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Mashirao lay in bed, watching Katsuki get dressed for work. In about five minutes, he'd be poking fun while he helped Katsuki wrap his rat tails, but for now, he could admire. He'd just come in from a shower. His wet hair dripped, and Mashirao watched the rivulets travel down the planes of his back.
He was a marvel, honestly. All pale skin and pale hair with striking, bright red eyes. A lean build with perfect definition, well-muscled but still slim. A long, thin neck, leading into a chiseled jaw. The most glorious ass Mashirao had ever laid eyes on.
He was gorgeous. No doubt about it. With strong features, piercing eyes, thin, rosy lips, and a cute, upturned nose. Mashirao could lay there and stare all day.
Unfortunately, duty calls, so he silently lamented while Katsuki lazily threw on his clothes. It didn't sting so bad when the clothes were skin-tight.
“You're so pretty, honey.”
Katsuki shot a questioning glance over his shoulder.
“Weirdo.”
Mashirao chuckled.
“You think I'm weird? We're engaged, and you think I'm weird for saying you're pretty?”
“Uh, yeah.”
He said it like it was an undeniable fact, focusing his attention back on getting dressed.
“You think I’m pretty, don't you?”
“Obviously.”
“So why am I a weirdo?”
Katsuki jumped in place to get his pants up. Mashirao watched intently.
“‘M not pretty. You're the pretty one.”
Mashirao laughed at that. How Katsuki, the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on, thought he and his plain face were prettier, he'd never understand.
“You're right, I'm sorry. You're ruggedly handsome.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but smiled. His smile was Mashirao’s favorite. His teeth were ever so slightly crooked, framed by little dimples, and it was the cutest thing Mashirao had ever seen.
“Help me with my hair. I've still gotta make breakfast.”
Mashirao sat up, patting the space in front of him. Katsuki sat facing away from him, and he took the opportunity to wrap him up in a hug from behind, kissing his cheek. Katsuki leaned into the touch, turned his head to meet Mashirao's lips with his own.
Mashirao loved calm moments like these. Their jobs were so chaotic and unpredictable, and they were always so busy. They juggled social lives and work as well as they could, and it was exhausting. But every morning and every night, Mashirao looked forward to this brief, fleeting calm.
Katsuki was like a salve to his heart. He could have the worst day imaginable, and coming home to Katsuki waiting for him with something on for them to watch together would wash it all away. They'd turned this apartment into a home, a respite, their little place of solace from the outside world.
He could wax poetic over everything he loved about Katsuki for hours, but his favorite of all was the way he showed affection. Katsuki’s actions spoke far, far louder than his words. His affection took the form of touches, hugs, and kisses. Favors, gifts, and acts of service were his way to express his love. Where Mashirao had no problem doling out sappy words, Katsuki struggled. But where words failed him, the things he'd do always showed his true feelings.
Every morning, the second they woke up, he'd wordlessly go to the kitchen and bring Mashirao a glass of water to take his medicine with. If he could tell Mashirao had a bad day at work, he'd hold him tight and massage the tension out of his shoulders, before going and running a bath for him. The last time Mashirao was sick, Katsuki came back to the apartment during his lunch break just to make him a bowl of soup and ensure anything he could possibly need was within arm’s reach.
He remembered all of the little tidbits that most people would pay no mind. He knew all of Mashirao's favorite things, down to his favorite flower, and even his favorite style of baseboards. Hell, Katsuki had learned a whole new language, a particularly difficult one for Japanese speakers at that, the second he learned that it was what Mashirao spoke at home.
Yet another way Katsuki showed his love. He knew Mashirao’s family meant the world to him, so he went above and beyond for them. He'd drop by Mashirao’s mom’s house, unannounced, just to bring her lunch, under the guise of having made too much for breakfast. Every year on their birthdays, he'd get flowers and a charcuterie basket sent to Mashirao’s grandparents in Lviv, and take the ones in Tsukuba out to dinner, his treat. Mashirao wished that his dad got to meet Katsuki.
He would've loved him, too.
Mashirao hoped he could see. Every year, on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, Katsuki would come with him to the cemetery. He'd bring three cans of Asahi Super Dry and a plate of deruny, Mashirao’s mom’s recipe. His dad’s favorites. The deruny and one can were placed on the grave, while two cans were cracked open and sipped in silence. And every time, after Mashirao said his goodbyes, Katsuki would stay behind for a moment, and speak to the headstone.
Mashirao stayed close once, wondering what he was saying.
“Thank you, Ojiro-san. I'm taking good care of your son and your wife. I promise.”
The words rang in his ears. Your son and your wife.
Mashirao was a mama’s boy before all else. To hear that Katsuki was not only entirely dedicated to his well-being, but to his mom’s as well? To know that he'd protect both of them with his life if it came to it? It was enough to make a grown man cry.
And cry he did. He cried all the way home. In grief, yes, but mostly in gratitude. Katsuki just placed a comforting hand on his knee, red eyes trained on the road, occasionally flicking over to make sure Mashirao was okay.
He didn't know what he did to be so lucky. To have someone so powerful, so strong, hard-headed, and audacious wrapped around his finger. It felt like a dream.
When Mashirao finished tying off his hair (“My punk fiancé and his twin rat tails… I’m swooning.” “Fuck off.”), he pulled Katsuki into another tight hug, tail wrapping around his middle. Katsuki leaned into it, savoring the touch, running one hand along the outside of Mashirao's thigh while the other held the tail against his chest.
In an hour, he'd leave, and become the pro hero Dynamight; revered and feared in equal measure, larger than life and untouchable. For now, though, he was just Katsuki. Cuddly, loving, sweet Katsuki.
Just how Mashirao liked him.