Work Text:
Katsuki has the office all to himself for the day, which he spends sorting out last month’s patrol reports while Shouto isn’t around to bother him. He tags all the pages Shouto needs to sign, though, because fuck him if he thinks he’s doing all the work. Absolutely not.
It’s quiet today, frustratingly so, and Katsuki finds himself glancing at Shouto’s desk more and more as the hours pass.
They usually have lunch together (in here because the agency cafeteria has too many extras), but today Katsuki’s on his own, and if he goes downstairs, a million different losers are going to ask him about Shouto.
Like it’s even a big deal.
Shouto got invited to guest on some shitty TV show because someone thought it would be fucking hilarious to get the most mysterious active hero to go under a truth quirk. He doesn’t know why Shouto said yes, but he said he has nothing to hide, and well, if that’s how he wants to spend a Saturday, it’s his own business.
It’s a stupid show. There are two hosts, and one of them has a quirk that forces people to say the first thing that comes to mind. You can lie with it, he watched Deku do it three months ago when there was a question about his quirk, but Shouto is always so honest he can and will deal a person a few points of psychic damage by accident. You just have to know what questions to ask.
So Shouto said yes, and Katsuki is here doing all their stupid paperwork by himself—have fun, loser. Hope you make a fool of yourself—and it’s so quiet in here without him that Katsuki can hear the clock ticking in the room next to theirs. It’s about to make him lose his mind.
With a sigh he turns on their office TV, meaning to put on the news to see what’s going on with the other heroes in the city, but instead he cycles through until he gets to a brightly colored talk show with a familiar candy cane standing at a podium next to two other people in twice as much makeup.
“–my partner, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” Shouto says confidently before his face flashes hot, and the audience all gasps with a few interested oohs and ahhs and he covers his mouth with one hand . Katsuki sucks his teeth. The fuck is he telling them about him?
“Well, well,” Dumbass Number One says. “I can’t say I’m too surprised to hear that one, if you know what I mean.”
Stop winking, it’s gross.
“Next question,” Dumbass Number Two says, the truth quirk user, Katsuki presumes. “Which animal do you identify with the most?”
“Snow leopard,” Katsuki mumbles along with Shouto, and he sucks his teeth again. Predictable bastard, what a stupid question.
“A snow leopard, wow! I’m sure your fans will love that,” Dumbass Number One chuckles with another wink.
“Fucker must have something in his eye,” he grumbles.
“Sometimes my fans will respond to my social media posts, and their profile pictures are me with cat ears. I think that’s nice.”
The audience awwwes sweetly at that, and Katsuki rolls his eyes. He’s such a loser, how does he get himself dressed in the morning?
“Next question,” Dumbass Number Two says, and this time Katsuki catches the puce glow in their eyes as they activate their quirk. So it’s not permanent, he notes. Good to know.
“This one is a fan favorite,” Dumbass Number One adds.
“If you had a time machine, where would you go and what would you do?”
“Time machines aren’t real,” Shouto says, and Katsuki snorts. Dumbass.
The audience laughs, endeared, and Dumbass Number One chuckles before Dumbass Number Two activates their quirk again.
“Well, true,” One says. “Let’s rephrase the question.”
“If there was someone with a quirk who could send you to anywhere in the past or future, where would you go and what would you do?”
“I would go back and save my brother Touya,” he says, and this time the audience doesn’t make a sound. Katsuki’s eyes widen as he watches the horror flicker over Shouto’s face before it disappears again, forced down by pure will.
“Holy fucking shit.”
“Oh, yes, very noble,” Dumbass Number One says with an awkward chuckle as Shouto’s face turns a sickly color, and thankfully no one uses that as a talking point. “And on that note, how about a fan favorite?”
“Shouto, are you ready?” Dumbass Number Two asks, and Shouto nods silently that he is, but Katsuki can tell that he wants to leave. He should leave. Get out of there, he wills him. Tell them to fuck off, but Shouto doesn’t move. “Good. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Shrek.”
Katsuki puts his head in his hands, and the audience laughs fondly again, which is how this is supposed to go. It’s a stupid, funny show that doesn’t ask anything controversial, which is the only reason anyone agrees to go on it in the first place, and yet the fucking time machine question had to fuck it up.
Of course it would have.
Cheerful music signals the end of the program, and soon it switches to the latest pop video, an idol group song that makes Katsuki’s ears ring, so he turns off the TV and sits back in his chair with a long exhale. This is going to be a shit day.
Well, for one of them. Shouto already took the day off, so he’s going to go home and mope, and Katsuki is going to mind his own business because the last thing Shouto is going to want is for him to show up there out of the blue.
And Deku’s out of town, so he’s not going to be able to do shit, and Shouto would feel weird if he went to see his family right now, and there’s nothing worse than a moping Todoroki, which is going to happen if he burrows himself in his house.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
There’s nothing he can do here, so Katsuki sits back up and opens the first report he finished this morning and tabs to the second page.
“Stupid bastard’s got me doing his fucking paperwork for him,” he grumbles as he begins to type Shouto’s credentials into the form, all from memory. “I oughta kick his ass.”
An hour of self-imposed tedium passes before his office door opens, and Katsuki jumps in his seat before seeing it’s just his hero partner– who absolutely should not be here on his day off.
He’s in his costume, but since he wore it on the talk show, Katsuki isn’t that surprised, and he’s still in all the makeup for the studio lights, double glob of mascara and all.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
“I work here,” Shouto says calmly.
“Yeah, but–,” he says with a slight pause at the stupid fucking abandoned cat look on his face, and goddamnit this is going to be a shitty day. “You took the day off.”
“I didn’t have anything else planned, and I was already in my uniform,” he says. “Coming here seemed productive.”
“Half the reports are done, so you’re not missing much.”
“Oh,” Shouto says. “How long are you staying?”
“Until I finish the other half.”
