Archive of Our Own

Izuku had always known he was going to be a hero.

He’d known since the day he’d sat at his desk, five-years-old with his little legs dangling high above the carpet, and stared transfixed at his computer, at the staticky image of All Might dragging himself from a burning train car with a grin.

He thought some part of him had known even before then—before he knew what a hero was, before he could walk or talk, some deeply primal part of him had known. Maybe someday an archaeologist would unearth his remains and find it written on the bones, etched into the collagen and calcium phosphate that was left of him.

Even when he’d been laughed at and spit on, when he’d shattered himself to pieces and learned to stitch the tears in his skin back together with gnarled hands, his path had been clear. Saving people, bringing peace, being a hero: that was his calling.

Today, though, that call sounded a little faint.

Well, the actual call was clear enough; he couldn’t have missed the buzzing of his work cell in the pocket of his leggings if he tried. But between a sudden away mission in Kumamoto prefecture; an absurd number of press junkets and winter photo ops; and an on-call schedule that seemed perfectly designed to keep them working at opposite ends of the day, Midoriya Izuku hadn’t slept in the same bed as Bakugou Katsuki in three entire weeks.

Three long, sleepless weeks of toes freezing under too-thin covers; of staring at the moonlight reflecting off of Katsuki’s empty pillows; of his dog, Gachou, gazing forlornly at the bedside table, where Katsuki had left his reading glasses. His bedroom was too quiet without Katsuki snoring right up against his ear as he unconsciously coiled himself around Izuku like a grumpy snake. Well, if there was such a thing as a hot-blooded snake, because Katsuki ran a good four or five degrees hotter than most people thanks to his quirk. Having his own personal heated blanket stolen from him during one of the coldest Decembers on record had been nothing short of devastating for Izuku’s sleep hygiene.

Technically, they didn’t live together yet, since they’d only been dating a little over a year. (Yeah, it had taken them a hot minute to figure out all their shit, but as Katsuki’d put it, after the help of many years of therapy, “There’s a whole shit-load of shit between us, you shitty nerd.” Thanks, therapy.) But Katsuki slept at his place from Thursday to Monday, since it was closer to Mirko’s agency, where they both worked. And Channel Neco always ran a five-hour block of old Marvel superhero movies on Tuesday, which made that their unofficial date night. Katsuki didn’t technically have a reason to stay over on Wednesdays, but he usually grumbled something about how most of his laundry and his toothbrush were over here, anyway, so it would more of a pain in the ass to go home than to stay.

Suffice it to say, spending the better part of a month subsisting on only the occasional kiss pressed to his cheek when they passed each other in the hallway was not doing any wonders for Izuku’s emotional stability. So of course it happened that tonight, when they’d finally moved meetings and switched shifts enough to make time for a real date, a problem had inevitably arisen that, naturally, only Hero Deku could solve.

“Even ER doctors can’t possibly get paged this often,” he grumbled, rummaging through the dryer for clean socks. For once, he was the one over at Katsuki’s apartment, since it was closer to their favorite takeout spot.

“Not much we can do about it,” Katsuki said, leaning back in his fancy new recliner chair, bought with this year’s bonus that Mirko had promised him for keeping collateral property damage under one million yen. Gachou was snoring away, curled up like a loaf of freshly baked bread in his lap. “Public trusts us to be there when we’re needed. Everyone needs you a whole lot, apparently.”

Izuku pouted. “Don’t you need me, Kacchan?”

He squinted in the direction of the smug bastard he called his boyfriend, who looked happy as a clam, laid back in his chair with all the makings of a relaxing date night spread around him: an array of spicy-smelling donburi dishes set up on the coffee table; the beginnings of a facemask drying on his forehead that Izuku’d been applying when the call from Mirko had come in; an oversized Mindfuck snuggie zipped up to his chin that bagged hugely around the wrists but pulled taut enough almost to rip fabric at the chest.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips was soft. “Don’t ask dumb questions you already know the answer to.”

“I’m so unloved,” Izuku sighed, swooning dramatically against the wall with one hand pressed to his chest. “If only there was a big, strong man with obscenely well-developed pecs who needed me…”

He’d shut his eyes for dramatic effect but smirked at the telltale squeak of the recliner. Success. One Kacchan, coming his way. His toes crinkled in anticipation as he felt Katsuki sling an arm around his hips and hook two fingers through his waistband.

“I dunno who this big, strong man is you’re speaking of,” Katsuki said, voice low and hot against the shell of Izuku’s ear, “but should I be worried?”

“Not sure,” Izuku said, humming to himself, pleased as pie to have Katsuki up in his space, crowding him against the wall with the breadth of his shoulders. “How much do you bench?”

Katsuki snorted against his earlobe, and Izuku made a pleased little nonverbal sound of contentment in the back of his throat, tucking his hands inside the zipper of Katsuki’s snuggie and sliding calloused hands up the hard planes of his stomach. It sounded cliché, even to Izuku, but Katsuki’s skin against his own was electric, each touch as sweetly devastating as their first. Clichés were there for a reason, he guessed: he couldn’t imagine any other way to put words to the low, sizzling hum that kicked up his spine.

Katsuki’s mouth moved gently down Izuku’s neck, and heat pooled in his gut when he felt that familiar grin take shape against his collarbone. “Don’t play coy with me,” he said with a low growl, nipping lightly against the sensitive strip of skin peeking out where Izuku hadn’t finished zipping up his jacket. “You know all my PRs by heart, I hear you braggin’ to the interns when you think I’m not paying attention.”

There was no space between Izuku’s back and the wall now, Katsuki having crowded him into the corner so he could tower over him, radiating heat and smugness. The last thing Izuku needed before an emergency overnight shift was a boner, but here he was, powerless and helpless to Katsuki’s whims. He licked his lips.

