Chapter Text
The second Katsuki stepped out of the airplane, he already hated everybody in a five meter radius.
Not because anyone did anything wrong. The trip just sucked.
Fourteen hours trapped in a seat too small for his legs, shitty sleep that barely counted as sleep, dry airplane air making his skin feel weird, and three separate moments where he almost snapped at strangers for walking too damn slow through the aisle. By the time the plane landed in New York, his shoulders hurt, his neck hurt, and there was a headache pressing right behind his eyes that made every airport announcement grind against his skull.
Customs took forever too.
Some guy in line kept sighing dramatically every thirty seconds, somebody’s kid was crying hard enough to shake the walls, and Katsuki stood there carrying his backpack over one shoulder while trying not to look as exhausted as he felt.
At least he was finally here.
After baggage claim, the airport turned into a moving wall of noise and motion. Suitcases rattled across the floor while people drifted in every direction, some stopping dead in the middle of the walkway to stare up at signs or maps like they’d never seen an airport before. Bright advertisements flashed from every surface, and English poured over the speakers and around him in overlapping voices until the words started blurring together into background static.
Usually, trips abroad meant work. Missions with agencies coordinating everything down to the minute — security details, hotels already booked, cars already waiting outside the airport. There was always a schedule to follow, a team nearby, a reason to stay alert every second.
This time, though, Katsuki had boarded a plane for a completely different reason.
His boyfriend wanted him there.
Still felt weird thinking that.
Not the boyfriend part. That had become part of his life years ago, easy in a way almost nothing else managed to be.
No, the weird part was flying across the fucking ocean for something normal.
Well. Normal probably wasn’t the right word when it involved meeting Eijirou’s parents.
Still, after fifteen years working as a pro-hero, it was ridiculous that this made him more nervous than undercover operations ever did.
He pushed his suitcase across the floor a little too hard, weaving through the crowd spilling out of the terminal. Eijirou had already been in the US for two weeks, and somewhere between the flight and the airport noise, Katsuki realized just how much he hated not having him around.
His apartment had been too quiet.
No. His life had been too quiet.
Meals turned irritating fast when nobody kept reaching across the table to steal food off his plate, and training felt twice as miserable without someone nearby running their mouth between sets. After a few nights, even sleep got fucked up. His body kept drifting toward the empty side of the bed before he woke up annoyed all over again when there was nobody there.
It was actually embarrassing.
He pushed through the automatic doors into arrivals already bracing for whatever stupid thing Eijirou had planned this time; flowers, probably, or maybe one of those giant signs with BABE written across it in blinding colors. The dumbass had threatened all three over text for the past week, sounding way too pleased with himself every single time.
Katsuki lifted his head, fully prepared to start insulting him on sight, and nearly missed a step when he spotted him across the crowd.
Black sweater under a denim jacket, black pants tucked into worn boots, a knit hat pulled low enough to hide most of his hair except for the red strands sticking out around his forehead. October in New York actually looked and felt like autumn, cold air sneaking in every time the doors opened behind people, nothing like Tokyo’s half-assed excuse for the season lately.
And Eijirou was grinning at him with no flowers or balloons anywhere in sight, thank fucking god.
He was standing right in the middle of arrivals with his arms already open, like he’d known from the start that Katsuki would walk straight into them without hesitating once. And somewhere between spotting that stupid grin and making it across the crowded terminal, the headache behind his eyes started easing up on its own, worn down by relief and the simple fact that Eijirou was actually here.
“About damn time,” Katsuki groaned when he finally got close enough.
Eijirou laughed right away. “Missed you too.”
“Shut up.”
The handle of his suitcase slipped from his fingers as soon as he reached him, forgotten instantly while he pushed forward until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. His chest bumped against Eijirou’s, his forehead brushing the edge of the knit cap pulled low over red hair, and then his arms were around Eijirou’s waist before he’d even fully registered moving, muscle memory taking over faster than thought ever could.
Eijirou held him just as quickly, arms closing around him hard enough to pull a sigh out of Katsuki’s lungs, and all at once the tension from the flight, the noise, the endless hours of travel started falling apart piece by piece.
God.
There he was.
Katsuki pressed his face into Eijirou’s shoulder for half a second longer than he normally would in public, but honestly, he didn’t care enough to stop himself.
“You look dead,” Eijirou said.
“Feel dead.”
“Long flight?”
“No, I just flew across the planet for fun.”
Another laugh, quieter this time, because Eijirou was rubbing a hand up and down his back like he knew exactly where all the tension was. “C’mon. Got your bag?”
“Obviously.”
They pulled apart enough to walk, though Eijirou caught the suitcase handle before Katsuki could grab it again.
“I can carry my own shit.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“It means you look one inconvenience away from punching airport staff.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets as they made their way toward the parking lot.
The cold outside hit harder than he expected after the stale warmth of the airport, enough to pull him fully awake. Wind pushed dry leaves across the pavement, gathering them in orange and red piles along the sidewalks and against the curbs. The roads around the airport were lined with trees already half bare for autumn, and everywhere he looked there were Halloween decorations crammed into storefronts and fences.
America really committed to this stuff.
Eijirou walked beside him close enough for their shoulders to bump every few steps, and the simple contact kept dragging Katsuki’s attention away from everything else.
“You ate anything?” Eijirou asked.
“Plane food.”
“So no.”
“It counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Eijirou smiled again, quieter this time, and Katsuki looked away before heat crawled up his neck. Just two weeks apart and his brain was already acting sixteen again.
The parking garage smelled like cold metal as Eijirou led him through rows of parked cars before stopping beside a dark gray Land Rover.
Katsuki lifted an eyebrow. “The hell is this?”
“My dad’s.”
“You borrowed this?”
“He tossed me the keys before I even asked.”
“Dangerous decision.”
“I’m an amazing driver.”
“You drove us into a ditch at twenty-one.”
“That happened once.”
“It happened twice.”
Eijirou laughed under his breath while he shoved the suitcase into the trunk, then jerked his head toward the passenger seat. “Get in before you pass out.”
“Bossy asshole.”
Katsuki got in anyway, and the leather seat felt ridiculously comfortable after the airplane. He leaned back while Eijirou started the car, one hand loose on the wheel while the other slid to Katsuki’s thigh, thumb pressing into the inside of his knee through the fabric of his jeans.
New York moved around them once they pulled onto the road, all massive buildings and constant motion and headlights stretching through the evening.
Traffic looked terrible.
“Good news,” Eijirou said.
“There’s no good news in traffic.”
“I booked us a hotel.”
Katsuki turned toward him. “What?”
“In Manhattan. We’re staying there for two days before heading to DC Friday morning.”
He blinked, trying to process the new information.
“You serious?”
