Chapter Text
A week isn’t enough time for Katsuki to become accustomed to his alarm, but by the tenth day he’s at least adjusted enough not to wake up pissed off at the sound. Though maybe that’s just because today, the alarm is going off two hours later than it normally does, because it’s the weekend.
You’re a workaholic, that he’s learned, but not even you are so dedicated you’d refuse to let him sleep in on weekends. It’s still early in the morning when he wakes, but it’s not because you’ve outlawed sleeping in. It’s because unlike last weekend, this weekend actually has something on its agenda. You’d mentioned last night that you would be gone for most of the day, taking cattle, crops, and several ranch hands to run a stall at a local farmer’s market that takes over the downtown streets once a month.
Your offer to go was optional, but although a part of him would’ve liked to just stay here and sleep the damn day away, a bigger part of him is already twitching to see something other than dirt and trees for once. He hasn’t left the ranch since the day you got back from taking him to the city. You’ve kept him busy enough not to think about it much, but it would be nice to have the reminder that there’s more to this town than just horses, cattle, and obnoxiously friendly ranch hands. So he agreed to tag along, and just before parting ways to go to bed, you’d advised him to set an alarm. Because of course a farmer’s market would have to happen in the morning. He wonders if you’ve slept past eight a single day in the last four years.
His alarm beeps and Katsuki reaches over to shut it off, running a hand down his face. The sun sits higher and brighter in the loft window than he’s slowly becoming accustomed to, but he’s always been the type of person to need extra minutes in the morning to fully wake up and kickstart his brain. He wiggles his way free of the sheets and stands to go to the bathroom, pissing and brushing his teeth. His hair is every bit the unruly mess that it always is, and since it’s the weekend, he doesn’t have to go to work and spend all day sweating, which means his usual evening shower gets to become a morning one, unless you’re not patient enough to let him take it.
Returning to the bedroom, he gets yet another pair of jeans, boxers, and a t-shirt from his dresser— in the week and a half he’s been here, it’s rare he wears anything else save for the occasional pair of pajama pants when the loft or the house gets cold. A part of him almost misses the tuxes and the way Izuku would insist on dressing out when they went on dates, but the more he thinks about it, the less he misses those tight, constricting suits. If there’s one thing he likes more than anything about the ranch, it’s that he could dress as lazily as he wanted, and to anyone else on the property it would just look like he was going to work.
He takes his clothes and a pair of boots downstairs with him, socked feet padding across the cool wood on the porch as he heads inside. He half expects you to already be dressed and ready to go in the kitchen, puttering away at a crossword and waiting for him to make breakfast like you’ve both grown used to, but you aren’t here. The muffled footsteps from upstairs confirm you’re at least awake, but it seems even the head rancher moves slower on the weekends. Not that he minds. Now he can shower and take his time getting ready in peace.
He heads to the guest bathroom he’s claimed as his and shuts the door, then turns on the water and strips out of his clothes while waiting for it to heat up. The hot, humid air starts to flood the bathroom, steaming up the mirror and sticking like mist to his skin long before he actually pulls open the door and gets in.
It’s the first morning shower he’s taken since he left the city, and as he stands there letting the hot spray pour over his sore shoulders, it’s as inevitable as it is irritating that his thoughts drift to Izuku. There was a time, not so long ago, where the two of them stayed so busy with work that taking early morning showers together was the only place they’d actually consistently see each other. But now that everything’s changed, his nostalgia for those peaceful mornings is tainted with nothing but pathetic wondering. Because Izuku often stayed out late for work, as did Katsuki. But Katsuki was actually working when he said he was. Now he wonders if maybe all the times Izuku said he was at work, he was really with Ochako.
You’ve kept Katsuki busy enough on the ranch that he hasn’t had much time leftover to think about Izuku. It’s something he’s grateful for, even if he’s yet to figure out whether you’re doing it on purpose, or just don’t have any idea how helpful it is. But showers are a place where you aren’t there to clog up his head, where Kaminari and Shinsou aren’t there to bug him and get on his nerves, where there is nothing at all getting in the way of this insufferable merry go round of thinking. Katsuki’s convinced of his own self-confidence, until the moment he’s in here alone with nothing to do except wonder if his break up was his own fault.
He goes to work shampooing his hair in a sorry effort to distract himself, and as he’s rinsing it out, he glances down to observe a small but noticeable bruise on his shin, giving it a prod and frowning at the light sting of pain. A gift from Taiyou, he doesn’t doubt it, but one that lingers just enough to distract him from thoughts of green hair and infidelity.
Progress with the stallion hasn’t gone the way he thought it would. Since the day Taiyou arrived on that trailer, Katsuki’s life had become something of a routine. In the mornings he would tag along either with you or with Kaminari (much to his dismay) and perform whatever tasks were told of him— feed these cows or groom this horse or help these ranch hands chop down a few dying trees. It’s hard work, but it’s good work, and it keeps him out of his head. Once the morning dies he goes back to the house to have lunch with you, then spends the rest of the day in that damn corral with Taiyou.
For the first few days, you’d gone with him. But then you’d seemed to decide Katsuki wasn’t stupid enough to try to actually ride Taiyou before he was ready, so you’d started leaving him to his devices so you could do your job. Katsuki thought he’d want you around, and a part of him does, but it’s also a lot less embarrassing to try and build a bond with this nightmare of a horse when there’s nobody around to watch him do it.
For three days straight, he and that horse did nothing but walk. Endlessly, aimlessly around in circles, they’d walk. They’d walk that ring until Katsuki was convinced that if he strayed from the path, he could look back and find a ditch trodden into the dirt. Taiyou’s rowdiness had simmered out a bit with time, but even then, there remained that vehement wildness that glittered in his eyes, one that made him stamp his feet and chomp at the bit whenever Katsuki was just beginning to think there was trust. Maybe there is something, but it’s not enough for his ass to hit that saddle yet. Not by a long shot.
