Work Text:
1.
Izuku’s birthday is coming up. Katsuki knows this because he knows everything about Izuku; each and every detail about him is etched with permanent ink into the back of Katsuki’s mind. So, when the calendar hits July first, Katsuki is already well on his way towards planning what he’s going to do for Izuku’s birthday.
Here’s the thing: it’s Izuku’s first birthday since Katsuki gave him the suit. Izuku had cried, and then rejected Katsuki’s agency offer, and then clarified it was just because he wasn’t ready to be a full time pro hero yet, but that he did want to join Katsuki’s agency eventually.. Since then Izuku has finally gotten back onto the field, and Katsuki’s ranking skyrocketed simply because of how happy he’s been having Izuku back by his side.
Here’s the other thing: Katsuki still wants Izuku to be his hero partner. He still holds hope that someday it may happen. But even more than that, Katsuki wants Izuku to be his partner.
His partner in everything, in life and in love. Katsuki is a weak man in love, and he’s been pining to a sickening extent. Whenever Izuku gives Katsuki that big trademark Hero Deku smile, whether they’re in the middle of a hero fight or just at Katsuki’s apartment where Deku grades papers while Katsuki cooks dinner, it never fails to make Katsuki’s heart start beating two times faster, and he has to simply pray that his heart monitor won’t go beeping like the siren of an ambulance.
But somehow, and Katsuki hasn’t decided if this is a blessing or a curse, Izuku still hasn’t managed to catch on. Not when Katsuki comes over as many nights as he can to make Izuku dinner, or at the very least bring him some takeout, because he knows Izuku isn’t eating properly. Not when Katsuki spent eight years on a suit for him, and not even when Katsuki’s ranking jumped by ten spots the minute Izuku came back on the field. In Katsuki’s mind, these are all pretty obvious ways to know that somebody is in love with you, but Izuku has always had a fairly extreme case of obliviousness. Katsuki and Ochako had chatted about it once, how Izuku spent their entire first year of high school having not an inkling of Ochako’s crush on him. Of course, that’s long gone now, and Ochako is happy in her own relationship. Unlike Katsuki, who is still yearning for the same man he loved at sixteen.
But this year, Katsuki’s finally finished with it. He wants Izuku to be his, and it’s not like Izuku’s been dating, or even looking to date in the past eight years, so Katsuki’s sure his chances must be at least somewhat in the realm of possibility. At the very least, he doesn’t have any rivals to look out for. So now, with a week until Izuku’s birthday, Katsuki has solidified his plans, bought his gifts, and decided to woo Izuku with as many romantic gestures as possible in the days leading up to Izuku’s birthday, during which Katsuki plans to finally confess. Hopefully that’s something Izuku will also view as a gift.
Unfortunately, when it comes to Izuku, Katsuki also has the general demeanor and attitude of a grade–A teenage girl with a crush, and he’s barely even capable of executing the first part of his plan. He has to call Mina for moral support on the way to Mirio’s agency, where Deku has been helping out part–time with a mission for the last few weeks. Normally Katsuki might have called Kirishima for advice, but he figured he needed someone who was a bit more romantically competent this time around.
“You’ll be fine, Katsuki,” Mina tells him as Katsuki reaches the agency and tells her that he has to hang up. “Izuku will love anything you give him, no matter what. What you’re doing is incredibly sweet, how could anyone not fall in love with you after all this?”
“You wouldn’t,” Katsuki points out. Mina just cackles.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Mina says. “I wouldn’t even bother trying, not against the competition I’d have. I’d be wiped out before I even got a fair chance.”
“The hell does that mean?” Katsuki barks over the phone, but Mina, the menace that she is, keeps laughing and hangs up on him. Katsuki shoves his phone into his pocket and stomps up to the entrance of Mirio’s agency, where he’s faced with his next predicament. Standing in front of the doors, waffling as he decides whether or not to push them open.
And then, as if the universe wants to play tricks on him, the door is pushed open by somebody else from the inside. Katsuki curses; he is about to be forced to stand face to face with somebody who’s probably going to take a picture and post this onto their social media: the number five hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, standing in front of Hero Deku’s current place of work with a bouquet of flowers.
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki’s head snaps up from where he was staring at the ground and willing himself to disappear. Standing right in front of him is probably the only person who wouldn't take a picture of Katsuki’s embarrassing demeanor, and the very person Katsuki was hoping to speak to. Izuku stands in front of him, one hand letting go of the door as it closes softly behind them, wearing his new hero suit, the one Katsuki helped make for him. Izuku’s green curls fluff up slightly, swaying side to side in the slight breeze, and his big green eyes widen with surprise and sparkle with excitement at Katsuki’s presence, his pupils dilating as his mouth spreads into a grin so big it should split his cheeks apart. Katsuki can only stare in quiet awe, silently cursing as he feels a rush of pink spreading up the back of his neck.
“Um,” Katsuki clears his throat. “Hey, Izuku.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku says again, much more brightly this time, and takes multiple steps forward until he’s leaning far too close into Katsuki’s personal space to be platonic. They don’t really hug, but they’re still fairly tactile, and Izuku places one hand on Katsuki’s arm and squeezes as he continues to smile at him like they’re five years old and Katsuki’s the fucking ice cream truck. “It’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”
“You just saw me yesterday,” Katsuki grumbles, but he’s secretly pleased that Izuku’s so happy to see him. He tries not to let it show on his face, but he’s not sure it works.
“So?” Izuku says, tilting his head slightly in that offensively cute way Katsuki can’t handle. “I always miss you when you’re not with me, Kacchan, so I’m always happy to see you!”
Katsuki’s honestly pretty speechless at that, and while he’s trying to formulate an answer that’s slightly more socially acceptable than I love you, Izuku’s gaze finally lands on what’s in Katsuki’s hands. Katsuki watches in real time as Izuku’s eyes darken, and he frowns at the bouquet of flowers. Katsuki picked them out perfectly, orange camellias on green stems with abundant leaves, an even blend of both their colors. It’s so clearly a bouquet meant for Izuku, but Izuku’s free arm still twitches at his side, and his expression turns upset.
“Who are those for?” Izuku’s voice comes out clipped, and Katsuki startles at the harshness in it. Does Izuku really think Katsuki would ever buy flowers for anyone else?
“You, dumbass,” Katsuki says, pushing the bouquet into Izuku’s chest and deciding to ignore Izuku’s sudden change in mood in favor of some lightheartedness. “I saw ‘em this morning on the way to work and thought you might like them.”