“I have to put socks on,” he choked out, voice cracking.

“Be my guest.” Katsuki smirked, nodding towards the dryer without moving his eyes from Izuku’s mouth. “You know where to look.

He looked like nothing more than the cat who got the cream as he pressed a calloused thumb against the pink swell of Izuku’s bottom lip, knowing full well Izuku wouldn’t be able to extract himself from the welcome cage of his arms. God, his ego would be absolutely intolerable if Izuku wasn’t so stupidly in love with him.

“I kind of hate you,” Izuku said, which was the only thing his brain could come up with to preserve some shred of his dignity. (Everything else was some variation of a plea to get his mouth on Katsuki’s cock.)

“That sucks,” Katsuki said, gently pulling his hand away from Izuku’s face and folding it back into his pocket. “What are you gonna tell Gachou when I stop comin’ around?”

As if on cue, Gachou’s little snout popped up between Katsuki’s feet.

“At least you love me, huh, little buddy,” Katsuki murmured, releasing Izuku to kneel down and scratch the little pup’s head.

“I love you when you’re not trying to give me a boner in my skin-tight costume leotard,” Izuku told him, hoping that Katsuki couldn’t hear his heart still thrumming in his chest like a drum. He was easy to work up, and the bastard knew it, and loved to take full advantage. It was a wonder they hadn’t had a public indecency scandal by now. Maybe that’s why his PR manager’s salary was so high.

“Don’t say stuff like that in front of Gachou.” Katsuki covered both of Gachou’s big, floppy ears with his hands. “He’s too young to hear those things about his parents.”

“He’s eleven,” Izuku said, pushing himself up from where he’d sagged against the wall with a concentrated effort. He thought he’d probably recovered his composure enough to try and head out. As long as he didn’t think too hard about domestic Katsuki all cuddled up in his adorable onesie with no underwear on. Right. Like he wasn’t going to see that every time he closed his eyes.

Gachou wagged his tail, sniffing happily at Katsuki’s hands, which probably smelled like the delicious donburi Izuku wasn’t going to be eating for dinner. Pulling his gloves on, Izuku decided then and there that he was going to be taking his first vacation as a pro come the new year. He was going to spend more time with his little family, Musutafu be damned.

“Stay safe out there, nerd,” Katsuki said, pressing one last kiss to the crown of Izuku’s head, then pausing to sweep a few wayward curls out of his eyes.

“I will.”

He’d lost count of how many times they’d promised each other safety over the years: even back at UA, long before they’d started dating, Katsuki would, rarely, find his way to Izuku’s room, late at night with only the open sky outside the window for company. They both dealt with nightmares, and they’d build, and build, reaching up like tangled vines until neither of them could breathe for the pain of it and somehow, someway, Katsuki always knew when they couldn’t take anymore, and he’d be there. Hadn’t needed to say a word, just scooted Izuku over to one side of the tiny twin bed and made room for himself the same way he always did, everywhere he went. And then he’d hold Izuku so tightly that his fingertips left bruises on his back the next morning, and he’d sob into Izuku’s shoulder as Izuku reached out to cup his face and cried with him. Over and over, he’d beg Izuku not to leave again, make him promise not to take any unnecessary risks, to not do anything stupid, to stay safe. To stay with him. And they’d both finally fallen asleep with Izuku’s murmured “I will”s strung between them like a rosary.

Nights like those were the only times Katsuki had let Izuku show him any tenderness for a long, long time, so long that it still felt like something of a novelty. Things were better between them now, good in a way Izuku never know he could have with anyone, let alone with Kacchan. But he never took it for granted; so even now, with Katuski smiling lazily at him and the air between them light as a feather, he made sure Katsuki knew he was serious when he said he was going to be safe. That he was going to come home to him.

Squeezing Katsuki’s hand one last time, Izuku tucked two random unmatching socks into his gym bag and leaned in to open the door with his hip.

“Don’t leave me for the recliner,” he called behind him, grinning as he imagined Katsuki’s face.

The echoing call of “no promises, nerd,” followed him around the corner, wrapping him in warmth even as he stepped out into the December chill.

🎄

Kirishima Mina was obscenely, ridiculously, undeniably huge.

“Twin pregnancies are rarely carried to full term,” she mocked, stabbing her chopsticks into her ramen with all the ferocity of a rabid hero fanboy arguing on Tweeter dot com. “There’s a fifty percent chance you’ll deliver before you hit thirty-seven weeks! God, if I could get my hands on that fucking doctor right about now.”

“It’s good for the babies that you’ve made it the full forty,” Izuku said, rubbing her back. “And I’m sure they’ll be here any day now.”

“They fucking better,” she grumbled, taking a long, loud slurp of her decaf iced coffee and glaring menacingly at her stomach, which rested uncomfortably atop her thighs like a high-density beach ball. “If they wait one more day, I swear I’m not breastfeeding these ungrateful little motherfuckers.”

Izuku nodded sympathetically. “Whatever you think is best, Mina.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, which let out a loud creaking noise that Izuku very purposefully ignored.

“When’s that grump coming back with the cakes?” she asked. She’d sent Katsuki over to the bakery down the street for “one of each chocolate thing they have” half an hour ago. Since then, Izuku had sat with her and progressively helped her remove her shoes, her gloves, her jacket, and one of her socks as she tried to prevent overheating.

“He’s probably trying to roast me alive so he can cook me like a stuffed turkey,” she grumbled, glaring over the counter at the innocent-looking chef. Izuku privately thought it was freezing and the restaurant could stand to turn the heater up a few degrees, but he also knew full well that he wasn’t forty weeks into cooking two grown human beings, so his opinion had no value.

