Archive of Our Own

That Canadian-flag-ass-looking bitch is hosting a rave on a Tuesday night.

How the hell Todoroki figured this was an acceptable thing to do is beyond Katsuki. Did he just decide to ignore the fact that he lives in a fucking apartment complex? Which means other people share his walls and ceiling, and in Katsuki’s case, his fucking floor? And that said walls and ceilings and floors are thin because they both live in a decade-old building whose landlady would rather hear extras’ gossip than give anyone privacy?

Because this— Oh, this is one of the most infuriating parts of it all: Katsuki can hear everything. He can hear every step and jump the extras on Todoroki’s flat take and feel every slight tremor on the walls caused by the awful music playing as if inside him. And it’s driving Katsuki insane, making his blood boil so fervently that sparks may pop from his goddamn hands, and he can’t stop shaking.

“Yeah, that’s a little annoying.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenches and his glare hardens, leaving the wall to narrow dangerously at Mina, who’s been rambling on the other side of his phone for the past fifteen minutes. “A little?” He growls, white knuckles gripping his blanket tightly. “My ceiling’s about to fucking snap.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; they’re having fun.” Mina chastises.

“And?” Katsuki snaps. “I want to sleep.”

“First off, we’re literally face timing,” She says, head shaking on her pillow. “And second of all, even if you were about to sleep, it’s not anyone’s fault you have the same curfew as a child—”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ curfew—”

“—and gets tired at,” Mina’s eyes lift slightly from the screen, her stupidly wide eyes growing even wider. “seven-thirty!”

“So fuckin’ what?” Yeah, Katsuki takes care of himself. Is that a crime now? He’s the fucking best, and that means he can’t afford to slack off—and if that implies getting eight hours of sleep every night, so fucking be it. He’s been doing it for years, anyway, so even if he were to stop, it’d take more effort than it’s worth.

(And if for years he means since that time the hag found him awake at four a.m. watching a new All Might movie and forced him to spend the remaining three hours before school on the treadmill to show what lack of sleep felt like, that’s no one fucking business but his own. Katsuki had been waiting months for that release; if he wanted to watch it at fuck o’clock, he would.

And what was the hag doing up to be prying on Katsuki’s business, anyway? Bitch.)

“So that if you were complaining at, I don’t know, midnight, I’d understand, but it’s not even eight, babe. You’re probably the only uni student who’d sleep now, and it’s ridiculous to expect the same from other people.” Mina lectures, and though Katsuki wants to swear her off, he knows she’s not… wrong.

Katsuki knows he’s being an asshole. It’s early as hell, and considering that loud noises are only prohibited in his building after eleven, Katsuki can’t expect Todoroki's party to be broken up when there’s technically nothing wrong with it. Katsuki knows that, really. He’s not stupid.

But what Katsuki also knows is that Todoroki is a lying, manipulative bitch. He’s learned that ever since that prick ran into him on the ground floor months ago, broke a vase, and not only made it seem like it was Katsuki’s fault despite the cameras clearly showing otherwise, but also made him pay for the damage.

Everything that bastard does is meticulously calculated to ruin Katsuki’s life to the fullest—including this party. Todoroki knew exactly how Katsuki would be pissed and how there would be nothing he could do about it. So fuck him and fuck Mina, because if Katsuki wants to complain he has every right to do so.

“The hell am I supposed to do then? Wait?”

“Hmm… you could always stress bake.” She suggests, moving around on her bed to sit against the headboard. “You bake, don’t you? Maybe it’d help, I don’t know.”

“Of course I bake,” What type of question is that? Katsuki made dough his bitch before he learned the three primary colors. “But I ain’t gonna waste my ingredients for nothing.”

Mina rolls her eyes but amuses him either way. “Okay, hm… Did I tell you what happened to Denki at Shinsho’s party?”

Katsuki scowls. “I don’t give a shit about Dunce Face.”

“Shut up, you do!” Mina retorts with a grin that makes Katsuki genuinely sick. “You caaaare about Denki, or do you think I forgot that you called him an Uber last week ‘cause you were worried about him walking home alone?”

“I wasn’t worried, what the fuck?” Really, he wasn’t. Dunce Face was just batshit drunk, and all the chucklefucks that call themselves Katsuki’s friends are utterly broke. Of course he’d pay for the damn Uber if the only other option was dealing with the extras’ nuisances after finding Dunce Face dead in an alley.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, babe.” She smirks. “But anyway, if you don’t wanna know about Denki, I guess I could—oh my god!” Mina suddenly yells so obnoxiously loud Katsuki can hear it clearer than the screams from upstairs. “Did I tell you about the girl I met yesterday? Kats, she was so hot, you have no idea—”

“No,” Katsuki immediately snaps. “I don’t wanna hear about it.”

“You’re no fun.” Mina chastises. Katsuki opens his mouth to retort, but whatever he thought of saying was promptly drowned by another roar from the crowd in Todoroki’s flat and a series of loud stomps across Katsuki’s entire ceiling. “Damn, they’re really going at it.”

Katsuki scowls at the roof. “I’m gonna stab Half’n’Half to death and ditch his remains in a fuckin’ river.”

“Or, hear me out: you could join him.”

Katsuki’s head snaps down. Mina’s shooting him that menacing smile again, her face way too close to the screen, and Katsuki has to blink once, twice, to process exactly what she said.

“What?”

“Hear me out!” She exclaims. “You’re always either stuck in that lab or at home. The most socializing you get in a month is from Eiji and me dropping by. It’s sad.”

“That’s ‘cause I don’t like fuckin’ mingling, Raccoon Eyes.” And there’s nothing sad about that, alright? People are exhausting, always pissing Katsuki off with their small talk and stupid social rules and opinions as if anyone cared. If anything, he’s doing himself and extras a favor by choosing to live secluded.

“But you should! It’s so unhealthy to be alone all the time—”

Katsuki sputters. “Unhealthy? You’ve been talking to the hag or something?”

“Please, we never talk about you.” She snorts. Katsuki doesn’t believe that for a second. “But it’s true. You have to start throwing yourself out there, babe. Can’t just spend the rest of your life making shit explode without talking to no one.”

“Fuckin’ watch me.”

“And besides,” She adds, blatantly ignoring Katsuki. Bitch. “Maybe if you became friends with Todo-kun, he could fuck the grumpiness out of you.”

