Work Text:
Izuku
The knock came at exactly six o'clock.
Izuku looked up from his notebook and smiled immediately.
Three knocks—always three. Not because Katsuki had ever said that was his thing. Katsuki would probably deny it if asked, but it was.
Izuku opened the door. "Kacchan."
Katsuki stood there holding two grocery bags.
"What?"
Izuku glanced down.
"That's a lot of food."
"It's not."
"There are three bags."
"It's two."
"There are literally three."
Katsuki looked down.
"...Shut up."
Izuku laughed and stepped aside.
Katsuki immediately pushed past him and headed for the kitchen like he paid rent. Honestly, at this point, Izuku wasn't entirely sure he didn't.
Half the mugs in the cupboard were somehow Katsuki's. The blanket draped over the couch was definitely Katsuki's, and there was a hoodie hanging over the back of one of the dining chairs that Katsuki kept forgetting to take home.
Or maybe wasn't forgetting. Izuku wasn't brave enough to ask.
"You eat today?" Katsuki asked.
"Yep."
"What'd you have?"
Izuku paused, "...Food."
Katsuki stopped walking and slowly turned around.
Izuku smiled innocently, "Kacchan."
"You forgot."
"I didn't forget."
"You forgot."
"I remembered eventually."
"You forgot."
"Maybe a little."
Katsuki groaned dramatically. "Unbelievable."
Despite the complaint, he was already unpacking groceries.
Izuku watched him move around the kitchen.
Comfortably, like he'd done this a hundred times—maybe he had.
The realization made something warm settle in Izuku's chest. Because a few months ago, this would have felt impossible. Now Katsuki knew where everything was. Which cupboards stuck. Which burner worked weirdly. Where Izuku hid the good tea. It felt... Nice.
Dangerously nice.
"What?" Katsuki asked suddenly.
Izuku blinked. "Pardon?"
"You're staring."
"Oh." He hadn't realized he was.
"You looked cute concentrating." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence, immediate silence. Katsuki froze.
The grocery bag slowly slid from his hand onto the counter.
Izuku froze too.
Because, Oh. Oh no.
"Kacchan—"
"What the hell did you just say?"
"I didn't mean—"
"You called me cute."
"I—"
"You called me cute."
His ears were turning red. Actually red.
Izuku could feel his own face heating. "I was trying to say focused."
"Focused and cute aren't the same word."
"They are a little."
"They absolutely are not."
Izuku laughed.
Katsuki looked offended, which somehow only made him look cuter. That thought definitely stayed inside his head. Where it belonged—hopefully forever.
A few minutes later they ended up making dinner together.
Well… ‘Together’ Katsuki cooked, Izuku was assigned vegetable duty. A responsibility that was revoked three separate times.
"You're cutting those wrong."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
"I've cut vegetables before."
"Not successfully."
"Kacchan."
"Move." Izuku surrendered the knife, Katsuki looked at him smuggle.
"You like being bossy."
"You like being terrible at this."
Izuku smiled.
"I like watching you cook." Katsuki almost dropped a carrot.
The next thirty seconds were spent pretending that sentence hadn't happened.
Dinner ended up on the couch—like usual. The television was on, neither was watching it. Izuku sat curled into the corner with his legs tucked beneath him. Katsuki sprawled across the opposite side.
Somehow, gradually. The distance disappeared.
First their knees bumped, then their shoulders. Then neither bothered moving away. The apartment felt warm, comfortable.
Safe.
Izuku hadn't realized how much he'd missed feeling safe. Not physically, he normally felt pretty safe physically, but emotionally—the kind of safe where silence wasn't lonely, the kind where somebody could exist beside you without demanding anything. Just... Stay.
"You smiling about something?" Katsuki asked.
Izuku blinked, "Huh?"
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"The stupid smile."
Izuku laughed softly. "I like when you're here." The words came naturally, easy and honest.
Katsuki immediately looked away. "Oh."
Izuku tilted his head, "Kacchan?"
The tips of Katsuki's ears were pink again, "...Whatever."
That wasn't an answer. It was, however, very cute. Not that Izuku said that, this time.