This, of course, is a lie. Katsuki spent hours upon hours on various flower shop websites picking out the best bouquet he could find.
Something incredible happens, after that. Izuku’s eyes turn bright again, his smile returning in full force, and he squeezes Katsuki’s arm even tighter, somehow bullying his way even closer to Katsuki, gripping the flowers tightly with his free hand. Izuku’s face is craned up just the slightest bit to look clearly into Katsuki’s eyes, and butterflies swoop in his stomach. Izuku is at just the right distance for Kastuki to lean in and kiss him.
He doesn’t, of course. And Izuku, too oblivious to realize that nothing about this gesture is platonic, just grins. “Thank you so much, Kacchan! I love them!”
“Uh,” Katsuki says eloquently. “Yeah.”
“Wow, these are so beautiful,” Izuku continues, now putting all of his attention onto the flowers. “This orange is so petty, it’s just like Kacchan’s hero costume! I’m gonna go put this in a vase in my office, do you—” Izuku looks back at Katsuki then, something imploring in his eyes that Katsuki can’t quite read. “Do you want to come up with me?”
Katsuki can’t come up with him. Katsuki is on his lunch break, and he needs to get back to his agency before it ends. In order to do that, because he spent so much time being a coward at the door, Katsuki has to leave now. But Izuku is still staring up at him, absentmindedly stroking the petals of one of the flowers, and Katsuki just can’t say no.
“Sure,” Katsuki says, and it’s a really good thing that he’s his own boss.
“Yay!” Izuku replies, and links his arm around Kacchan’s like they did when they were kids. Katsuki, the only one with a free hand left, opens the door, and they walk inside. Izuku mutters to himself on the elevator ride up, holding the bouquet fondly and standing so close to Katsuki that their shoulders have practically fused into one.
Katsuki zones out because of their close proximity, but right before the elevator opens Katsuki does manage to catch the tail end of Izuku’s muttering:
“Kacchan’s the best…”
Katsuki allows himself a small, private smile. Step one complete.
2.
Izuku is still talking about the flowers the next day. He’s flooding Katsuki’s phone with texts about how pretty they look, sitting in a vase in his office by the window. He has a little custom–made unofficial Dynamight plushie that he props against the vase, and the plushie sits there cutely, taunting Katsuki in every picture Izuku sends. Katsuki’s not sure why he’s so obsessed with a simple bouquet of flowers, especially when it’s going to die in a few days, but Izuku’s always been the type of person who likes cliche romantic gifts, and Katsuki’s never going to be someone who denies him of that simple pleasure.
Two days after the flowers, Katsuki has the next gift finalized and ready. This one is pretty romantic, if Katsuki says so himself. When he’d shown it to Todoroki, who knows nothing about romance, even he had agreed. So Katsuki’s feeling pretty confident when he meets Izuku in the teacher’s parking lot of U.A. high school, picking Izuku up on their way to Katsuki’s agency to do a bit of after–hours hero work. Izuku rushes down the stairs in his usual disheveled way, briefcase banging against his leg as he almost trips in his haste to get to Katsuki. Izuku finally rushes up to stand right in front of him, once again giving less than two inches of personal space between them, grinning widely up at Katsuki.
“Hi, Kacchan!” Izuku says. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” Katsuki shrugs. “Got into one big fight, but I won.”
“I saw!” Izuku says excitedly. “It was playing in the break room during lunch! You didn’t even get a scratch on you, Kacchan! You won so quickly! Of course you did, though, you’re not the number five hero for nothing! Kacchan really is amazing…”
Katsuki doesn’t think he can handle it anymore, not after hearing twenty–five year old Izuku say the same words in the same awestruck tone he had when he was five.
“Izuku, I got something for you.”
That shuts Izuku up, and he blushes a little, pink blossoming under his freckles. “Really? But you just got me the flowers?”
“In case your dumb ass didn’t realize,” Katsuki says. “It’s your birthday soon. I’m just giving some of your gifts early.”
“Gifts?” Izuku emphasizes the plural, and sounds personally offended at the idea. “Kacchan, you shouldn’t be getting me multiple gifts! You don’t need to do that, really!”
Katsuki crosses his arms. “You got me one gift every day of the week leading up to my birthday. At least I have the decency to wait one full day between mine.”
“Well—” Izuku stammers, trying to come up with a valid defense. “That's different, okay? I have to give you lots of things for your birthday so I can show you how much I appreciate you! You’re the most important person to me. You’re—you’re Kacchan!”
“Okay?” Katsuki doesn’t really see his point. “And you’re Izuku.”
“Oh,” Katsuki watches as Izuku processes that. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”
“No,” Katsuki agrees. “You can’t. Now let me give you your gift.”
Katsuki reaches into his pocket for his phone, and unlocks it before pulling up a specific app. When he has everything ready to go, he hands it over to Izuku. Izuku takes his phone and looks at the screen, frowning. What’s this?”
“It’s a button that will add an automatic upgrade to your suit,” Katsuki responds. “I’ve been working on it since I gave you the suit, since it’s a non–essential feature I wanted to add once you got used to the first version. It’s nothing special, I just wanted you to have it.”
Izuku’s eyes fill with tears, and Katsuki almost rolls his eyes at how endearingly predictable he is. “Kacchan!” Izuku says, voice wobbling. “That’s so sweet!”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I don’t care! It’s from Kacchan, so I know it’ll be amazing and thoughtful.”
“Damn right,” Katsuki says. He can’t argue with that, either.
Izuku presses the button on the app, and thanks to high–speed technology, the update only takes a couple of minutes to be fully installed. It’s only then that Izuku finally looks around the parking lot, doing a few confused double takes. “Where’s your car?”
“I flew here,” Katsuki smirks. “And we’re both going back in our suits, so you can test out the new updates. You know how close my agency is to U.A.”
Something Katsuki had done on purpose.
“Oh, that sounds great!” Izuku says. He leaves for a moment to go change in the staff bathrooms, and Katsuki stands there waiting like an idiot, praying that Izuku will like the new updates. Izuku, who’s always been good at changing fast due to being bullied in middle school (although thankfully Katsuki was never the one putting Izuku through those sorts of cheap tricks), is able to get out of the bathroom in less than five minutes, fully decked out in his hero suit.
The suit never fails to stop Katsuki in his tracks, because Izuku looks so beautiful in it. When he’s head to toe in his armor, he looks so powerful and heroic, the way he always should look. It fills Katsuki with pride to see Izuku like that, and that feeling only intensifies whenever he watches Izuku on the field.