Katsuki actually gags. “What the fuck did you just say?!”

Mina just stares, amused. “What? It could work, you know. It’s been a while since you had a good lay, and not to mention that Todo-kun is fucking hot.”

And that’s just—

That’s so much astronomical bullshit all at once that Katsuki has to breathe—really breathe; inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth as his therapist taught him, though he bites his tongue in the process once an awful song changes to an even worse one upstairs—to compute it.

“I’d never let Half’n’Half dick anywhere near me,” Is the first thing he says. Priorities. “And he isn’t hot. I’m hot.”

“You two are different types of hot,” Mina states matter-of-factly. “Todo-kun is handsome, introducing to my mom type of hot while you’re, like, sex dreams, mom would exorcize you in the living room type of hot, you know?”

No, Katsuki most definitely does not know. Moms love him. Everyone loves him. He’s the most lovable person on the entire planet. “You’re so full of shit.”

“It’s science.”

“You’re a theater major.”

“It’s human science.”

Katsuki growls, and Mina just laughs. It’s annoying, tiring, and makes Katsuki want to scream. But he doesn’t, for no matter how infuriating Mina is sort of comforting, in a twisted, most likely sleep-induced way. Not her voice—she couldn’t sound less like a coyote in a trash compactor even if she tried—but her… presence? The fact that all Katsuki’s been doing for the past hour is complaining and being his selfish, stubborn asshole self, and instead of cursing him off, Mina’s listening and entertaining it. It leaves Katsuki’s mind at ease, even faintly, and he’s grateful. Happy.

Not that he’d ever tell her that—you give Mina a compliment and she demands a whole shrine. But still, he appreciates it.

Uh, gross. The extras are making him soft.

A loud thump booms over Katsuki’s head, and the music suddenly turns up a ridiculous amount. He forces himself to breathe again. Theoretically, he knows he could simply leave. All he needs is to get his keys, fresh clothes, and bag and sleep at Kirishima’s. The fucker lives close enough to both campus and Katsuki’s, though that’s no type of advantage whatsoever. More often than not Kirishima uses it as an excuse to come over to study or chat as if Katsuki even hinted he was welcomed..

But the theory of this entire situation is meaningless because Katsuki can’t just leave. Leaving would mean he’d be giving up, and Bakugou Katsuki is no damn quitter—especially when it’d entail Todoroki winning. Katsuki will be six feet under before even considering letting that happen.

Besides, Kirishima’s couch is uncomfortable as hell. Too hard and too ugly.

So yeah. Fuck you, Todoroki. Katsuki’s fucking staying.

Another horrible transition is heard from upstairs, steps getting louder and louder right above Katsuki’s head. Fucking hell. The least that Candy Cane asshole could’ve done was get a decent DJ. Maybe Katsuki should take Mina’s advice and bake a pie, only to poison it and leave it on Todoroki’s doorstep. The bastard looks dumb enough to take it as neighborly goodwill or some shit.

Except that’s perhaps what he wants Katsuki to think so he can frame him for attempted murder.

Motherfucker.

Katsuki’s fingers fidget on his blanket. His mind is nearly pulsing with the music overhead, the constant, loud noises from extras jumping and dancing worsening to actual pain. Katsuki will actually kill Todoroki. The next time he sees that bastard, nothing will stop him from dragging his two-toned ass through hell and back—

A shrinking crack overtakes the room.

Mina stills, eyes focusing on Katsuki again. “What was that?”

Katsuki looks up, scowling. “I don’t—”

And then the roof collapses above him.

“Shit!” Katsuki yells, jumping off the bed seconds before ceiling joists, chunks of drywall panels, and a body knock his sheets, a raucous boom echoing in his room. He covers his mouth with his shirt as dust threatens to fill his lungs.

Oh fuck.

“What the hell was that?” Mina screams. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened? Why can’t I see anything?”

“I don’t—” Katsuki coughs, eyes suddenly burning up. He presses them tightly together and lies against the wall, hand clutching his phone. “I don’t know. The ceiling just— fuck, I can’t breathe—”

“Calm down, Kats,” She says, words heavy with worry. “Open the window, alright? Can you do that?”

“Yeah, just— Give me a sec.”

Katsuki coughs again and practically runs to the window, opening it with so much force the lock brakes. On any other day, he’d be pissed, for unlike some people he can’t just break shit and make others pay for it, but on any other day his ceiling wouldn’t have broken down, his room wouldn’t be drowning in crumbled gypsum and wood, and he wouldn’t have a fucking extra laying unconscious on his bed—

Oh.

Oh.

Katsuki turns around, dodging all the crap on his floor and the hole in the roof lest anything else falls—though the room upstairs looks suspiciously quiet. The lights are off, and though the music is still loud, it sounds a bit muffled—and he walks towards his bed.

The body’s facing upwards, mostly covered by a thick layer of white dust, but thankfully Katsuki can still make most of it. Or unthankfully, because the moment Katsuki’s brain starts processing the absolute deity in front of him, he knows his entire life is going to shit.

The guy’s around Katsuki’s age. He wears a horrible “Pants” shirt and a pair of ugly red shoes that are probably twice his feet size, and though the combination is nothing but disgusting, Katsuki can still feel himself drooling because, hell. The dude is fucking blueprint of Katsuki’s type, freckles staining his chubby cheeks and face framed by a bunch of green, tangled curls. Not to mention that, fuck, what are these thighs?

Katsuki’s this close to slapping the guy awake to demand his leg workout routine and maybe ask where he’s been hiding all this time, but he doesn’t once he realizes the extra’s not moving. Which, yeah, is probably expected given that he just fell from Todoroki’s apartment and probably knocked their head somewhere, but still. The dude’s stomach isn’t going up and down or whatever’s supposed to happen when one’s breathing, and for a second everything is so still and quiet that Katsuki’s blood freezes.

Fuck.

He must’ve said that out loud, because he can hear Mina’s breathing stops. “What? What happened?”

Katsuki grumbles under his breath. “Uh, I think there’s a dead body in my bed.”

“What?” Mina shrieks.

Katsuki brings the phone to eye level to scowl at Mina’s dumb face. “My ceiling collapsed and someone fuckin’ fell. They ain’t moving or breathing,” Katsuki opens his mouth to throw a curse or two, but then he shuts it and his eyes widen because shit— “Which means—”

“That you need to call an ambulance—”

“—That Half’n’Half is trying to fuckin’ frame me for murder.”