When Eijirou had suggested that Izuku and Katsuki meet up with him and Mina for lunch, then keep her company while he went in for his last shift before his paternity leave kicked in, Izuku had been thrilled. He hadn’t seen either of them since Mina’s baby shower almost four months ago, and he missed his friends. Getting to go together with Katsuki was the icing on top. It had been a week since their failed attempt a date night, and all they’d managed since were two rushed coffee dates and a quickie in the print-room at the office. (He still didn’t know how they were going to explain that stain on the brand-new copier to the office admin.)

He hadn’t exactly realized Mina would be so…outspoken about the state of her pregnancy, but it was really no matter. He was looking forward to spending time with her and getting to treat her to a nice day out. And if she wanted to head home early and rest her swollen feet, well…it wouldn’t be the first time he and Katsuki had fucked on the Kirishimas’ couch.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forcefully shoved all inappropriate thoughts of Katsuki nudging his thighs apart and showing off his truly ridiculous stamina from his mind. When he came back to reality, Katsuki was standing beside the table, arms full of assorted holiday pastries.

“Dessert is served for you little princesses.” Katsuki grinned at Mina, and Izuku knew exactly what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “Well, one not-so-little princess.”

He’d clearly expected her to get riled up, but she only sighed and pushed her empty ramen bowl to the side to make space for the dessert tray. “If you think I have the energy to banter with you right now, Katsuki, then you are even more of a dipshit than I thought you were.” She tapped her nails on the table, still perfectly manicured as ever in deep tones of Christmas red and green. For all she complained that she looked a mess, she was still the most fashionable, immaculately put-together person Izuku’d ever met.

“You’re lucky I’ve sat through enough bullshit therapy to compartmentalize my grudging affection for your friendship from my current desire to wring your neck,” Katsuki said, grimacing, but he still arranged each little pastry perfectly on the tray so she could snap a picture to send to the girls’ groupchat. Katsuki had really gone all-out; it actually looked like he’d gotten one of everything the shop had to offer for her. Small petit-fours decorated like Christmas trees; chocolate Hokkaido chiffon cupcakes with iced Santa belts on the side; yuzu-cocoa tarts and creamy Nama chocolates on individual tiny candy cane plates.

“Softie,” Izuku whispered in Katsuki’s ear as he finally slid into his seat, leaning over to nuzzle a little kiss into the soft skin by his ear.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, reaching into the pocket of his wool sweater for a to-go box. “I got you somethin’ too,” he said, blush dusting his cheeks with pink like the little sprinkles of powdered sugar on top of Mina’s pastries. “Not chocolate, ‘cause I figured that hag over there would unhinge her jaw and swallow it whole.”

“Like a snake,” Mina said, nodding cheerfully as she licked a stripe of icing from the top of a cookie. “Ohh, you guys, this is so good, you have got to try it only you can’t have any of mine sorry but not sorry at all.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Mina,” Izuku said, genuinely happy to see his friend so excited. Her earlier discomfort seemed much more bearable now, with the prospect of eating her weight in sugar now on her horizon.

Katsuki popped the corner of the to-go box open, and Izuku’s eyes grew big as saucers as he gingerly lifted out its contents: a miniature slice of spongy Christmas cake, topped with sugared strawberries and perfectly fluffy whipped cream.

“Oh, Kacchan, that looks amazing,” Izuku breathed, almost wondering how he would bring himself to eat something so beautiful. It could very well have been an art piece, with the dainty swirls of cream and snow-white line of icing peeking out from the middle. A little ganache snowman waved at him from the top.

“I know it’s tradition or whatever,” Katsuki said, dropping a fork on the table next to the cake slice. “And you like eating shit that’ll give you cavities, so. Here ya go. Not taking you to the dentist, though.”

Izuku knew Katsuki would take him to the dentist, though, if he had to. And that alone was a testament to how much Katsuki loved him. To how unbelievably lucky Izuku was to spend every day wrapped in that love, carrying the gentle weight of it in his palm like a baby bird.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly overcome with gratitude for the fullness of his life as he sat between his dear friend and his forever-love. Middle school Izuku would never have believed it. But he’d hoped, late at night with his hands clutched to his mouth to muffle his little sobs; and he’d wanted it, so bad he ached. “For everything.”

Katsuki opened his mouth, some snarky retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but let it close again when he looked closer at Izuku’s face and saw the first fat tear sliding hot down his jaw.

“You’re welcome, crybaby,” he murmured, tucking two fingers under Izuku’s chin and lifting it so he could press a closed-mouth kiss to the freckle by his upper lip. “Now eat, or Pregzilla’s gonna decide vanilla is close enough to chocolate for her refined palette.”

“I should object to that,” Mina said, “but it’s kinda funny. Gotta tell Ei that one.” With a grunt, she leaned onto her elbow to angle her phone camera for the perfectly lit shot of Izuku’s cake, cheeks stuffed full of pastry like a chipmunk digging into his stash of nuts.

“Do you want me to take that for you?” Izuku asked, holding a hand out for her phone. “I can probably get a better shot from here.”

“No, that’s okay,” Mina said, blinking. “We should actually probably go to the hospital.”

“Oh, do you have an appointment?” Izuku frowned, peering at Katsuki’s watch for the time; he never remembered to wear his. “Eijirou didn’t mention anything, but if you need a ride…”

“No, no,” she said, reaching down with a grunt to lift her gloves from her purse. “My water just broke. Izuku, could you help me put these back on?”

Katsuki and Izuku whirled to look at her, twin looks of horror on their faces.

“Are you sure?” Katsuki said, eyes bugging out of his head.

“No, actually, I think I just pissed myself for fun,” Mina said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, you meathead.”

“…okay, fair,” he grumbled, standing up and reaching into his pocket for his keys. “I’ll run and get the car. Izuku, just…get her ready and keep her comfortable?”