Shouto nods and sits at his desk without a word before staring blankly at his computer, something Katsuki would usually give him hell for, but whatever he might have wanted to say seems to catch in his throat. He’s not sighing, or moping, or doing anything else annoying, but Katsuki can see those old rusty wheels turning, the same ones that kicked on during the war, and if there’s one thing he wishes Shouto knew both back then and now is that there’s no saving someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Saying that wouldn’t help though. He’s heard it all before, and Katsuki knows all too well that it would be just as good as spitting vinegar into his mouth and expecting him to swallow it with a smile on.
No, Shouto has to make his peace with it again, and as long as he doesn’t do something stupid like take off for a solo patrol—or worse, pop on over to Tartarus for a few hours—it’ll all sort itself out.
Shouto stands up again, and Katsuki tenses.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some coffee,” he says with a blink, and Katsuki swallows down a quick flash of shame for asking. Don’t think he gives a shit what he does or doesn’t do, it’s not like that with them. “Would you like some?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Might as well.”
“Two sugars and no cream,” Shouto says, and it’s not that much of a question. Katsuki nods and gets back to work on the one thing he can do something about today. Their paperwork.
He doesn’t really expect Shouto to come back no more than he expected him to come to work in the first place, but a few minutes later, Shouto returns with two coffees, one scalding hot in a paper cup and one in clear plastic with a mound of whipped cream on top.
Katsuki snorts. “Rough day?”
Shouto slips the straw in his mouth with an emotionless glare before hollowing out his cheeks pointedly and slurping a mouthful down. “You could say that.”
“You get fucked up on sugar, I’m sending you out for a lap.”
“You don’t have that kind of authority here.”
“Did I say send? I meant throw.”
Shouto sets Katsuki’s coffee down on his desk before returning to his own. “I will try to behave myself.”
“You fuckin’ better.”
When a response doesn’t come, Katsuki peeks over his computer to see how Shouto took the threat (he likes them, most days), but all he sees is him staring off at nothing, his straw tucked idly behind his front teeth.
This is bad. Katsuki knew that, but maybe he thought after a few breaths of office air, Shouto would forget his interview ever happened. Then again, maybe his brain is just tired from being squeezed like a lemon for a live audience. Katsuki doesn’t know, he’s never bothered with any of those bullshit talk shows. Why did Shouto?
Fucking dumbass.
Katsuki exhales and returns to his work. If Shouto needs him, he’ll say something.
No, he won’t.
He won’t say a damn word.
Shouto doesn’t do much all afternoon while Katsuki works, which would normally piss him off, but it gives him a little peace of mind knowing if Shouto is going to space out anywhere, it’s here and not at a crosswalk or somewhere else where he would need to pay attention.
A few hours pass, and by the time he gets to the last report, his cup is in the bin next to his desk and the sun is beginning to set. It’ll be hard to find an excuse to stay here any longer once he sends it in, especially with Shouto still glued to his chair like this. He could just say fuck it and go home, but then he imagines Shouto staying here like this all night by himself for no reason, and the idea of it sets him on edge.
His mouth opens before he knows what he’s saying.
“Hey, fuckface,” he says, and Shouto looks up at him, alert for the first time since he sat down. Katsuki’s ears burn slightly at himself, but there’s no turning back now. “Listen, I, uhhhhh, bought a fuck ton of meat and shit, and I need to use it before it goes bad, but if I have to cook it all for myself, I’m not gonna bother. You want in?”
“What about Kirishima,” Shouto says. “That sounds like something he would be interested in.”
“He’s busy,” Katsuki lies. “So you coming or not?”
Shouto considers the invitation for about three seconds longer than Katsuki’s patience is normally willing to put up with, but then he nods, and he feels his own shoulders settle. “If it would be beneficial to you.”
“Yeah, you’d be doing me a real big favor,” he says, trying very hard not to blurt out the just come over and eat my stupid food, asshole sitting on his tongue. See, he can be nice. He takes a breath and turns to leave, no longer able to look at his stupid face anymore. “Whatever. Show up or don’t, I don’t care, but if you’re not there in an hour, I’m throwing it all out, so, up to you.”
He leaves before Shouto can give him a yes or no, his tail tucked between his legs as the rest of him grows a few degrees hotter.
Why did he do this?
Why did he have to get involved?
Because he’s your friend, Kacchan.
Katsuki swats at the air and throws up a middle finger at no one for good measure. Get outta my head, nerd.
If his conscience turns into Deku, he’s getting a new therapist.
He drives himself home quickly enough to make sure he gets there first with plenty of time to spare.
He leaves the door unlocked for Shouto and yanks off his uniform as he charges towards his bedroom for a change of clothes. There’s a chance he won’t show up, but the sooner he gets to the kitchen and starts looking as normal and benign as humanly possible, the sooner Shouto will shake himself out of this funk he’s in.
He likes routines, familiarity, and no surprises. The smell of food on the stove in an apartment he doesn’t have to be on his best behavior in should be good enough.
Katsuki is pressing his eyes against his sleeves in front of a pile of sliced onions when his apartment door finally opens. He hears the sound of keys drop onto the counter next to where he keeps his own and the shuffle of a jacket being taken off, even though Shouto has no real reason to wear one.
“Took you long enough,” he says without looking to confirm that it’s him.
“There was traffic,” Shouto says evenly. “You must have missed it.”
Katsuki blinks away the sting in his eyes and looks up to the blurred visage of Shouto standing opposite of him, changed into a regular set of clothes as well. “If you want a beer, get it yourself. I’m not your maid.”
The sound of the wine bottle clunking down against the counter is pointed and understood. “Do you have a corkscrew?”
“Second drawer,” he says. “And hand me the knife sharpener before these bitchass onions take me out.”
“What a sinister villain,” Shouto says.
“You’re tellin’ me.”
Shouto takes out two glasses without asking if Katsuki wants any, which means it has to be the good stuff. The I’m not wasting this bottle without a reason shit that makes Katsuki feel like he’s sucking off a grape.
Katsuki drops his mountain of onions into the pan with a loud hiss and covers them with salt and a little sugar to send them along faster, and he swirls the wine over his tongue as he prods them with a spatula.