Katsuki walks away from the bed, fuming. That absolute bitch. Katsuki could say he didn’t expect the fucker to go as far as killing someone to bother him, but that would be a flat-out lie because his expectations don’t have any restraints regarding Todoroki. As far as Katsuki’s aware, the person in his bed is just one of the thousand victims Todoroki acquired with his stupid blank face, polite words, and ugly, mismatched hair.

“Are you serious?” Mina yells, exasperated. “There’s someone dead in your room, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, glaring down at her. “Fucking breathe. It ain’t my fault Half’n’Half’s a fucking psychopath—”

“Fuck me.”

The sudden words are slurred and Katsuki's mouth shuts as he turns around, eyes instantly snapping down to the—apparently alive, probably concussed, definitely fucking drunk—body among the roof crumbles.

“Was that—”

“Yeah, uh. They ain’t dead.”

—————————

Izuku’s dead.

It's a weird feeling. Whenever he thought of death, he could only imagine an opaque emptiness, like a waveless ocean with no sea life underneath. But this is different—instead of nothing, he feels everything. Every single one of his muscles, cell, and pulsing vein, which is silly because he’s dead and there’s nothing pulsing inside him. His vision is all blurry and his latest memories are of mistaking Shouto’s room for a bathroom before one of his favorite songs came in and he started dancing and—

He has no idea what happened after that. Isn’t that unfair? Shouldn’t Izuku know how he died after he’s already dead? It’s not as though he could do anything about it, so it wouldn’t be cheating on life. If there’s a heaven council, Izuku should give them suggestions.

Though it’s probably for the best if he thinks about this later. The more he tries, the more his head aches, and it’s likely Izuku will faint if the pain continues. Only that, wait, no. Izuku can’t faint if he doesn’t have consciousness anymore, right…? Yeah, that sounds…. Izuku has no idea, really, not now that his brain is all fuzzy from dying and the alcohol and, ugh, his eyes are so heavy and—

“.... Half is trying to fuckin’ frame…”

A gruff voice suddenly booms over Izuku and his eyes fly open in search of the source. And it’s not as though he needs to try—it’s there, standing a few feet away with his back facing Izuku, its figure tall, powerful, and borderline celestial. Izuku has no idea how he even missed it in the first place, but that’s okay. Now that he found it he won’t look away. He probably couldn’t even if he tried, to be honest; not when this straight-up angel is so—

Oh my god. An angel. That’s an angel. Holy shit.

As in, literal holy shit. The type of holy shit Izuku’s Greek Mythology professor rambles about every Monday and Friday at one-thirty p.m. with a twenty slides presentation and camomile tea. The kind of holy shit Izuku dreamed of experiencing since he was a kid but never believed he would. The type of holy shit he would gladly let take him apart because God, look at those biceps—they could probably lift Izuku thirty times in a row without breaking a sweat. That’s so hot.

Only that, wait. Is flirting with an angel a sin? Izuku’s already dead, so maybe if it is nothing will happen. But still, who knows? This is like, heaven. Anything Izuku thinks he knows—including the existence of twink angels—is pretty much useless.

But also… it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? You only live once and all that stuff Ochako says whenever she wants to drag Izuku somewhere. Not that Izuku is even alive to die anymore, but whatever. It’s the thought that counts!

So he sits up, vision still a bit blurry and mind nothing short of dizzy, and puts on the sexiest expression he can manage.

“Fuck me.” He slurred, smug.

Hell yeah.

Izuku’s just too good.

And the angel must agree, for he instantly turns around, the room too dark and the background music too loud for Izuku’s buzzed brain to comprehend the angel’s moving mouth or mumbled words. But that doesn’t matter; what matters is that the angel is still too far for Izuku’s liking. Why isn’t he jumping on Izuku’s bones yet? Does heaven have a small talk policy first? Hmm, that’s… fine. Yeah, it’s okay. Izuku can work with that. Izuku can definitely work with that.

So he sits up straighter and stretches his smirk a bit wider, words tumbling through his lips. “Fuck me.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” The angel snaps and starts stomping his way to Izuku.

And God—

If Izuku thought the angel’s back was pretty, his face is downright divine, his jawline sharp and nose keen, and eyes so red Izuku had to blink tipsily three times before even realizing they were real and not contacts. His muscles are obvious now that he’s close, waist slim and practically begging for Izuku to clutch on it. His face is contorted in a scowl that would look unattractive in anyone but to Izuku’s drunk mind makes the angel look even hotter.

“Oi, shithead, you having a seizure or something?”

“Don’t be so aggressive, Katsuki; he just fell a store down.” A voice chastises from beyond, and Izuku’s eyes widen. Is that God? Is God among them right now?

Not to mention that… Katsuki. Such a pretty name for a pretty angel. Izuku will wine and dine and ride him so hard.

Though, if Katsuki is what God calls him, should Izuku get a nickname?

Hmm. Probably. He’ll think of something.

“Shut the fuck up, Raccoon Eyes.” The angel curses back to a shiny thing in his hands, and Izuku guesses he must be a pretty high-level angel, then, to be able to speak to God so freely. Christ, that’s so hot. “Don’t even know why you’re still here. Have you got nothing better to do?”

“Better than this?” God snorts. “Hell no, this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Your life is precious, babe.”

“My life’s a fuckin’ curse,” The angel rolls his eyes and glances at Izuku with a frown. “He’s starin’ at me all weird and shit. The hell do I do?”

“Call an ambulance?”

The angel scoffs. “Yeah, and have Half’n’Half watch me pay for this guy’s care? Hell no.”

“How’d that even happen? It’s Todo-kun’s apartment that broke down.”

The angel’s eyes narrow. “It’s Half’n’Half. He’ll make it happen.”

God sighs. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass. Now tell me what to do.”

“Uh… ask him how he’s doing. Then get him some meds and water, I don’t know.”

The angel hums and turns to Izuku again, piercing red eyes finding his hazy emerald ones. “How’re you feeling? Your head hurts or somethin’?”

Izuku opens his mouth to deny it, but then he realizes that his head is pounding a lot and— Oh. “Yeah, pounding. Very hard.” He says, giggling lazily. “You in me, angel, right now.”