“Yeah.” Eijirou glanced over briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Figured going straight from the airport to my parents’ place after a flight like that would suck for you.”
“Hm.”
“And you’ve barely had time off this year.”
“Hm.”
“So we can just hang out for a couple days. Sightseeing, food, Halloween stuff if you want.”
“You hate tourist shit.”
“I like you, though.”
That earned him a snort despite himself.
Outside the window, the city passed in waves of red brake lights and packed sidewalks. People moved through the cold in coats and scarves while storefronts glowed with Halloween decorations, groups drifting from bars to restaurants like nobody wanted to go home yet.
Katsuki leaned back against the seat and watched it all through the glass until the thought finally clicked into place between one stoplight and the next.
Eijirou had planned every part of this.
He hadn’t done it because he wanted to be in New York, or because sightseeing mattered much to him. He did it because he knew Katsuki. He knew how long trips wore him down, how airports and unfamiliar places got worse once exhaustion mixed with social pressure.
Any other person might’ve assumed he could handle it because he always handled everything, but Eijirou knew better.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” Katsuki said after a while.
“Wanted to.”
“Still.”
A shrug. “Dads understood immediately when I told them.”
“That makes one of us.”
“You’ll like them.”
“That’s not the problem.”
Eijirou glanced over again, still smiling. “You nervous?”
“Tch.”
“So yes.”
Katsuki crossed his arms tighter. “I flew across the fucking world for this. Course I’m nervous.”
“They already love you, y’know.”
“How the hell would they love me? They never met me.”
“You make me happy. That’s basically all they need.”
“Even your military dad?”
“He likes anyone who can cook.”
“I’m not cooking for your father.”
“You say that now.”
Traffic crawled forward another few meters before Eijirou reached across the center console and took his hand like it was routine. His thumb brushed over Katsuki’s knuckles once while he steered through New York traffic with one hand, eyes still on the road.
“You okay?”
He was tired, overwhelmed, and hungry, not to mention that the jet lag was already creeping in behind his eyes.
Still, he felt better now.
“Yeah,” Katsuki said, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “I’m fine.”
By the time the hotel came into view, Katsuki had stopped pretending the day was getting easier.
Manhattan traffic dragged around them, the car inching forward between taxis and delivery trucks while Eijirou drummed his fingers against the console every time another red light caught them.
The hotel rose above the block behind a wall of glass, bright lobby lights spilling onto the pavement in soft gold. A doorman stepped forward before the car had fully stopped, already reaching for luggage because nobody there had to drag their own bags through the lobby unless they felt like it.
Katsuki took one look at it and clicked his tongue. “You really went all out.”
“Yeah,” Eijirou said, parking out front. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“Thought you were about to.”
“Keep dreaming.”
That got a grin out of him. He cut the engine and came around to grab Katsuki’s bag from the back before Katsuki could argue again. Katsuki watched him for a second, too drained to waste energy on a fight he already knew he’d lose, then followed him inside.
By the time they reached the elevator, room service was already on the way too even if Katsuki hadn’t even asked. Eijirou had just handled it without making a deal out of it, like feeding him and getting him somewhere warm had been part of the plan from the start.
That kind of thing got under his skin more than grand gestures ever did.
The room was on one of the upper floors, with thick carpet in the hallway and a long quiet stretch before the door. Once they got inside, Katsuki did a slow look around even though he refused to look impressed on principle.
The place was stupid nice.
There was a sitting area by the window with two armchairs and a desk tucked off to the side, and beyond that, a huge bed made with white sheets pulled tight across the mattress. The room had enough space that neither of them had to dodge around the other while moving through it.
Outside, the city stretched past the glass in strips of traffic and lit windows, Manhattan starting to glow as the sky darkened.
A bowl of fruit sat on the table near the window, forgotten almost immediately when Eijirou let his overnight bag fall beside one of the chairs.
“Two days,” Katsuki said, eyeing the tiny bag.
“What?”
“That all you packed?”
Eijirou glanced down at it and shrugged. “We’re only here two days before DC.”
“You packed like we were staying one night.”
“I packed for two nights, thank you very much.”
Katsuki snorted and set his own suitcase beside the bed. “You always pack like an idiot.”
“Coming from the guy who traveled with one bag bigger than his torso.”
“Mine contains useful shit.”
“Mine contains useful shit too.”
“Two shirts and a toothbrush are not useful shit.”
“That’s because you don’t understand minimalist efficiency.”
“Bullshit.”
Eijirou laughed, then held up both hands in surrender as Katsuki started unzipping his bag. “Okay, okay. You win. Go shower before you turn into a fossil.”
That part sounded good enough to count as holy intervention.
Katsuki stripped off his jacket and tossed it over the chair, then headed for the bathroom without wasting time. He could hear Eijirou moving around in the bedroom behind him, probably taking off his boots, opening the curtains, and doing all the little domestic things that made him irritatingly at home anywhere in the world.
The bathroom had one of those deep hotel tubs and a shower with a glass door, and by the time he stepped inside he had already decided the trip would be judged by the quality of this water pressure.
That was all.
He turned the hot water up until the steam started to gather, then stayed under it for a few seconds with both hands braced against the wall while the heat sank into his shoulders.
When he grabbed his toothbrush and started working on his teeth, he heard the bathroom door open behind him.
Eijirou came in without asking, which was normal for them, and sat himself down on the closed toilet lid like this was just a perfectly reasonable place to keep Katsuki company while he showered. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and the exposed skin of his forearms looked pale against all that black.
Katsuki lifted an eyebrow at him through the mirror. “You planning to stare?”
“You say that like I need to plan.”
“Pervert.”
Eijirou didn’t bother answering, so Katsuki finished brushing, rinsed out his mouth, and started washing his hair while the redhead watched him with that stupid fond look that made him impossible to stay irritated with for long.
Once the shampoo was in, his eyes stung a little from the product and he tilted his head back under the spray, letting the water flatten the mess at the top of his head.
Then Eijirou got up.
“Move,” he said.
“What for?”
“Your hands are doing a terrible job.”
“Fuck you.”
“Apparently not, since I’m in here helping you.”
Katsuki almost snapped back just out of habit, but then Eijirou stepped into the shower, fully dressed except for the rolled sleeves and the socks he left just outside the glass. He fit himself into the narrow space carefully, one arm stretching around Katsuki’s shoulder while the other came up to his head. The angle looked stupid, like they were trying to share the world’s smallest elevator, but Eijirou made it work anyway.
“Seriously?” Katsuki said, though he was already leaning into it.
“Yeah. Close your eyes.”
“What, you suddenly became a shampoo commercial?”
“Shut up and let me do it.”
That was exactly the sort of order Katsuki would normally hate, which was probably why he let it happen.