“Ready to go?” Katsuki asks. Izuku nods, and they take off flying. When they’re in the air, Katsuki using his explosions and Izuku using his makeshift float, Katsuki leans over and yells into Izuku’s ear.
“Press the button on your right arm,” Katsuki says. That button is normally used to spit out the safety or low battery messages, but Katsuki’s new update added something else to it. This time, when Izuku presses the button, Katsuki can’t hear it, but he knows exactly what’s playing through Izuku’s earpiece.
“Great job against that villain, Hero Deku. Keep fighting. You’ve got this.”
Recording those voice messages was one of the most embarrassing things Katsuki has ever done, but he knew it would be worth it for this moment. As more and more of Katsuki’s encouraging messages fill Izuku’s ears, Katsuki watches as Izuku’s smile grows, his hand reaching up to cover his mouth in shock, and he turns to Katsuki with glittering eyes.
“Kacchan, you—” Izuku cuts himself off and starts again. “You…recorded yourself? Saying all these nice things, for me to hear while I’m fighting?”
“To remind you you’re still a hero,” Katsuki says, and this would be a pretty emotional conversation if not for the comical aspect of them yelling over the wind to hear each other. Katsuki’s grateful for that mood lightener. “And to help you keep going.”
“Oh, wow,” Izuku presses the button to shut off the earpiece, and turns his full attention to Katsuki. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten, Kacchan. You know how you’re my image of victory, and whenever I need to win I always imagine your voice in my head, and now I actually have it! I can’t believe you did this for me, Kacchan, thank you so much!”
“Of course, Izuku,” Katsuki says, and doesn’t add the rest. I’d do anything for you.
And once again, Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing when Izuku slings one casual arm around Katsuki’s shoulder, pulling him in for a quick squeeze of a side–hug, something so clearly platonic, before letting go and flying ahead of Katsuki, a “Race you!” floating into the air behind them. Katsuki powers up his explosions and takes off, wondering just how oblivious one person can be. If this wasn’t a clear sign to Izuku that he wants them to hug and kiss and get married on a seaside cliff, then what possibly could be?
Still, Katsuki doesn’t regret giving Izuku the gift. No, he regrets it an hour later when they’re caught in a villain fight while working together, and Katsuki can tell every time Izuku gets a voice message in his earpiece because he turns to grin at Katsuki while landing a kick on the villain, and then yells out a compliment of his own. To make it even, he’d said.
Unfortunately, Izuku yelling out, “Do your best! Kacchan’s amazing! Give him your most powerful AP Shot!” in the middle of a fight has the opposite effect on Katsuki that it did on Izuku. Instead of making him more confident, Katsuki somehow manages to trip in midair, and Izuku has to rush in and save him, which ends with Izuku bridal–carrying Katsuki off of the scene because he sprained his ankle.
“Put me down,” Katsuki begs, but Izuku just shakes his head.
“Let me take care of you!” Izuku replies, pouting, and Katsuki goes limp in his arms, pretending to be dead weight to make it harder for Izuku to carry him. He deserves it, after saying something like that and pretending it means nothing.
Like Katsuki’s been saying. Completely oblivious.
3.
Four days before Izuku’s birthday, Katsuki finds himself in the hospital. It’s nothing major, just another villain fight gone wrong, which involved Katsuki fighting while also trying to single-handedly shield a family of four. The resulting stress was a little hard on his heart, and the paramedics had sent Katsuki to the hospital to get some tests run and make sure his heart is okay, just in case. So, essentially, nothing is even wrong with him.
Despite this, Katsuki hears Izuku’s thundering footsteps coming down the hallway with an urgency that really should only be reserved for near–death experiences.
“I need to see Kacchan.” Katsuki can hear Izuku from the other side of the closed door, sounding unnecessarily worried for this situation. “I was told this is his room?”
Katsuki can tell, without seeing her, that his nurse is rolling her eyes in exasperation. She’s been in and out of the room giving Katsuki the tests, and she’s been pretty confident that he’s fine and just needs a bit of rest, hence his discharge being tomorrow and not today.
“Katsuki Bakugou?” Katsuki hears her say. Izuku has a bad habit of forgetting that Kacchan isn’t Katsuki’s real, legal name. “Yes, he’s right in there. Visiting hours are almost over, though, would you prefer to come back later in the evening when they re-open?”
Katsuki scoffs. As if that would ever stop Izuku. He’d sleep here overnight if he could.
Sure enough, Izuku goes, “that’s okay! I’ll be quick,” like a fucking liar. Not even a second later the door to Katsuki’s hospital room is flying open, and Izuku barges in, still in his suit and tie, which means he came here straight from work, and walks over to Katsuki’s bed like he owns the place, plopping down on the chair by his bedside.
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Did you leave a class to come here?”
“Don’t be silly,” Izuku says. “I finished up class as quickly as I could and then left.”
“It’s the middle of the school day.”
“I called in a sub.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t care if you’re fine,” Izuku says stubbornly, and reaches out to grab Katsuki’s hand. “When it comes to your heart, I will always be here. Always.”
Katsuki gets it. He knows Izuku’s still a bit scarred from being “too late” to Katsuki’s actual death all those years ago, not that Katsuki has ever held a grudge. Izuku had a lot going on, what with saving the world and destroying All For One, so Katsuki’s tried to tell him time and time again that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to keep trying to make up for something that wasn’t even his fault. Though that’s never deterred Izuku, who has an app connected to Katsuki’s heart monitor wristband on his phone and used to visit Katsuki’s apartment once a week “just in case,” and then sit there and watch him sleep.
Katsuki doesn’t expect any less now, and is wholly unsurprised when Izuku reaches into his fuckass yellow backpack and brings out a bunch of Katsuki’s favorite snacks, a bottle of Katsuki’s favorite electrolyte drink, and a weighted blanket that Katsuki immediately recognizes as Uraraka’s twentieth birthday gift to him, meaning that Izuku had abused his spare key privilege to get it from Katsuki’s apartment. Izuku doesn’t hesitate before draping the blanket around Katsuki, practically tucking him in, and then leaning back in his seat with a proud look on his face as he opens one of the bags of chips.
“Izuku,” Katsuki says flatly, trying to look as disgruntled as he can while tucked inside of a pink polka-dotted weighted blanket. “I’m fine .”
“I don’t care,” Izuku says again. “Now drink your drink and eat your chips. I remember these being your favorite when we were kids, so no complaining.”