God starts cackling, but Izuku pays it no mind because the angel’s face now matches his eyes. It makes Izuku’s stomach flutters and more giggles involuntarily leave his lips, for he looks so endearing, so cute, so—

Oh!

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaims, throwing his arms up and now openly laughing. “Kacchan!”

“What the fuck is a Kacchan, fuckface?” Kacchan croaks out, still incredibly flushed.

“I think he’s calling you Kacchan, babe,” God says, still laughing. “And he wants Kacchan to pound in him. You know, very hard and right now—”

“Shut up!” Kacchan growls, and oh, Izuku’s so gone for him. “Know what, fuck you, Raccoon Eyes. I’m hanging up.”

The laughing stops. “Wait, no!” God yells. “I need to talk to him—”

“You’re not talking to anyone, go die.” Then the light on his hands dies along with God’s screams.

And Izuku… didn’t expect that. At all. He can feel his heart sinking as his eyes—still on Kacchan, always and forever on Kacchan from now on—expand and swell with tears. “Kacchan, what did you do?” he whispers, nearly inaudible. “Did you kill God? What if you get in trouble?”

The angel’s jaw visibly falls. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Izuku’s now wailing, fat tears continuously running down his cheeks. “What if Kacchan gets killed? Kacchan can’t die! Being dead is boring!”

“I ain’t dying, what the hell?!”

“But you killed God!”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” The angel screams.

Izuku blinks.

“You didn’t?”

“No, you freak! I just hung up on Raccoon Eyes!”

“Oh.” Izuku sniffles, heart quieting down. That’s better, even though Izuku doesn’t really get how deities use phones in heaven since it means Kacchan won’t leave Izuku’s side any time soon. “Okay.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Now can you tell me if your head is hurting so I can get you some fuckin’ medicine?”

This time Izuku nods, a drowsy grin splattered on his face. “It is, Kacchan. ‘S hurting lots.”

“Fucking figures,” The angel mumbles and puts something in his pockets before turning around and walking away. “Stay here.”

Izuku eyes go wide, tears long forgotten, and he forces himself to stand up and follow the angel. “Kacchan, no! Where are you going? Stay with me!”

Kacchan turns with a glare. It’s fucking hot and it makes Izuku’s heart skip a beat, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Kacchan’s leaving and that’s simply unacceptable. “You throw up and I’m making you lick it off the floor. Fucking sit.”

“‘M not a dog, angel,” Izuku hums with a giggle. “But, wait! If you wanna fuck me like one—”

Kacchan turns crimson again and goes back on storming out of the room. How can someone be so adorable? Izuku will literally die. Again. “Shut the fuck up!”

Izuku promptly follows suit with a drunk smile, stumbling through the door and into the living room as Kacchan strides into his kitchen. Izuku’s not sure what he’s expecting for the rest of Kacchan’s place, given that he couldn’t even properly make up the previous room, but it sure isn't it looking exactly like those on Earth. It’s so beautiful, all colorful and filled with plants. Izuku wishes he could take some photos to send his professor; he’d love this, and—

Wait.

Is that an All Might poster?

“Kacchan!” Izuku yells, his tipsy smile growing bigger and face snapping between the angel and the limited edition Silver Age All Might poster hanging on the living room wall. “‘my God, Kacchan! You like All Might? I love All Might!”

“‘Course I like it, All Might’s the fuckin’ best.” The angel grumbles back, slamming a drawer.

Izuku watches him with hearts shining in his eyes. How can someone be so perfect? “Yeah, Kacchan! He’s the best! What’s your favorite movie? I— I love the first and the second but they really messed up the third, right? And I was soooo mad, All Might would never put his boyfriend over Japan’s safety. He doesn’t— He doesn’t even have time to date, I think.” Izuku frowns, thinking. “It was so messed up, Kacchan. So messed up.”

Kacchan glances at him, unimpressed. “You’re a nerd, huh? Should’ve guessed.”

Izuku’s frown deepens. “I’m not… I’m not a nerd, Kacchan.”

“Yes you are,” Kacchan calls back.

“Am not! I’m Izuku, Kacchan.”

From the kitchen, Kacchan cackles. “Your name’s Deku?”

Deku? Did Izuku say Deku? Why would he say Deku? “Izuku, Kacchan!”

“Mhm,” Kacchan hums over his shoulder, getting a cup from somewhere and filling it with water. “I don’t give a shit, Deku. Now get your ass here and drink this.”

“Kacchan’s sexy when he’s demanding.” He giggles, already walking before the angel is even finished talking, but complies nonetheless, thriving for the way Kacchan’s neck reddens. “You’re so cute when you blush, Kacchan.”

The angel turns around, fuming and face flaming, and practically shoves the cup of water into Izuku’s chest. “Fuck you.”

“Please do,” Izuku dwells with a smirk, drinking the water and meds and trying his hardest not to coo at the way Kacchan goes scarlet red.

The angel doesn’t say anything as he takes the cup back, puts it in the sink, leaves the kitchen, and disappears into the hallway, and Izuku keeps equally quiet because he’s not sure what to say anymore. Instead, he lets his eyes wander around the place, Kacchan’s place, with a slight grin on his face.

It’s so clear this is the angel’s home. An intense cologne stains the air, the bittersweet fragrance screaming Kacchan as loud as the orange and black furniture, its tones balanced by the various shades of green of succulents and cactuses scattered around the living room and kitchen. It’s elegant yet cozy, its corners rough but homey.

Not to mention the little details; white walls filled with vintage All Might posters (because Kacchan’s perfect) and chemistry competitions awards (because of course Kacchan’s smart) and mirrors (because Kacchan’s an angel in every sense of the word, and Izuku can’t blame him if he wants to look at himself at any given chance), big windows, small, decorative yellow lights and candles dispersed on shelves, a set of drums in the corner—

Wait.

Kacchan plays the drums?

