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Katsuki slams a bowl with food down in front of Hitoshi, accompanied by a death-glare and a hissed "I don't want any leftovers."
Hitoshi smiles into his food and immediately gets to eating because Katsuki hates it when he dilly-dallies around with that and Hitoshi lets out an appreciative sound when the taste hits him.
Katsuki's food is always delicious, but Hitoshi never tires of letting him know, because he loves how Katsuki always puffs up, clearly beyond proud with himself and it earns him a flick to the forehead and a grumbled "Shut up, idiot."
"Sure," Hitoshi says and stuffs his mouth full of delicious food again, which is a pretty sure-fire way to get him to shut up and Katsuki watches him for a moment before he gives a self-satisfied nod and then gets his own bowl.
Hitoshi used to wait until Katsuki was seated, and it took him way too long to understand that Katsuki enjoys it more when he can watch Hitoshi's reaction without being distracted by anything else and Hitoshi has no qualms about indulging him in this. If it means he gets to taste this delicious food sooner, then he's all for it.
So he usually takes two or three bites before Katsuki even sits down but the rest of the meal they eat together.
It works well for the both of them.
~*~*~
When Hitoshi comes home, he catches Katsuki flexing his arm in that way that lets Hitoshi know that his old wounds are aching again.
"Go sit," Hitoshi says before he even takes his shoes off.
"Go die," Katsuki gives back but he obediently walks over to the couch.
It took Hitoshi a while to understand that it's basically Katsuki's lifeblood to be contrary but that he usually does what he's being told, even though he needs to gripe about it first, so Hitoshi only gives him a big smile as he walks past, ruffling his hair in the process, which earns him a glare, before he vanishes into their bedroom to get changed.
When he comes back out, Katsuki already took his sweatshirt off, now only clad in his muscle shirt and Hitoshi can't help it, he just has to take a moment to admire him.
Katsuki is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and even the scars don't detract from that. Quite the opposite really, but the last time Hitoshi told Katsuki that he scowled at him for days so he bites his tongue instead of saying it again and instead gets moving.
He takes a seat in front of Katsuki on the living-room table and puts a jar of massage oil down next to him before he expectantly holds his hands out.
"Gimme," he demands and he knows it's bad when Katsuki obeys his order without complaining about it. "You could have said something," Hitoshi says as he briefly works over the entire arm, checking out which spots in particular make Katsuki flinch.
"And disturb you and Sparky? No way in hell," Katsuki presses out, the pain clearly enough to make talking difficult.
"You know I would have come home earlier."
There's a brief silence in which Hitoshi uncorks the vial of oil and then Katsuki lets out a rough breath.
"Yeah, I know."
He doesn't offer up any other excuses, doesn't explain himself but Hitoshi understands him anyway. He didn't want to be a burden.
For Hitoshi it's enough to know that Katsuki knows he would have been there for him and if he decides to tough it out for way longer than is necessary then that's his prerogative after all and Hitoshi is not going to argue with him about that.
He hums quietly as he massages Katsuki's arm up and down and by the time he's done, Katsuki is practically melting into the couch.
"You're welcome," Hitoshi says when he gets up to get a towel and despite the blissed out look on Katsuki's face he glares at Hitoshi as best as he can.
"Fuck you."
"I prefer it when you do it," Hitoshi says and drops a kiss to Katsuki's head which he accepts without complain.
"Like you should," Katsuki mutters, his eyes already drooping and Hitoshi smiles softly at him. "Thanks."
Hitoshi snorts, because this conversation is all out of order but he still takes it, just like he always does.
Like he always will, when it comes to Katsuki.
~*~*~
"You two are weird," Denki says when Hitoshi gives Katsuki the middle finger. "This is weird, right? You're weird."
"The hell are you on about, Sparky?" Katsuki snaps out, kicking Hitoshi under the table in retaliation.
"You claim you're together," Denki starts and immediately Hitoshi is offended.
"Claim?" he incredulously asks but Denki doesn't seem to want to hear him because he goes right on.
"And you live together."
"So?" Katsuki snaps out, growling when Hitoshi kicks him right back.