Izuku holds out the bag of chips and the drink, and Katsuki reaches out to take them both. Although he’s completely fine, he does appreciate Izuku being here. His presence brightens up the hospital and makes his stay a little less boring. Katsuki’s always glad to have Izuku around, especially when Izuku is someone who knows him so well, so deeply.
“Hey,” Katsuki says, reaching for a box sitting next to him on the bed. “Speaking of when we were kids, I’ve got another gift for you. Kirishima dropped it off earlier.”
Izuku frowns. “Kirishima was here earlier?”
“Yeah, I asked him to bring this by, and he wanted to visit.” Katsuki shrugs. “You can’t always be the first one to get to my bedside, Izuku.”
“Hmm.” Izuku pouts. “I should be, though.”
“It’s not a competition.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and hands over the box, and the moment Izuku remembers what the box is for, his whole demeanor changes.
“Another gift, Kacchan? While you’re injured?”
“Not injured—”
“Shhh. Stop giving me gifts, Kacchan. It’s too much. I’ll cry.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
Izuku sticks his tongue out at Katsuki as he tears off the plastic wrap around the box, and Katsuki feels his entire body warm at the familiarity of their banter. Izuku throws the plastic wrap into a nearby trash can and opens the box, gasping when he sees what’s inside. Izuku carefully takes out the picture frame, holding it as if it carries all the secrets to the universe, and, of course, his eyes fill with tears at seeing the picture inside.
It’s a picture Masaru had taken of them when they were kids, as he’d always been the family photographer, a hobby Izuku no doubt picked up from him. They’d been playing heroes in Katsuki’s backyard in matching All Might onesies, and Masaru had caught them in a brief moment of breaking character. Izuku had trapped Katsuki in a big hug, and little Katsuki was staring at the camera in shock at being squeezed so affectionately. Meanwhile Izuku’s eyes were crinkled closed and his smile was wide. Still, despite Katsuki’s confusion, his arms were wrapped just as tight around Izuku, as well.
“Aw, Kacchan,” Izuku sniffles. “This picture is so cute! Where did you find it?”
“Ma unearthed it from the attic the other day,” Katsuki says. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it!” Izuku says, holding the picture to the side so both he and Katsuki can see it. Izuku runs one finger over little Katsuki’s hair. “You were so adorable, Kacchan. My favorite.”
“I wonder if this was before or after you were diagnosed quirkless,” Katsuki muses. Izuku knows what he’s thinking, was this before or after everything changed for them? All Izuku does in response is squeeze Katsuki’s hand and laugh, shaking his head.
“Doesn’t matter. You were always my favorite, Kacchan. Still are. My favorite person.”
Katsuki feels an embarrassing rush of red creep up his neck. “Shut up.”
“And I’m your favorite, too right?” Izuku probes. “Riiiight?”
“No,” Katsuki replies. “I got you all these gifts because you’re a mild acquaintance.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku protests, but still scoots his chair closer to wrap Katsuki into another hug, albeit much gentler than the one in the photo, and rests his cheek on top of Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki hugs him back lightly, letting his head fall on Izuku’s shoulder.
“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku tells him. “You’re so special to me.”
Something in Katsuki aches hearing those words. Soon enough, he hopes, Izuku will mean it in a completely different context. Katsuki isn’t too worried, though. With Izuku’s arms around him like this, he’s pretty certain Izuku feels the same way.
4.
Katsuki’s fourth gift for Izuku comes two days before his birthday, and made Kaminari laugh at him. Katsuki resolutely chose to ignore it, because even though any normal person would probably call Katsuki insane for giving this type of gift to a “friend,” Katsuki’s whole angle here is that he wants to be more than friends, so it’s really the perfect hint. Kaminari was just laughing because he thinks Katsuki’s whipped, anyway. But as Mina had helpfully reminded him, Izuku is just as whipped, if not more. Katsuki is confident Izuku will like this one.
Izuku is over at Katsuki’s apartment for their usual weekly hangout, something they’ve somehow always managed to make work even with their busy schedules. At first it started because of Izuku’s “just in case” visits, and then it evolved into a genuine way to keep in contact as they both became busier and busier. Now, Izuku sits on Katsuki’s couch drinking a large glass of chocolate milk, because he really likes that stuff, while Katsuki pretends he’s in the bathroom when he’s actually getting Izuku’s gift. Despite being sure Izuku will like it, Katsuki is still a bit nervous. It’s a pretty big gift no matter what, something he would never give to anybody else. Just another of the ways Izuku is special to him, too.
“Kacchan!” Izuku calls out from the living room. “What’s taking so long?”
“Hold on!” Katsuki yells back. “Be patient!”
“I want to start the movie!” Izuku says, and Katsuki can imagine him sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, trying to seem intimidating when he’s really just cute. Don’t get him wrong, Izuku can absolutely be intimidating, but not when he’s bundled up in a throw on Katsuki’s couch with a glass of chocolate milk in his hand. It’s just not possible to make that intimidating. Even Katsuki can’t do it, and he always tries to be as intimidating as possible in every situation he’s put in.
Katsuki ends up rifling through his sock drawer for a while before remembering that’s not even where he put the gift, and he curses as he walks to the other side of his room and reaches under his bed. He emerges with two small paper bags, a bit of green tissue paper stuffed in one and orange tissue paper in the other, and Katsuki finally exits his bedroom. He walks back to his living room, where Izuku huffs at him petulantly.
“Did you even go to the bathroom, or were you just avoiding me?”
“Izuku,” Katsuki sits down next to him. “Why would I avoid you at my own apartment? If you were annoying me, I would have no issue with kicking you out.”
Not that Izuku has ever annoyed him. He’d spend every minute with Izuku if he could.
“You would never kick me out,” Izuku echoes Katsuki’s thoughts. “You like me too much.”
“Sure,” Katsuki says. “But no, I wasn’t in the bathroom. I was getting your next gift.”
Izuku gasps in genuine surprise, which has Katsuki wanting to facepalm. Izuku should be figuring out the pattern by this point. But, like Katsuki’s been saying, Izuku is pretty oblivious, so maybe this is the reaction he should’ve expected. Izuku covers his hands with his mouth, eyes growing big and sparkling, and sighs out, “Kacchan’s the best.”
“Cool it, dumbass,” Katsuki replies, trying not to let how flustered he is show. “I haven’t even given you the damn thing yet. What if you hate it?”