Izuku is stumbling his way to the instrument within a second, mouth hanging open in shameless surprise as he takes it in. It’s black, skins bruised and beaten, and with a bag of drumsticks hanging on the side. Izuku doesn’t even think before caressing the overused seat. He can practically see Kacchan sitting here after a long, exhausting day of being perfect, spiky hair tamed with earphones, callused hands taking a stick, and muscled back crunching forward before he beats the drums to death. He’d look so powerful, so beautiful, so hot, so—

“Stop touching my shit, Deku.” Izuku’s eyes snap to Kacchan, who’s now walking towards him with crossed arms and a scowl, and that’s it. That’s it. Izuku’s marrying this angel. Fuck God and fuck the heaven council and fuck death and fuck it if Izuku’s probably too far gone to think properly. This is the best decision he’s ever made, alcohol-induced or not. Izuku’s putting a ring on that finger and then another on his cock as Kacchan takes him over again and again and again— “Oi! The hell’s wrong with you?”

“I love you,”

The words come out serious, and Kacchan just stares, his scowl melting to an unreadable look. He doesn’t shout, doesn’t punch Izuku, and doesn’t even answer. Kacchan, the most perfect being Izuku has ever seen, just stares.

“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku repeats, words paused and slow to ensure Kacchan understands him. “I love you.”

“You— what?”

“I love you.”

Kacchan flushes harder, and Izuku smiles. Kacchan’s absolutely precious. Izuku can’t wait to marry him. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“Maybe,” Izuku agrees. “But it doesn’t matter! I love you and I wanna marry you, Kacchan!”

Kacchan's jaw drops. “You— you don’t even know me.”

“So what?” Izuku frowns. “Kacchan’s hot and he gets me water and he plays the drums and I love him.” And that’s enough. That’s enough because Kacchan’s enough, the rest be damned.

“We just fuckin’ met and you’re drunk as shit,” Kacchan snaps. “What if I was a serial killer, huh? What then?”

Izuku blinks. “Uh. Are you?”

“No.”

Izuku beams. “Then let's get married!”

Kacchan growls. “That’s not how it fuckin’ works, dipshit! We first date and then we get married. Are you fuckin’ stupid?”

And that’s— oh.

“Kacchan wants to date me?”

“I—” The angel starts, face so red Izuku’s worried it’ll combust. “That’s not what I fuckin’ meant!”

“I wanna date Kacchan,” Izuku shrugs. “but only if I marry him after.”

“You know what,” Kacchan snarls, turning around and striding to the hallway again. He comes back within seconds, strong arms carrying a blanket and a pillow before dropping it on the couch. “I’m fuckin’ done with you. Sleep. Now.”

“Nooooo,” Izuku whines. “Don’t wanna sleep, wanna marry Kacchan.”

“Don’t care, Deku,” Kacchan grabs Izuku and throws him on the sofa, the movement so effortless that Izuku’s stomach can’t help but flip, a drunk grin sprawling on his face. Oh, he loves Kacchan so much.

“Kacchan’s soooo strong.”

“Would you shut up?” Kacchan grumbles. “I don’t wanna see you up ‘til tomorrow, got it?”

“Hmmm, okay,” Izuku hums, still grinning. “But only if Kacchan promises to marry me in the morning.”

“I’m not—” Kacchan yells but after a few seconds he sighs. “Whatever, I’ll do it. Just fuckin’ sleep.”

“Kacchan’s so kind,” Izuku coos. “But do you promise?”

The angel glares. “Yeah, yeah. I fuckin’ promise.”

“Yay, okay! Thanks, Kacchan!”

“Quit calling me that,” The angel mumbles and walks around to turn all the yellow lights off. Izuku simply smiles as he curls up with the All Might-themed blanket, his heart growing impossibly fonder at its fluffiness. He can imagine Kacchan picking it merely because he knew it’d keep Izuku comfortable through the night, and it’s such an unfairly cute view that Izuku can’t shut his eyes, or at least not yet. Not while Kacchan’s silhouette is still visible and his footsteps still audible.

“Good night, angel,” Izuku whispers, voice sleepy and almost inaudible. But Kacchan hears it, for he turns away in the hallway and just… gazes at Izuku.

“I hope you choke on your vomit and die.”

The words are quiet and lack the bite from minutes ago, and Izuku watches Kacchan go with the same tipsy smile. Thanks to Kacchan, his head isn’t pounding nearly as hard as before, and despite the loud background noise, Izuku can feel himself slipping away. Perhaps he should be anxious since he doesn’t know what sleep entails if he’s dead, but he isn’t. In all honesty, Izuku has never been so at ease before, finally floating in the waveless ocean he longed for. And that’s because he’s safe. Because Kacchan promised he’d be there, and Izuku believes him with every inch of his being.

So he falls, praying the afterlife meets him with red eyes.

He falls, and falls, and falls.

—————————

Katsuki has no idea how he got here.

Twelve hours ago, he was in bed face-timing Mina, complaining about Todoroki and with his ceiling entirely intact. Now, his bed is under a pile of shit for fuck knows how long, there’s a hole the size of Todoroki’s ego above it, and Katsuki’s making breakfast for a stranger who proposed to him before dropping dead on his couch.

Literally, what the fuck.

Katsuki beats the eggs harshly and glances over at Deku. The nerd’s dust-covered body is sprawled in what must be the most uncomfortable position Katsuki has ever seen, his mouth hanging open and snoring softly. He looks… adorable, somehow, which leaves Katsuki angrier than how can someone look like that and yet be so infuriating and stubborn, a demon put in Katsuki’s life to make it a living hell?

And Katsuki’s not even being dramatic. He already had to waste medicine and water and is now ditching his morning class to ensure Deku doesn’t die. Not that he cares about Deku’s freckled ass. He doesn’t. Is just that Katsuki can’t let Todoroki pin him with a murder charge.

Speaking of Half’n’Half, Katsuki has no idea how the bastard’s doing. He didn’t expect Todoroki to stop by to rub in Katsuki’s face that he tried to ruin his weekend and succeeded, but Katsuki did think he’d be hearing the usual stomping from Todoroki’s two-toned, disorganized ass rushing for his class. Hah. Figured he’d be too drunk to wake up. Fucker probably hasn’t even realized half of his room’s floor is gone yet.

Katsuki checks the time on his phone.

He won’t make it to his ten a.m. lecture if he doesn’t kick Deku off soon.

So Katsuki turns the oven off and strides to the couch, pulling on the All Might blanket—the one he gave Deku only because it was the only worth ruining and not because of the nerd’s rant about how much he loves All Might. “Wakey fuckin’ wakey, Deku.”