Strong fingers worked through his hair, massaging the scalp at the roots while the water ran over the ends and washed the suds down his neck. The whole thing was so annoyingly good that it took a minute before he remembered how to be sarcastic.
“You practice that or something?”
“Mm-hm.”
“On who?”
“Your brother in another life.”
“Liar.”
“Caught me.”
Eijirou used more shampoo after that, working it in again because he claimed Katsuki still had plane grime in his hair, which was probably true but also rude enough to earn him a glare. The glare didn’t matter because Katsuki had his eyes closed and his body had already decided to melt on its own.
The shower got quiet for a stretch after that.
Eijirou just kept working, fingers careful around his scarred scalp and the places where the water made his hair cling in dark ropes to his forehead. Every now and then he’d press a little harder at the base of Katsuki’s skull, and every time he did, Katsuki felt the tension give way.
It was absurd.
“Dad’s place has been weird,” Eijirou said after a while, cutting through the water and the sound of the shower with no warning at all. “Good weird, mostly. Just weird.”
Katsuki opened one eye. “Weird how.”
“I’ve had a lot of time with them lately, more than I usually get,” another pass of fingers through his hair, slower now because the shampoo was almost out. “Usually they’re both gone for work half the time, so when I’m there it feels like everyone’s on a schedule. This time they’ve actually been dragging me around like I’m the important one.”
“You are the important one.”
Eijirou huffed a laugh. “One of them keeps getting called into military stuff and the other has embassy meetings, so I’m basically being handed off from one adult to the other like I’m visiting royalty or something.”
Katsuki snorted. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is, a little,” he rinsed Katsuki’s hair carefully, fingertips combing through the strands until the shampoo was gone. “But it’s nice too. They’re trying. That counts for a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s weird not having agency things hanging over my head. No patrols. No interviews. No interns to babysit,” the redhead snorted. “I keep thinking I should be doing something, then I remember I am doing something. I’m standing in my parents’ house getting dragged to cafés and museums and farmer’s markets like some guy on vacation.”
“You’re on vacation.”
“Feels fake.”
“Welcome to my whole life whenever you drag me somewhere.”
“Hey, that's not nice.”
Katsuki leaned harder against the shower wall while Eijirou rinsed the last of the soap from his hair. He could feel the care in every move without even looking because Eijirou always did that. He made room without asking first, and made long days easier before Katsuki had the chance to get irritated over them.
He remembered what Katsuki ordered at restaurants, how long he could deal with crowds before getting pissed off, which shoulder got sore after carrying a bag too long, when to leave him alone and when to stay close enough to talk through the bathroom door.
Most days, it made Katsuki feel understood in a way he never knew how to explain.
Other days, standing there with hot water running down his back while Eijirou worked shampoo from his hair, Katsuki wondered how much he kept taking without giving enough back.
He reached up and caught Eijirou’s wrist before the other man could pull away. “You don’t have to keep babying me.”
Eijirou blinked at him, then gave him that look that meant he had already figured out the real complaint hiding under the words. “I’m not babying you.”
“You’re in here washing my hair.”
“Yeah, because you looked like hell.”
“Fuck you.”
“Still not happening until later.”
That got an eye roll, which seemed to satisfy him.
Eijirou shut off the water after one last rinse, then stepped back and handed Katsuki a towel through the glass. Katsuki took it and scrubbed at his hair until it stopped dripping everywhere, then wrapped it around his shoulders while Eijirou leaned against the counter outside the shower with a grin that said he was way too pleased with himself.
The room service knock came a few minutes later, right as Katsuki was pulling on clean clothes from his bag. Eijirou beat him to the door, accepted the cart with the kind of cheerful thanks that made Katsuki suspicious on sight, and then started setting things out on the bed.
Red meat, fries and vegetables packed into separate containers because Eijirou always thought ahead, even when he acted like he didn’t. There was more food than Katsuki would ever eat in one sitting, but he knew Eijirou liked feeding him. Liked making sure there was extra just in case, tossing it together with a shrug like he hadn’t planned the whole order before they’d even reached the hotel.
By the time he came out, hair still damp and shirt hanging a little too loose on him, the bed had already been claimed.
Eijirou sat cross legged on one side, plates spread out between them, one eyebrow lifting when he saw Katsuki pause. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Then eat before I steal your fries.”
“Your hand is already on my plate.”
Eijirou looked down, then moved his hand with complete innocence. “That was an accident.”
“Lies.”
Katsuki climbed onto the bed, and for a second he just sat there with his shoulders finally loose enough to feel human again. Eijirou handed him his plate without being asked, and their knees bumped while they settled into eating.
He took a bite, chewed, and glanced sideways at him. “Your dads better not be weird about me.”
Eijirou nearly choked on his drink. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Answer the question.”
“They won’t be weird, but they’ll probably be curious.”
“That’s worse.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s if they ask stupid shit.”
“They might ask where you learned to make that face.”
“What face?”
“That one.”
Katsuki shot him a look. “Keep talking and I’m throwing this drink at you.”
“See? That one.”
A laugh escaped before Katsuki could stop it, and Eijirou lit up like he’d won something just by hearing it.
That, more than anything else today, made the whole trip feel worth it.
Katsuki finished the last few bites and pushed his plate away, then he gathered the empty containers and plates together, stacking them neatly so the sauces wouldn’t drip onto the floor. The cart still sat near the bed but he wanted it out of the way before they tried to sleep. He carried everything across the room and set it down on the small table by the entry door where housekeeping could grab it later without bothering them.
When he turned back, the sight across the room stopped him for a second.
Eijirou sat on the edge of the bed with his back facing him, legs dangling off the side while he checked his phone. The window behind him showed New York at night, with lights spread across the city and traffic crawling far below between the buildings. Seeing him there, relaxed against that view, made Katsuki’s heart ease completely.
Two weeks apart had worn on him more than he cared to admit, even to himself, so he crossed the room without a word and reached for the phone in Eijirou’s hand, pulling it away before tossing it onto the mattress beside him.
Then he climbed into his lap, one leg sliding over his hips while his arms circled his shoulders. Their mouths met at once, and the first kiss drew a sigh from Eijirou that passed through both of them.
They had gone days without more than rushed calls and half-finished messages between missions. Longer separations had happened before, but that never made them easier.
Eijirou had become part of nearly every hour of Katsuki’s life over the years, woven into routines so deeply he barely noticed them until they disappeared. Most nights ended with the two of them falling asleep side by side, and most mornings began with coffee waiting in the kitchen while Eijirou talked about whatever crossed his mind first.
Coming back to him now, kissing him like this with Eijirou’s hands warm against his waist, made the tension drain out of him all at once.
They kept everything slow at first, mouths moving against each other while Eijirou’s hands slid over Katsuki’s back, one disappearing under his shirt until his palm pressed straight to his skin. Katsuki pushed his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there, kissing him deeper when Eijirou breathed into his mouth.