"So shouldn't you say that you love the other? You're not even a little bit lovey-dovey. I have never seen you kiss. I have never even seen you so much as hold hands. Are you lying to us?"
"The fuck is this any business of yours?" Katsuki brushes him off and he glares at him as if he wants to kill him.
"I'm just saying—"
"Maybe you shouldn't, Denks," Hitoshi chimes in because their relationship is theirs and he doesn't appreciate it any more than Katsuki does that someone is sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong.
"Okay, alright, geez, calm down," Denki immediately says and that's that.
Except for how Hitoshi can't stop thinking about it.
~*~*~
"Oh dear," Yamada says immediately as Hitoshi steps into their apartment with a morose look on his face and when Hitoshi drops himself face first into the couch, Yamada clicks his tongue.
"Hot chocolate?" he asks, clearly understanding that the situation is dire and Hitoshi manages to give him a thumbs up without picking himself out of the couch.
The apartment is quiet, only the sounds of Yamada preparing the drinks for them filling the space and Hitoshi almost dozes off before Yamada pokes him in the shoulder.
"Alright, up you go, can't drink depression drinks laying down," he mumbles and Hitoshi groans as he pushes himself up.
"I'm not depressed," he argues, because he's not, he's just—
"Thinking then. That's even worse, laying down, so good thing you're sitting up. What's on your mind?"
"I just ponder the manner of things," Hitoshi dramatically says and Yamada snorts into his drink.
"Deep. What manner of things?"
"You and dad, you—love each other," Hitoshi starts with and Yamada frowns at him.
"Yes, we do. Tell me what's going on before you start prying into our relationship."
Hitoshi glares at him for that but Yamada is unrelenting and so Hitoshi heaves out a big sigh.
"Denki said he doesn't believe that Katsuki and I love each other because we don't act like it," he admits and Yamada raises one eyebrow at him.
"Okay, I love the little battery boy, but what the hell does he have to do with your relationship?"
"Nothing, I know that, it's just—it got me thinking. You and dad, you make it work. How?"
"Oh dear," Yamada says—again—and already, Hitoshi doesn't like where this is going. "I know this might be surprising to you, but your dad and I are actually really fucking romantic."
"No way," Hitoshi immediately says because for all the time he's lived with them he hasn't seen them kiss more than a handful of times.
Sure, they cuddle on the couch sometimes, but that's about it. There are no grand gestures, no declarations of love, nothing.
That's why he came to Yamada with this in the first place, because he thought maybe he would understand.
"We're not demonstrative about it, but we are romantics at heart, even your dad. Especially your dad. He's just allergic to show it to literally anyone but me."
"I don't believe you," Hitoshi gives back, because he doesn't and Yamada only snorts.
"Let me tell you, he's like the most overgrown affectionate cat when you're not here. I can hardly move without him being plastered to my back. We say 'I love you' multiple times a day. We have romantic candlelight dinners at least once a week. It just happens behind closed doors, but we very much do all of that."
"Shit," Hitoshi groans and rubs his hands over his face. "I thought you could give me advise."
"Kiddo, you don't need advise, and especially not from me. You're doing well with Bakugo, aren't you?"
"I'm not sure, not anymore," Hitoshi admits because he still has Denki's words running around on loop in his mind.
"You're doubting everything just because someone said you're not demonstrative enough?"
"We—don't do any of the stuff you just mentioned though," Hitoshi whines out.
"Yeah, because you're not the type for it, neither you nor Bakugo. Both of you show your love differently, you're both more 'acts of service' kind of guys. Actions, rather than words or touch."
"You think so?"
"Dear gods, Hitoshi, can you look me in the eye and tell me there's not love involved when Bakugo cooks for you? That you're not overflowing with love for him when you care for his aching joints? I've seen you massage his arms for hours, I've seen him cook for you. The love is so clearly there, can't you see that?"
"But—is it enough?"
"I don't know, is it?" Yamada gives back and Hitoshi gives himself a moment to think that over.
There's undeniable care and love in every one of Katsuki's actions—every meal cooked with consideration, every action done with Hitoshi's comfort in mind and it's the same the other way around, too. When Hitoshi cares for Katsuki's old wounds it's because he loves him and that's also literally the basis for everything he does.
