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Katsuki could count one one hand all the times in which he felt incredibly out of control. There was that time when he was crossing the river over an old, rotten log, and it broke, sending him cascading into the water below in a hail of splintered wood. Then there were the moments after, in which he gave Deku the dressing down of his life for daring to ask if he was okay. It took him many years to be more embarrassed about his yelling at Deku for caring, than about his falling in front of his peers.
There was another time, in middle school when a random girl in the class above him confessed. Katsuki knew from a young age that he was a catch—someone other people desired because he was conventionally attractive and on the road to success, and all the stupid little shoujo mangas out there were as good as the law in their eyes. She wanted firsts, and Katsuki wanted everyone who came near him to take at least five steps back on principle. Even if she wasn’t some stranger, Katsuki didn’t want to partake in any of those milestones that everyone else his age seemed to be obsessed with. Deku happened to be lurking in the halls then, too, and it took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that he remembered Deku’s wide, incredulous eyes surreptitiously peering at him far more than he did that girl.
It took him so long, in fact, that he entirely ignored the possibility that Deku meant anything to him until he was sprinting at him with two broken limbs in a clearing in the forest during their first year of high school, wailing that childish nickname like it was the only word in his vocabulary. He was beautiful, even when he was haggard, broken, and desperate.
Desperate for me, Katsuki thought, stupidly, as Dabi closed a scarred palm around his throat and the warp gate narrowed into nothing. Desperate to keep me safe—close.
Every other time he felt out of control, on the verge of losing his shit more than usual, it was always when Deku was in danger. And that had to mean something. Even Katsuki, who would never call himself anything remotely resembling emotionally intelligent, knew that meant something.
It meant that Katsuki cared. It meant that Deku had wormed his way in, despite Katsuki’s best intentions to keep him at arm’s length. It meant that maybe Deku loved him, too. And that terrified Katsuki more than anything else because he wasn’t sure he could reciprocate all the things that came with a romantic relationship. Not even for Deku—and Katsuki had come to find that that was really saying something. That didn’t change the fact that Katsuki was ass over tit in love with him, desperate in a way he never thought he would be for another person.
Which brought him to his latest, I can’t breathe properly episode—an I will quite literally combust and die if I don’t do something about this moment. The if I see you casually touch Half and Half one more time, I legally shouldn’t be held responsible for the havoc I’ll unleash psychopathy that he needed to get out of his system.
Deku was his friend, and that was simultaneously everything and nothing to him because he wanted all of Deku’s attention in a way that choked him up and kept him from speaking in full, coherent sentences at times.
They have been friends—actual friends who spoke about their problems and shared their feelings and relished in each other’s success—for a few years. High school came and went, along with many conversations (read: fights) in which they came to truly understand each other, and the nasty, unknown pulsing feeling underneath Katsuki’s skin started to take form and a name and, at times, literal sentience, because it seemed to lead Katsuki around by the nose, forcing his sailor’s mouth to take a back seat.
He could pinpoint the exact moment he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Deku with frightening precision. It wasn’t anything special to someone that didn’t watch Deku like a hawk, dissecting his every move and smile with a borderline obsessive zeal that might terrify any other well-adjusted individual.
It was right after All Might died, in September, and Deku made the conscious choice not to let it break him, after months of letting it bring him down. They went out for ramen, and Deku was pensively silent, but not cloaked in the melancholy that had clung to him like a second skin for so long. He took a large slurp of noodles, and blurted out the most wonderful thing Katsuki had ever heard.
“All Might was the first person to believe in me, and I felt so… alone when he was gone. Like there was no cushion under me anymore, you know?” He wouldn’t meet Katsuki’s eyes, self-conscious. “But then I realized that you’re the cushion, Kacchan. You’ve always been the one by my side. As long as I have you next to me, I can do anything.”
Katsuki was so stunned that he dropped his chopsticks, mouth agape at the unexpectedly tender supposition.
“I—yeah,” Katsuki said, with all the grace of an elephant in ballet shoes three sizes too small. “I think the old man would’ve liked that.”
Deku smiled at him brilliantly and Katsuki felt his heart melt all the way down to his shoes like a cheap wax candle.