So instead, they walk. And once you moved on from babysitting duties and Katsuki became comfortable with being alone, he started to talk, too. At first it was just him talking directly to Taiyou, answering his snorts and whistles with half-assed insults like the two of them were bickering around in circles.
But then, something changed. The reality that he’s been spending hours walking around with the same damn horse kicked in, and he started to talk about Izuku. He explained what happened between the two of them like Taiyou could understand. He ranted about the things he wished he’d done differently, or about how angry he was. He swore up, down, and sideways, that if he’d been given any earlier indication of Izuku’s behavior that he would’ve pulled the plug and moved back here a long time ago.
Then he started to talk about you. He spelled out his guilt to Taiyou like it was something he wore across his shoulders, the same way Taiyou reluctantly wears that saddle. He talked about how badly he wished he would’ve known about Yagi when it happened, then talked about how he didn’t know if the knowledge would’ve been enough to bring him back here. He told stories of the things the two of you used to do as kids, the adventures you’d go on all over this ranch. He smiled as he recounted the evenings spent in the house with you and Yagi, having dinner and existing in a place that was comfortable.
And maybe Taiyou wasn’t ever something that was gonna answer him, but there was something liberating about getting it out of his mouth nevertheless. He spoke his words right into the dirt and then walked over them like they were never there, sometimes dragging the lead behind him, and sometimes just holding the slack while his other hand pet Taiyou’s neck. All of the things he talked about were things nobody else could know. Maybe he could’ve told you about Izuku and you would’ve listened— he knows you would’ve— but each time he talked about Izuku to that horse, it wasn’t long before the topic strayed to you. There are things in his head that have to do with you, things you don’t need to hear out loud. Things he knows better than to think he has the right to tell you.
The thing is, though, it’s obvious that Taiyou doesn’t ever answer. But Katsuki’s not entirely sure he isn’t listening. He’s agitated and bratty when they enter the ring, but the longer Katsuki walks around ranting about whatever comes to mind, the more Taiyou settles and becomes something still a stone’s throw away from calm, but manageable nevertheless. It’s not enough to make them friends, but Katsuki learned quickly that in the same way his anger interacts with yours to become something gentle, his anger interacts with Taiyou’s wildness and becomes something calm.
Then, when the sun starts to set and you appear on the back of Tsuki to pick him up, Katsuki leads Taiyou back to his stall. He gives him a treat, locks the stall, and every day that passes, it gets a little easier to climb up into the saddle and let you call him home.
Katsuki shuts off the water and leaves the shower, patting himself down with a towel and shaking out his hair. The feel of dry clothes on his damp skin is uncomfortable, but he doesn’t dare try to leave the humid bathroom to get dressed, not when you could come down at any moment. So he wraps the towel around his waist and stands there for a while, letting the air conditioning chill his steam-reddened skin as he stares at himself in the mirror.
Ranch life has already turned him a shade or two darker than he was in the city, though he’ll never stray far from the world of being pale. He knows a week and a half isn’t long enough for his body to have changed much, but that doesn’t mean he can’t flex his bicep and pretend it’s a little bigger than it was in that apartment. There’s a lot of feelings that come with being back on this ranch, but at least the work may help him tone up his physique some more.
When he finally dries enough to get dressed, he bundles his pajamas under his arm and heads down the hall, stopping by the mudroom to dump them in the spare hamper you pulled from the closet to keep your clothes separated. He makes it about halfway through the living room when the smell of cooking meat wafts through his nose, and he frowns.
“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” he says as he enters the kitchen.
You just stare at him impassively from the stove. “I’m cooking.”
He rolls his eyes, coming forward to try to take the spatula you’ve got clamped in your hand. “How many times I got to tell you that ain’t your job anymore? All you had to do was wait.”
“I was hungry now,” you retort as you pull your arm away from him, matching his frown, “I’m not a child, Katsuki. I was cookin’ for myself fine before you moved in.”
“Fine isn’t the same thing as good,” he says, “And my food is good. Give me that.”
“Watch it, buck,” you warn, only to stare at him a moment longer before relenting the spatula with a hefty roll of your eyes, “Fine. You wanna serve me so damn bad, do it then.”
He huffs and takes it, gently hip-checking you toward the island. It’s a stupid hill to die on, he knows it is. But currently, cooking is the only thing he and his emotionally-stunted brain can come up with to offer you. And there’s so much he still needs to offer you. So much that you’re still owed. So he’ll cling to this one thing he knows how to do right, until such a day comes that he can finally nail down the things he actually wants to say to you.
“Don’t you have a crossword to do?” he asks as you retreat.
“Paper doesn’t run on weekends,” you answer quickly, but it’s hard to be annoyed with him when you know his cooking is just some silent attempt on his part to mend what he broke when he left. Still, though, your independence clashes with his care just hard enough to make you head for the door, “I’m goin’ to check that everything’s packed and ready to go. Be back in a minute.”
He glances over his shoulder with a frown. “You mad?”
You think about it for a moment, seated at the dining table and tugging on your boots, then shake your head. “No. You’re just tryin’ to be nice. One of these days, though, I expect to be allowed to use my own kitchen again.”
“Yeah,” he says, “Just not today.”
You hum and head outside. The thunk of the door closing is the last thing he hears before the house becomes wrapped in stillness and cooking rice. For a moment, he wonders if you’re actually upset with him, but if you were, you would’ve told him. You’re not the type to do much other than. So if you say you’re not mad, he’ll believe you and return to his cooking.
Meanwhile, the outside world is a bustle of activity as you stand on the porch and observe for a moment. Trucks full of crops go rolling along the dirt road towards the exit, where the hands will have the market stall set up and ready long before you even get there to manage it. Far off in the distance, there’s a trailer backed into the barn, where Shinsou leads another team of hands to load the cattle you’re preparing to sell at today’s auction. A few months ago you also had a cannery constructed on the property. Getting the license for it was a bitch, but you’re hoping today you’ll start to see the profits of it as a truck packed with pallets of jam and jelly joins the throng towards the market.