“I won’t,” Izuku says, making grabby hands at the bag in Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki hands him over the bag with the green tissue in it, and Izuku rushes to open it. “If it’s from you, I’ll love it no matter what.”
Katsuki shrugs, trying to cover up his fear. “If you say so.”
Izuku finishes tugging the tightly wrapped tissue paper out of the bag, and emerges with a small paper box. Katsuki watches with bated breath as Izuku opens it, and sighs in relief when Izuku gasps in excitement as he picks up the gold bracelet, holding it in the air and watching the gold grenade charm dangle back and forth.
“Kacchan!” Izuku says excitedly. “The charm looks just like your gauntlet!”
“That’s the point,” Katsuki says. “Hey, there’s a little button at the bottom. Press it.”
Izuku does, and they both feel a small pulsing sound vibrating through the couch cushions. Izuku squints in confusion, looking around. “Where did that come from?”
“From this,” Katsuki says, holding up the back with the orange tissue paper. “It’s a strong pulse, that’s why we could feel it through all the layers of the bag.” Katsuki unwraps his tissue paper, opens his paper box, and brings out his own gold bracelet. He holds it up for Izuku to see the gold charm dangling from his, a glove made to exactly model the gloves Izuku wears on his hero suit. Katsuki watches as Izuku’s eyes—as they have with every other gift—fill with tears, and he reaches out for the bracelet. Katsuki lets him have it, and Izuku cradles the glove charm in his hands.
“This is from my suit,” Izuku says, awestruck.
“Yeah,” Katsuki replies, unbearably fond, “and if you press the palm, there’s a small button there too. It’ll send a pulse to your bracelet. And the gold is made by a jeweler with a quirk that makes metals indestructible, so we can wear it during fights. That way, it’s as good as permanent, and whenever you’re worried about me when we’re not working together, you can press it and I can press back, and you’ll know I’m okay. And–” Katsuki clears his throat, suddenly reaching his quota of sappiness for the day. “And I can do it too, or whatever.”
Izuku doesn’t seem to care about Katsuki’s lack of sap, however, and only holds both bracelets in his hands as if they’re fragile glass and not literally indestructible gold.
“I love it, Kacchan,” Izuku says quietly. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“It’s your birthday,” Katsuki replies. “And I had a feeling you’d like having a charm of my gauntlets on your wrist, considering how much you enjoy trying on the real thing.”
Izuku laughs through a sniffle. “And now I’ll have a part of Kacchan with me forever.”
You already do, Katsuki wants to say. My heart. But he doesn’t, because any mention of Katsuki’s heart usually makes Izuku burst into tears, and Katsuki wants to enjoy this moment. Katsuki’s about to open his mouth and explain how the technology of the pulses work, since he knows Izuku loves learning about that kind of stuff, but before he can Izuku holds the bracelet with the glove charm out, gesturing for Katsuki’s arm.
“Let me put it on you, Kacchan.”
“Oh,” Katsuki says, thinking about how truly intimate putting jewelry on someone is. But he wants that with Izuku, craves those simple domestic intimacies, so he nods and brings his arm out. Izuku unfastens the bracelet, his big fingers struggling a bit with it, which makes Katsuki snort and Izuku glare at him, before the softness of the moment is returned.
Izuku carefully places the bracelet on Katsuki’s arm, clasping it on, and then turning it so that the glove charm is dangling down from Katsuki’s wrist. Katsuki looks at it for a moment, the way the gold glints from the sunlight streaming through his half–open blinds, until Izuku’s arm is being shoved into his eyeline. Katsuki gets the hint, taking the grenade bracelet from him and deftly fastening it around Izuku’s wrist, trying not to think about the way his fingers are brushing ever so softly against Izuku’s skin, the way Izuku shivers slightly against the touch as Katsuki turns the bracelet to put the charm in the correct spot.
When the bracelet is finally on, Katsuki leans back to observe the finished product. The bracelet looks perfect on Izuku’s wrist, and Katsuki presses his button to send a pulse. Izuku meets his eyes when he feels it, and presses one back, despite the fact that they’re right next to each other. It reminds Katsuki a bit of when they’re in battle together, so in sync that there’s no need to talk to each other. They can let each other know that the other is right here, simply with a press of their fingers.
“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku says again. “This is the best gift ever. You’re the best friend ever. My best friend.”
Katsuki has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that. Friend, his ass. But once again, Katsuki would rather not ruin the moment, so he just nods. Even if they get together, they’ll always be best friends. That part of their relationship will never be lost.
So Katsuki says the truth. “You’re my best friend, too.”
5.
On the evening of Izuku’s birthday, Katsuki has somehow managed to get Izuku all to himself. He’s not exactly sure how he managed this, considering that Izuku has so many friends who all want to be there to celebrate with him, but when Katsuki asked if they could do a birthday lunch instead of an evening party, everyone was happy to oblige. Over the years Katsuki has become Izuku’s dedicated birthday party planner, so it’s not as if anyone could say no. Besides, Katsuki has always been the one who knows Izuku best, and he knows for sure that Izuku prefers quiet evenings. Katsuki is simply one of the few Izuku likes to spend that quiet time with, something Katsuki is very grateful for now.
Katsuki cooks for Izuku all the time, but he knows Izuku always appreciates it, so he’s made Izuku a full birthday dinner, which of course includes katsudon. Somehow, Izuku's love for that dish has continued throughout adulthood, and although Katsuki would rather be eating curry, he’s going to eat katsudon just this once, for Izuku’s birthday. Izuku knows about this part, the birthday dinner, which is why he’s en route to Katsuki’s apartment and set to arrive in about five minutes. But what Izuku doesn’t know about is the cake.
Katsuki is normally not much of a baker. He prefers cooking because he likes the action of it all, whereas baking has a bunch of action in the first half but the second half is just … waiting. However, Izuku has always talked about how he’s convinced a birthday cake made by Kacchan would be the best thing he’s ever tasted, and for Izuku’s twenty–sixth birthday, Katsuki figured, why not try it? Besides, this year Katsuki also has something to be more nervous about than the cake — today is the day he finally confesses to Izuku.
When he’d told his friends, they’d asked why on Earth Katsuki would do something like that on Izuku’s birthday. Even though they’re just as confident that Izuku is going to say yes, for the rest of their lives their anniversary will be on Izuku’s birthday. Does Katsuki really want to deal with that? And Katsuki’s answer was a resounding yes, because that means showering Deku with double the gifts on one day. Cooking both breakfast in bed and a feast for dinner. And the best part? Izuku can spend his birthday doing his favorite thing in the world: doting on his Kacchan. Katsuki figures it’s a pretty good deal, all in all.