“It smells good,” Shouto says, and Katsuki isn’t sure if he means the onions or the wine, but either way he nods in agreement. Both are right.
Usually Shouto sits at the counter, and the two of them talk while Katsuki cooks, sometimes with one or two other people there too, but tonight he perches quietly on a stool with a frown that says a conversation couldn’t taste worse to him right now.
Katsuki washes his hands and grabs an orange out of a fruit bowl. He gives it a rinse and starts peeling it mindlessly, separating the segments with his thumb onto a plate instead of with a knife. He slides it across the counter and turns away to deal with the big package of meat he bought because he’s a sucker when it comes to a good sale. It’s probably not worth a damn, but he can make it work.
Shouto nibbles on an orange segment, and Katsuki absently wonders if it’s the first thing he’s eaten all day.
Nah, he’s too smart for that.
He lied about having too much food, but if Shouto cares or notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Katsuki grabs his glass and dumps it into the pan with an even louder hiss, and Shouto fills it back up again without being asked to. Might as well make this shit show taste like something special.
Dinner is simple for all of Katsuki's buildup, but Shouto eats quietly like he’s tucked into it, comforted by warm and soft food he doesn’t have to think about. Maybe it’ll set a precedent for a night of not thinking about anything, a skill Shouto has tricked the whole world into thinking he has.
Shouto doesn’t say he likes it, but he clears his bowl easily, which Katsuki takes as a good sign.
Dishes can wait until tomorrow.
They end up on the couch with Katsuki spread out comfortably like the king he is and Shouto next to him, curled up with another glass of wine in his hand. The bottle is almost gone, but that was to be expected.
The television is off for what might be the first time since they’ve known each other, but it’s not something Katsuki is willing to risk right now. Even if he picked a movie channel, there’s always a slim chance that someone might throw up a replay of Shouto’s nightmare, and he’s not someone like Deku or Kirishima who knows how to comfort people, and he’s not like Kaminari or Sero either who knows how to laugh about something without making it worse.
What he does know how to do is give Shouto a free space where none of it matters. That’s what makes them ideal hero partners, apart from the general equality in skill and temperament. They work well together.
“You saw the interview,” Shouto says finally, and Katsuki takes a deep breath with a resigned nod.
“Just the end of it,” he says, and Shouto looks at him like he’s surprised about that detail in particular. “Thought they were supposed to leave off the questions you told them to.”
“They did,” Shouto says. “There were no contract violations.”
“What did you put on there?”
“That they weren’t allowed to ask about my family, my father, you, or Midoriya.”
“Me? I mean Endeavor and Deku I get, but I'm surprised they didn’t want you to spill my shit all over the place.”
“There were some protests from a few of the writers because, yes, our friendship was one of the preferred talking points, but I wasn’t going to agree to the interview otherwise. Your privacy is important to me.”
Katsuki squints. “When I turned it on, I heard you say my name.”
“They weren’t asking about you,” he says. “It was a general question, and you just happened to be the answer I gave.”
“What was it? ‘What pisses you off first thing in the morning?’”
Shouto manages a small smile. “No, they didn’t ask me that.”
“Then what?”
“I would rather not say.”
“You know I can just go back and watch it, right?”
“I would consider it a favor if you didn’t,” Shouto says, and Katsuki slumps back without much of a fight.
“Alright, I’ll let it go, but only because you got kicked in the balls today, and I’m feeling generous.”
“I wasn’t injured.”
“It’s a metaphor, dumbass.”
Shouto takes another sip of his wine, and Katsuki sighs again.
“You’re such a pain in my ass.”
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
All he can do to that is snort.
The silence gets to Shouto first, but instead of finding something on TV and risking what Katsuki was afraid of, he wanders over to Katsuki’s movie collection, barefoot with his glass precariously hooked between two fingers.
He looks like he lives here. They’ve been friends a long time, and Shouto helped him move in, so Katsuki would be pissed off if he acted like a guest, but still, watching him is almost disorienting.
“Can we watch Star Wars?”
“Which one?”
“The first one,” Shouto says.
“Yeah, which one,” he says pointedly. Shouto plucks out the case and waves it, and Katsuki can see the large four written in Roman numerals. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“I like the droids,” he says, content, and Katsuki snorts for the second time tonight.
“That’s probably because you’ve got a lot in common.”
“Then I can only imagine who your favorite character must be.”
“Oi!”
They finish off Shouto’s bottle halfway through the movie, both curling up like bookends on Katsuki’s sofa. Shouto’s feet are stupid cold against his, and he kicks at him to get him to move them with no results at all. Asshole.
Night comes a little earlier this time of year, and Katsuki catches himself mid-yawn before he forces it away. If Shouto notices, he’s too enthralled by whatever is happening on the screen to care, and Katsuki huffs a laugh, but otherwise he keeps his thoughts to himself.
When the movie ends, Katsuki gets up before Shouto gets the chance to. “Put something else on. I need to take a shower.”
This would be the point where Should could say he was leaving, and then Katsuki could go hide in the shower and cringe at himself a little in peace for the rejected invitation, something that’s always clear to both parties and never pointed out. He did his duty, he won’t make Shouto stay.
“Do you have a preference,” Shouto asks, and Katsuki holds back his surprise.
He gestures at the menu screen for the movie they just watched, and Shouto nods. “I’ll save you some hot water.”
He turns and leaves down the hall without making a big deal about it and privately wonders if Shouto will start the next one without him or if he’ll wait until they’re both washed up and settled in. If this was Deku or Kirishima, he would know, but Shouto has always been a little unpredictable. He makes a mental note not to take forever just in case.
Katsuki makes a beeline for his shower, strips, and gets in with the water still too cold to stand, but he doesn’t waste any time fucking around and getting comfortable. He tilts his head into the water and scrubs it furiously as ice turns to warmth, knowing it’ll stick up in every direction when it dries, but what else is new?