As you’re standing there, Honey gets bored with watching the ranch hands work and stands to come waddling back up the dirt road toward you. Trucks carefully turn out of the way as she sidles along without a care in the world, because by now you’re halfway convinced that she’s the real one that owns this ranch. You squat down to meet her as she hobbles up the steps, gently rubbing her ears.
“You need a bath,” you comment, but all she does is loll her tongue out of her mouth and flop down sideways for a belly rub. You settle back onto your heels and oblige, watching a few of the hands load up onto their horses to head into town. As they pass the house, Kaminari veers away from the group and sidles toward you with a smile, hips swaying in the saddle.
“Well, good mornin’, boss!” he greets with every ounce of the cheer he has for almost two years now, tipping his hat to you, “A fine day for a market, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” you agree, “How’s prep going?”
“Everything’s ready,” he says, “Most of the trucks are already on the way there. The rest of us are just waiting on you and that red-eyed piece of eye candy you keep around.”
You snort. “You know, it’s really a wonder he ain’t throttled you yet. Think the only thing stopping him is the fact he’s secretly impressed that you’re brave enough to talk about him like that.”
“Or maybe the fact that he knows you’d have him booted all the way to the road the second he dared to lay a finger on me,” Kaminari says with a wink, “We all know I’m your favorite around here.”
“Bein’ the favorite will only get you so many favors, boy,” you say, “Keep pushin’ him, and you’ll find out.”
“I can’t help it,” Kaminari attests, “He’s gotta be the finest man I’ve ever seen. And then the two of you waltz around this ranch together lookin’ like a pair of gods themselves. It ain’t fair. What’s a man got to do to get a chance?”
You roll your eyes. “Ain’t you got some weird thing going on with Shinsou already? What you need two boy toys for?”
Kaminari waves a hand through the air innocently. “Listen, nothing with Hitoshi’s been confirmed. We may have made out once or twice, but he’s as hard to crack as Bakugou. Apparently I have a type, and ain’t no law out there that says I can’t have more than one man. I just wanna be his rebound real bad.”
“Then I wish you the best of luck with that. Just don’t let me see your sorry ass comin’ to me for comfort when Katsuki rejects you,” you tease, then pop your chin toward the road, “Go ahead. Don’t wait up for us.”
“What, no parting kiss for a man of constant sorrow?”
“Wouldn’t you know it, I’m fresh out. Try again next time.”
Kaminari just laughs and tugs the reins to turn around, trotting off down the road toward the exit gate. You watch him go, then sit in silence next to Honey for as long as it takes Katsuki to appear and inform you that breakfast is ready.
He holds open the door for you with a frown. “What’d the twink want?”
“You’d better quit callin’ him that, before people start to think you’re a homophobe.”
“I’m bi. I literally just got done dating a man for almost five years.”
“Doesn’t matter.” You stand and pat your hip to bring Honey inside, “He was just tellin’ me that everything’s packed and on its way to the market. Which means you and I need to hurry up and get there. Can’t exactly sell my shit if I’m not in the stall.”
He shuts the door behind you and follows you through the living room. You wash the smell of dirty dog off your hands while he pours a cup of kibble into Honey’s bowl, then the two of you sit down together at the island to eat breakfast. And although you’ll never be caught dead admitting to his face, Katsuki’s cooking is marginally better than what you would’ve made. It’s irritating to know that you’re good at something until someone else arrives to blow your own skills out of the water.
“Do I have to help you sell shit today?” Katsuki asks as you eat.
You shrug. “If you want. But I wasn’t expectin’ it. Really, you’re just comin’ so you can sit there and look pretty and so I don’t go nuts by myself.”
I’m fine with sitting around looking pretty so long as you’re the only person that’s enjoying the view. “Good. Last thing I wanted was to have to talk all sweet to people tryin’ to get them to buy fucking jelly.”
You snort. “You wouldn’t really be doin’ that either way. This ain’t the type of market where I gotta advocate for people to buy what I sell. I’ve been here long enough to establish a baseline. Where I go, the money follows. You also ain’t gotta stay at the stall if you don’t want to. It’s the weekend, which means today and tomorrow, I’m not your boss. You can explore the market to your heart’s content if that’s what you want.”
He doesn’t particularly have any interest in exploring, but maybe if he starts to get bored sitting behind the table with you, walking around will give him something to do. So he nods. “We’ll see.”
You finish up your breakfast faster than him, taking your dishes to the sink and washing them. He may be stubborn about letting you cook, but he’s at least willing to offer you the autonomy to clean up after yourself. Even if he wanted to do it for you, he doubts you’d let him. He takes his last bite not long after and joins you at the sink, washing his own dishes while you dry them and set them on the rack.
Once the sink is clean and the kitchen is returned to a state of emptiness, he heads back up to the loft to get Yagi’s cowboy hat, situating it over his blond locks. By the time he comes back downstairs, you’re already waiting by the front porch on Tsuki’s back, idly plucking at a thread on the stitching of her saddle while he frowns. “We can’t take the truck?”
“Don’t like the truck,” you say, “And Tsuki loves riding. Who am I to deny the girl what she wants? Hop on, ain’t but a few miles into town. You’ll survive the trip.”
He rolls his eyes. He’s not exactly eager to go riding up into town attached to your back like you’re babysitting the new kid, but Taiyou is nowhere near ready to be ridden, and he doubts he’ll actually convince you to take the truck. So he swallows the displeasure, something he seems to be doing a lot these days, and hauls himself up into the saddle behind you. In his hand is your own cowboy hat that you’d forgotten, and he plops it onto your head as his arm finds its place around your waist subconsciously.