“Okay!” Izuku yelped, heart-rate doubled from a minute ago and feeling like he’d just thrown back four straight shots of espresso. “Clothes! Shoes! Uh…do you have a hospital go bag?”

“At my house,” she said, laughing. “Izuku, it’s fine. I’m so past ready to yeet these little gremlins out of me. Let’s just get it over with so I can finish my petit fours.” She cast a longing look towards her mini-buffet of desserts, reaching over to grab a few fistfuls of little candies to shove in her pocket.

“Okay,” he said, “stay calm, that’s fine, I’m a hero, I can stay lots of calm. Extremely many calm.”

“Extremely many,” she said, nodding and patting him on the head.

By the time Katsuki was carrying her through the hospital doors forty-five minutes later, she was decidedly less calm.

“I’m two seconds from shitting these babies out right fucking now!” she yowled, sweat beading along her brow and trickling down her neck. “I want my goddamn epidural, I was promised a goddamn epidural. Where’s Dr. Akiyama?” she demanded, grabbing the arm of the nearest nurse.

He blinked warily at her. “Ma’am, I’m not sure—oh, Pinky,” he said, eyes going wide with recognition. “You’re having your babies now?”

“Yes!” Mina, Katsuki, and Izuku snapped in tandem.

“I’ll call L&D and get you a room,” he said, “Dr. Akiyama has the day off, but Dr. Mori is on call, and she’s a wonderful provider, excellent bedside manner—”

“If she can get these babies out of me I don’t care if she’s a well-trained monkey,” Mina cried, grabbing Katsuki’s shoulder as tightly as she could and wailing. As tightly as she could was actually pretty tight, considering how much time she spent with Eijirou in the gym, and Katsuki grimaced, looking at Izuku and mouthing ‘help me.’

“Can we maybe grab her a gurney or something?” Izuku asked the nurse. “For uhh, her comfort?”

“And mine,” Katsuki said, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, of course,” the nurse said, leaning down and pulling a folded-up a wheelchair from next the main desk. “Is Red Riot on his way?”

Katsuki and Izuku glanced at each other, then slowly into the writhing bundle of Mina in Katsuki’s arms. She looked back at them.

“Guess you should get on that,” she said. “Oops.”

Katsuki lowered her gently into the chair, squeezing his eyes closed as she slowly pulled her little Christmas claws from his skin. “Go squeeze those babies out, and I’ll make sure Ei’s here to catch ‘em. Okay?”

“But he’s so bad at baseball,” she moaned, “he can’t catch anything. Who’s going to catch my babies?”

“He’ll be fine,” Katsuki said, patting her hand and nodding gratefully at the nurse, who grabbed the wheelchair handles and started to roll her down to the emergency elevator.

“I’m glad we can be here for her,” Izuku said, reaching over to squeeze Katsuki’s hand.

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, rubbing his shoulder where Mina had dug her nails in and wincing.

“I’m really glad neither of us can have kids,” Izuku said.

“Oh, yeah,” Katsuki said, “I already put up enough with you not-pregnant.”

“I’m worth it.” Izuku shrugged, flipping his hair.

“Says you,” Katsuki said, grinning back at him and holding up his free arm in anticipation of the incoming elbow to the gut from Izuku.

“Butthead,” Izuku said. Then the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and up they went.

🎄

It turned out that the miracle of life was, actually, pretty miraculous.

Mina had demanded Katsuki and Izuku accompany her into the delivery room, saying she needed someone’s hand to snap in half, and until Eijirou got here, one of them would have to do. So they’d pulled on sanitary gowns, tied their hair back, masked up, and sat with her as she pushed, alternating whose hand she held to minimize the risk of lasting damage.

Through all his years of training, and fighting, and pushing himself past the brink of his body’s abilities, Izuku had never come close to the kind of raw strength and determination he saw in Mina’s eyes as she lay on the bed and pushed. She grit her teeth, screamed to the high heavens, clutched at her gown and their hands and her own hair; she bit her lips until they bled and dug her toes into the sheets and wept.

“Where the hell is Eijirou?” she sobbed, turning her head and gnashing her teeth as Izuku patted her brow with a cold towel.

“He’s coming,” he soothed. “The traffic is really bad, and the doctor said he’s never seen anyone dilate fully as fast as you did for their first labor.”

“First and fucking only,” she hissed. “That man’s vasectomy will be the happiest moment of my life. Ow, fuck, ow!”

She threw her head back, arching her back, and from her seat at the bottom of the bed Dr. Mori said, “Just a little more, Mrs. Kirishima, he’s crowning!”

“I CAN FUCKING TELL!” Mina yelled, taking in a deep breath and roaring into the ceiling like a cracked-out elephant.

From next to him, Katsuki’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“My mother went through all this to bring my ungrateful ass into the world,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m never calling her a hag again.”

“I’m pretty sure your mother told me she was in labor for like, nineteen hours, too,” Izuku said. “This has been, like. Ninety minutes tops.”

All the color faded from Katsuki’s face. “I think I’m gonna send her a fruit basket.”

“It should probably be gold-plated,” Izuku said, finger to his chin. Mina was really amazing. If he had a uterus, you couldn’t pay him enough to go through something like this.

Ten minutes later, when Katsuki cradled the first tiny little baby in his hands, her skin tinged pink and hair tinged pinker, and kissed the crown of her tiny head, Izuku covered his mouth as a tear escaped the corner of his eye and took it all back.

Katsuki and babies was, as it turned out, an absolutely lethal combination for his heart.

“She’s so beautiful,” Mina murmured. “My darling.”

“Ready for number two?” Dr. Mori said cheerfully, just as Eijirou burst through the door.

“Mina, I’m so sorry, baby, the traffic was unbelievable—”

He stopped dead in his tracks as he registered the little bundle cradled in Katsuki’s massive arms.