Deku’s eyes flaunt open only to immediately close, a groan leaving his lips. Katsuki ignores it and pulls the blanket harder. “Lemme sleep, Shou …”

Shou. Fucking Shou. Of course, Deku would also give Half’n’Half a stupid nickname. Has he also proposed when wasted, too? Or told Todoroki he’s cute and sexy and that he loves him, like, a thousand fucking times within five fucking minutes? Not that— not that it matters, or whatever. It doesn’t. Deku could build Todoroki a damn temple and Katsuki wouldn’t bat an eye. Honestly.

(He pulls the blanket so hard that Deku’s body falls from the couch.)

“Get the fuck up, Deku!”

A loud cry leaves Deku’s lips as his body hits the floor. “What— Shouto!”

“I’m not Half’n’Half, dickhead.” Katsuki sneers, throwing the blanket on the ground so that he remembers to shove it in the garburator later.

Still lying on the floor like a loser, Deku finally comes to his senses and opens his eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” He scoffs, and despite already knowing the answer, he asks, “You have no idea who I am, huh?”

Deku squirms under Katsuki’s gaze and gawks like an idiot. “I... I don’t….?”

Katsuki snickers. “Pretty rude, ya know? Forgetting me just after you proposed.”

It’s a low jab, petty and childish if anything, but Katsuki doesn’t care. He can’t—not when the sole memories of Deku’s words still make him embarrassed and flustered like a goddamn virgin. Not when the nerd looks unfiltered, expression open, vulnerable, and beautiful. Not when his existence alone is now enough reason for Katsuki to want to forswear his dignity and devour him whole.

Yeah. Deku definitely deserves it.

“I’m sorry— what?” The nerd squawks, abruptly sitting up.

“What?” Katsuki tilts his head. “You don’t remember telling me you love and want to marry me?”

“I— I said that?” His jaw is dropped, showing off his white teeth and inviting mouth. He seems completely oblivious to the effect it has on Katsuki, but Katsuki doesn’t believe it for a second. Hell knows Deku’s true intentions, given that he’s apparently fucking best friends with Todoroki-Master-of-Manipulation-Shouto or whatever.

“Mhm. You also called me cute,” Katsuki dwells, living for the way Deku’s round cheeks become redder and his emerald eyes shine with embarrassment. “And sexy.”

“Oh my God.”

“And then you begged me to fuck you.”

“Oh my God.” Katsuki just nods and watches Deku slowly drown in mortification, his hands covering his mouth, eyes still on Kastuki, and face flaming red. “I’m so sorry,” Deku starts, voice rushed. “My friends convinced me to go out yesterday, and I didn’t want to because I really can’t handle alcohol, but they dragged me anyway and reassured me it was okay because it’d be at my friend Shouto’s apartment, and I guess I—” Deku pales. “Wait— How did I— did I break in?”

“Fuckin’ obviously,” Katsuki snaps, because, come on. Seriously? “How else would you get here? You think I’d just invite you in or something?”

“I don’t know!” Deku protests. “But how did I even— I couldn’t have just—”

“Half’n’Half lives upstairs. His floor gave in and you fell.”

Deku apparently has no idea what to say to that, so he keeps quiet, simply staring at Katsuki with those tempting, abashed eyes. Katsuki doesn’t blame him but has no intention to help whatsoever, so he responds by staring back, watching Deku’s conflicted expression slowly crumble into a flushed, sheepish mess. It’s entrancing, borderline alluring, and Katsuki has never felt so eager to devote himself to Jigoku entirely.

“I’m really sorry…” Deku mumbles, voice soft and eyes now darting around the room as if terrified of meeting Katsuki’s, and the blond resists the ugly urge to grab the nerd’s dumb face to ensure he’s focused on Katsuki and Katsuki only. “I don’t remember anything.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Not like I expected you to, Deku. You were fuckin’ gone.”

Deku’s eyes immediately snap to Katsuki, the embarrassment from seconds before now overpowered by confusion and indignance. Huh. “Deku?”

Katsuki smirks. Oh, this is precious. “Like it? Started calling you that when you called me Kacchan every five seconds.”

Deku’s full-on frowning now. “And I just let you call me useless?”

“You didn’t let me call you shit.” Katsuki snaps. “I did it 'cause I wanted to and ‘cause you were being useless, messing around with my shit and yelling for me to fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“Oh, yeah,” Deku croaks out, the defiant expression instantly gone. “I’m so sorry about that. I must’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Katsuki shrugs. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“Good…” Deku nods slowly. “Did I break anything? When I fell, I mean. Did I crash into anything then or when I, uh, touched your stuff?”

“Nah, just stained my couch with dust and shit,” Deku turns to the couch, eyes widening as he takes in the dirty fabric and his own dirty clothes and skin. Katsuki clears his throat. “But I made you sleep there, so it’s not your fault or whatever.”

Deku frowns, still facing the sofa. “I’ll pay for the cleaning.”

Katsuki scowls. “The hell you will—”

“It’s the least I can do!” Deku turns to him, green eyes wide and pleading, making him look like a goddamn cartoon character. “You already took care of me—”

“Oi, I didn’t take care of you—”

“You let me sleep on your couch after I broke into your apartment and harassed you when you could’ve called the cops or dropped me on Shouto's porch,” Deku says, tone firm and emerald orbs staring into Katsuki’s soul. “And judging by the fact my head isn’t hurting nearly as bad as it should, I’m guessing you also gave me some medicine.”

And that’s… not wrong.

Katsuki could’ve called the cops. He could’ve kicked Deku out and could’ve simply let the nerd deal with unbearable pain as revenge for his ceiling. But he didn’t—the moment Deku slurred the first fuck me, the moment he started yelling angel and Kacchan so happily and acting as if Katsuki was the most amazing person he’s ever met, Katsuki couldn’t help but be selfish.

And that ain’t no crime, alright? He just saw something, someone he wanted, and decided to indulge in it while he could. Anyone would do it too. Hard not to when Deku looks like a wet dream come true, plaster-covered or not.

But still, for Katsuki is nothing but prideful, he stares back, unwaveringly and vehemently, the goddamn picture of unaffected. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

Deku frowns again, large bambi eyes half hidden behind his green curls and a small pout forming on his lips. How is looking like that even fair? Fucking hell, Katsuki’s only human. “Of course it does! It means you’re kind and I need to pay you back somehow.”

Katsuki hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “I can afford laundry.”