Their lips parted for a second, enough for air, and Eijirou brushed another kiss near the corner of his mouth before dragging his lips down the line of his face.
“You act like you didn’t miss me at all, but here you are climbing on me two seconds after eating,” he whispered against skin.
Katsuki huffed and nipped at his bottom lip. “If you’re gonna run your mouth, then use it for something useful instead.”
Eijirou laughed against his mouth and kissed him again before Katsuki could keep running his mouth.
Both hands closed around his waist and pulled him in until there was no space left between them, and Katsuki stayed there willingly, half over him, letting the kisses drag on until breathing broke them apart for a second before they fell back into each other again.
Katsuki moved against him in a slow grind, barely giving them space to breathe between kisses while his hands wandered under Eijirou’s shirt. The motion kept pulling them together, hips meeting again until the redhead’s breath broke against his mouth.
Eijirou held onto his waist the whole time, guiding him closer with calm hands instead of pushing for more, and Katsuki melted into it without thinking.
Nobody had ever known how to touch him the way Eijirou did, reading every shift in his body before he even had to ask for it.
“Two weeks is too damn long,” Eijirou said.
“Yeah, no shit,” Katsuki answered before kissing him harder this time.
He felt the way Eijirou smiled against his mouth and pressed down again, chasing the drag between them.
Their clothes stayed on, but it still wasn’t enough to dull the need building every time their hips met. Katsuki dropped his head to Eijirou’s shoulder and breathed against his neck, white the other man’s hand moved along his back to hold his hip, guiding him into a pace that kept making Katsuki push closer.
They kissed again, mouths parting easily, tongues sliding together while Katsuki rolled his hips and drew a low moan from Eijirou that vibrated straight into his chest.
“You’re gonna wear me out before we even get to DC at this rate,” Eijirou said when they broke apart again.
Katsuki smirked and tugged his hair lightly. “You complaining already? Thought you were supposed to be tough.”
“Never said I was complaining.” Eijirou caught his mouth again, kissing him slow while his hands slid lower until they closed over his ass, guiding him into another roll of hips.
Want kept building between them, growing with every drag of their bodies, and Katsuki felt himself harden against him through the fabric still between them. He wanted skin, wanted to strip this down further, but exhaustion weighed on his limbs after the flight.
Whenever they needed air, they buried their faces in each other’s necks and breathed against damp skin without pulling away for long. Katsuki kept one hand in Eijirou’s hair, fingers tightening every time a rush went through him, while his boyfriend’s hands moved over his back and slipped beneath the waistband of his pants to drag across bare skin.
Another kiss pulled him back in before he could think too hard about it. Eijirou let out another moan against his mouth, hands spreading over Katsuki’s waist as he guided him closer, and he answered by rolling his hips again, slower this time, letting the friction build instead of chasing it.
When the ache grew hard to ignore, Eijirou shifted under him and reached between them. He pushed their underwear down just enough to free them, then closed his hand around both cocks. The first stroke dragged a sigh from Katsuki, and he bit into Eijirou’s shoulder to keep quiet.
Eijirou kept moving his hand while Katsuki pushed into the grip without thinking, chasing the friction while the other man held him close.
They kept kissing through most of it breaking only when it got too much then pressing open mouths to throats and shoulders instead. Katsuki buried his face against his neck, breathing hard while pleasure coiled tighter in his gut.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Eijirou breathed against his ear.
Katsuki didn’t answer, he just kissed him again, rougher this time, while the pressure between them kept climbing.
His thighs ached from the angle, but he ignored it, too focused on Eijirou pressed against him and the way his hand moved over both of them. Every stroke dragged them closer, leaving Katsuki breathless as exhaustion mixed with pleasure until his mind narrowed to Eijirou’s body against his and the rhythm carrying them forward.
He came first, teeth sinking into Eijirou’s shoulder to hold back the moan that tore out of him anyway when pleasure crashed through his body hard enough to blur his vision. His muscles locked as he rode it out, hips jolting against Eijirou’s hand while the redhead held him close through every pulse.
Eijirou followed a moment later with a rough breath against his neck, fingers still moving until they finally dropped against the sheets.
He guided them both down onto the mattress, pulling the blanket over them as he went, and Katsuki barely had time to sink into it before Eijirou moved in close behind him, one arm wrapping around his waist and holding him there against his chest.
By then the exhaustion had fully caught up to him.
His eyes slipped shut as Eijirou’s breathing slowed beside him, and within minutes Katsuki was asleep before either of them could say another word.
Katsuki woke before his brain fully caught up with where he was.
For a few seconds he stared at the ceiling, tangled in hotel sheets while sleep still dragged at him.
His hand drifted across the mattress beside him before he was fully aware of doing it, searching for a warm body and finding only cool sheets. The empty space left him frowning, so he rolled onto his back, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and squinted at the screen until the numbers came into focus.
Eight forty-seven.
Not bad. He'd expected the jet lag to hit harder after spending most of yesterday crossing half the world.
The room remained quiet while he weighed the effort of getting out of bed against staying exactly where he was. Before he could make a decision, the click of the hotel room door cut through the silence. His attention left the phone at once. He looked up just as Eijirou stepped inside carrying a plastic water bottle and wearing the kind of expression that suggested he was far too pleased with himself.
For another moment, Katsuki remained where he was, phone resting against his chest while he considered getting up, then the sound of the door opening interrupted the thought before it could go anywhere. His gaze lifted automatically, landing on Eijirou as he stepped into the room carrying a plastic water bottle and an expression that immediately put Katsuki on guard.
He stood there with sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black shirt draped over one shoulder, sweat still glistening across his skin from a workout and dark hair shoved back from his forehead.
The bastard looked awake, like he'd gotten a full night's sleep and started the day with a balanced breakfast.
The grin showed up the moment Eijirou noticed him sitting up.
“Morning.”
“Why didn't you wake me up to go to the gym with you?”
Eijirou blinked once before the grin widened. “Thought you deserved a bit more rest.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true.”
“You’re full of shit.”
Eijirou dropped the water bottle onto the dresser and headed over. Katsuki waited until he was close enough, then drove a fist into the middle of his chest hard enough to make a point. The redhead glanced down at the spot before looking back at him.
“Wanna explain what that was for?”
“Were you shirtless the entire time?”
Both tiny eyebrows climbed toward his hairline before a smirk immediately took over.
“Oh?”
“Don't.”
“Why?” He stepped between Katsuki's legs and planted both hands on his thighs. “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The smirk somehow got worse.
“It’s not like my hero costume hides a lot. I thought you were used to it by now.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes and pinched one of Eijirou's nipples hard enough to earn a visible reaction.