The movie changed, the evening stretched on. Neither of them mentioned leaving. Neither of them checked the time.
At some point Izuku's shoulder started aching, not badly. But enough that he shifted—enough that Katsuki noticed immediately.
"You hurting?"
"A little."
"You should've said something."
"I'm okay."
"Tch." Katsuki pulled the blanket off the back of the couch. The blanket that definitely wasn't his. And tossed it at Izuku's face.
"There."
Izuku laughed, "Thank you."
"Yeah."
Izuku wrapped himself in it.
Warm, soft, faintly smelling like Katsuki's laundry detergent. The realization hit him halfway through adjusting it. He blinked. Then immediately decided not to think about that. For reasons—very normal reasons.
A few minutes later, Katsuki stretched. Izuku shifted. The couch dipped. Then somehow—their shoulders ended up pressed together.
Neither moved. A minute passed, then another. Izuku could feel the steady warmth beside him, the rise and fall of Katsuki's breathing.
His eyes felt heavy.
"Tired?" Katsuki asked quietly.
"A little."
"Then sleep."
"You'll leave."
"No, I won't."
The answer came so quickly that Izuku looked up. Katsuki looked annoyed immediately, like he'd revealed something by accident.
Izuku's smile softened. "Oh."
"Don't make that face."
"What face?"
"That one."
Izuku had absolutely no idea what face he meant. Katsuki sighed. Then, after a moment—a very long moment—he shifted closer.
Their arms touched, their legs touched. Then Katsuki muttered something that sounded suspiciously like:
"Idiot."
Before grabbing the blanket and pulling half of it over himself.
Izuku blinked, then blinked again.
"Kacchan..."
"What."
"Are we sharing a blanket?"
"No."
"We literally are."
"Tch."
Izuku laughed quietly. His chest felt warm enough that he couldn't stop smiling. Even when Katsuki rolled his eyes. Even when Katsuki complained. Even when Katsuki looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Because he didn't, he was here.
Still here—choosing to stay. The realization settled gently into Izuku's chest. Without really thinking, he leaned sideways. His head came to rest against Katsuki's shoulder.
For one horrifying second, he thought he'd pushed too far. Then Katsuki went completely still.
"...Izuku."
The use of his first name made his heart stutter.
"Yeah?"
A pause. Long—dangerously long.
Then: "You're lucky you're cute."
Izuku's entire brain stopped functioning. "Kacchan—"
"Don't start."
"I didn't even say anything."
"I know exactly what you're gonna say."
Izuku was grinning now, hopelessly.
"Kacchan."
"Shut up."
But Katsuki's shoulder shifted slightly. Making it easier for Izuku to rest against him. Making it comfortable. The realization made Izuku's heart feel impossibly full.
Slowly, carefully, he relaxed. Katsuki didn't complain.
Didn't move away. Instead, after another minute, Izuku felt an arm settle loosely around his shoulders. Casual, like it wasn't a big deal. Like Katsuki hadn't just short-circuited Izuku's entire nervous system.
"Oh."
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You said 'oh.'"
"It was an emotional oh."
Katsuki groaned. Izuku laughed into his shoulder. The sound earned him a light shove. One with absolutely no force behind it.
Eventually the movie ended. Neither noticed. Izuku was half asleep, warm beneath the blanket. Curled against Katsuki's side.
And Katsuki—Katsuki was still there. One arm around him. Head tipped against the back of the couch. Not asleep—just quiet.
Izuku smiled sleepily.
"Kacchan?"
"What."
"I really like you."
The room went silent. For one terrible second Izuku wondered if he'd accidentally said that out loud. Then Katsuki's hand squeezed his shoulder gently.
"I know."
Izuku's heart melted. A pause. Then, quieter:
"...I like you too, dumbass."
Izuku couldn't stop smiling. Neither of them said boyfriend. Neither of them said dating. Neither of them said anything official at all.
But sometime later, with both of them tangled beneath the same blanket, Izuku half asleep against Katsuki's chest and Katsuki refusing to let go—it felt like they didn't really need to.
Not tonight.