A year later, Katsuki was unable to forget it. They moved ever closer to one another—going on dates that weren’t dates because they were friends and neither of them ever indicated otherwise. Katsuki wanted to though. Their apartments became familiar to each other. Katsuki honestly preferred Deku’s stove to his own, and Deku never thought twice about passing out on his couch after a long day of work.
Once, after an unfortunate run in with their obnoxious classmates and a bottle of whiskey, he spent the night in Deku’s bed. He was just sober enough to remember falling asleep with their backs to each other, and ample space between their bodies. Katsuki was too drunk to care what exactly that meant for them, but when he woke up with his arm slung over Deku’s waist, he didn’t care to think beyond this is everything I want. Still, he left before Deku woke.
It wasn’t long before the thought of Deku caring for anyone else the way Katsuki cared about him consumed his daily life. He would wake up and think what if he finds someone else? He would be at work, and suddenly be struck dumb by the idea that maybe Deku had already found someone else, and he was just playing it close to the vest. He would go to bed thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep with someone on the left side of the bed every night. And then winter hit, and every awful, hastily filmed Netflix rom-com hit the digital shelves and he realized that if there was ever a time to speak, it was during that small span of time where snow fell and everyone collectively decided they were punch drunk on flashing lights and sugar cookies and the proverbial spirit of the season—no booze necessary.
Katsuki decided then that he would make it clear that everything he had to give was for Deku to take. He decided that, if he was going to do this, he was going to go all out. A small, insecure part of him thought that he would at least try his best to make it difficult for Deku to say no.
“Kacchan? What are you doing here?” Deku rubbed his eyes, clearly still soft with sleep. His hair was a bird’s nest and his clothes—a white shirt that said sleepy time, and some very tight Ground Zero brand boxer briefs—were rumpled. Katsuki couldn’t believe he answered the door in his goddamn underwear. His Ground Zero underwear. Katsuki was sweating.
“We’re hanging out today. Thought I told you to mark it down in your nerdy little planner?”
That was cool, right? His state of dress was throwing him off.
“I did, but it’s seven in the morning! Give a man some time to sleep in on his one day off,” he grumbled, pouting in that puppy dog way of his.
“Early bird gets the goddamn worm, Deku. Put some fucking pants on and let’s go!”
“Kacchan,” he whined, and it was cute enough that Katsuki briefly considered letting him sleep for another hour. Briefly. That wouldn’t be happening. They had shit to do. Katsuki had to convince Deku today. He had a laundry list of winter wonderland activities that he desperately hoped would make him swoon so hard that he’d agree to a borderline sexless relationship.
“If you’re not ready in ten minutes I’m going to post your Ground Zero undies on the Internet.”
That seemed to wake him up. He narrowed his eyes at Katsuki.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Test me. I fucking dare you,” he deadpanned. Deku huffed, but he went to change nonetheless. Katsuki could only hope he ran a brush through his hair.
Twenty minutes later, without brushing his hair, Deku emerged in a travesty of an outfit that somehow still managed to make Katsuki’s heart thump wildly in his chest.
“Did you get dressed in the dark?”
“I thought I looked nice,” Deku said, on the verge of pouting again, eyeing the orange vest he paired with a spring green hoodie. Katsuki had to use all his strength not to be mean just for the sake of it.
“Put a scarf on. A hat, too. It’s fucking cold out.”
Deku’s pout quickly melted into a smile as Katsuki wound an ugly, threadbare scarf around his neck like an angry, albeit caring mother hen.
“Whatever you say, Kacchan.” His smile made Katsuki’s insides liquefy, so he looked away, and dragged him toward the door.
“Are we in the right place?” Deku asked, eyeing the fluffy, grey cat that stared beadily at them upon entry.
“Think I don’t know how to read a map?”
“I think you’ve never been in a neko cafe in your life.”
“You like cats, though.”
“I do, but—”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing, I guess,” Deku said, scratching the ugly cat under his chin with a soft smile. Katsuki took a breath. Everything was fine.
That is, everything was fine until they sat down, and Deku seemed to boggle at the menu.
“Kacchan, you hate sweets. This whole menu is diabetes waiting to happen.”
Katsuki glowered at him from across the table, determined not to agree with him despite the fact that he was entirely correct, and on any other day, if Deku dragged him there he’d be saying the exact same thing.
“Are you saying you don’t want to try this All Might Golden Age anniversary chocolate and banana crepe monstrosity?”