“The hell!”
“There’s not a single fucking person in Japan who’d dare look at you and try shit because they know they’d have their faces blown off by me.”
Eijirou stopped squirming and stared at him for a second, and Katsuki groaned before adding, “Not sure people here know that I’m gonna kill them if they dare look in your direction.”
The smile that followed was ridiculous. It started small, then kept growing until Eijirou looked genuinely delighted, like Katsuki had handed him the greatest compliment imaginable.
“Oh my God, Katsuki, you're so romantic.”
“Your standards are fucked.”
Before another argument could start, Eijirou bent down and kissed him, cutting off whatever insult he had been about to throw his way.
Katsuki accepted it for all of two seconds before pulling away. “You stink.”
Eijirou didn't look remotely bothered by the accusation. Instead, he pointed right back at him. “You have morning breath.”
They stared at each other for a beat before both of them broke into laughter.
Katsuki grabbed the front of the redhead’s sweatpants and shoved. The noise the other man made on the way down was embarrassingly dramatic as he lost his balance and crashed across the mattress, landing squarely on top of him.
An arm slid around Katsuki's waist immediately, because apparently getting thrown onto a bed wasn’t enough to discourage him. Eijirou leaned in again and kissed him, slower this time, and he kissed him back without thinking about it.
When they pulled apart, Eijirou brushed a kiss across his cheek.
“Good morning.”
Katsuki answered by grabbing his neck and trying to kiss him again.
“As much as I’d love to stay here, I need a shower,” the redhead said as he climbed out of bed. “And you should definitely brush your teeth.”
“You weren't complaining five seconds ago.”
The bathroom door shut before Katsuki could throw a pillow at him, and a minute later water rushed through the pipes.
Getting out of bed felt criminal because the floor was cold, the bathroom lights were brighter than any human needed first thing in the morning, and standing upright felt like a terrible design flaw.
By the time he wandered in, Eijirou was already under the spray, working shampoo through his long hair while Katsuki focused on more pressing concerns, namely using the toilet and glaring at the mirror for no reason beyond being awake.
“This vacation’s making you lazy.”
“Eat shit.”
“You slept almost ten hours.”
“Well, yeah, because I crossed the fucking Pacific.”
Eijirou laughed from behind the glass. Katsuki ignored him, finished up, washed his hands, and splashed water over his face before reaching for his toothbrush.
He had barely gotten toothpaste onto the bristles when Eijirou spoke again, “Put sunscreen on today.”
“Don't want to.”
“We’re gonna be outside all day.”
“It’s October.”
“The sun didn’t explode.”
“Unfortunately.”
That earned another laugh.
“You are the palest person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m Japanese.”
“I'm also Japanese and the sun adores me.”
Katsuki couldn't even argue with that.
The shower shut off, and a minute later the bathroom door opened, steam spilling into the room behind Eijirou as he stepped out.
“If you keep refusing sunscreen, you're gonna look like Grimer by forty.”
Katsuki lowered his toothbrush and stared at him through the mirror. “Are you comparing me to an ugly ass Pokémon?”
“Well, keep frowning and not applying sunscreen and soon enough you’re gonna have more wrinkles than this ugly ass Pokémon.”
The argument followed them through getting dressed because neither of them had ever learned when to stop once they started. By the end of it, Katsuki had somehow ended up wearing enough layers to survive a small environmental disaster: a sweater, a jacket, a scarf.
It felt ridiculous until he glanced out the window and remembered New York actually had seasons.
One look from Eijirou was enough to start the laughter all over again.
“What?”
“You look like somebody’s angry grandfather.”
“Die.”
Katsuki stared at him for a second before reaching for the sunscreen bottle on the counter and asking, “Happy now?”
“Extremely.”
“Asshole.”
Breakfast happened downstairs in the hotel restaurant overlooking part of the city, and by the time the coffee arrived, Katsuki had finally shaken off the last traces of sleep.
Food helped, caffeine even more, and for a few minutes he focused on both while the city moved beyond the windows. Across the table, Eijirou looked far too pleased with himself, and the expression alone was enough to make him immediately suspicious.
“What are we doing today?”
Eijirou took another sip of coffee before answering. “First stop is the American Hero History Museum.”
Katsuki stopped halfway through a bite and stared at him. “The what?”
"The American Hero History Museum."
“That’s real?”
“Apparently,” Eijirou shrugged. “They’ve got original costumes from first-generation licensed heroes, disaster response exhibits, historical villain organizations, and an entire section dedicated to international hero cooperation.”
“Okay,” he admitted. “Thats cool.”
“Sounds nerdy.”
“It absolutely is.”
Breakfast stretched longer than either of them planned, conversation drifting from hero museums to travel stories and pointless arguments about tourist traps until the plates were empty, the coffee was gone, and New York waited outside the hotel doors.
The city looked different in daylight.
Last night had been a blur of headlights, traffic, and exhaustion beyond the car window, but now he had enough energy to pay attention as crowds filled the sidewalks, people moving in every direction with coffee cups seemingly attached to half the population.
Halloween had taken over entire blocks with a level of commitment that bordered on insanity; storefront windows displayed skeletons in business suits, giant spiders clung to brick buildings, and one apartment balcony featured what appeared to be a twelve-foot inflatable ghost wearing sunglasses.
Every street seemed determined to outdo the last, decorations spilling across buildings and windows as though the city had collectively decided subtlety wasn’t worth the effort.
Americans really couldn’t do anything halfway.
A cold breeze slipped through the avenues, carrying leaves across the sidewalk. Somewhere around the third block, Katsuki complained that his fingers were freezing, which led to Eijirou grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand inside his own coat, and trapping it against his side before Katsuki could tell him to fuck off.
That had been twenty minutes ago.
Now they walked shoulder to shoulder through Manhattan traffic with their fingers loosely linked inside the redhead’s jacket while neither of them acknowledged how ridiculous they probably looked.
Not that Katsuki cared since that particular battle ended years ago.
Being a public figure complicated things, and being a public figure dating another public figure complicated them even more.
During the first months of their relationship, a camera always seemed to be pointed in their direction. Fans took photos from across the street, entertainment sites picked apart every public appearance, and entire corners of the internet treated blurry images like evidence in an investigation, analyzing gestures, expressions, and timing in search of answers neither of them had ever offered.
But it got old quickly, and life moved on anyway.
Work kept piling up, patrols came and went, and the years slipped by without either of them paying much attention to the noise around them. Their relationship remained exactly what it had always been, and over time the scrutiny faded into the background, becoming easy to ignore. Before long, the opinions of strangers barely crossed their minds, and neither saw much reason to spend energy on them.