“I know you can,” Deku rolls his eyes and stands up. Even now that he’s not drunk and sluggish, the nerd is still a good couple of inches shorter than Katsuki. Good. Katsuki would kill himself if Deku’s eyesight reached beyond his impeccable pecs. “But again, it’s the least I can do to thank you for last night.”

Katsuki huffs, eyes glaring and calculating. “You’ll fuckin’ die if I don’t let you pay, won’t ya?”

“I— I mean,” Deku stammers and Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “It’d make me feel better if I did, yeah. I don’t wanna leave without compensating you somehow.”

“Hm,” Katsuki hums and nods deliberately. “Still a no, but good try.”

Deku, the biggest dork Katsuki has ever met, actually seems offended, hands suddenly dancing in the air and bambi eyes overflowing in indignancy. Fuck, he’s so damn cute. “Oh, c’mon! You can’t be serious!”

Katsuki snickers. “It’s a fuckin’ couch, Deku. Get over it.”

“But I can’t just—” Deku groans, throwing his head back. “You’re horrible.”

Katsuki smirks. “Not what you said last night.”

“I know,” Deku straight-up whines, voice sweet and fretful, and Katsuki has never been so close to dropping to his knees before.

He doesn’t, for Katsuki has nothing but excellent self-restraint, but he does let himself imagine as he walks back to making breakfast. Imagine Deku's knees buckling as Katsuki licked the underside of his cock, scarred fingers pulling Katsuki’s hair in desperation as he kept being Katsuki’s perfect boy and didn’t cum until allowed to. Imagine Deku’s chubby cheeks wet with fat tears, pouty lips being bitten repeatedly to keep whimpers of Kacchan! from waking up the building. Imagine Deku wailing in solace as he was finally granted relief and his sour taste staining Katsuki’s tongue for hours, a series of thank you’s filling whatever room Katsuki took him in and treating Katsuki like his personal lullaby.

Fuck.

He wants— needs to fuck Deku into next week.

First things first, though. Katsuki still has a class to attend, and Deku needs a three-day bath before Katsuki even thinks of touching him. Not to mention that they can’t bang on Katsuki’s room or the couch. But the nerd’s as altruistic as they come—he could watch Katsuki ruin his sheets beyond repair and would probably thank him afterward.

“You’re making breakfast?” Deku asks, suddenly behind him.

Katsuki grunts as he seasons the eggs. “Tamagoyaki.”

“Really?”

Katsuki turns at Deku’s surprised tone with a glare. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t cook or something?”

“No, not at all!” Deku replies with both hands raised in surrender. He’s such a fucking dork. “You just don’t look like the type to eat sweet things!”

“It’s grilled eggs,” Katsuki deadpans, still glaring. “It ain’t sweet.”

“I think it is,” Deku shrugs and peaks above Katsuki's shoulders. “It smells really good, Kacchan.” He hums, fumbling his feet like the awkward loser he is.

“‘Course it does, I’m making it,” Katsuki grumbles, ignoring how the soft Kacchan sets a fond feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He turns back to the eggs. “Go set the table.”

The fumbling stops. “Set the table?”

Katsuki looks over his shoulders. Deku’s staring at him entirely unguarded, mouth hanging slightly open as if he isn’t sure whether he heard Katsuki right or not. It makes him look even more stupid than he already is, and Katsuki’s heart threatens to burst from his chest.

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?” Katsuki grumbles, turning his back to Deku. “Fuck knows the last time you ate something. I ain’t got time to get your ass to the hospital if you pass out on me.”

“Oh,” The nerd whispers, the word so faint and delicate Katsuki almost doesn’t catch it.

“Plates are in that top drawer. And fuckin’ hurry ‘cause cold tamagoyaki is disgusting.”

“Okay, Kacchan.”

They fall into an awkward silence, Katsuki harshly rolling the omelets whilst Deku sets the tableware. For a second Katsuki worries Deku won’t like his breakfast, but then he comes to his senses and realizes Deku will fucking love it because Katsuki’s the best damn cook in Mustafu. That, and the nerd looks easy to please. Katsuki could hand him dirt and the nerd would probably treat it like a five stars meal.

When Katsuki turns with the tamagoyaki board, the table’s done and Deku’s already sat, posture stiff and blinking every three seconds. Katsuki almost laughs at his discomfort, but his brain decides to shut off once it realizes how well Deku fits on the chair—the sunlight reflecting on his green eyes and making him shine brighter than the goddamn sun, a hand playing with his chopsticks as the other fidgets on the tablecloth. He looks beautiful and domestic, as if he’s always belonged there. How the hell Katsuki has been content with living without this for so long is beyond him.

Good thing this won’t be a problem anymore. If Katsuki has any say in it, Deku will sit there every morning pretty and gleaming, and he’ll fucking love it.

“It looks delicious, Kacchan!” Deku exclaims with the same excitement as a five-year-old on Christmas morning once Katsuki sets the tamagoyaki on the table, his body still trembling slightly.

“Thanks, nerd,” Katsuki mutters with a smirk and sits across Deku, frowning when he doesn’t move to serve himself. “It’s not poisoned, Deku. You can eat.”

“It just looks so nice, I don’t want to ruin it,” Deku says with a slight pout, and Katsuki has to control himself not to fly across the table to kiss it away. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“It’s whatever.”

Deku looks more comfortable as they eat, even going as far as moaning every few bites and showering Katsuki with compliments, which fills Katsuki with pride and self-satisfaction, his cock hardening a bit. Damn right Deku loves his food. Now that the wine and dine part is done, Katsuki can jump straight to the ride and mine.

Ha. This is too easy.

“Kachino?”

Katsuki stops in the middle of a bite to frown at Deku. “What?”

“Sorry, uh,” Deku explains, poking the remaining tamagoyaki with his chopsticks. “You told me I started calling you Kacchan yesterday, so I’m trying to guess your name. I don’t think it meant like a childish nickname since you don’t look, uh—”

Oh, how fucking great.

“Cute? That it?” Katsuki snaps.

Deku blushes. “No, uh, not that,” He falters, and, oh. Oh. Okay. “It’s just… I assumed your name would be similar, that’s all.”

Katsuki decides not to tease Deku for practically admitting he finds Katsuki cute. If he does, it’s likely Katsuki will end up as red as his eyes, and he’d rather maintain the unmoved posture for longer. “And you thought it’d be Kachino?” He asks instead, brows raised high.