“Kacchan, seriously. What is this? My birthday is in July, and even then you wouldn’t let me eat anything like this,” he said, pointing animatedly at the aforementioned diabetic monstrosity.
“Get whatever you want. I’m buying.”
“Are you dying? Is this like, a last days kind of situation? Because no amount of sweets and cats is going to soften the blow of news like that!” Deku screeched. People were starting to glance over at their table, and Katsuki’s incoming meltdown wasn’t going to help anything.
“Christ, Deku, I’m not fucking dying! Just order something!”
“But—”
“Deku,” Katsuki said, the last threads of his sanity quavering under the weight of trying not to ruin the day. “Just let me have this.”
Deku stared at him, his green eyes shrewd as he surveyed Katsuki, presumably trying to find some sign of a terminal illness, or a hint that he might be an imposter. Katsuki sighed. Was he really so awful that he couldn’t do something nice for Deku without it being the end of the world? Deku seemed to see something on his face, and he relented, flipping his menu up to peer at it again.
“Okay, Kacchan…. This All Might crepe really does look good.”
Katsuki let out a sigh, a contented smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Deku immersed himself in his reading materials.
“I still can’t believe you let me eat that entire thing,” Deku grumbled, clutching his stomach like there was a visible paunch there. They ambled up the street at a leisurely pace. Their next destination wasn’t far, a tacky outdoor ice skating rink that Deku would love. He had been trying to strong arm him into going ice skating for years, but Katsuki always begged off because there were many things he could do well, but balancing on two thin blades atop of a pool of ice wasn’t one of them.
The second the crowded rink came into view, Deku started complaining.
“Kacchan, I’m seriously worried now. You hate ice skating.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Liar! You said, and I quote, if you want to fucking kill yourself prancing around on shitty, frozen water it’s no skin of my fucking nose. Go with Icy Hot. What’s going on?”
“How do you remember all this shit?” He asked honestly, brows furrowed. Deku’s cheeks pinkened, and he tucked his face further into his scarf. He wished he wouldn’t hide. He was lovely—more decadent than that awful dessert at the neko cafe.
“I just… do. Anyway what are we doing? I’m convinced you don’t even know how to ice skate and I’m almost positive you don’t want me knowing either way.”
“Maybe you can teach me, then,” he said, because he didn’t want Deku to keep on with this suspicion. His response stopped Deku short.
“Kacchan…” he said, tilting his head to peer at him again. His smile was sweet, but pointed. “Am I dying? Are these my last days?”
“I’m going to beat you to death with a pair of ice skates if you ask me another stupid question.”
“Fair enough.” He smiled radiantly, heading for the short line so they could pick up a pair of rental skates. It was Katsuki’s turn to hide his blush in his own scarf.
As Katsuki donned his smelly, beat up skates, grimacing at the poor fit, he took up the mantra of this is all for Deku. He had to remind himself over and over again that this would make Deku happy. This is just one small part of his fool proof plan to make Deku love him, a bargaining chip.
By the time they were on the ice, Katsuki slipping and sliding like a newborn foal on awkward, uncoordinated limbs, he was really regretting his attempt at romance.
Of course, dumb Deku glided onto the ice like he was born to do it.
“Okay, Kacchan?”
“Fucking peachy!” Katsuki narrowly avoided falling on his ass by clinging to the wall. “You know, if humans were meant to do this we’d probably have fucking fur or some shit.”
“Some humans do have fur. That has nothing to do with ice skating, though.”
Katsuki got his feet under him once again, and made a futile effort to distance himself from the wall, only to slump back against it.
“You and the wall look very cozy,” Deku said, skating slowly past him, just out of reach. “We didn’t have to do this. We could’ve done something we both enjoyed.”
“Shut up, Deku.”
“I’m serious. You’ve been very strange today. Are you leaving the country for a mission? Am I not going to see you for a long time?”
“What did I say about asking stupid questions?” Katsuki asked, trying to look even halfway menacing while hanging onto the wall for dear life.
“It’s not stupid. What’s going on, Kacchan?”
“Don’t make me come over there.”
“I’d like to see you try!” Deku laughed, and skated back another foot just to add insult to injury. Katsuki couldn’t abide by that so lunged at him, grateful that he had just enough momentum to careen into Deku’s chest. He grabbed him by the shoulders, not just to stabilize himself, but to impress upon him that these questions were neither wanted nor necessary.