You pump your heels in the stirrups and Tsuki thunders off, faster than the gentle trot Katsuki’s become accustomed with, though still somewhere below a full gallop as her hooves beat in succinct rhythm against the dirt. The ranch seems all but barren without the hands around, where for the first time since he got here, Katsuki thinks it might really be just you and him on the property. When he glances back, Honey’s hobbled off the porch to sit in the grass and watch you go, but makes no attempt to follow, and you’re not even fully out of sight when she lays down and rolls over onto her back for a sunbath.
You don’t talk much as you canter along down the winding dirt road towards the entrance gate, lined by fences and the occasional tree, but Katsuki doesn’t mind. Chatting and small talk with you has gotten easier than it was when he first got here, but there’s still some lingering awkwardness each time one of you tries. Because talking about Izuku is not an option, and talking about Yagi is even less of one. Talking about your shared childhood leaves a bitter taste in both of your mouths. Which means if you’re not talking about the ranch itself, or about Taiyou, then neither of you has the slightest idea of what to say.
But silence has always been bearable with you. Especially here, where he can hold a hand against your waist and have the physical evidence that there’s nothing keeping you taught and wound up, no discomfort to pull your shoulders up to your ears. You’re quiet because neither of you feels much responsibility to be anything more than with each other, and he likes it that way.
When you reach the exit gate for the ranch, you slow Tsuki to a stop and hike a leg up in front of you, turning sideways. Your hand plants itself atop Katsuki’s thigh as you slide to the dirt with a thud, walking forward to unlatch and open the gate. “Lead her through.”
Katsuki presses his heels into Tsuki’s sides, and she doesn’t need the reins to sidle on through the gate, nor does she need them to know to stop and wait for you to close and latch the gate. When you return, Katsuki lowers a hand, and you take it as you plant a foot in the stirrup and haul yourself back up in front of him. You adjust, then barely give him enough time to latch back onto your waist before you flick the reins, and Tsuki takes off.
She’s running wide open now, hooves thundering in the grass parallel to the road, and Katsuki’s forced to free a hand from around you so he can keep his hat from flying off. It’s not the gentlest of rides from where he sits, but whatever soreness he feels in his ass tomorrow won’t hold a candle to the way he feels right now.
It seems the city has made him forget more than just the ranch itself, because although this exhilaration and the billow of wind in his face shouldn’t ever have become unfamiliar, it feels foreign and new anyway. In the rare times he actually had to use his car in the city, he’d always been a fan of riding with his windows down and blasting his music as loud as he could. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but now he’s wondering if maybe he did it so he could emulate this. Open windows allowed him to remember the way he could feel every hoofbeat rattling up his spine, and the music allowed him to drown out the fact that he wasn’t actually feeling a thing at all.
The two of you pass a few vehicles on the road, but in a small town like this, horses were the most common way of getting around. Not to mention you’re still closer to the ranch than to town, and the really the only time anyone comes on this road is either to get to the ranch itself, or to pass the ranch on the way to the city. Katsuki won’t admit it out loud that he prefers this to being in the truck, but he doesn’t have to. He has a feeling you know, because it’s in your nature to just always know what he wants and what he needs.
Buildings start to slowly encroach upon the open fields the closer you get to town, and it takes until you’re slowing to a trot, passing through traffic trying to get into the dirt parking lot, for Katsuki to realize that seeing his parents at this market is a real and nerve-wracking possibility. He still hasn’t even bothered to tell him that he and Izuku broke up, much less that he moved back to his hometown but into a house that isn’t theirs. If he sees them today and has to hastily explain all of it in just one talk, he has no idea what he’s gonna say. Maybe he should stay behind the table and just keep a close eye out so he can duck out of sight if they show up.
And in that infuriating way you’ve always been able to do, you seem to know what he’s thinking long before he bothers to say it out loud. “Don’t worry. Your parents ain’t gonna be here. I can’t remember the last time I saw Mitsuki at one of these events.”
“Doesn’t matter if they show up,” he attempts to brush off.
“You ain’t told them you’re here yet, have you?”
His nostril twitches in annoyance. He’s got to figure out how to make himself less readable for you. “No. I’m working on it.”
You just snort. ‘Uh-huh. I’m sure you are. Bet they still don’t know about Izuku yet, either.”
“They thought I was gonna marry him.”
“Did you?”
He doesn’t answer. You don’t push. All you do is silently lead Tsuki into the stables, then wait for him to dismount. You swing a leg up and slide down, then take her reins and lead her into one of the empty stalls, where a stable hand is already waiting to feed and groom her. You hand off the reins, then rejoin Katsuki by the entrance, gesturing for him to follow.
The market is far more packed with people than he’d assumed it would be. It’s not so bad that the two of you don’t have space to walk, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of people milling about the different stalls. There’s dogs on leashes and kids in strollers, there’s people that look like they’ve lived here their entire lives and people that look like they only came into town to explore and shop before they return to their cities and manors. He wonders which group he looks like he belongs to.
He blindly follows your lead through the crowd, observing the stalls with idle disinterest. He does pass a florist, and an idea pops into his head about trying to slip away and buy flowers for you as an apology for, just… everything. But then he figures he can probably come up with something better than flowers, seeing as they’ll only stay alive for a few weeks anyway. Flowers feel like an apology with a timer on them that dissipates when the first petal starts to wilt. He needs an apology that’ll transcend any amount of time.
Eventually, he spots a familiar tuft of yellow-blond hair behind the stall you’re approaching, and he’s rolling his eyes long before Kaminari even bothers to open his mouth. “Well, it’s about time you two decided to join the show. You know, boss, running this stall for you while you’re off prancing the fields with your best friend wasn’t technically in my job description.”
“If it’s not your job, then get out from behind that table and find somebody else to pester,” you answer, “It’s the weekend. You see us five days a week. That ain’t enough for you to want a break?”
Kaminari smiles as he leans his elbows on the table, fingers interlocked and chin resting atop them. He winks. “How could I ever want a break from the two of you? You’re both such riveting company.”
“Do what she said and fuck off,” Katsuki says.