So if Eijirou threw an arm around his shoulders while they waited for a train, he did. If he kissed him goodbye before heading across the city for patrol, he did. If he reached for Katsuki's hand while they walked through one of the busiest cities in the world, he did.
Katsuki had never asked him to stop, and after all these years, he wasn't about to start.
Being loved by Eijirou was loud.
It never arrived with second thoughts, never paused to see who might be watching, never treated affection like it needed permission. He gave it freely, and Katsuki still hadn't figured out how someone could care for him so openly without holding any part of it back.
Turns out that was a pretty nice thing to have.
“Look at the dog, baby.”
A golden retriever trotted past in a tiny vampire cape, carrying itself with the confidence of a celebrity making an appearance. Katsuki immediately looked away.
“What the fuck is wrong with this city?”
Eijirou laughed and bumped his shoulder against his. “It’s cute.”
“It’s stupid.”
The grin on Eijirou's face made it clear he wasn't buying that for a second, and Katsuki refused to give him the satisfaction of arguing further.
They kept walking, weaving through the crowds until the museum came into view a few blocks later. Massive stone columns framed the entrance, banners stretched across the front steps, and a sign advertising HEROES OF THE AMERICAN AGE hung above photographs of pro heroes from different generations.
The moment they walked inside, Katsuki understood exactly why Eijirou chose this place.
The museum covered the history of hero society in the United States from the earliest years after Quirk emergence all the way through modern times. Entire halls focused on disasters, rescue operations, legislation, hero education, support technology, and cultural changes. Original costumes stood inside glass displays. Historical footage played on large screens. Interactive maps tracked major incidents throughout the country.
“This is your idea of a date?”
Eijirou looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“You’ve been here three minutes and you’re already reading everything.”
Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong.
The first floor focused on early American hero culture during the Quirk Emergence Era, and most of the heroes featured there looked completely unhinged by modern standards. One display introduced a woman called Liberty Belle, whose quirk allowed her to create metallic constructs from concentrated solar energy. Another showcased a rescue specialist named Iron Current, capable of transforming his body into living conductive material and redirecting electricity during large-scale infrastructure failures.
A few exhibits later, Katsuki slowed in front of a wall that stretched nearly twenty meters across.
“Huh.”
Eijirou moved up beside him and followed his gaze.
“What?”
“This one.”
The display was impossible to miss. Photographs covered entire sections of the wall and gave way to newspaper articles preserved behind glass, while uniform fragments sat beneath spotlights beside maps tracing troop movements, hero deployments, and contested shipping routes. Every piece fed into the next, turning the wall into a continuous record of the war rather than a collection of separate exhibits.
The exhibit detailed the Atlantic Conflict, a war fought about sixty years earlier after several powerful villain organizations seized control of shipping lanes along the eastern seaboard. Organized crime had gradually expanded into open warfare, drawing in multiple states, federal hero agencies, military forces, and international allies over the course of several years.
Katsuki studied the photographs in silence.
The scale of it all reminded him too much of what he once lived only a few years ago.
One photograph showed entire stretches of coastline wiped out during a battle against a villain known as Leviathan, whose quirk generated tidal surges large enough to swallow ports whole. Another featured a hero named Sentinel Ridge standing atop a cluster of collapsed buildings while coordinating evacuations below.
“Jesus,” Eijirou said quietly.
“Yeah.”
A plaque nearby listed casualty numbers: thousands injured, hundreds dead, multiple hero agencies erased during the conflict. Katsuki folded his arms as he read.
“People forget how recent this stuff is.”
“They always do.”
Behind them, a group of teenagers walked past arguing about which historical hero would win in a fight. The debate somehow involved laser vision, tornado generation, and far more confidence than actual knowledge.
Neither of them bothered commenting.
The next section covered reconstruction efforts after the conflict ended, and that held Katsuki’s attention far more than the battles.
Most people cared about the fighting; the victories, the villains, the moment a threat was finally brought down. The harder work started afterward, when cities had to be rebuilt, infrastructure replaced, and entire communities forced to figure out how to keep moving after losing half of what they depended on.
One exhibit highlighted a hero named Prairie King, whose quirk accelerated plant growth on a massive scale. Following years of environmental damage caused by large-scale quirk battles, he had overseen the restoration of entire forests. Photographs showed barren landscapes gradually transformed into thriving ecosystems, each image documenting a stage of recovery rather than destruction.
Another exhibit focused on Mercy Lane, a support hero whose healing quirk transformed emergency medicine decades before Recovery Girl's methods became standardized across the world.
“Look at this guy.”
Eijirou pointed at a photograph, and Katsuki broke into laughter before he even got a proper look at the plaque beneath it.
The hero wore a costume built entirely around eagle imagery; not a few details here and there, but the whole damn thing. Feathers covered the shoulders, wings spread from the back, stars decorated the chest, and flags occupied every available inch of fabric. It looked like every American stereotype had been crammed into a single design and signed off by people who had somehow decided it wasn't excessive.
“Absolutely American.”
“I know.”
“He looks like a fireworks factory gained sentience.”
“His quirk was called Freedom Flight.”
“Of course it was.”
That led them deeper into the museum, drifting from one exhibit to the next while trading comments about heroes who had been dead for decades and arguing over historical decisions neither of them had any authority to change.
A display covering federal hero regulation sparked a debate that carried them halfway across the room before either noticed they had left the exhibit behind. There was also an entire section dedicated to support equipment licensing started another argument almost immediately.
After another half hour, they ended up in the museum café because apparently several floors of history were enough to make people hungry.
The café overlooked an interior courtyard where pumpkins lined the walkways and families filled the tables below, their conversations blending into the afternoon noise. In the corner, two college students sat behind open textbooks, arguing over hero rankings with enough enthusiasm to make it clear neither had read a page in quite a while.
Katsuki ordered tea, mostly because coffee sounded like a terrible decision after the amount he'd already consumed. Eijirou ordered tea too, then stole one of Katsuki's pastries before his own food even arrived.
“Hey!”
“You weren’t eating it.”
“It was sitting there for thirty seconds.”
Katsuki considered throwing the rest of the pastry at him, but he drank his tea instead.
The break lasted much longer than either of them planned, mostly because neither had anywhere they needed to be.
That still felt unusual, to say at least.
Most of their lives moved according to agency calendars, patrol schedules, interviews, training sessions, and emergency calls. Free time existed, but usually in scattered pieces between obligations.
But this was different since no one was waiting for them. No reporters, or agencies, or sidekicks with questions or anything at all.
It was just them across the globe.
When they finally stepped back outside, the city had grown busier. Pedestrians moved past carrying shopping bags and coffee cups while tourists stopped every few feet for photographs.
A laugh escaped Eijirou as he pointed across the street.
Katsuki followed his gaze to a bakery window packed with hero-themed Halloween cookies. Tiny capes. Tiny masks. Tiny pumpkins. One had been iced to look like All Might.
