at the floor instead, something unreadable flickering across his face. His usual grin was still there, but it wasn’t quite the same.
"Y’know," he muttered after a minute, voice a little softer, "you’re pretty good at this. Maybe Dehisa’s onto somethin’ with the whole housewife thing."
Katsuki didn’t even look up. "Shut up."
Kariage chuckled, but there was something off in the sound.
Something quiet.
Something that made Katsuki’s grip tighten just a little as he finished the bandages.
Neither of them said anything else.
But as Kariage sat there, letting Katsuki take care of him for once, and finally allowing himself lean back, just a little, against Katsuki’s shoulder.
And Katsuki didn’t move away.