“I’ll get you to love me eventually, you mark my words,” Kaminari chides as he stands, pointing at you, “And that goes for you, too. But fine. I’ll go find Hitoshi and see if he wants to buy me snacks from all the bakery stalls.”
“Have fun,” you say boredly as you take a seat in one of two folding chairs behind the table. Katsuki takes the other one as Kaminari leaves, watching you open a small lockbox and count out several stacks of cash, “Well, at least I know he’s not totally useless. Market’s only been open for about thirty minutes and he’s already made a couple sales.”
“Is the market cash only?” he asks.
You shrug. “Some stalls are still old-school and prefer to go cash only, but most have adopted those little card readers you plug into your phone. I’ve got one somewhere, actually, and it needs to be set up.”
Good. Katsuki doesn’t carry cash, but he’s got plans to scour every inch of this market at some point to look for something to buy for you. It would suck if he found something good and couldn’t buy it because the sellers were too damn old to know how to use anything besides paper.
The stall to the immediate left of yours is selling a collection of spices, some native and others foreign, casting an array of smells into the air that carry throughout the market alongside the chatter of people and squealing kids. This is the first place he plans to stop whenever he eventually wanders from your side, though that’s less for your benefit and more his own. It’d be nice to have some new spices and herbs to play around with it now that he’s regularly cooking again, not that you’ve complained about any of his meals so far.
Your stall remains idle for all of a few minutes before the customers start to pour in. Some are strangers, but most are people you know by name, greeting each and every one with a smile a bit too wide and a voice a bit too friendly while Katsuki stays silent to observe. That hometown hospitality of yours is so obviously forced to him, but all of your customers buy right into it, asking about your ranch and about Honey and offering condolences about Yagi like you’re all old friends. He expected as much, though. You couldn’t be such a successful rancher if you didn’t know how to be a businesswoman, too.
What he’s certainly not expecting, however, is just how many people ask about him. Because where people know your name, not a damn one of them know his, and seeing new faces behind the table is far more uncommon than seeing new faces in front of it. The first time someone asks who he is, you introduce him as nothing more than a new employee.
And on the one hand, it’s irritating, because he’s definitely more than just another one of these damn ranch hands that are at your beck and call, and loathes being reduced to such a thing. But on the other hand, he understands that admitting you and him have known each other for longer opens the door for nosy ass customers to ask how you met, what it was like to grow up together, and most importantly, why he’s moved back here. None are questions he’d ever answer for a stranger, and so he’s glad you keep such information to yourself, opting to just shut his mouth and help count cash or bag items when you need it.
Things are going good. Maybe he’s a bit bored, but at least he’s doing something that counts as helpful, and judging from the way you have to start a secondary collection of cash hidden in a bag under your chair, you’ll clearly see plenty of profits once the day is over. Everything seems to be running smoothly, until Katsuki gets his first taste of a customer that doesn’t quite fall for your hometown charm.
“Do you have any jars that are fresher than this?” says an older woman with a horrendous haircut as she shoves a jar of strawberry jelly into Katsuki’s face. You’re distracted talking to a couple and their young daughter, failing to notice the interaction.
“They’re all fresh,” he mutters, not that he knows a damn thing about any of the products on this table, “Just take that one.”
“No, I’d like you to go find a fresh one,” she argues, thin eyebrows stitching together in this look like he’s just said the most offensive thing in the world, “And I’d like you to bring it to me with a far better attitude than the one you’ve got, young man.”
Katsuki’s lip threatens to curl. “They’re all the same damn thing. What does it matter if you’ve got one from the table or one from the cooler?”
“You watch how you speak to a paying customer,” she jeers, “Now, I know there are fresher and colder jars in that cooler, you just said so yourself. I expect you to get me one, and I’d also like a discount for the way I’ve been treated. You’re lucky I’m even bothering to buy from such a secondhand stall in the first place. Clearly these jams are packed with preservatives and chemicals.”
And maybe Katsuki could’ve dealt with it if the woman had only been bad-mouthing him. But he’s never had a rage incited in him so quickly as when he hears her bad-mouthing the work you’ve put into this. “Listen, if you think this shit is so bad, why don’t you march your bitch-ass right on down the sidewalk and find a different fuckin’ vendor to complain to? I don’t owe you no damn discount and she sure as hell don’t, either—”
“Katsuki,” cuts in a familiar voice as you grab his elbow and yank him away from the table, “Take a walk.”
“Don’t fuckin’ blame me!” he complains, “She wanted to give me attitude, so I gave it back.”
“Take a walk,” you snap, “Go explore the marketplace or something. I think you’ve done enough for now.”
You turn away to start talking to the woman before he even gets the chance to respond. He stares at the back of your head for a moment, chest stinging like he’s a toddler that just got in trouble, then huffs and pulls his hat a little lower over his eyes, stalking away to wander the stalls like you’d told him to. Leave it to him to find a way to get himself in trouble at a goddamn farmer’s market of all things, but he’s managed. It’s frustrating enough to think he might not find anything at this market worth offering you as an apology for Yagi, and now he’s frustrated that he won’t even find anything worth offering as an apology for mouthing off to one of your customers. But a big part of him can’t even be sorry for it and refuses to; that bitch had it coming.
He thinks about stopping at the spice stall to peruse the contents, but it’s right next to yours and he doesn’t want you or that annoying ass woman to accuse him of trying to linger, so he opts to hit it on his way back and keeps wandering. Most of the stalls are ones he passes without so much as a second glance— places selling wood carvings, homemade knitted scarves, bakeries with pastries that have been sitting out on those tables about thirty minutes too long. He’s not the biggest baker and prefers to cook, but even he thinks he could do better than some of these pathetic stalls. Maybe it’s ego, not that he cares if it is.