He stared at it for a second before looking away. “Absolutely not.”
Eijirou laughed. “You had a costume like that when you were five.”
“That photo is supposed to be destroyed.”
“It’s in a frame at your mom’s house.”
“Yeah, and every time I visit, I consider committing arson.”
Eijirou’s grin widened as they kept walking through the crowd. A witch pushed a stroller packed with dogs dressed as bats, drawing laughs from people nearby. Across the street, someone hauled a six-foot inflatable skeleton over one shoulder while music spilled from an open bar beneath balconies strung with orange lights.
“What the fuck is wrong with this city?”
“You’ve asked that three times.”
“And I haven’t gotten an answer.”
Eijirou caught the corner of his sleeve and tugged him around a group of tourists blocking the sidewalk. By now, the crowds had thickened enough that staying side by side took effort, and every few steps their shoulders bumped together.
The city kept unfolding around them as they walked, and Katsuki stopped paying attention after a while. New York ran at full volume, and eventually his brain shoved the noise into the background.
Then he spotted a store.
One second he was walking beside Eijirou, and the next he veered toward a corner shop without a word, heading straight for the entrance.
The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside.
A jewelry shop occupied the corner, small enough that Katsuki could take in most of it from the doorway. Watches and necklaces filled the display cases lining the walls, while bracelets rested beneath glass counters polished to a shine.
Behind the register, the owner looked up at once, interest crossing his face when he noticed a customer step inside.
Katsuki's gaze drifted toward the display window and caught on a gold chain resting among the others. It wasn't flashy or expensive enough to draw attention for the wrong reasons, just a simple necklace with a tiny golden gear hanging from it. He studied it for a moment before the shop owner's voice broke through his thoughts, speaking in English that Katsuki only partly understood.
Right. The language.
He pulled out his phone, opened a translator app, typed a quick message, and turned the screen around.
“Is that for sale?”
The owner’s smile widened at once.
“Yes, yes.”
At least that part translated without a problem.
The man nodded several times, then disappeared behind the displays at the back of the shop. Katsuki had barely turned his attention back to the cases when the front door opened again.
“Katsuki?”
Eijirou stepped inside, breathing a little harder than before, his black coat hanging open and his cheeks pink from the cold.
“There you are.”
Katsuki shrugged.
“You disappeared.”
“I walked twenty feet.”
“Yeah, in New York.”
Before either of them could continue the argument, the owner returned carrying a small tray with the necklace resting at its center.
Katsuki picked it up, turning it between his fingers. The gear pendant looked smaller up close than it had in the window, barely larger than his thumbnail. Polished gold caught the light along its edges, the design clean and uncomplicated.
It was perfect.
He studied it for a moment, glanced at the owner, then lifted a thumbs-up.
The owner laughed. “Excellent choice.”
Eijirou stayed unusually quiet through the entire exchange. He didn't ask questions, crack jokes, or make a single comment. He just watched while Katsuki paid, accepted the small paper bag, tucked it beneath his arm, and headed back outside before anyone had the chance to turn the purchase into a conversation.
The wind hit harder once they stepped back onto the sidewalk, carrying a swirl of orange leaves that skittered across the pavement between passing feet. For nearly half a block, neither of them said a word. Then Eijirou's gaze dropped to the bag Katsuki was carrying.
“What’s that for?”
“Huh?”
“The gear.”
Katsuki kept moving as if that answered the question, but Eijirou knew him too well for that. His hand closed around Katsuki’s wrist to stop him beneath a tree surrendering the last of its autumn leaves. The branches swayed overhead, scattering red and orange through the air as the wind swept them down around both of them.
“Katsuki.”
“What?”
The look on Eijirou's face made regret hit him so fast it nearly turned him around right then and there. A sigh slipped out before he could stop it, and he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, annoyed by the warmth creeping across his face when the wind was cold enough to bite through his jacket and leave the tips of his ears numb.
“It was your birthday.”
Eijirou blinked. “What?”
“Your birthday.”
The words came out rougher than he'd meant them to, dragged out of him with all the grace of a confession he never wanted to make in the first place.
“You were already here, so I didn't give you anything.”
The realization crossed Eijirou's face immediately.
Katsuki wanted the sidewalk to crack open beneath his feet.
Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and looked away, fixing his attention on the street ahead while dead leaves skittered along the curb.
The silence that followed only made it worse, but then, in a small voice, Eijirou asked, “What does that even mean?”
“It means I bought it.”
“Katsuki.”
Another sigh escaped him before he pointed at the bag.
“The gear matches my costume.”
Eijirou’s eyebrows rose, but Katsuki cut him off before he could get a word in.
“So whenever you’re away, or I’m away, or whenever you end up seeing me on the news, in an interview, or wherever the hell else, you’ll see it.”
A gust swept through the street, stirring a wave of orange leaves that skittered across the pavement and curled around passing feet before disappearing into the flow of the crowd. Around them, people kept moving without a glance in their direction, conversations blending into traffic noise while the city carried on as if this moment existed only for the two of them.
Katsuki looked past Eijirou instead of at him, his attention fixed on a point somewhere down the block.
“You’ll see that I’m wearing a piece of gear everybody already associates with you.”
For a moment, he wished he had never brought it up at all. The explanation had sounded reasonable enough while it stayed trapped in his head, but hearing the words out loud was an entirely different experience.
But now it was too late to regret it, and he wasn't a quitter.
“It doesn’t matter where we are,” he murmured. “You could be across the country, I could be halfway around the world, and it wouldn’t change anything. Every time my face ends up on a screen somewhere, you’ll know I’m carrying part of you with me.”
His gaze stayed fixed somewhere beyond Eijirou’s shoulder, unwilling to risk meeting his eyes for more than a second at a time.
It wasn't as if the words themselves were unfamiliar since they exchanged “I love you’s” often enough, spoken outright on certain days and woven into countless others through gestures, habits, and small acts of devotion neither of them ever questioned.
Katsuki knew exactly how Eijirou felt, just as Eijirou knew him in return.
This, however, left no room to hide behind familiarity or routine. Every thought, every memory, every feeling he usually kept locked away was being pressed into a form Eijirou could hold in his hands. The idea alone left Katsuki agitated because he had never poured so much of himself into a single gesture before, never gathered years of affection and devotion into one place and offered it without reservation.
“Forget it,” Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
“No.”
“Too late.”
“No.”
“Eijirou.”
“No.”
The answer came with the same stubborn conviction it always did, and before Katsuki could find another argument worth making, Eijirou reached up and cupped his cheek. His thumb brushed beneath Katsuki's eye, and for a moment every complaint waiting on the tip of his tongue simply disappeared.