The rest is a vigorous scrub down, and he’s thankful he didn’t have to fight anyone today. The voice in the back of his mind nags him that Shouto isn’t going to be there anymore when he gets out, but he bats it away because he knows he will be. Leaving after asking what else to put on would be weird even for him.
He calms himself down enough to relax through washing his face, and when he steps out, he towels himself off thoroughly instead of bolting straight to the bedroom with a soggy trail in his wake.
The sound of a brrr against the floor reminds that he hasn’t checked his phone since he got home, so he wraps his towel around his waist before digging it out of his pocket.
The HeroWorld app he only checks when he’s involved in a takedown has a thousand notifications, and he raises his eyebrow as he opens it to see both his and Shouto’s hero names trending at the top—not for Japan, but for the whole world.
“What the,” he mutters to himself before kicking the door open and storming down the hall for an explanation. “Half and Half, I said I’d back off, but why the fuck are we trending?!”
Shouto stands up off of the couch, startled, and Katsuki plants his feet firmly in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Well?”
“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Shouto says.
“Probably.”
Shouto’s lips press into a line when he realizes Katsuki is going to make him tell him anyway, because yeah, he’s going to make him tell him anyway. “It might have something to do with the question I was asked.”
“Which was…”
“They asked me who my celebrity crush was, and I said you,” he says, and Katsuki snorts. “Don’t laugh at me.”
His mouth widens into a smile, and he turns to strut past him with exaggerated confidence. “You think I’m famous?”
“I hope you drop your towel.”
“I bet you do,” Katsuki teases.
“Stop it.”
“Ce-le-bri-ty crush, huh,” he says. “Well, well.”
“You’re being a child.”
“Because it’s really fucking funny,” he says, smiling from ear to ear. “How the fuck did that happen?”
“I knew the question was coming, and I expected to say an actor’s name, but yours slipped out,” Shouto says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to draw attention to you. It was an accident.”
Katsuki waves him off and shakes his head. “No, no, don’t apologize for that. You didn’t do anything to me. I’m just glad it’s for something stupid and not something that could fuck either of us up.”
And it’s probably better if everyone focuses on that question anyway, which Katsuki doesn’t point out.
It’s not the first time they’ve gotten misconstrued attention as a hero team, and the most that’ll happen is that their fans will draw them making out a fuck ton, which, surprise, they’ve been doing that anyway without any encouragement from them. If he or Shouto cared, they would have dropped each other years ago, but he’s got better things to do than worry about a bunch of harmless fantasies and Shouto has never cared about what anyone thinks of him anyway.
But he probably went into this making a big promise to himself that he wouldn’t mention him out of respect for his hero partner, and had it fucked up by an accident, so obviously he’s going to be weird about it for once.
“It’s not a big deal,” he says, and Shouto frowns at him. “Probably said me because you were trying not to for something else.”
“Maybe,” Shouto says.
“You’ve got hot water.”
“What?”
“The shower,” he says. “I’m done using it. Get something to sleep in out of my room, though. I’m not playing dress up for you.”
“Oh,” Shouto says, and Katsuki turns to head back to his room. “Where are you going?”
“To lose the towel,” he says dismissively, and he can almost feel the weight of Shouto’s eyes on his back, but he doesn’t look back to confirm it.
He hears the shower cut back on as he pulls up his sweatpants, and he considers throwing an extra pair on the bed for him, but he meant what he said. He’s not dressing Shouto, and he’s not treating him like he’s a guest here. If Shouto can’t figure out which drawers have t-shirts and which have boxers, that sounds like a him problem. Katsuki’s not going to baby him.
He drags out a futon he bought when Deku was in between apartments from the closet, and he drops it down in the living room with the coffee table pushed to the side. He puts on the cover and drops down a few blankets and two pillows onto it, not sure how Shouto likes to sleep, but not bothering to ask him for a check list.
He could offer him his bed and just take the couch for the night instead, but he’s been too busy to change his sheets in a while and decides that this is better.
Shouto comes out after a few minutes in one of Katsuki’s favorite shirts, and he looks at him in it for a moment too long before he gestures towards the futon.
“It’s comfortable,” he says, and he doesn’t know if he means it as a selling point or as an apology.
“I believe you,” Shouto says, and Katsuki scrunches his nose at it. “Katsuki.”
“What?”
“I sleep on a futon at home,” he says. “It’s more practical, and it’s what I grew up with.”
Katsuki throws up his arms in a half shrug. “I mean, yeah, I guess.”
“I appreciate you letting me stay here,” he says. “I would have been able to manage my way back though.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m not used to having you around anyway.”
“I’m not drunk,” Shouto says like he thinks that might be an inkling of Katsuki’s motivations. It’s not, but it’s better than having the real one pointed out.
“I know that,” he says, and then snaps back into something more like the Katsuki Shouto is used to. “I’m sleeping in tomorrow, so don’t get your heart set on breakfast. This isn’t a hotel.”
“That explains the lack of mints on the pillows.”
“I’ll kick your ass for fun,” he says, and the corner of Shouto’s mouth twitches. “Asshole.”
They spend the next movie with Shouto buried beneath his pile of blankets on the futon while Katsuki stretches out comfortably on the couch, and he only watches the back of his head for part of it.
He’s fine. Today kicked him hard, but Shouto’s not a crybaby. He’s good at picking himself up, and he’s good at flipping his own switch when he has to, and Katsuki is content with the fact that he gave him some space to privately shut down in. No kicking and screaming, but just the peace of mind of not having to worry about anything for a few hours. After being hero partners for so long, he’s got this down to a science.
There was a time where the idea of giving a shit about anyone else but himself would have sent him into a rage, but this… Isn’t a problem.
Shouto is a piece of his life the way the day and night are, and keeping him moving means that Katsuki is moving too. The day he goes back to his old self will be the day he stops being a person, and that’s not what he wants at all.
But maybe it’s just not that deep.