“Is that—? Our baby…?”

“Nah,” Katsuki said, “this is Izuku and my baby. You can have the next one.” He grinned, then nodded for Eijirou to come closer. “Here she is, you massive meathead. All yours.”

“All mine,” he murmured, pressing a finger to the tip of her tiny nose, then turned to the bed. “You did so good, baby,” he choked out, tears already overflowing as he kneeled next to Mina and covered her face in kisses. “I’m so fucking proud of you, I love you so much—”

Mina grabbed onto his forearm with both of her damp, sweaty hands, pulling him close. “I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing his arm gently, “now I have to squeeze another bowling ball out of my vagina, okay?”

“That’s so fucking amazing,” he croaked, “fuck, baby. Okay.”

Izuku leaned into Katsuki’s uninjured shoulder and pressed a kiss under his ear.

“Here we go again,” he said, smiling down at the scrunkly little face in Katsuki’s arms. His nonexistent uterus throbbed at the look of pure adoration on Katsuki’s face. From the bed, a deranged cry echoed all the way out to the hallway.

“Eijirou, catch!”

🎄

Predictably, the newly born Kirishima twins were the talk of the night at the yearly Class 3A holiday party the next weekend.

“Were they the actual cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” Ochako asked, cooing and cupping her cheeks, red from champagne and excitement.

“Cuter,” Izuku said. “Haven’t you seen like, the seventy million pictures Eijirou keeps sending to the group chat?”

“Yes,” she said, “but I like living vicariously through you.”

“It wasn’t all fun and games,” Izuku said, laughing. “Katsuki’s shoulder needed four stitches.”

“Damn.” Ochako whistled. “Mina doesn’t play around, huh?”

“Honestly, I think he hopes that it’s going to scar,” Izuku said. “Like a badge of honor for witnessing the twins’ birth or something.”

“…yeah, I could see that,” she said, nodding.

“You two talkin’ about me?” Katsuki asked, sliding up to Izuku with a mostly-empty beer in one hand and a fruity-looking pink drink in the other. He handed Izuku the cocktail and took a swig out of his beer.

“Kind of,” Ochako said. “What is that, a mai tai with like, raspberry or something?”

“Shirley Temple,” Izuku said, slurping happily away. “I’m the designated driver.”

“Speaking of which,” Katsuki said, shaking his empty beer can, “we should probably head out after this. Don’t wanna be up too late.”

Ochako stared at him. “It’s not even nine at night yet. How is that late?”

Izuku and Katsuki exchanged glances. “Well,” Izuku said, “we just don’t wanna hit any traffic, and Kacchan has an early shift tomorrow, so…”

Ochako sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know what? I don’t actually wanna know what weird shit you two are up to.” She leaned into Izuku’s side, bumping their hips and briefly hooking their pinkies together. “See you soon, Deku?”

“Brunch on me,” he said. “I’ll text you.”

She waved at him and turned around, wandering off for another fill of her champagne glass.

“Do you think she bought it?” Izuku whispered as he and Katsuki moved quickly towards the elevator, trying their best to avoid eye contact with any of their former classmates on their way out.

“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki said, “she can think whatever she wants. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Izuku giggled, pulling Katsuki into the elevator by his tie and listening for the click of the door behind them. “You mean, as long as she doesn’t know that we skipped out early for a little alone time…”

“We skipped out early,” Katsuki growled, mouth hovering hot and wet over Izuku’s neck, “because we’ve both been too fucking busy with obnoxious bullshit, and I haven’t been able to fuck you the way you deserve in way too fucking long.” He nipped at Izuku’s collarbone, grinding the clothed swell of his already half-hard cock into the juncture of Izuku’s hip.

“Really devastating,” Izuku said, letting two of his fingers press against Katsuki’s lips. Katsuki sucked on them hungrily, slicking them up with his tongue.

“Gonna use these for something naughty?” he asked, pulling away as the door snicked open behind them. “Get yourself ready for me?”

“Oh, Mister Bakugou,” Izuku said, feigning shock as he yanked Katsuki’s hand into the parking garage, “what an awfully dirty mind you have.”

The two of them giggled and kissed their way back to the car, stopping to make out against one of the concrete pillars marked with spot numbers. Izuku was pulling Katsuki’s dick out from the zipper of his trousers when a set of car lights flashed around the corner, and they pulled apart, Izuku’s face red as a ripe tomato, Katsuki’s smug and self-assured.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you got caught with my cock in your mouth,” he said, trailing his eyes along the smattering of hickeys rapidly purpling along Izuku’s chest under his unbuttoned collar. “Show everyone who you belong to.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, unlocking the car door with one hand and reaching down to squeeze Katsuki’s ass with the other, “anyone who’s ever seen me look at you knows who I belong to.”

Katsuki growled, caging Izuku against the car with his body and holding the door shut. “I’m going to destroy you.”

“I would hope so,” Izuku said, holding Katsuki’s hand to his mouth and pressing a wet kiss to the juncture of his wrist.

🎄

The door to Katsuki’s apartment banged open with a smack, and Izuku stepped backwards into the main room. Katsuki followed, scooping Izuku into his arms and carrying him bridal-style to the bedroom before dropping him unceremoniously on the bed. Izuku spread his legs wide, an invitation if Katsuki had ever seen one; but before he could nestle himself snugly between those thighs, Izuku sat up and grimaced.

“I gotta pee, Kacchan, I’m sorry.” He hopped up from the bed, snorting at Katsuki’s crestfallen expression. “I’ll be right back.”

He couldn’t have been gone more than three minutes, honestly. When he was done using the restroom, he brushed his hair and his teeth, threw on a little deodorant, and folded his suit up to put it in the corner to take to the dry cleaners.