Then Eijirou leaned forward and kissed him as he always did; as though the distance between them had been worth crossing, as though every conversation, every argument, every day spent finding their way back to each other had led here.
When the redhead finally drew back, that ridiculous expression was still there, written plainly across his face when he said, “Thanks, Katsuki.”
Katsuki answered with a shrug. He knew his ears were probably red, but he wasn't about to check, and if Eijirou noticed, he would never let him hear the end of it.
The wind swept through the street again, carrying a scatter of orange leaves across the pavement as people flowed around them. The city had turned cold hours ago, and that was all the explanation anyone needed.
Then Eijirou looked at him and smiled.
It wasn't wide enough to be teasing, and it didn't carry the smug satisfaction Katsuki usually expected whenever he made a fool of himself.
It was just an uncomplicated kind of happiness.
“So.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “So?”
A leaf drifted down from a tree overhead and caught in red hair. Katsuki reached over and brushed it away before the thought had fully formed, his hand already moving by the time he realized what he was doing.
Eijirou's expression softened even further.
“Wipe that look off your face.”
“No.”
“Asshole.”
Judging by the laugh Eijirou failed to hide, Katsuki knew exactly how pleased he was, and the realization earned nothing more than an eye roll and a shove to his shoulder.
Eijirou staggered a step, knocked back against him, and kept walking as though neither of them intended to mention it.
With the afternoon slipping toward evening, they drifted through Manhattan without any real destination in mind, turning down streets on impulse and crossing into new neighborhoods whenever a storefront, a crowded corner, or a burst of music caught Eijirou's attention. He insisted on stopping at several places every visitor was apparently required to see at least once, which left Katsuki standing in the middle of landmarks photographed thousands of times a day while pretending the experience held no appeal whatsoever.
They passed through Rockefeller Center beneath the glow of towering buildings, wandered stretches of Fifth Avenue crowded with shoppers and tourists moving in every direction, and eventually found themselves in Bryant Park, where a seasonal market had taken over part of the grounds.
What was meant to be a brief look turned into far more time than either of them expected after Eijirou became fascinated by rows of small booths packed with handmade decorations, carved ornaments, painted glass, and displays assembled by local vendors eager to draw people in.
He paused at nearly every stall, asking questions, picking up pieces to inspect, and striking up conversations with complete strangers while Katsuki followed along behind him, grumbling under his breath but never making a serious attempt to leave.
At one point during the afternoon, Eijirou stopped at a street vendor and came back with a cup of hot chocolate. At another, Katsuki took half of it without asking. It had become the kind of habit that slipped beneath notice, woven so thoroughly into daily life that it no longer registered as a choice.
By the time late evening arrived, hours of walking had finally started to wear on them, so they ended up in a small Japanese restaurant three blocks from the hotel, tucked between businesses that most tourists probably passed without a second glance.
A few businessmen occupied a corner table, their conversation kept low behind glasses. Two couples sat near the windows, framed by the glow of the city beyond the glass. Japanese threaded through the room often enough that Katsuki would catch himself forgetting he was in the middle of Manhattan at all.
They stayed longer than either of them had planned. Not because the conversation drifted anywhere important, but because neither saw a reason to call it a night.
At one point, the conversation turned to one of their interns, who had managed to lock himself inside a supply closet during training and then spent nearly twenty minutes yelling for help while fully convinced nobody outside could hear him.
Eijirou laughed hard enough to nearly spill his drink across the table. Katsuki insisted there was nothing funny about it, which only made the other man laugh harder.
When they finally stepped back outside, the temperature had dropped again. The walk to the hotel took only a few minutes, and the moment they stepped through the revolving doors, the hotel lobby welcomed them with the warmth pouring from the heaters tucked along the walls.
The moment the room door closed behind them, both started shedding layers.
Katsuki rolled his shoulders and worked the stiffness from his neck, welcoming the ache threaded through his muscles. It had nothing to do with long patrols, difficult fights, or the kind of exhaustion that followed hours spent on alert. This came from walking until sunset painted the buildings gold, drifting through museums with no destination beyond the next exhibit, and filling entire afternoons with each other's company instead of waiting for a call that could pull them back to work.
He had barely started toward the bed when fingers closed around his wrist.
Katsuki glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
Eijirou stood by the entryway, the paper bag hanging from one hand while the necklace rested across the other. The thin gold chain caught the light as it draped over his palm, and the sight stopped Katsuki where he was.
Eijirou crossed the room, lifting the necklace between both hands, and making the intention behind it impossible to miss.
So he stood still.
The redhead stepped behind him, and a second later the clasp clicked shut. The pendant came to rest against his chest, so light it barely registered, but his attention found it immediately.
That was inevitable.
The necklace could have weighed nothing at all, and he still would have been aware of every inch of gold resting beneath his collarbone.
Eijirou’s fingers brushed the back of his neck before dropping away, and Katsuki swallowed against the familiar reaction that rose every time Eijirou looked at him like that.
Years had passed. They had built a life together, crossed countries together, learned each other so completely that love should have felt ordinary by now.
It never did.
Before he could dwell on it, he caught the front of Eijirou’s sweater and drew him closer.
The kiss lasted longer than the ones they had stolen throughout the day. It unfolded without hurry, with no crowd flowing around them, no strangers passing close enough to notice, no city demanding their attention.
The noise of New York faded behind them until all Katsuki could focus on was Eijirou, his mouth, his hands, the familiar presence that had anchored him for years and still left him breathless.
When they finally pulled apart, Katsuki kept one fist closed inside his sweater.
“Now come lay down with me and warm me up.”
A grin appeared on Eijirou’s face before the sentence had even finished.
“My feet are freezing,” Katsuki continued, using it as an argument.
“You say that like it's my responsibility.”
“It is.”
“According to who?”
“Me.”
Eijirou laughed, and the sound followed them across the apartment and all the way to the bed.
Because this was what their life looked like now: shared apartments and shared meals, long shifts that left them exhausted, and arguments that started over nothing before stretching through an entire evening. Airport pickups after weeks apart. Fries stolen from each other's plates. Small gifts purchased on random streets in another country because one person had looked at the other and immediately thought, this belongs to him.
The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight as they climbed under the blankets, the room finally quiet after a day spent weaving through noise.
Katsuki immediately claimed most of the warmth he'd been complaining about needing all evening, earning a low protest from Eijirou before he slid an arm around his waist and pulled him closer anyway.
“Y’know, we still need to take a shower and brush our teeth,” the redhead said softly against blond hair.
“Hm,” Katsuki made a dismissive sound against his shoulder, already sinking deeper beneath the blankets. “Just hold me for a while.”
He could feel Eijirou smile against his skin and an arm holding him tighter.
“Okay,” his boyfriend said. “Five minutes.”