After the second movie, they both agree to call it quits for the night. Katsuki gets up with a lazy groan and cuts off the kitchen light and the television to leave Shouto in the dark, and Shouto responds by wiggling himself comfortable like he’s at a goddamn sleepover.
Katsuki rolls his eyes and shuffles down the hall towards his room, content to finally get this day over with. Nothing could sound better to him right now.
He climbs into bed and readjusts his pillows to make up for the two he tossed to Shouto, but it doesn’t take him long to settle in. He lied about breakfast, so he makes a mental note to check and see how much rice is left over from dinner when he gets up in the morning. Shouto’s got preferences, but they’re pretty damn easy to keep up with compared to some of the other idiots he knows.
He closes his eyes and mentally maps out his refrigerator to lull himself to sleep because it’s one of the few things he can think about that relaxes him, but then his mind wanders off from his kitchen to Shouto quietly eating dinner at his table, to the sight of him in his favorite shirt, and to the flush on his cheeks when he accidentally said Katsuki’s name on TV.
Wait just a goddamned minute.
Katsuki sits up with a jolt and flings the covers off of himself, and he almost busts his ass jumping out of bed, but that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t run to the living room, but he certainly doesn’t take his sweet time either.
“Hey,” he says in a half whisper as he drops down onto the futon. Shouto sits up immediately, a little disoriented but awake enough to answer Katsuki’s questions. “What did you mean when you said I’m your celebrity crush? Why did you say it was me?”
Shouto rubs his eye with his fist. “I told you it’s because you’re a celebrity.”
“Yeah, but you were supposed to say a random actor, right? Why did my name pop in your head for that,” he asks, and Shouto doesn’t say anything. “You could’ve named a hundred heroes, but you said me, and I’m not asking about the famous part. Shouto.”
“You’re asking about the other word in the question.”
“Yes.”
“Then I would rather not answer that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s personal,” he says.
“Nothing’s personal,” Katsuki says. “I know everything that goes on in your head, your family, and your life. You’ve never kept shit from me even when I tried to get you to.”
“Then you should be able to find the answer to the question on your own without my assistance, or perhaps I will now exercise a little restraint with how forthcoming I am for once.”
“I mean, if you just think I’ve got a nice ass it’s no big deal, but–.”
“Stop asking,” Shouto says. “It won’t affect our ability to work together. Please forget the question was asked at all.”
“That’s not something I would worry about, but how long have you had to sort that one out for yourself?”
“I could calculate a timeline if you need me to,” he says calmly.
“Alright. Days, weeks, months, what are we working with here,” he asks, and Shouto looks at him like he’s insulted. “What?”
“I tried very hard to become your friends when we were younger. I think it would be fair to assume I didn’t find a reason to blurt your name out recently,” he says, and Katsuki swears underneath his breath. He’s known Shouto this fucking long, knows his routines and all his stupid little idiosyncrasies, but this was never once on the table. Shouto looks away from him. “I think I’ve been humiliated enough today. I would like to go to sleep.”
“Then sleep.”
“That will be hard if you’re still here,” Shouto says.
“Tough shit, it’s my house,” he says, and Shouto turns back towards him with a haggard scowl. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like you wanna kick my ass across the city.”
“I don’t want to kick your ass at all.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” Shouto says. “If I wanted to fight you, I would, but I don’t.”
“Then what do you want,” he asks, and Shouto doesn’t answer again. “Shou.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“It makes it worse.”
“What worse?”
“Please stop taunting me,” he says like it’s the most exhausted he’s been all day.
“No.”
Shouto scowls at him in frustration. “Why not?”
“Because you like it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do,” he says. “That’s what we do. I push you, you push me back, or you push me, and I push you back. If I stopped, you’d get weird.”
“If you stopped I could gather my thoughts.”
Katsuki presses his lips together at that and nods. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“I won’t say anything else about it tonight,” Katsuki says, and he does mean that.
“Thank you,” Shouto says, relieved, and Katsuki jabs him with all four fingers. “What was that for?”
“I didn’t say I would stop pushing you.”
“That’s childish.”
“So?”
“It’s worse,” he says, and Katsuki jabs him again, unable to stop himself. “Is this funny to you?”
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Katsuki says.
“It feels like it.”
“See,” he says, earning another frown. “But I promise I’m not. Push back.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Shouto says. “There’s no point.”
“Yes, there is,” he says with a nudge. “Do it.”
“Stop it.”
“No,” he says before jabbing him in the ribs, but this time Shouto grabs his wrist with an icy hand, his patience finally given out, and Katsuki laughs, not bothering to pull himself away.
“Come on, Half and Half, what’ve you got to lose?”
Shouto jerks him forward, but Katsuki’s smile doesn’t move until he kisses him, the final straw breaking his stupid, unnecessary resolve. He almost didn’t expect it, thinking Shouto would just get pissed off enough to tell him to go fuck himself, but Shouto finally pushes back.
The grip on his wrist loosens enough for Katsuki to turn his hand into his. The frost almost hurts, but he doesn’t let go even as a too warm grip braces his other arm.
Shouto’s hold on him is furious, but the way he kisses is anything but. The fondness twisted with the urgency should make Katsuki shrink back, but instead he chases it, and he lets Shouto chase him.
He only pulls away long enough to catch his breath, but when he sees the exhilaration on Shouto’s face like he wears when they’re in a fight he knows they can win, he surges back for him.
This is what he wanted. Shouto can clam up when it suits him, but not with him. He said it won’t affect how they work together, but it would if Katsuki found out that Shouto wanted him and then left it alone. If he didn’t push him and make Shouto mad enough to do something about it, they wouldn’t be them.
And Shouto thought he was making fun of him…
“Tell me something,” Katsuki says, his own voice rougher than usual. “Do I look like I’m interested in giving you a bad time right now?”
Shouto shakes his head, but doesn’t answer properly until Katsuki’s mouth goes to his jaw. “No.”
“Trust me a little, damn it.”
“I trust you, but you’re also a bastard most of the time.”
Katsuki barks a laugh at that and moves back towards his mouth. “Asshole.”