Despite the certainty of Izuku’s answer, Katsuki still finds himself worrying about confessing, and because he’s so nervous, baking the cake actually proves to be somewhat stress–relieving. He makes Izuku’s favorite: a chocolate cake with raspberry preserves and vanilla frosting layered between the tiers, and by the time he hears Izuku knocking on his door, he’s set the cake on it’s holder behind his coffee maker, where Izuku won’t see it until it’s time. Katsuki places the glass cover on the cake and goes to answer the door.
Before he can, though, Izuku is using his spare key and letting himself in, which Katsuki really should have expected to happen. Izuku walks right in, giving Katsuki a bright “hi, Kacchan!” and gasping at the food laid out on the dining table before Katsuki can even respond. Katsuki can’t believe he’s heard Izuku gasp this many times in a week.
“Kacchan!” Izuku says excitedly. “Everything looks so good!”
“Happy birthday, Izuku,” Katsuki says, and it comes out much more soft and sincere than he’d meant it to. “I made your favorite.”
“You did!” Izuku gushes over the katsudon, already sitting down to eat. “Thank you, Kacchan, really. This has already been such an amazing birthday, I couldn’t ask for anything more, but you still did this for me, too. That means so much to me.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Katsuki says, sitting down across from Izuku and watching as Izuku takes his first bite, moaning unnecessarily loudly afterwards.
“Don’t care,” Izuku says through a mouthful of food. “Kacchan’s the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki smirks. “I know.”
They finish dinner in relatively comfortable silence, Izuku stuffing his face and then busying himself with watching Katsuki eat the rest of his dinner. There’s this sort of dopey, adoring look on Izuku’s face that should make Katsuki feel uncomfortable but instead makes him smug, because he’s the only one Izuku looks at like that. Izuku really does love him.
Towards the end of dinner Katsuki starts getting antsier, knowing that it’ll be time for him to confess soon, so he distracts himself by taking Izuku’s empty plate and washing it, before coming back for his own. Izuku tries to help, but Katsuki brandishes a soapy sponge at him and forces him to sit back down at the table. While Izuku’s going back to his seat, Katsuki reaches behind the coffee maker and takes out the cake. He turns around once to make sure Izuku’s not looking before he lights a candle (he’s not lighting twenty–six separate ones), and places it in the middle of the cake.
“Hey, Izuku,” Katsuki says when he’s done. Izuku looks up from the table and gasps (again) when he sees Katsuki walking towards him with the cake, the flame of the candle burning a fiery orange. “I got one last gift for you. Happy birthday.”
Katsuki gently sets the cake down on the table, and watches through the blur of the candle’s rising smoke as Izuku’s eyes start glistening again, and Katsuki briefly wonders if Izuku’s reservoir of tears will ever run out. Thankfully, Izuku manages to control it this time, blinking once and returning with his eyes mostly dry, and he stares at the cake, entranced.
“I’m not singing the damn song,” Katsuki clarifies. “So just make a wish and blow the candle out.”
“Wow, Kacchan.” Izuku completely ignores him. “Is this—did you—”
“Made it myself,” Kacchan nods. “‘S chocolate with raspberry and vanilla frosting.”
“My favorite!” Izuku says happily. “This is amazing, Kacchan, it looks so good!”
“I’m glad,” Katsuki says, and he means it. He’s truly so glad to see the way Izuku’s eyes light up, and it’s not even from the reflection of the flame in his irises. Izuku locks eyes with Kacchan, smiling, before he leans forward to blow out the candle. Katsuki watches as Izuku’s lips form an o shape and he breathes out a puff of air, and the flame is wiped out.
Katsuki can’t help but smile softly, lovingly, as Izuku looks back up at him, and their eyes meet for a moment, and for once Katsuki isn’t even embarrassed that Izuku can see every gooey, sappy inch of love and affection for him swimming in Katsuki’s eyes. Katsuki can see the same love and affection aimed right back at him through Izuku’s gaze, and they stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, as if the entire world has been pared down to just the two of them—
And then Izuku bursts into tears.
Katsuki freezes. Izuku bursting into tears isn’t necessarily surprising in itself, but it’s the way Izuku is crying that catches Katsuki off guard. Izuku doesn’t often cry the way he used to as a kid, with steady streaming waterworks. These days when he cries, it’s a bit quieter, a bit less all–consuming. Less tears and snot streaming everywhere. But the way Izuku is crying now is so much more reminiscent of the way he used to cry back when they were children, full–on sobbing and sniffling and hiccuping, loud cries muffled against Izuku’s hands, which are pressed against his face. Katsuki may be the person who knows Izuku best, but for once he has no idea what’s wrong, or what to do.
Katsuki decides to improvise. He immediately steps away from the cake and walks around the table, coming to stand by Izuku’s side and hovering his hands over Izuku’s shoulders, unsure what to do with them. Katsuki’s not sure what he possibly could’ve done to make Izuku cry like this, but either way Katsuki works on attempting damage control.
“Izuku, what happened?” Katsuki asks. Izuku ignores him and keeps on crying, but he does also reach out to grab Katsuki’s arm with one hand for balance, keeping himself from sobbing so hard the chair tips over. It would be almost hilarious if Katsuki wasn’t so worried. “Izuku, you have to talk to me. Do you—do you not like the cake?”
Izuku shakes his head, still crying. “The cake is perfect!”
Katsuki frowns. “Uh, was something in the food bad? Is your stomach upset?”
“No! It was the best katsudon I’ve ever had in my life!” Izuku wails, sounding so distressed that Katsuki is suddenly out of ideas. He’s a little terrified he’s done something wrong, and since Katsuki hasn’t even confessed yet, that’s a concerning thought. But Izuku’s liked everything he’s done so far, so Katsuki decides to just be straightforward and ask.
“What’s wrong, Izuku? Just tell me, please, so I can help you.”
For some reason that only makes Izuku cry harder, but he does manage to answer.
“I just—I just love you so much, Kacchan!”
Katsuki has to resist the urge to facepalm.
“Seriously? That’s it? You’re crying because you love me? I know you love me, Izuku, you don’t gotta cry about it.”
“No!” Izuku sobs. “No, Kacchan, you don’t get it! I’m in love with you!”
Katsuki’s jaw drops. “What?”
Izuku’s sobbing subsides just enough for him to talk coherently, which, because it’s Izuku, immediately turns into a full–blown ramble.