“Everything is fine, so stop asking.”
“The last time you did something like this for me was when All Might went to the hospital. Permanently, I mean. For the last time.”
“That was different,” he said, taking in Deku’s wide, sorrowful eyes and wishing he could stop this conversation in its tracks. “You needed a distraction then. I did, too.”
“It just makes me wonder what I need distracting from now.” Deku’s mouth pressed into a this line, and Katsuki desperately wanted to kiss him. Instead, he scowled at him.
“Nothing,” he says, squeezing Deku’s shoulders. “I told you that was different.”
“So nothing bad is going to happen?”
“No.”
“I’m not going to lose you for any extended amount of time?” Deku’s eyebrows raised just a fraction, his eyes daring to look hopeful.
“Never.”
Deku blushed, and they were so close that Katsuki swore he could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.
After a far more nutritious and much less kitschy meal at a nearby bistro, Deku was in high spirits, now that he knew there was no bad news on the horizon. The only time they squabbled was when Katsuki insisted on paying the bill.
“Kacchan… I make more money than you, and you haven’t let me pay for anything all day. That crepe was expensive.”
“How do you know how much money I make?” Katsuki barked, feeling stupidly emasculated.
“I’m five spots above you on the rankings. And I get more publicity. Just let me pay.”
“You’re only ranking above me because I don’t pretend that kids aren't annoying when they ask me for shit! Put your fucking wallet away!”
Eventually, they attracted so much attention with their screaming match that the owner comped the meal, more than happy to have two famous heroes loudly eating in their establishment.
Finally, they came to the last stop on their marathon date. A ceremonial tree lighting that had been happening every year for as long as he could remember, but he never cared for things like that. Deku liked stupid, cheery, romantic things like this though, and if Deku was going to do shit like this, Katsuki wanted him to do them with him.
“I’ve never been to the tree lighting here.”
“Me, neither,” he said, grumbling at the growing crowd. He noticed just how many couples were around, glommed onto each other like they’d just die if they weren’t all but surgically attached to one another. He took a step closer to Deku.
“Lots of couples around…” Deku noted absently, surveying the crowd.
“Yeah. Christmas shit is for couples, anyhow.” He hoped Deku had enough sense to put two and two together. They’d done a lot of Christmassy shit together today.
“Right,” he murmured awkwardly, avoiding Katsuki’s eye.
Just then, the lights in the square went up, a flurry of color in every direction. The massive tree in the middle of the square shone like a beacon, a lighthouse calling sailors home from the deep, dark sea. String lights twinkled overhead, and Katsuki couldn’t help but notice the way the light caught Deku’s hair, the way it brightened his already luminous eyes. Katsuki stared, his heart in his throat, knowing that if Deku even so much as looked at him it’d be his complete and utter undoing. And then he did.
“Will you marry me?” Katsuki blurted out, and immediately regretted it. He wanted to be more suave about this. He wanted to phrase it in a way that left Deku with no way to reject him.
“What?” Deku spluttered, face engulfed in the darkest blush Katsuki had ever seen to date.
“I—fuck.” Katsuki sighed. “I mean, I love you.”
“You do?” Deku asked, voice full of wonder and incredulity and it gave Katsuki some semblance of hope.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, terrified, but determined to be more emphatic. Deku needed to know just how much he meant this even if sex was a slippery slope. Love wasn’t even a question. “Yeah. I do. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t have a ring and that seems like a major fucking oversight right now, but I’m serious, Deku.”
“I—shouldn’t we… like, date first?”
“What the hell do you think today was?”
Deku stared at him, bewildered, and then he barked out a laugh so suddenly it made Katsuki jump.
“You really crammed six dates into one day, didn’t you? Wow,” he said, breathing the last word out like a sigh, putting a hand to his head like a swooning starlet. “No wonder you made me get up so early.”
“So?” Katsuki pressed, even though he wasn’t all that keen on Deku’s response. By his estimation, it seemed to be about 25-75, odds in favor of a big, fat no.
“I—wait, shouldn’t we… um, l-like….” he trailed off, going from pink to pale in five seconds flat.
“Spit it out, Deku,” Katsuki barked, too nervous to tread lightly.
“Uh, shouldn’t we make sure we work physically before jumping into an engagement?” He squeaks.