Shouto only hums, and Katsuki kisses him a little harder with a little more purpose. Push and push back. Push and push back. Do it over and over again until one of them breaks.
“I’m not interested in pity sex,” Shouto says.
“Who said anything about sex at all?” Katsuki teases. “Pervert.”
Shouto makes a displeased grunt, and Katsuki pulls back, amused. “Don’t make fun of me, I want my intentions known.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Don’t worry, this isn’t me giving you pity sex, or feel better sex, or any of that other crybaby bullshit. You just picked a bad day to drop a bomb.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“No fucking idea,” he says, and even in the low light, he can’t miss the way Shouto’s eyes flicker over him.
“What if I want the feel better sex?”
“Then you should’ve said something earlier.”
“You were busy cooking,” Shouto says, and the corner of Katsuki’s mouth tugs.
“I can do more than one thing in a night,” he says.
“You can,” Shouto says, unsure.
“It’s your choice.”
Shouto only takes a second before he moves back towards him with an unspoken request. Make it better because I know you will.
He’s not wrong.
Tipping Shouto back is easy, easier than he ever imagined in all of his wildest dreams, but Shouto wanted this. It’s not a new thought for him, something he has to weigh in his mind for a while before he decides how he feels about it. Katsuki is a son of a bitch and they’ve seen each other at their worst more times than he’d like to count, but it seems that Shouto has had his name on the tip of his tongue for years.
He kisses him into his pillows on his stupid fucking futon, and Shouto spreads his fingers through his hair as his arms and legs cage him in. Shouto’s taller than him when they’re side by side, but like this, Katsuki towers over him, feeling more like a god than a person.
Which is why he has an idea.
“I’m probably about to make a big fool of myself,” he warns.
“How?”
He leans down for one more kiss before he lowers himself the length of his body. He doesn’t want to think about how long it’s been since he last did this for anyone, but something about it being Shouto now is a little unnerving. Pushing aside the part where he’s otherworldly, there’s a big chance that tomorrow he’s going to wake up with a stomach full of regret, and then leave Katsuki with a taste of him and not much else.
But he has a promise to keep, one he made today when he did all of Shouto’s stupid paperwork, so there’s no chickening out now just because it’s new for them.
And Shouto did very much ask for it.
He yanks his borrowed shorts out of the way, and Shouto sucks in a breath. Katsuki spares half a glance up at him and sees his hands over his eyes and bottom lip caught between his teeth in anticipation. Alright, this is going to be fun.
He sucks a nasty bruise above his hip until the skin blotches before he ever touches him. If they’re doing this then Shouto is going to have to think about it until it fades every single time he changes in and out of his stupid jumpsuit.
He drags his teeth along the tender flesh of his stomach until he gets to his dick for something a little softer.
Feel better sex.
He’s just going to have to settle for a little feel better head this time, but after tonight, after Shouto is sure that he wants anything outside of his own head, he can have whatever he wants.
He can’t believe he’s about to do this.
He moves as close as he can get without touching him, and Shouto makes a small noise, his hips jerking slightly like he’s having to physically force himself to lie still, and Katsuki licks his lips before he sinks down on him.
He’s not sure why a part of him thought Shouto would taste like peppermint, but the musk and salt that coats his tongue is so real it almost makes him dizzy. He lets himself taste it and map out every change in shape and the slight curve that leans towards his fire side.
It’s been a long time since Katsuki’s done this, but his memory recalls absolutely nothing except for the smell of Shouto’s sweat in a fight and the sound of his voice in his ear. Every time he swallows around him, it brings back a memory he can only connect to a time and place that has nothing to do with anyone else.
He kisses the tip as two kids learning how to be heroes. He licks along the length as two terrified fools who only wanted to bring back their friend, and he buries his nose in chromatic curls at the sound of two pens scratching their names at the bottom of a contract.
Shouto’s hands grip the blankets with barely any success, but when Katsuki reaches for one of them just to see what would happen, Shouto keens from the touch.
How long has he been his, and how long has he wanted him to be?
But this isn’t about that.
Shouto wants his head cleared, not filled with Katsuki’s questions, so he’ll have to put them off for later.
It’s not hard to get him off. Shouto is so wound up that the right flicks of his tongue are enough to have him on the edge, but the only warning Katsuki gets that he’s too close is a single arch off of the mattress and then a muffled cry.
He swallows him down drop for drop, and only misses the first bit that caught him by surprise, which he takes great joy in pointedly licking off while Shouto blinks down at him.
He’s already pretty, but like this, his eyes lidded and cheeks dark, he’s a goddamn work of art.
Katsuki lets himself get pulled back up to his lips in an eager and grateful kiss, all arms and constant tugging in what might be the most enthusiastic state he’s ever seen him. Maybe he should have done this years ago, but if he thinks about it too much, it might do something ugly to his mood. No, he has a job to do, and the night is almost over, which means he’s almost won.
Make Shouto happy again.
Easy.
“So how’s it feel to get your dick sucked by a celebrity?”
“Why would you say that,” Shouto says, so annoyed that all Katsuki can do is cackle in delight.
“Because it’s funny,” he says, but Shouto doesn’t push him off. “You still wanna take it back and say some stupid actor instead?”
“No.”
“Thought so,” he says as he moves back towards his lips. As much as he loves getting under his skin, he might like this a little more.
Shouto is so much softer now than he’s ever been, and it only makes him wonder what it would be like if he fucked him. Would he turn into putty in his hands, or would he turn into vapor and disappear like a cloud of smoke? And would he ever be able to think about anything else?
Shouto reaches between them, but Katsuki grabs his wrist before he can touch him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and Shouto furrows his brow at him. “Later.”
“We’ll be asleep.”
“I mean not tonight,” he says. “I don’t want you doing nothing until your head gets back on straight.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It is.”
“No, it’s not,” Shouto says.
“If you get weird on me because you jerked me off when you were having a bad day, it’ll piss me off.”
“I won’t get weird,” he says.