It's because he loves Katsuki.
He just can't say it.
"We've never said we love each other," he mumbles and Yamada sighs before he slumps against Hitoshi's side.
"And do you need to? Do you need to hear him say it or is it enough to see it in everything he does? Because if you need to hear it, then you have to talk to him."
"Bah, more communication," Hitoshi jokes, but Yamada's mouth only briefly quirks up into a smile.
"Always important," he reminds Hitoshi, just like he has for years and Hitoshi groans.
"I know, I know, will you stop with it?"
"Only when I can be certain that you do understand and it doesn't seem like it right now, otherwise you'd be talking to Bakugo and not me."
"I'm going to talk to him, I just needed a different perspective first," Hitoshi grumbles, because talking to Katsuki really has always been the plan, Hitoshi just needed to sort his own thoughts out first.
"'kay, then off you go," Yamada cheerfully says and almost pushes him off the couch.
Hitoshi just barely manages to save his chocolate and he gives Yamada a death glare for it, which only makes him cackle.
"I love you, kiddo," Yamada says once he calmed down again and Hitoshi freezes when he realises that he can't even reply to that one.
"I—" he gets out before his words fail him, and Yamada gives him a soft smile.
"I know, because otherwise you wouldn't have come to ask for advice," Yamada reassures him, as if it could be that easy, as if that is all he needs to know that Hitoshi really loves him and maybe it can be that easy with Katsuki, too.
"Thank you, papa," Hitoshi gets out and that is so much easier than the other one.
And going by the blinding smile he gets for his trouble, it doesn't mean any less.
~*~*~
"Does it bother you, how we live our life?" Hitoshi asks out of the blue that same evening and Katsuki's head swivels around to him.
"Haaaaaa?"
"I mean, you heard what Denki said. About us not being—romantic, or whatever. Does that bother you?"
"If it did, I would be romantic. The fuck are you on about?"
"But I am not romantic. At all. And if you were, with me, I wouldn't like it," Hitoshi says and for the first time that evening, takes in how they are sitting.
They are on opposite ends of the couch, and even though Hitoshi has one leg stretched out towards Katsuki, who has a hand resting on Hitoshi's ankle, it hardly screams cuddling.
And they don't normally; they don't even kiss that much, if it isn't a direct prelude to sex, which they do have, but probably not as much as one would expect from two guys in their mid-twenties.
"Yeah, I know," Katsuki gives back, now a frown on his face. "Which is why I'm here, because I wouldn't like it if you were, either."
"But—does that make us boyfriends or just—something else?"
"Something else? It makes us whatever the hell we want to be," Katsuki replies. "Do you not want to be here with me anymore?"
"No!" Hitoshi almost yells out. "No, not at all. I'm happy with what we have!"
And he is. He is so happy, happier than he has been in years.
"Then what are you asking?"
"I guess I'm just wondering if it's enough, what we have."
"Not for other people," Katsuki mercilessly says and Hitoshi flinches. "But for me? I couldn't ask for anything more," he honestly replies and it's rare enough that Hitoshi has no choice but to accept his words. "Is it for you?" Katsuki then asks and there's an even rare thread of insecurity in his voice.
"Yes, it is! It absolutely is!"
"Then what the fuck are you worrying about? This is our—thing. Not anyone else's. They can eat shit, for all I care, as long as we are on the same page, it's fine."
"You're right," Hitoshi agrees, because he is.
This is their thing and it has always worked for them. Just because it's not the standard lovey-dovey romance shit doesn't mean it's any less valid or important or meaningful and the way Katsuki briefly squeezes his foot only cements that.
"Idiot," Katsuki says—almost fondly—and Hitoshi pokes his toes into his thigh in retaliation.
"Yeah," he still agrees, because Hitoshi knows that he's still too concerned with how other people view him but he's been getting better.
"Still mine, though," Katsuki mutters, very much not looking at Hitoshi as he says it and it certainly makes Hitoshi feel loved, probably more than a normal love declaration ever could.
"Jep, sure am," he gives back, letting his foot rest against Katsuki's thigh and it's enough.
It's more than enough.