Fuck, Katsuki thought. Here it is. The tipping point.
“I don’t know,” he said simply, trying not to buckle. “I don’t really do that shit. Sex stuff, I mean.”
“I’ve never done it either, but I hear it’s somewhat important,” Deku mused. Katsuki knew he hadn’t meant it to be hurtful, but his heart still pinched in his chest. Katsuki needed to make him understand that sex wasn’t as important as all the other ways they already knew each other.
“I’m ace.”
“Oh.”
Katsuki felt as if he were standing on a trap door, the unassuming concrete below him opening suddenly. His anger flared, cheeks hot and eyes burning with moisture.
“Oh? Oh? The fuck does that mean?”
“Please, don’t be upset. It just means I learned something about you I didn’t know before. It doesn’t mean it changes anything.” Deku rested a gloved hand on Katsuki’s chest. It was disgustingly gentle, and he was suddenly as pissed as he was elated. Katsuki never planned for the fact that he might be the one swooning.
“It doesn’t?”
“I don’t want it to,” he said earnestly, his green eyes boring into him with open adoration. Katsuki’s eyes leaked further, an ugly sniffle sure to follow.
“But—”
“Kacchan, I love you too. I have for a long time.”
“You do?” Katsuki had never sounded less like a grown man in his life, his voice broken and brittle with disbelief. Deku had the audacity to roll his eyes.
“I have a hard time believing you’d propose to me if you didn’t know there was a good chance I felt the same way.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Can we kiss? And hold hands?” Deku took a deliberate step closer to Katsuki’s personal space bubble, testing, and Katsuki felt an urge to grab him and draw him near. He fought it because this was difficult enough. He had to keep a clear head and proximity to Deku always muddled his thoughts and softened his insides in a way that made his knees weak.
“Obviously. I’m not a fucking nun, Deku.” Katsuki snorted derisively in an attempt to cover the fact that his heart was melting in his chest like sticky, gooey toffee.
“What about snuggling? Hugging? Sleeping pressed up against each other every night?” Another step closer, his smile growing wider. He was too much in the best way.
“Duh.”
“Can we get a puppy? A little blond Pomeranian named Barkugo? You’ll have to train him because I’m terrible with discipline. He’ll walk all over me.”
“That’s… oddly specific.” That question flew in from left field, but he was somewhat grateful for it. It kept him from floating away on a cloud of contentment. “Are dogs considered blond?”
“Answer the question, Kacchan.”
“Yes to all of it except the name. I’m not naming a dog after me.”
“Then yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I want to marry you. I’ve been planning our wedding since I was eight. I’ll show you the notebook.”
Katsuki’s jaw unhinged itself. He stared dumbly at Deku. Deku, the bastard, just kept on smiling.
“Are you kidding me? I proposed to a psycho,” he said, trying to be cool and cutting, but his beaming grin probably did nothing to make him look scary or unapproachable.
“And I accepted a proposal from a guy I’ve never been on a date with. We’re a match made in heaven.”
“Fair point. What about the other stuff?” Katsuki asked, suddenly serious because that couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be that easy.
“We can figure it out together. There’s no rush.”
“What if I never want to?”
“I think that constitutes figuring it out.” Deku chuckled. Katsuki was struck by the familiar sensation of simultaneously wanting to kiss him and punch him in the back of the head.
“Don’t be cheeky, idiot. That’s… is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Deku said, intertwining his fingers with Katsuki’s. His heart fluttered. “This is all I need. This is more than I ever thought I’d have.”
“I don’t… want you to feel like you’re settling,” he murmured, feeling uncommonly vulnerable, his head drooping into Deku’s space. He couldn’t resist squeezing his hand. He wished the weather hadn’t necessitated gloves.
“How could a life spent with you ever be considered settling?”
Oh, Katsuki thought, suddenly realizing just how good Deku truly was. He hadn’t thought for a second that Deku wouldn’t care about what Katsuki could and couldn’t give him. God, he fucking loved him. He found himself leaning closer to Deku, all thoughts of punching him quickly vanishing. Deku gamely tilted his head up, open to receiving whatever Katsuki was willing and able to give him. When their lips met for the first time, Katsuki wondered why he waited so long. Maybe those dumb girls and their silly mangas had a point. Maybe some firsts were worth having.