But when he came back to the bedroom, one of the worst things he could have imagined greeting him on the bed: a snoring Katsuki, completely dead to the world, lying there on top of the covers with his tie askew and All Might Squishmallow clutched to his chest.

“Kacchan,” Izuku groaned.

On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to shake him awake and spend the rest of their night the way they’d planned. But on the other hand…Katsuki had worked so fucking hard lately. He worked hard all the time, but he’d picked up two extra shifts so they could both make it to the party, and he was already trading more so he and Izuku would have Christmas Eve together—not to mention the slack they were both picking up for Eijirou’s paternity leave. If he was even half as exhausted as Izuku felt, he needed the sleep more than the sex. Which was really saying something, because holy shit, they both really needed the sex.

But Izuku couldn’t look at that sleeping, adorably pouty face and justify waking him up.

So he pulled off Katsuki’s tie and shoes, pulled one of Katsuki’s ratty old band shirts on himself, and flicked off the light. Then he curled up next his softly snoring boyfriend and wrapped him up in his arms like a buff little present.

They were together. Nothing else mattered, really.

🎄

Izuku’s Christmas Eve patrol was, so far, largely uneventful. A single attempted jewelry store robbery, a last-ditch attempt from a woman desperate for a last-minute gift for her fiancée, had taken him less than five minutes to get under control. Those were the only five minutes his heart rate had gone above resting since he’d started at four that morning, because there was absolutely nothing to do. Even villains wanted to take the holidays for themselves, apparently.

Normally, Izuku would be happy for such a slow day. When his services weren’t needed, it meant that the people of Musutafu were safe; and he really did wish them all the very best for their holiday celebrations. But God, he needed something to distract him from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Because when he clocked off at seven that night, he was going straight home to Katsuki, who had gotten the whole day off after trading Momo for New Years’ Eve. They were finally going to have a night to themselves. Mirko had sworn on Hawks’ life that she would only call him in for a true life-or-death emergency. There were no babies waiting to be born, parties needing to be attended, or last-minute photoshoots to promote Mirko’s new brand of athleisure-wear. (Not that he hadn’t enjoyed sending Katsuki a few choice selfies from the dressing room from that particular shoot, but that was neither here nor there.)

Katsuki had shooed him out of his own kitchen at eight the night before, telling him to get ready for a beautiful, scrumptious dinner. (Which was roughly translated from “I’m gonna knock your fuckin’ socks off with this, Deku, and then your pants better come off right after ‘em.”)

Izuku, for his part, had bought a bottle of wine so fancy he’d buckled it in for the drive home, afraid of smashing it if he stepped on the brakes too hard. A lacy thong, dark-green like his eyes, sat tucked into his dresser drawer at home so he could ‘slip into something a little more comfortable’ after dinner. And Gachou was over at Toshinori’s for the night, undoubtedly being spoiled silly with scraps of ham and rice, so his overworked parents could have a little alone time.

His Kacchan deserved a perfect night. And after how hard he’d worked his ass off this month, Izuku was kind of inclined to think that he himself did, too. They’d set everything up to the last detail, so why was he so damn jittery?

Sure, before their first date, Izuku had been so nervous that he’d met his fifteen-thousand step goal on his Apple watch just pacing around his apartment before Kacchan picked him up. But after all their time spent together, lazy mornings fucking ‘til Izuku couldn’t feel his legs and late nights on the little balcony matching the stars to their asterisms on Katsuki’s stargazing app, things between them were easy. Being with Kacchan was like flipping through the dog-eared pages of his favorite book and letting the words he knew by heart warm him up, from the inside out. Izuku was an anxious person by nature, but not with his Kacchan. Not anymore.

Not until they’d seen so little of each other over the last month that Izuku’s brain had reverted to that of a twelve-year-old boy with a crush, apparently.

“Is it wrong to say I wish someone would just commit, like, a little bit of crime?” Izuku asked Hitoshi, who’d just come off an overnight eleven to eleven shift and was meeting him for coffee on the way home. “Just enough to distract me. Like, light robbery. Where no one gets hurt.”

“Probably,” Hitoshi said, watching the barista dump three shots of espresso into his large black coffee with a hungry look in his eyes. “But I won’t judge.”

“You never judge me for anything.” Izuku popped the lid off his own drink, a peppermint white mocha with extra whipped cream, and licked the of sprinkles off the top. “You’re kind of an enabler, actually.”

“You’re welcome,” Hitoshi deadpanned, nodding his thanks across the bar as his heart-attack-in-a-cup appeared on the handoff plane. “So, what do you and Bakugou have planned for tonight?”

Izuku groaned, dropping down into the nearest chair and letting his face rest against the table. “Only the most perfect night ever conceived of by man, to make up for barely seeing each other the last month.”

“Oh, so something low-key, then,” Hitoshi said, reaching behind him to throw his empty cup in the trash. “No pressure.”

“Did you already drink that entire…never mind,” Izuku said. “I’ll let your cardiologist handle it.”

“Her name is Dr. Ozaki, and she’s very nice,” Hitoshi said.

“I’m sure,” Izuku sighed, letting his face smush into the tabletop and closing his eyes. “Kacchan’s cooking dinner right now and I’m sure it’s going to be amazing and all I’m bringing with me is some lousy bottle of wine and a little lingerie and sixteen presents and I couldn’t even wrap them nicely because I’m a failure.”

Hitoshi patted the back of his head awkwardly. “You’re a very giving person, Izuku. Bakugou will love whatever you got him. But he also would be happy just to spend time with you.” Clearing his throat, he muttered, “And I’m sure the lingerie won’t hurt, either.”

“You really think so?” Izuku asked, tilting his straw down to his mouth to sip pathetically on his coffee.