“I don’t know! It seemed like a good guess!” Deku defends, still flushed. “But if it’s not Kachino, what is it? Kachiko? Kachari?”

Katsuki takes a bite from his tamagoyaki. “Katsuki.”

A pause.

“Katsuki?”

“Katsuki.”

Deku blinks. Katsuki chews.

“How did I get Kacchan from that?”

“The hell if I know, you were fuckin’ wasted.” Katsuki grunts, swallowing. “You kept either calling me hot or ranting about All Might so fast I couldn’t make up half of your shit.”

Deku bites his bottom lip. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m already talkative sober, so when I drink it’s just—”

“Fuckin’ insufferable.”

Deku giggles, and fuck, Katsuki never expected someone so fit to sound so adorable. How’s Katsuki supposed to not want to bend him over? “Yeah. Sorry, Kacchan.”

Katsuki shrugs. “‘S fine. I didn’t have to put up with your nerdy ass for too long, anyway. The meds knocked you out pretty quickly.”

“I suppose that was probably for the best,” Deku shrugs. “Still, you didn’t have to put me on the couch.”

“And where else would I?” Katsuki snaps despite all other possible scenarios ringing in his head. He could’ve placed Deku on the floor. On the porch. On the guest bed beside Katsuki. He only went for the sofa because it seemed the most convenient, less obvious choice. “You slept there, fuckin’ deal with it.”

“But I stained it.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I ain’t doing this again.”

“Kacchan,” Deku whines, and fuck. This fucking voice. “I have to pay you back somehow.”

“Why? Just fuckin’ accept and move on.” Katsuki grumbles.

“Because you were kind and kind people deserve kind things!”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Katsuki deadpans to see if Deku pouts, and like clockwork, those red, wet lips push forward. “And paying for laundry isn’t kind. It’s charity work.”

“I’m pretty sure these are the same things.”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku.”

That makes Deku laugh despite the furrow on his brows, and Katsuki can help but smirk softly at the sound. Deku’s so fucking pretty.

“Still, Kacchan,” Deku wheezes out, a gorgeous smile now on his face. “I want to do something for you.”

Katsuki stares at him, unimpressed. “Something like?”

(Like bending over the table.)

“Like…” Deku bites his lips, and suddenly his neck is painted a deep red that gradually reaches all the way to his ears. His eyes dart away from Katsuki, hands fidgeting on the chopsticks and tablecloth again. “You…” He clears his throat, emerald snapping back to crimson. “You said I proposed to you?”

The words catch Katsuki so off guard he chokes on his saliva.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck.”

“I— I’m not saying we should get married—” Deku lets out a nervous, plainly fake chuckle, his face so red Katsuki can’t see his freckles. “Not yet, I least—”

“Deku.”

“I mean, only if you’d like, but we obviously don’t know each other—”

“Deku.”

The word is absolutely strangled, Katsuki’s voice uncharacteristically breathy and anxious. Deku promptly shuts up, staring at Katsuki with those big, bambi eyes that scream a million things all at once, and Katsuki forces himself to breathe, not even having realized he’d stopped. He needs Deku to say something, anything, or else he’d go fucking ballistic and jump on the nerd’s bones without thinking of the consequences.

“I saying that we— We could go out if you want,” Deku finally lets out, words soft and quiet. “So I can thank you properly for taking care of me.”

Oh. Okay.

Okay okay okay.

Katsuki’s fine. Completely cool. Very collected.

Except that he’s not because his brain keeps screaming Deku and fuck and replaying the image of Deku coming on his tongue. But hell if Katsuki will let this stop him—Deku’s still staring at him like he’s competing in an All Might collectible auction and Katsuki’s the auctioneer. If Katsuki does anything harsh, the nerd will probably start to cry, and the only way he plans on letting that happen is with his cock deep in Deku’s ass.

So Katsuki breathes in and out, hoping the red on his cheeks isn’t as evident as it feels. All he has to do is open his mouth and pray he doesn’t squeal like a schoolgirl whose crush just asked her out, even though that’s exactly what’s happening.

He can do this. He can totally do this.

“Wanna go ring shopping?”

…

He’s a complete fucking idiot.

What the fuck. Why the hell would he say this? Deku looks like he’s three seconds away from a panic attack, and Katsuki’s useless brain’s response was to make fun of him? What type of person does that? Why the fuck—

A giggle.

Katsuki’s gaze snaps from his plate to Deku, whose hands cover his stretched mouth, eyes crinkled in the corners and flooding with something similar to adoration. Katsuki has no idea how to react, so he doesn’t. He simply stares, heart beating faster and faster as Deku’s giggles dissolve into full laughter.

“Sure, Kacchan, if that’s what you want,” Deku says, high-pitched and light. “Are you free this afternoon?”

He’s not; he’s got a lecture in half and hour and a scheduled lab until seven p.m. That’d usually be enough reason for him to refuse—hell, the only reason why he even woke Deku was to not ditch another class—for no date will ever be worth not being the best chemist Japan has ever seen.

But his usual reaction doesn’t apply here, because usually he isn’t asked out by someone like Deku.

Besides, didn’t Mina say he needed more socializing? Not that she was right; Katsuki’s fucking peachy the way he is, but… still. Who knows. Maybe missing a lab day for Deku won’t be that bad.

So Katsuki swallows dry, forcing himself to relax on the chair and ease his grip on his chopsticks. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Good!” Deku exclaims and takes a bite from his tamagoyaki, utterly happy and slightly red. And Katsuki can’t help but smile softly, completely ignoring the way his own hands shake and neck flushes.

In a few hours, he’ll have to put up with Mina demanding details about Deku and the rest of the chucklefucks’ annoying questioning, notify the landlady about his ceiling, threaten Todoroki to death and force him to pay for the repair. He’ll have to ignore the jeweler's judging glare and pretend he isn’t about to faint when Deku buys a ruby ring only because look, Kacchan, it matches your eyes! But for now, Katsuki doesn’t care. He can’t, not really, when all it matters is that Deku will be by his side, whether they are doing this backward or not.

You only wait to get engaged when you doubt your relationship will last, anyway. And Katsuki can be a bunch of shit, but insecure isn’t one of them.

He’ll wine and dine and ride and mine Deku until they fucking die.