The market is arrayed in a big loop, stalls lining either side of the road in the square, which means if he just keeps walking it won’t take very long before he’s awkwardly circled back around to your own stall. He attempts to slow down, hands shoved in his pockets and sidestepping kids that, in his opinion, should be on leashes instead of running wild among the vendors. There’s a man stationed at a portable hot pot truck, the kitchen wafting delicious smells in the air, and Katsuki wonders if you’re hungry enough to accept it if he brought you lunch. He pings the location of the truck inside his brain like a marker on a map and moves on, just in case he decides to come back and try to feed you.
As he reaches the east end of the market, the smells of cooking food and flowers are replaced with the familiar stench of dirt and animals. A petting zoo of sorts has been set up for the children, with animals penned in by chicken wire and being fed small, colorless pellets. He recognizes a few of the goats and chickens from your farm, and to his surprise, they seem to recognize him, too. Several of them come bounding to the edge of the chicken wire to greet him, and he briefly stops to dip a hand into the pen and pat a goat on the head. Shinsou is running the petting zoo and offers him a head nod that he returns. Thankfully, he’s one ranch hand far less interested in getting on Katsuki’s nerves like Kaminari is.
His hands return to his pockets as he continues on, rounding out the market stalls and starting back down the other side of the street. He lingers near a table selling exotic beef jerky, only to turn up his nose when the first label he reads is one for puma jerky. He stares at a stall full of flowers for a while, rounded back to his original idea because he’s running out of options. He’s there for a minute or two, wondering if roses are too romantic, if tulips are too childish, if sunflowers are too bright. Izuku’s never given him flowers. He’s never given Izuku flowers. But he’s gotta come up with something before he returns to your stall empty-handed.
Then, just as he’s about to bite the bullet and purchase a bouquet of chrysanthemums, a deep, smooth voice speaks up from the stall to the left. “If you’re going for a romantic gesture, I’d recommend the roses.”
He glances over. The stall next to the florist is the most similar to yours that he’s seen so far, probably run by another farm or ranch in the province. But he could give a fuck less about looking at the produce, too distracted trying to keep his jaw off the floor as he stares at the man behind the counter.
Gods almighty, who the hell ever let me move out of this town?
He’s tall, a couple inches taller than Katsuki, with a frame like somebody chipped away at a goddamn mountain until he came popping out. His hair is red like the very roses he’s just told Katsuki to buy, and his grin is bright, friendly, and could be seen from a mile away. He’s got his arms crossed and they’re like stone against his packed chest, wearing a skin-tight, white long sleeve beneath a pair of weathered blue overalls. Even from here, the way his muscles shift and bulge with every tiny movement he makes is visible and very eye-catching. Katsuki doesn’t even have to be loyal to Izuku anymore, they’ve been broken up for two weeks. But he feels like he should be apologizing anyway, because this is the finest goddamn man he’s ever seen.
Katsuki realizes very quickly that he’s been standing here staring without answering him and shifts his weight on his feet. “What about an apology?”
“Aw, shucks,” says the godly farmer, “Done wrong by someone you love?”
“Something like that.”
“Then I’d go for white tulips. I always set up next to the florist and I’ve seen tons of people buy them when they’re trying to say sorry,” he advises.
“Thanks,” he says. The stranger nods, then gets distracted by someone coming up to his stall to purchase something. Katsuki assumes the conversation is over and turns to step up to the table, pulling out his wallet to buy a bouquet of white tulips. The florist helps him pick out which one he likes, then wraps it all nice in pretty craft paper. He pays and turns to leave just before the stranger from before speaks again.
“Good choice,” he says, “I’m sure your spouse will love them.”
“She’s not my spouse,” Katsuki says, then finds himself walking up to the table to glance over the produce and goods without even realizing it.
“Ah. My mistake, then. Ya know, it ain’t often I see a face with no name around here,” the redhead says with that same infectious smile, “Any chance you could tell me yours, mister?”
“Katsuki,” he replies, then wonders why the hell he would start with his given name, “Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Well, it’s sure nice to meet you, Bakugou Katsuki,” the man says, reaching out a hand to shake his, “Name’s Kirishima Eijirou. Like the sign says, me and my family own Kirishima Farm and Field. If you don’t mind me askin’, are you new?”
He tries to talk, swallows, then tries again. “Not really. I grew up here, then moved away after high school. Just moved back. Your farm wasn’t here when I was.”
Kirishima nods. “We’ve only been established here for a little under four years. You look pretty young. Probably left right before he got here.”
Gods, what I wouldn’t give to have been here when you moved in. “Probably.”
“What brought you back?” he asks.
“Work did,” Katsuki says, because even if this is the single most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, it’s still not enough for him to go spilling his drama with Izuku to a stranger, “Left my job in the city, moved back here and got a new one.”
“Well, if you grew up here, then I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that you won’t find a prettier or happier place to live than this,” Kirishima replies, chatting to him so easily you’d think the two of them were old friends. Then he winks, “And now that you’re around, I think it just got a little prettier.”
Katsuki attempts to not choke on his spit. No way in hell he just got lucky enough to meet a fine-ass stranger and be hit on said fine-ass stranger in the same day. He silently hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. “I don’t know about all that.”
Kirishima buzzes his lips disbelievingly. “Please. The way you carry yourself? Ain’t no way you’ll convince me that you don’t already know you’re good-looking.”
Please stop. Or don’t. I can’t decide. “You flirt with all your customers?”
“Just the ones I like,” he answers easily, leaning his hands on the table, “So, I’ll say sorry in advance, but I’m the nosy type. Can I ask what you need the tulips for?”
And surprisingly, the gentle push into his personal information doesn’t immediately make Katsuki want to blow somebody’s head off. At least not like it would if it’d been Kaminari who asked. “They’re… for my best friend. I owe her.”
“You think those tulips will do the trick?” he asks.
“They’re a start.”
Kirishima seems to notice the slight tightness in his shoulders, the brevity of his responses. And maybe he’s already dying to get to know this new face who apparently is more than just a tourist here for the market, but he’s also smart enough that it’s none of his business. So he changes the subject and gestures to his table. “Can I interest you in anything? Everything you see at this stall is homegrown at my farm, and you won’t find a drop of chemicals and pesticides in any of it. We’re all natural out there in the fields, mister.”