“I’m in love with you, Kacchan. I don’t know why I just realized it now, but—I looked at the cake and thought about how—how loved I am and how much you always do for me and it made me realize that I want to do these kinds of things for you too, Kacchan, because you’re everything to me. I wanna take care of you and spoil you like you do for me, and I want to do it for the rest of our lives! I want to be partners with you in every sense of the word, Kacchan. That’s why I’m crying, because—because this has been the best birthday ever and I love you. I love you so much, Kacchan. You’re so much more than my best friend, you’re the love of my life, too. And you made me dinner, and got me all those gifts, and then you made me this beautiful cake—”
Izuku’s mouth closes around a bite of said cake, then, and Katsuki snorts as Izuku stares at him, wide–eyed, before he slowly starts chewing. Katsuki puts the fork he’d used to shove the cake into Izuku’s mouth down, and uses the time Izuku’s mouth is occupied to process everything Izuku had just said.
Pathetically, the first thing that comes out of Katsuki’s mouth is, “You love me?”
Cheeks still stuffed with cake like a chipmunk, Izuku nods.
“And you’re—sad about it?”
Izuku vehemently shakes his head. Katsuki waits patiently for him to finish chewing his cake, figuring he should let Izuku speak again. Izuku finally swallows the cake, and once he’s able to talk again he shakes his head one more time.
“I’m not sad,” Izuku says. “I’m happy. I’m indescribably happy, because before two minutes ago the world was at an angle, and when I realized I love you it just righted itself. Everything makes sense now, Kacchan. I’m crying because I’m just so overwhelmed with happiness, I swear. I feel like the luckiest person alive, to have you in my life.”
Izuku’s hand is still on Katsuki’s arm, and Katsuki realizes this when he steps forward and Izuku’s hand clenches around his forearm in anticipation. Katsuki just laughs at that and leans in even closer, using one of his hands to lightly cup Izuku’s cheek.
“Funny,” Katsuki tells him. “Because I feel the same about you.”
And, like clockwork, Izuku gasps. “Really?”
“Of course, dumbass,” Katsuki uses his free hand to gesture at the cake. “Look at all the gifts I gave you. I was trying to tell you that I love you, too. Well, when I was doing all this I didn’t realize you loved me back, but I was gearing up to confess tonight. You just beat me to it.”
Izuku laughs through his leftover sniffles. “I guess I did, huh?”
Katsuki laughs with him for a moment, before something dawns on him. “Wait, did you say you just realized you love me?”
“Yeah,” Izuku nods. “I blew out the candle and made a wish to always have you by my side, and then I realized I already have you by my side. What I really wanted was to choose, every day, to be by your side, too. And that’s how I realized that I love you.”
Unfortunately for Katsuki’s poor heart, it starts beating a mile a minute. Izuku really can’t get away with saying stuff like that, not when Katsuki is so fragile.
“Wow,” Katsuki chuckles, shaking his head. “You really are oblivious.”
“Wha—” Izuku protests. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Izuku, every time I got you a gift you’d talk about how special I am to you, or how much you love me, and the gifts were so obviously romantic! How did you not realize?”
“What? Those gifts weren’t romantic!”
“The only one that passes for not romantic is the picture frame. But do you seriously think custom–made jewelry and personalized voice messages in your suit aren’t romantic? Fucking flowers aren’t romantic?”
“Okay!” Izuku holds his free hand up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Kacchan. Maybe I am a bit oblivious. When I first saw you with those flowers and thought they were for someone else in the building, I honestly saw red. Maybe that’s when I should’ve realized.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Katsuki tells him. “But I’m just glad you figured it out eventually.”
“Me too,” Izuku says, and then he’s leaning in, too. They sway closer to each other, lips almost brushing, and Katsuki’s about to close the distance when Izuku pulls back.
“Wait!”
Katsuki sighs, and he means for it to come out exasperated but it just sounds fond. “Izuku, we were about to kiss. What could you possibly need to say right now?”
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Katsuki blinks. This time, he does facepalm. “Isn’t that implied?”
“No!” Izuku argues. “I want to take you on a date. I’m gonna get you flowers. I’m gonna pick you up at your apartment. I’m gonna pay for dinner. And you aren’t going to lift a finger. Because you deserve to be taken care of too, Kacchan. You got it?”
Katsuki should’ve known that once he was faced with the full force of Izuku’s love and affection beamed right at him, it would be both overwhelming and amazing at the same time. Katsuki can’t help but fall right into it, nodding at Izuku’s request without thinking.
“Fine,” Katsuki says. “But let’s talk about it another time. Today’s your birthday. It’s still about you.”
Izuku honest to God pouts. “But I want to talk about you.”
“Another time,” Katsuki says. “Because right now, I don’t want to talk at all.”
“Huh?” Izuku frowns for a moment, before he puts the pieces together. Katsuki can see the understanding dawn in his eyes, and before Katsuki can even think, Izuku’s already pulling him in. Izuku’s arms end up around his neck and Katsuki catches Izuku by the waist, and Izuku twines his arms tighter as he finally, finally kisses Katsuki. Katsuki can taste chocolate and raspberry and vanilla frosting, and it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Katsuki has Izuku in his arms, kissing him, and he didn’t even have to confess.
Even though it’s Izuku’s birthday, Katsuki got his wish, too.
+1.
The knock sounds at six o’clock sharp, just when Katsuki was expecting it. Izuku raps on the door three times in short succession, and Katsuki puts the finishing touches of cologne on his wrists before straightening his tie and walking to the door. He opens the door to find Izuku standing on the threshold of his apartment, holding a big bouquet of red roses.
“Hi, Kacchan!” Izuku says brightly. He shifts the flowers to his other hand before using his free hand to grip Katsuki’s arm, using it as leverage to lean up and plant a firm kiss on Katsuki’s cheek. Katsuki hates the way he turns pink after it, and hates even more the way Izuku’s grin becomes even brighter at the sight. “Happy first anniversary!”
“Happy anniversary,” Katsuki says. “And happy birthday.”
Izuku beams. “Thanks, Kacchan! But you made my last birthday so special, so today I’m going all out for our anniversary! I’ve got a lot planned for us.”
The last year has been incredible, with Izuku and Katsuki finally dating. For their first date Izuku did indeed pull out all the stops, coming up to his apartment with roses and taking him to one of the most expensive restaurants in the area. Izuku had, of course, paid for dinner, and insisted on dropping Katsuki back at his apartment with a goodnight kiss. It’s safe to say that after that date, Katsuki felt very well taken care of. Izuku was the same way during Katsuki’s birthday a few months ago, trying his best to match how Katsuki was on his birthday in gift–giving volume.