“Well, just an educated guess. Based off the fact that whenever I’m in the room with him for more than sixty seconds, he inevitably starts on saying the most romantic shit about you that I have ever heard come out of that man’s mouth, interspersed with some really violent threats.” Hitoshi shuddered. “It’s kind of weird, honestly.”

“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku cooed, “that’s so sweet.”

“Last time I was out with him and Denki he got drunk and talked about how your face was so cute it made him want to punch me in the nuts.” Hitoshi shuddered at the memory of a crazed Katsuki gnashing his teeth and swinging his fists in the direction of his extremely sensitive balls.

“God, I love him so much,” Izuku muttered, wiping a tear from his eye.  

“You two are so fucking stupid.” Hitoshi pushed his chair in. “I’m gonna go home and shower off the second-hand cooties I got from this whole conversation. Bye now.”

“Bye,” Izuku sniffled, taking another sad slurp from his cup and staring forlornly at his lockscreen, which was a smiling candid of a shirtless Katsuki from their trip to Okinawa last summer. God, he missed seeing those biceps bulge and flex as Katsuki leaned over him, sweat dripping down—

“Stop thinking gross things,” Hitoshi said, thwapping him on the back of his head.

Izuku pouted, dragging himself to a seating position with all the effort he could muster, and glared daggers at Hitoshi’s back as he strolled out the front door, hands slung low in his pockets.

His break was over anyhow, and he had the whole southwest district to patrol, which happened to be the main shopping center in Musutafu. Maybe he could find something to pass the time among the throngs of last-minute holiday preppers. Sometimes, for fun, he invented random quirks based off certain features of people he passed in the street, then imagined how he would beat them in a fight; but he wasn’t feeling particularly creative today.

Still, he had a job to do. As he made his way back out onto the busy street, his heart jumped at the ping of his text alert.

Kacchan 💖💥 (12:19): dinner sneak peek                    

There was a photo attached, a picture of freshly rolled out and sliced udon noodles resting on a floured cutting board. Katsuki had clearly made them from scratch; Izuku’d probably been kicked out of the kitchen the night before so he could make the dough ahead of time and let it proof. His life was a goddamn dream.

His phone buzzed again a moment later.

Kacchan 💖💥 (12:19): get home safe, nerd

He clutched his phone to his chest, right over the thrum of his heart; his fingers trembled against the hard case. He was the luckiest man alive.

🎄

Izuku was the unluckiest man alive.

The rest of his patrol had gone off without a hitch. He’d helped a thankful old woman across the street, taken a few selfies with some sweet middle-school fans, and scores of couples strolling hand-in-hand, ready to celebrate the romantic holiday together. Everyone had been kind, and friendly, and excited for the holiday.

Right up until he’d clocked off to go home.

Because the second he stepped outside, smiling up into the flakes of freshly falling snow, an explosion burst from down the street, towards the city center. The booming reverberated though the blocks between Izuku and the origin point, shaking the surrounding buildings down to their foundations. He heard a crash that sounded like it had come straight through cement, but he didn’t have time to think about what it could be; he’d already leapt half the distance down to the epicenter of the blast, heart pounding in his ears.

When the destruction came into view, it was clear that the damage was entirely structural: whatever it was had exploded most of a paid parking garage, incinerating several cars, but there hadn’t been anyone inside. The tight anxiety burning in his throat lessened enough to allow a single, shaky breath.

He spotted a woman crouched next to an otherwise-empty picnic table, shaking quietly with her dog in her lap, and decided to approach.

“Ma’am,” he said, “are you okay?”

She turned towards him, her face ashen but seeming unharmed. “I—yes,” she said, sounding almost like she couldn’t quite believe it was true. “I don’t know what happened, it just seemed like it came out of nowhere—”

Her dog, a tiny little chihuahua, stood on his hind legs, yipping his agreement.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling at her and reaching down to scratch the chihuahua behind one of his floppy ears. “I promise it’s going to be okay. How far away do you live? Can you get home safely?”

She blinked, the question processing in her mind. Izuku knew how that went; often shock made it difficult for people to think clearly.

“I think—”

“I am the Great Garanchou!” came a voice from behind them. Both of their heads (three, counting the pup’s) whipped around to see a man standing over the crater in the ground. He had a large beak, and a pair of white wings extended from his back. “I am here to show you humans what happens when you take the Earth away from the birds!”

Izuku scowled at him. “And you had to destroy the city to prove your point?”

The Great Garanchou cackled, extending his wings. “I will do whatever it takes to prove my point!”

Staring at the villain in front of him, the absolute buffoon who couldn’t come up with a better name than the Great Pelican, something in Izuku snapped. The poor woman in front of him had just been trying to enjoy her holiday, and this idiot had come in and terrorized them. And for what? Some stupid cause? Izuku tried to have sympathy for villains, most of the time, but fuck, he was supposed to be on his way back to Katsuki right now, back to their fancy dinner and wine and getting dicked down until next Sunday and there was absolute no fucking way that this mistake of nature was going to get in the way.

“Shut up!” Izuku yelled. “Holy crap, dude, could you just go away? Read the room! It’s Christmas Eve! Nobody cares!”

The Great Garanchou blinked. “How do you mean?”

“You think you’re even gonna make it in the papers with this stunt?” Izuku flailed his hands wildly. “It’s Christmas Eve! The news doesn’t give a hoot about the parking garage! Like, come back in two weeks and I’ll fight you, okay? I promise!”

“Did you say hoot?” the Great Garanchou demanded. “Are you making a bird pun?”

“You are so missing the point!” Izuku yelled, stamping his foot so hard the ground cracked beneath it.

“Ooh, now look who’s causing property damage,” the Great Garanchou said. “Some hero you are.”