“Prove it,” Katsuki says. “Tomorrow.”
Shouto scowls at him, which may as well be a fuck you in Todoroki, and Katsuki laughs at him as he pulls him back to his lips. He half expects him to bite him in retaliation, but Shouto comes easily and willingly. So what if he’s not going to get off here? He’s still getting something out of it.
“Why are you pretending to be a gentleman?”
“I’m not, I’m being normal.”
“No, you’re not,” Shouto says.
“Yes, I am. Shut up.”
“You’re concerned about what I’ll do if we had sex,” he accuses.
“So? You wouldn’t tell me you were into me for like a decade.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “I gotta make sure you don’t freak out and clam up when you’re feeling like yourself again. We’ve gotta work together and shit.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Shouto says. “I said my feelings wouldn’t affect anything.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
“I’m trying.”
“Go to sleep first,” Katsuki says before he pulls the blanket over them. “Now.”
Shouto huffs out—unreasonably grumpy, in Katsuki’s opinion—and turns over to put his back to him without actually moving away.
“Don’t pout,” he says, and Shouto moves back against him, pressing his ass against the boner he’s been doing a very good job at pretending he doesn’t care about. “Oh you fucking asshole.”
He does it again, and Katsuki slides his hand up his shirt as he curves into him. He breathes out against his shoulder, and it takes everything he has not to sink his teeth into him. Shouto tilts back against him, wedging him between the curve of his ass and making Katsuki want to rut into him like a stupid dog.
“Goodnight,” Shouto says, earning an annoyed groan.
“Tomorrow,” he says through his teeth. “And I’m gonna fuck your shit up so you better be ready for it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, I’m promising.”
Shouto reaches back and puts his hand on him to urge him closer, and Katsuki groans again.
“You’re such a fucking brat.”
“It’s your fault.”
He thumps his head against his back in frustration and wills himself to calm down, even if Shouto refuses to make it easier. He’s never putting anyone else first again, fuck that. Experiment failed. This is bullshit.
“Go to sleep.”
The next morning he wakes up to the sound of a car horn on the street below followed by a combination of indiscriminate shouting and more car horns. He grumbles and squeezes Shouto like it’s supposed to make them all shut up, and that’s when he realizes he managed to spend the entire night latched onto his back without either of them moving an inch.
Shouto smacks his lips awake, and they peel themselves apart, both of them too prickly to spend all morning snuggling each other.
Katsuki plops down a foot away, grateful that he didn’t have to lie about his futon being comfortable, and Shouto gets up to see what’s happening outside.
“The back end of a vegetable cart collapsed,” Shouto says, his voice raw from sleep. “It looks like pears.”
“Sucks for them,” Katsuki grumbles.
“Should we assist?”
“We’re off duty, and neither one of us has a strength quirk,” he says. “What do you wanna do?”
Shouto hums in agreement before he kneels down onto the small mattress. Katsuki rolls over on his back and waits to see what Shouto decides to do with him, if he plans to do anything at all. “Do you have scar cream?”
That wasn’t what he expected.
Katsuki frowns. “You didn’t put any on before bed?”
“I wasn’t sure if you had anything, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t.”
“Face feeling weird?” Shouto nods,and Katsuki gestures towards the hall. “Medicine cabinet. Should be a tube in there.”
“Thank you,” Shouto says, and when he leaves, Katsuki forces himself to get up to see what he’s going to do about breakfast.
He starts by checking his cabinets to see what kind of tea he’s got for Shouto, and he sets the two boxes he finds down on the counter next to his favorite perch while he gets the kettle going. It’ll be coffee for him, but Shouto needs something a little milder first thing in the morning, and it’s not something he thinks about often, but he really does know every damn thing about him.
Living with someone for a few years, and then graduating just to end of working with them forever teaches you a few things.
But now that he knows what he tastes like, it’s hard to keep kidding himself.
A few minutes later Shouto comes back and climbs up onto his usual stool and inspects the two boxes of tea. He tears open a black and orange blend after some thought and drops it into a mug for Katsuki to pour the water over for him.
“You need sugar?”
“I’m fine,” Shouto says, and Katsuki pours himself his coffee while Shouto’s tea steeps. “How long am I supposed to wait before I try again?”
It only takes Katsuki a second to figure out what he’s talking about, and his mouth twitches in amusement, but before he can answer, Shouto’s phone rings loudly across the room.
He gets up to check who it is, but when he sees, something about his face changes in a way that makes the hairs on the back of Katsuki’s neck stand up. Shouto looks at him while it rings, and Katsuki points to his room, signaling him to go there if he needs some privacy.
Shouto nods and answers the phone as Todoroki Shouto, not the hero Shouto, and Katsuki keeps his back to him like he’s not even there, even as the door shuts behind him.
There’s no point in starting breakfast because Shouto may decide to bolt when he’s done, so Katsuki stalls in any way he can down to wiping down his counters and turning his hot sauce bottles so that all of the labels face forward.
He’s gone for a while.
Katsuki watches the door with a strange lump in his throat. They share everything from their thoughts to their vague aches and pains, so not having a clue as to what’s going on in there feels… wrong. Like he might slip out of his fingers this time and shut him out, and it’s so damn hard when he’s this damn nosy.
After a while, the door finally opens, and Shouto slips out with a white knuckled grip on his phone. The soft flush from this morning is gone, and he looks like he somehow never slept at all. He stops at the edge of the kitchen, and Katsuki folds his arms across his chest.
“Well?”
“I’ve been requested for an in person visit to Tartarus.”
Katsuki’s heart jumps into his throat, and his eyes widen. “Shit.”
Shouto swallows.
“You don’t have to go,” Katsuki says.
“I want to,” he says. “There are… things I would like to ask him, and he doesn’t talk to me if I go on my own. Not without dad.”
“But you think he’ll talk now?”
“I assume so,” he says. “This was his request.”
“And you don’t think he’s gonna try to fuck with your head.”
“He probably will, but I’m not so easy to bother. I was embarrassed yesterday, but nothing he can say will hurt me.”