Unfortunately for him, Katsuki always wins at everything, and although Izuku’s gifts were incredible, Katsuki would still argue that he’s the better gift giver out of the two. Izuku disagrees, because the picture frame he’d given Katsuki, of Katsuki smiling on their first date with no idea his picture was being taken, did make him cry. Especially with the bottom of the frame engraved with Izuku’s comment: Kacchan: the love of my life. So sue Katsuki. What was he supposed to do, not cry?
So maybe Izuku is pretty good at gift giving, too. Izuku’s real specialty, however, is planning dates. Izuku always drives them places with a hand easily and naturally placed on Katsuki’s thigh, one finger stroking up and down in the way he knows Katsuki loves. They spend the car ride in peaceful silence, just basking in the time they get to spend together.
Because it’s their first anniversary, Katsuki expects Izuku to recreate their first date and end up at another fancy restaurant. Instead, Katsuki is pleasantly surprised when Izuku drives them to a park they’d often frequented as kids instead, parking in the lot before running to the other side of the car to open Katsuki’s door for him. Katsuki rolls his eyes at Izuku’s unnecessary chivalry, and watches as Izuku moves behind the car to open the trunk and bring out a large picnic basket that Kaysuki didn’t even know Izuku owned.
“See?” Izuku says, after they’ve walked over to the park and they roll out the blanket together on a patch of grass. “I can surprise you, too, Kacchan.”
“I know you can, Izuku,” Katsuki says, and he really means for it to come out as teasing, but once again, only affection drips out of it. Izuku notices it, and smiles at Katsuki from across the blanket as they place it down. Once it’s set up, Izuku refuses to let Katsuki help unpack the food, forcing him to sit down on the blanket while Izuku takes everything out.
Their dinner ends up being Katsuki’s favorite curry, which Izuku kept heated in a thermos, over some cooked rice. It’s simple but hearty, just the way Katsuki likes his food, and Izuku’s spent so long at Katsuki’s apartment trying to perfect the recipe under Katsuki’s strict guidance that it tastes perfect. Katsuki’s is even extra spicy, just the way he likes it. It’s almost too perfect, though, and Katsuki can’t help but feel a bit guilty.
“It’s your birthday, Izuku,” Katsuki says. “Shouldn’t we do something you like?”
“I do like this,” Izuku says, soft but leaving no room for doubt. “I like spending time with you and I like doing things for you. Besides, we celebrated with everyone at lunch, and you gave me breakfast in bed and all your presents in the morning. We can manage both my birthday and our anniversary in one day, I know we can!”
“It’s gonna get exhausting,” Katsuki tells him.
“We went to war at sixteen,” Izuku replies. “We’ll be fine.”
Katsuki snorts, and Izuku giggles with him. They spend the rest of their dinner like that, eating, bickering, and laughing together, until they’ve emptied the thermos of curry and the sun is beginning to set. Izuku puts the food away as Katsuki turns to watch the sunset, and Izuku joins him a moment later, pressing their shoulders together.
“This is nice,” Katsuki says, laying his head on Izuku’s shoulder. He feels Izuku turn to press a kiss on the top of Katsuki’s head. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Kacchan,” Izuku says as they watch the sun dip down into the horizon. “I would do anything for you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Katsuki tells him. “This was a great anniversary gift.”
At that Izuku gasps, as he often does, except this time it’s scandalized. “Kacchan, don’t tell me you think this is the only thing I got for you?”
Katsuki lifts his head off of Izuku’s shoulder. “It isn’t?”
“Of course not!” Izuku begins rummaging through the picnic basket, before he returns with a yellow manila envelope sealed with an orange explosion sticker. Izuku hands the envelope out proudly, and Katsuki takes it. Izuku’s practically brimming with anticipation as Katsuki opens it, pulling out a thin, stapled packet of paper. Katsuki looks at the first page, and this time he’s the one gasping, eyes instantly prickling with tears as he reads the title of the document:
DYNAMIGHT AGENCY SIDEKICK APPLICATION
Except Izuku has crossed sidekick out, and replaced it with hero partner.
Katsuki looks at Izuku, blinking his tears away. They fall down his cheek anyway, and Izuku reaches out to wipe them away before kissing the spot where his fingers just were.
“I’m ready,” Izuku says, keeping his hand on Katsuki’s cheek, thumbing his scar. “I’ve been working on the field for almost two years now, and I finally feel ready to stand by your side and fight alongside you. I want to be partners, Kacchan, in every way, forever.”
Above them, dusk turns into nighttime. The moon basks its glow over them, and the stars shimmer in Izuku’s eyes. Katsuki flips through the application, and he almost starts to cry again at seeing Deku’s familiar chicken scratch handwriting, still messy despite being a teacher, on all the lines of the application forms with scribbled answers to each of the questions.
“I filled everything out,” Izuku says, handing a black ballpoint pen out to Katsuki. His grenade charm dangles from his wrist, shining in the moonlight. “All you have to do is sign.”
“Hmmm,” Katsuki says, a smile tugging at his lips. “What if I want to look over your answers first? Make sure you’re the right candidate for the job?”
Izuku laughs. “That’s okay, Kacchan. I know I kept you waiting.”
“Stop that,” Katsuki says. “You needed this time to be confident on the field. You couldn’t just jump into co–running an agency. I get that. I’m glad we’re here now.”
“Me too, Kacchan,” Izuku says. “You have no idea how glad I am to be here.”
“And you’re in luck,” Katsuki says, clicking the pen. He rests the application on his leg and signs, and then hands it back to Izuku. “Welcome to Dynamight Agency.”
Izuku looks down at the paper, reverent. “Wow. This is the best birthday ever.”
They fold back into each other, Izuku wrapping an arm around Katsuki and Katsuki resting his head back on Izuku's shoulder as they stargaze.
“Are you sure?” Katsuki asks. “Does it beat last year?”
“No, probably not,” Izuku amends. “Nothing beats kissing Kacchan for the first time.”
“Damn right,” Katsuki says. “I’m the best.”
“You really are,” Izuku agrees. “I love you.”
Katsuki is about to say I love you too, but Izuku kisses him before he can.
And that’s okay, because Izuku knows. They both do. Their love is stored for safekeeping in every gift, in every act of love, in everything they choose to do for each other.