The nature of his friendliness is so bright and all-encompassing that for a moment, Katsuki’s ready to buy out that entire table just to get him to keep smiling. But then he shakes his head instead. “Can’t say I need it.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you can’t want it, though,” Kirishima says, “I’m telling you, you won’t find better produce than right here at this stall.”
Yes, Kirishima is probably the most attractive man Katsuki has ever laid eyes on. But he has loyalties, and unfortunately they don’t lie with him. “Not so sure that’s the case. Think if I had to cast a vote, it’d be for the ranch.”
“The ranch?” Kirishima echoes, and Katsuki’s surprised to see his eyes harden, “Gods above, tell me you don’t work for—”
“Katsuki.”
He just barely stops himself from flinching in surprise as you appear at his side like a damn ghost out of nowhere, your gaze somehow angrier than it already was when he’d argued with that woman earlier as you grab his elbow and attempt to pull him away. “Figures you’d end up at the one stall I didn’t want you to go to.”
“Aw, what’s the matter, sweetness?” coos Kirishima, and Katsuki blinks at the sudden change. That hometown friendliness and flirtation in his tone is completely gone, replaced with nothing but condescension and sarcasm as he sneers at you, “Ain’t his fault he knows good produce when he sees it.”
“You wouldn’t know good produce if it came and put its boot up your ass,” you snarl, “Which is what I’m about to do if you don’t quit talkin’ to my goddamn employees.”
“Hey now,” Kirishima purrs, face laden with this easy and amused smirk that makes Katsuki’s stomach turn over, “Ease up, friend. Ain’t no harm in some friendly chatting. I’m flattered that I get under your skin so easily, though.”
You fire off another quick response, looking about as close to the teenage you that you have since Katuski first got here while he can do nothing but stand there, bewildered and looking back and forth between the two of you. It takes a while for him to speak up, and when he does, his voice is almost pathetically neutral compared to the pure venom you’re spitting at each other. “You know him?”
“Know me?” Kirishima says, “She loves me to death. Ain’t that right, sweetness?”
“I’d sooner love to sit butt-ass naked on a cactus log, heffer,” you snap, “Your biscuit ain’t get baked in the middle or somethin’? Stay away from my employees.”
“Wait, fuckin’ slow down,” Katsuki says, attempting to grab your shoulder. This anger is new to him, even coming from you, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive. But more than that, it’s confusing the hell out of him, “What the fuck did he do? We were just talking. I’m not about to go runnin’ off to work for him or anything, so you can relax.”
“Katsuki, I’m not daft, I know you’re not gonna work for him,” you bite, so harshly that he removes his hand from your space, “Let’s go. We’ve still got a stall to finish runnin’, I just left to find you and drag you back.”
“How’re sales today, sweetness?” Kirishima says before you can pull Katsuki away, “Anyone actually buy somethin’, or have they been coming up to your stall just to ask you where mine is?”
“Sales are goin’ great,” you snarl, “Ain’t no surprise to you. Still out here tryin’ to pass off these weeds for good produce, friend?”
Kirishima laughs. “Oh, how I love our little chats. My mothers send their regards.”
“I’m sure they do. And they’re still sendin’ you out to do all the work for them, I see,” you point out, and this seems to be the first time you actually get to him as Katsuki watches his eyes narrow, “Maybe that farm’ll finally be yours in the next century or two. But until then, I’m sure you don’t mind bein’ mama’s little errand boy, ain’t that right?”
“Go on,” he growls, “Run back to your own stall now. I think them little ranch hands of yours are callin’. Unless you want to cause a scene in the middle of the market.”
“I’m knuckin’ if you’re buckin’, bitch.”
“Get.”
You huff, grabbing Katsuki’s elbow and hauling him away. Kirishima watches the two of you go, and when Katsuki glances over his shoulder it’s like a switch has been flipped as he grins at him and waves. Katsuki doesn’t wave back. All he does is tuck the bouquet of flowers behind his back and stare at you as he follows you through the crowd, because trying to give them to you after whatever the hell just happened has got to be the most embarrassing thing he could possibly do.
After a moment, though, you notice the way he hasn’t once looked away from you this whole time and scoff. “What the hell do you want?”
He smirks. “You wanna fuck that guy so bad.”
“Oh, you can eat shit!” you snarl as he laughs, “Matter of fact, you two can share it Lady and the Tramp style, ‘cause from what I saw, you’re the one that wants to fuck him!”
“Would you be mad at me if I did?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, but it’s too late now. He doesn’t actually have any intentions of rebounding with your biggest business rival, but he’s curious if your hatred runs deep enough that you’d shun him for sleeping with the enemy.
But, it seems you’re more confused by his question than annoyed, actually taking the time to think about it before slowly saying, “Your life is yours, Katsuki. Sleep with whoever the hell you want, ain’t my place to speak on it. That guy’s a slut anyway, he’d definitely say yes if you asked him. But you’d better not bring him on my property to do it.”
Well shit. So not a no, just an order to go to Kirishima’s rather than bring Kirishima to the ranch. For a second, he’s so surprised by your response that he almost wonders if he should take the chance. Saying no to a rebound was easy when it was Kaminari offering. Saying no to a fucking hunk like that is a completely different story.
“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” he asks.
“His family wants my property,” you explain briskly, sidestepping past a group of people with your hand clamped around his inner elbow to keep him beside you, “They moved here a couple months after you and Midoriya left. Bought up a shit ton of land and now they keep trying to expand. They think if they can run me out of business and force me to close the ranch, they’ll get whatever’s left. But that’s not gonna happen. That bastard won’t let it go, and it gets on my nerves.”
“He was nice to me,” he points out, not trying to defend him, but curious why that friendly smile and easygoing nature of his was so quick to dissipate the second he saw you.
