Work Text:
Katsuki is at the end of his wits. It’s almost the end of his shift but the hefty stack of paperwork that’s sitting on his desk in front of him indicates that he’s going to have to stay at least two hours overtime. All because two brainless fools thought it would be a good idea to rob a liquor store in broad daylight. Long story short, one of them had the convenient quirk of manipulating ethanol (like, WTF?) and the other had some kind of minor flammability quirk. The result was a fairly large explosion that was for once not courtesy of The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. The toll he had to pay for such a crime? A fuck ton of paperwork for property damage to the store and a few of the surrounding ones too, parked vehicles caught in the explosion, a few civilian injuries, and a majority of his left eyebrow that got singed off. All in all, shitty ending to an otherwise regular day as a Pro hero.
He debates whether to just bite the bullet and take the damn papers home to complete after a well-deserved home-cooked meal. He hates taking work home but sometimes it’s necessary. Besides, work feels a lot less like work when you’re sitting on your own bed, in your PJ’s, with your husband curled up next to you like a fuckin’ housecat, with your actual housecat curled up his arms. It’s that image of Shouto that helps him make his decision.
Katsuki starts packing away his things and is just folding up his hero costume and placing it into a separate bag to throw into the laundry later when the door to his office creaks open.
He turns to see Shouto peeking his head through the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, hey. Yeah, whatever.” Katsuki turns back to resume clearing up his desk and office so that it looks orderly enough that it doesn’t put him in a bad mood as soon as he comes back tomorrow. “I was just about to leave. Why’d you come all the way here anyway, I was gonna meet you at home.”
Shouto strides into the room, still in his own hero costume. “Ended up chasing a villain all the way down here at the end of my patrol. Thought I’d come stop by after seeing yours on the news.” He places both his hands onto Katsuki’s desk with his back turned to it, leaning back on his arms as he watches Katsuki scramble around. Katsuki finally shoves the last of his handy mini grenades into a secure lockbox and walks back to Shouto to give him the quick peck on the lips he’s clearly been waiting for.
“And what about your fucking paperwork, dumbass? You can’t just leave right after patrol.”
Shouto shrugs. “I asked my intern to do it.”
Katsuki just grumbles about exploitation as Shouto grabs a hold of his face with his right hand; it’s a tad cold. He just stares at a spot above Katsuki’s left eye and whistles (something he’d only learned recently after Denki showed him that fucking Peppa Pig video). “Took almost the entire eyebrow off, huh?”
Katsuki shoves him off, disgruntled. “Fuck off, it’s been a long fucking day and I still have shit to get done at home. So, move the fuck over so I can get the shit off my desk and we can leave.”
Shouto seems to ponder this for a second, and Katsuki quirks his remaining eyebrow in question. Instead of stepping aside like Katsuki had fucking asked him to, the idiot just turns around to face the desk. Before Katsuki can utter a single word in question or in protest, his bonehead of a husband sweeps the entire content of Katsuki’s desk onto the fucking floor in one fluid motion.
Shouto turns to face him again, a small, satisfied grin on his face. Katsuki just stares back with his mouth slightly agape, still not having found any words.
“Maybe this will help take your mind off work,” Shouto says in his best seductive voice, which has the intonation one has when ordering at fucking McDonald’s. He then has the audacity to try and waggle his two-toned eyebrows before hopping up to sit onto Katsuki’s now clean desk.
There are many things Katsuki wants to say (read: scream) but he chooses not to. Instead, he takes a deep calming breath just like his therapist taught him to all those years ago, picks up the stack of papers that are now on the ground (good thing he’d paper clipped them), shoves it into his bag and walks straight to the door without a word.
“Wait, Kat! I’m sorry I was just trying to make you feel better. I’ll come early tomorrow to help clean it up, okay?” Katsuki would totally believe him if the bastard was better at concealing his mirth.
He sharply turns around, Shouto almost running into him, and pokes his finger right in the middle of the asshole’s chest. “Just for that you’re not getting the Soba I was planning to make for us tonight.”
Shouto fucking pouts at him. “You’d do that to your own husband after he offers you his own body in hopes of cheering you up?”
“That exactly fucking why, you complete moron!” Katsuki turns around and starts walking toward the building’s exit again; Shouto doesn’t need to see the reluctant, amused quirk of his lips. “And remind me to blast fucking Denki for ever introducing you to those shitty Western sitcoms that keep giving you these fucking ideas!”
Shouto just chuckles behind him without a single ounce of regret.