Izuku wasn’t really sure what happened next. To be honest, he kind of blanked out. When he came to, the Great Garanchou was hand- and wing-cuffed on the ground, the woman and her dog were both thanking him profusely, and a cop car was pulling up next to them.

“Thank you so much, Hero Deku!” exclaimed the woman climbing out of the front seat. “We only have bare-bones staffing today, because of the holidays, and we really appreciate you taking care of this so quickly—”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, blinking and wondering how he’d gotten feathers under his fingernails. “I’m just gonna head home now, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, well, you know the procedure.” Motoko, by her nametag, smiled apologetically at him. “Could you just come down to the station with me, so I can take your statement?”

Izuku closed his eyes, inhaled once, then twice. Where had his usually endless patience gone?

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Thank you!” Motoko chirped. “It’ll just be ten minutes, really.

🎄

It did not take just ten minutes.

The next two hours were a blur of paperwork and conversations with uniformed officers. Apparently the Great Garanchou had accused him of police brutality, which the woman (named Keiko) had steadfastly denied.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said. “One second, he was standing there; and the next, he had that guy…” Her nose wrinkled; she was apparently too dignified to say the name. “…on the ground, with the handcuffs. He didn’t hurt him at all.”

The lack of any visible bruises or cuts on the Great Garanchou’s body supported her story, and after answering a hundred more questions (“just a formality,” Keiko assured him) he was finally allowed to go home.

He’d called and told Katsuki what had happened, and of course, Katsuki had gone on a tirade that would have made a sailor blush. Not against Izuku, of course, but against “that idiot fucking villain” and “those incompetent fucking cops” and assorted other f-bombs, per his usual style. He assured Izuku that they would still have a nice night, and everything would be fine; but as Izuku trudged home, he was feeling beat down and exhausted.

Seeing Katsuki’s worried face when he opened the apartment door was the last straw, and Izuku immediately burst into tears.

“’Zuku,” Katsuki said, immediately pulling Izuku into his arms, still covered in flour. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Izuku just sobbed incoherently into his shoulder, tears of frustration and helplessness falling like hail, unable to find the words.

“It’s okay,” Katsuki said. “C’mere, I got you. You know I got you.”

With one gentle hand on Izuku’s back, he guided him to the couch, sitting Izuku in his lap and pulling a fleece blanket over them both. Gachou jumped up onto the cushion beside them, head quirked as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Thought…” Izuku gasped for air, snot and tears everywhere. “Toshinori had…”

“He called and said something came up,” Katsuki said, brushing a lock of hair from Izuku’s face. “I was gonna try to give him to your mom, but then when you called, you sounded sort of upset, so I thought having him here might actually help you feel better.”

Izuku nodded, grateful and amazed as always at how Katsuki could read him so well.

“Can you tell me what you need, ‘Zuku?” he asked, carding his hands through Izuku’s curls and picking a single feather out with a frown.

“You,” Izuku sniffled. “Jus’ you.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said. “You got me, right? I’m right here.” He paused, leaning down to kiss the corner of each eye, where the tears had finally begun to dry. “You wanna go lie down in bed?”

Izuku nodded again, wrapping his fingers around Katsuki’s.

“Whatever you need, my prince,” Katsuki said, grinning. He swept Izuku back into his arms and led them into the bedroom, Gachou padding along at his heels. Gently, he lay Izuku’s head back, moving the pillows so he was resting against what they both knew was the comfiest, fluffiest one.

“How long has it been since I was over here?” Katsuki said, wrapping both arms around Izuku’s middle and pulling him close. “Feels like forever.”

Izuku yawned. “It was forever. We missed you.” Gachou yapped in agreement, leaping up to snuggle into the curve of Izuku’s bent knees.

“God, I missed this bed,” Katsuki said, pulling Izuku closer so he could bury his head in the dip of one bare, creamy shoulder. “Fuckin’ Tempurpedic mattress and everything. Fuck.”

“Just the bed?” Izuku said, pouting. He knew Katsuki couldn’t see it, but he wasn’t pouting for Katsuki, damnit. He was expressing his feelings instead of hiding them, for the benefit of no one but himself, thank you, Dr. Hayashi.

“Guess I missed Gachou too.” Izuku felt Katsuki’s grin pressing into the skin of his neck as he lifted the hand resting on Izuku’s hip to scratch the pup’s fluffy little behind.

“Well, Gachou missed you,” Izuku said, huffing. “He’s the only one in this apartment who did, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.” He paused, but Katsuki didn’t take the bait, just continued to guffaw behind him.

“I’m pouting, you know,” he said, finally.

“I’m sure that it’s very cute,” Katsuki said. “Wanna bring those pouty little lips over here so I can give ‘em a nibble?”

Izuku was silent, not-really-weighing the concept of moving from his extremely comfortable position and sacrificing his pride to get a few sloppy, toothpaste-flavored kisses from Katsuki before he inevitably fell asleep. Katsuki kisses always won out in the end, but pretending to think about it might save what was left of his dignity.

Then next to him Gachou’s ass made a sound closer to a foghorn than anything that should have come out of a living animal, and things devolved quickly from there, as they tended to do.

“What was I saying about missing this bed?” Katsuki grumbled, pulling at the loose neck of Izuku’s oversized sleep shirt so he could stick the lower half of his face inside to muffle the smell.

Gachou slept on, content and completely oblivious to the olfactory harm he’d caused. Above him, Izuku and Katsuki leaned in close to each other, noses touching, breaths mingled. The crazy grind of the last few weeks, the rush of the holidays, the desperation to find time—it all felt so faint, now that they were back home, now that their bodies could relax into each other’s.

“Hey, Izuku,” Katsuki said, “you feelin’ better?”

Izuku looked up at him through dark lashes. It was freezing outside, the ground wet with slush; but the fire in Katsuki’s chest burned hot, consumed him whole.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m perfect.”