“He thought you were a customer,” you say, “If he knew you belonged to me he wouldn’t have been so nice, I guarantee it.”
Katsuki attempts to ignore the way his chest starts to feel hot. Possessiveness started to get exhausting when it was seen in Izuku’s attempts to get him back, but it feels damn near exhilarating to see it in you, even if he knows you’re just referring to the fact that you work for him.
“Did Yagi hate him, too?”
You snort. “Yagi couldn’t hate nobody. Kirishima could’ve burned down that ranch with his own two hands and Yagi wouldn’t have hated him. It ain’t in his blood. But he at least understood that Kirishima and his family were a threat to what he built on that ranch. That’s why he was workin’ so hard towards the end. He was downright desperate not to lose his home to those leeches.”
Ah. So that must be another part of why you despise Kirishima so much. Because Yagi couldn’t let go of his work, and it ended up killing him. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to work so hard if it weren’t for the threat that Kirishima’s farm posed on their success. It definitely dampens Katsuki’s newfound intrigue with the red-headed farmer back at the stall, but he has a feeling there’s more to it than you’re telling him.
Because something else he’s come to understand since he moved back is that for as much as he doesn’t tell you about Izuku, there’s probably just as many things you haven’t told him about Yagi. The secrets you both keep circle each other, wary creatures in a ring unwilling to interact but still forced to share the same space. He’s not sure if he’ll ever know every single thing there is to know about Yagi and what it was like to lose him, but he at least knows it’s not fair to expect such vulnerability from you when you probably think the same things about Izuku. You are a pair destined to grieve in the same room without a word to each other about it, and that’s gonna have to be enough for now.
It takes until you get back to your stall with Katsuki in tow for you to realize what he’s carrying, and for him to even remember that it’s in his hand. “What’s that?”
He follows your gaze, face heating with instant embarrassment. But it’s not like he can hide them, and not like he wants to. He was just hoping you’d have cooled off some before he offered them, but it looks like he’s lost the chance. So he takes his arm from behind his back and presents the bouquet of white tulips to you, red eyes on the floor.
“You bought flowers,” you observe idly, confused.
“I bought flowers for you,” he mutters.
You swallow. You haven’t touched them yet, but in the small glances he steals he can see that angry edge in your eyes starting to mellow out as you murmur, “Why?”
He shrugs one shoulder, but this is anything but casual, and he knows it as well as you do. “Because I should’ve been here, and I wasn’t. And now I’m supposed to be with my parents, and I’m not. Everything I have came from you. This ain’t the last thing I’ll do to make up for it, but it’s the first. Couldn’t think of how else to start.”
You don’t say anything for a long time. He’s real thankful that nobody’s at the stall right now, ‘cause it would be awkward as fuck if you had to step away from this moment to help a customer. But no one bothers, and you don’t move. Anyone would be a fool to interrupt this.
Katsuki knows, somewhere deep in the bottom of his chest, that he won’t ever stop owing you. And maybe at first, it drove him nuts to think he needed to give so much to someone else. But now, it’s starting to feel more and more like what he has is worth offering, so long as it’s to someone who will take it and cradle it between tender hands. It’s not necessarily forgiveness he’s asking for, not yet. It’s more like he’s asking for the chance to be forgiven later on. And whether or not he’ll one day be successful depends on your answer right now.
He nearly sags with relief when you finally reach out and take the flowers, delicately thumbing at one of the petals with something close to a smile. The way water drips from the leaky taps on the ranch, whatever hatred that Kirishima has instilled in you comes slowly pouring out, the color of wine and soft to the touch as something gentle takes its place.
“They’re real pretty,” you murmur. And for a moment, Katsuki wants to say you’re wrong. That they’re not what’s pretty about this picture. But instead he remains silent, and when you lean up he leans down and turns his head so you can press a short, soft kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.”
“I’m gonna fix it, darlin’,” he mutters, “I swear it. For every day that Yagi wasn’t here, I will be.”
You don’t answer him, but your smile says enough as you turn to squat before one of the now empty coolers, carefully laying the bouquet atop the ice so the petals will stay fresh until you can get home and put them in water. You handle them with all the tenderness he’d hoped you would, and when you stand back up and look at him, there’s a long moment where neither of you knows what to say next.
But Katsuki can only be sentimental for so long before it makes his chest hurt, so he changes the subject as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, did you end up givin’ that bitch from before the discount she wanted?”
You don’t laugh. All you do is shake your head. “I told her to fuck off and find a different stall.”
“Huh?”
“Katsuki, your tone with her may have left something to be desired, but that doesn’t change the fact that she disrespected you,” you tell him, “And much to Yagi’s dismay, I’ve never abided by that ‘customer is always right’ bullshit. The moment I heard her talkin’ to you like that, I knew I was gonna send her away. I just also sent you away because I knew you’d be smug about it if you got to watch me tell her no.”
He huffs. “So I wasn’t even in trouble?”
This time, you snort, something fond in the way you smile. “No, you weren’t in trouble. That’s why I was trying to find you earlier. So I could tell you that you weren’t in trouble and bring you back to the stall. But then that fuckin’ Kirishima boy went and ruined my mood.”
“If I’d known how you felt about him, I wouldn’t have spoken to him at all,” he says.
You shrug. “Speak to who you want. If you wanna sleep with him, you can do that, too. Ain’t my place to tell you no in that regard. I’m just your boss.”
Katsuki shakes his head. “No you’re not. I don’t buy flowers for my boss.”
Your eyes drift back to the open cooler and the bundle of white tulips peeking from the top. “No. I suppose you don’t.”
The market ends eventually, and Katsuki helps you and the other ranch hands pack the truck, load the animals in the trailers, and empty the stall. You make him hold the bouquet of tulips during the ride back to the ranch. And when the two of you part ways at the end of the night to go to bed, you leave the tulips there on the island, tucked inside a vase under the yellow glow of a single kitchen light.