Katsuki takes a deep breath and nods. “Alright, well let me put some pants on, and we’ll go.”
Shouto looks at him like he didn’t expect him to say that.
“What?”
“You’re going with me,” he says, unsure.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says.
“He’s going to provoke you.”
Katsuki shrugs. “I don’t care. You do it all the time.”
Shouto doesn’t say anything.
“Oh, you’re worried I’m gonna provoke him,” he says. “Then I won’t go in.”
“Are you sure?”
“You need me in there?” Katsuki says, and Shouto shakes his head that he doesn’t. “Then I’ll wait for you outside while you do what you need to do.”
Shouto remains quiet for a moment as he considers bringing Katsuki with him, and then he nods in acceptance. “Thank you.”
“You need some clothes, or do you wanna go back and get your costume?”
“I’ll wear what I wore to come here last night,” Shouto says. “I won’t be going as a hero, and it’s not like I need to keep my identity a secret from him.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Are you sure you’re alright accompanying me for this?”
Katsuki shrugs. “Yeah, he’s just your brother.”
“He kidnapped you.”
“And tried to roast you alive, and you’re still going.”
“Because he’s my brother.”
“Yeah.”
Shouto stands there quietly for a moment, and Katsuki slips his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants and waits. It’s his call in the end, and as he thinks about it, Katsuki waits. If Shouto tells him he doesn’t want him to go, he’ll listen, but he would feel a hell of a lot better if he could get Shouto back here after, although he doesn’t point that out as his motive.
“I would like to go soon,” he says.
“Get dressed then,” he says. “I’m driving.”
Tartarus is strict with both visitors and its visiting hours, but Dabi claimed to have information about some of All For One’s old associates. It’s probably bullshit after all these years, but Shouto is always going to take any opportunity he can get to see him. Let the officials grasp for straws if they need to, but this is family business.
He and Shouto both technically go as civilians, so the guard at the front gives them both an attitude about it, but then Shouto makes him call the director of the new Hero Public Safety Commission, even going as far as providing his personal number himself, which Katsuki finds pretty damn funny. Never mind that it’s just Hawks.
Shouto is taken back to a nullified visitation room, his walk there casual and unbothered, and Katsuki drops down into a chair across from the guard’s desk and waits like he’s annoyed to be here. He’s not, he just feels like being belligerent.
Annoyingly he couldn’t bring his phone, so he locks his eyes on a particularly interesting speck on the floor while refusing to make small talk. His thoughts jump from his first encounter with Dabi, to the night he saw Touya’s shrine at Endeavor’s house, to the day they finally caught him, and then it jumps to Shouto pinned beneath him for just a moment of not having to think about any of it.
He thinks about dinner at Fuyumi’s, having tea with Rei and Mitsuki, and arguing about whichever team is the shittiest this year with Natsuo. He thinks about interning with Endeavor because Shouto wanted him to, and he thinks about Masaru trying to bond with Enji over guy stuff, which is the lamest shit ever in Katsuki’s opinion, but he’ll admit that Enji does know his way around a barbecue. His dad’s potato salad is king, though.
He thinks about Shouto fighting for an infant’s memory of a brother who got burned up and turned into a monster and how he will spend all day in there if he has to just to see him again.
Katsuki bites his fist and slumps down into his seat. He’ll taunt him. He’ll make fun of him. He’ll prey on him like the piece of shit he is, and Shouto went in there knowing that. He just doesn’t care.
He’s strong, though.
Shouto is as tough as nails, stubborn, and most of all, a bastard.
He doesn’t need anyone to look out for him, but Katsuki will because they’re partners, and that’s what partners do.
An hour passes before Shouto comes out again, and Katsuki stands up, prepared for the glass to break. But Shouto blinks at him calmly, and Katsuki puts his hands in his pockets before the two of them walk out together without a word.
No one’s getting shit out of them today.
But Shouto looks okay. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look like he just endured an hour of my big brother wants the world to burn psychological torture either, so that probably means it was a civil waste of time.
Good.
He doesn’t get to see him enough.
They get into Katsuki’s car, and Shouto exhales all of the air in his lungs as he sits back against his seat. Katsuki gives him a second before speaking to gather his thoughts.
“How’d it go?”
Shouto sits up without answering and pulls him into a kiss with his fist caught in his shirt, his mouth parting as easily as did last night, and Katsuki gives him a whole minute of it before slowing him down.
“You know there’s cameras all over this place,” he warns.
“I don’t care,” Shouto says. “Do you?”
Katsuki kisses him that time with a firm hand on the back of his head to hold him in place. Fine, then. Let anyone who sees them, see them. He doesn’t give a shit either.
They’ve only gotten to do this a few times, but it already feels like a major reset button has been added to their lives. This is something they’re both going to need now that they know what it can do, and he hopes that Shouto just takes it when he wants it from now on without being shy about it.
But if he needs a little push at first, then fine.
“Hey,” he says quietly just to get his attention, and Shouto mutters a ‘what’ between marathon breaths. “You wanna stop thinking for a few hours?”
“Yes,” Shouto says eagerly against his lips. “You promised.”
Katsuki pulls away and nods before putting the car in reverse. It’s probably a good thing they didn’t put the futon up before leaving because he thinks he’s about to get a few miles out of it.
Shouto’s hand rests casually on his thigh, and Katsuki tuts to himself, but he doesn’t say anything about it. So maybe he doesn’t need that much of a push at all.
Good. This is how it should be.
He drives them back to his place a little bit faster than he probably should, but the promise of Shouto at the end of the race is too good to ignore.
And he might have even gotten there in less time if he didn’t have to pick Shouto up another milkshake masquerading as a coffee on the way first, but whatever. As long as it makes him happy, it’s fine.
It’s all fine.
By the time he’s done with him, Shouto is smiling like an angel, and he confirms then that he might have successfully found a way to block out all the bullshit.
They could have used this years ago.
Thank god their office has a lock.