Work Text:
This is a risk worth taking
This is love in the making
We got nothing up our sleeves
We got an understanding
I don't think we could've planned it better
I know - cause you know - you know me
- “You Know Me” - Air Traffic Controller
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Katsuki has a nightmare. In it, he meets his younger self, who screams and yells and throws a temper tantrum that he became friends with, is dating, and is trying to move in with fucking shitnerd Deku of all people. He tries walking away from the fucking brat, but every time he turns around, there's his mini-me and his voice has raised twelve decibels and three octaves.
When he wakes up, he has a headache, and then remembers, fuck, he's going to Ikea with Izuku today.
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Izuku, at 27, lives with his mother. This is, Katsuki thinks, one of the biggest problems in his life to date. Which is not to say he does not adore Inko, who had been equal parts stern and logical and sweet and forgiving on the matter of Katsuki and Izuku's relationship, much like her son, this is just to say that when you are trying to, as it were, put the moves on a grown ass man, knowing full well his mother was eavesdropping was definitely in the top three if not the biggest boner kill.
And so when Izuku, at 27, suggests that they move in together, Katsuki considers himself almost as excited as his mother herself was at the prospect. Because, you see, the thing about Izuku is that he is unpredictable. He had been halfway to tearing into his eggs thru breakfast with his mom and partner when he brought the idea up casually, kind of like he had already talked about it to Katsuki which he had not. Katsuki had been halfway to putting a piece of sausage into his mouth himself when he froze on the spot, and before the sentence was halfway out of Izuku's mouth, Inko had already hit the ceiling, her eyes the size of the dinner plates she had made 'her boys' breakfast on.
Izuku was most definitely his mother's child. As she clapped her hands and screamed for joy, Izuku smiled and nodded and for a brief moment it was as if the pair had completely forgotten about Katsuki, frozen solid at the other end of the table, eyes at once glazed over and frighteningly stern.
He felt his hands shake, fingers clasped tightly around the fork in his grip. Don't do it, Katsuki, he thought, recalling years of anger management therapy. There are pros and cons – and the cons always outweigh the pros.
Later, after pursing his lips together and smiling at Inko that, yeah, yes, he was just as excited, he leveled Izuku with a look that years ago would have had the green haired man bursting into tears, and to this day sends villains running in the opposite direction. Izuku, today, though, just smiled, only looking slightly apologetic. “Um, we don't have to move in together,” he said, and he had the balls to start to sound shy – remorseful, even. “I just-- I need to get out of my mom's house, you know? I'm almost 30, and I've been waiting for her to mention me moving out but she didn't, you know? Which I thought was weird, like, who wants their kid to stay at home till they're 30 – and I was nervous about telling her I was just leaving so I thought I'd tell a little white lie, just say we were moving in-- and, and it's okay, Kacchan, I'm sorry I just sprang that on you. We don't have to live together if--”
“I love you,” said Katsuki, except he says it like someone would tell someone else to fuck off. “We're moving in together.”
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And that was that.
Katsuki drags his hand down his face. There are bags under his eyes, and he is beginning to realize that when he demanded Izuku move in with him, the consequences were that Izuku would seriously move in with him.
Which, you know, pros and cons. (Pros, his therapist had said, had been saying for years, and cons). On one hand, Izuku would always be there. Izuku would always be there to spend time with, to cook for, to rub his palms the way Katsuki likes when they get sore, to watch TV with – he wouldn't have to worry if Izuku had left his phone at some crime scene after hero work all day, because Izuku would come straight home to him. He wouldn't have to wake up to Inko making them what was basically “congratulations on the sex” breakfast, and he could have Izuku in his bed, wanton or not, whenever he wanted, because it would be their bed.
On the other hand, Katsuki thinks, Izuku is organized, but not the way Katsuki is. Could they meet in the middle, could his boyfriend stand the way everything had a particular place on the shelf, that he vacuumed every night before he went to bed, and that every single light in the house and outside it had to be off and pitch black for him to sleep? What if Izuku ate the food Katsuki himself wanted to eat later? What if he made a mess of Katsuki's shower with his own soaps and what have you?
What if he didn't like Katsuki as much as he thought he did when he had to look at him every single day?
Last month, when Katsuki had been on the high of the idea of living with his partner for, god, what, 7 years, now, he had kicked the door to his landlord's office down and demanded his own lease be cut short. His landlord, probably out of fear, had been kind enough to work out a deal with him in that regard, and Katsuki remained on that high for about a week. When he did his laundry at the laundromat, he got excited about living in a place with a washer and dryer with Izuku. When he made food, he got excited about making extra for Izuku. Domesticity was on his mind essentially all the time, like some white picket fence daydream had been his end goal since he was a kid and he'd been grinding to get to it for years.
…A white picket fence seemed appealing, actually. Izuku was more of a dog person, but Katsuki preferred cats –
Anyway, while riding the high of soon to be domestic life, Katsuki had found 'the perfect fucking place for them,' had put down the deposit when Izuku wasn't even looking, which is fine because he'd needed a break from hero work these past few weeks and so he just let Izuku handle all the do-gooding while he handled the money and the paperwork and such, and, and, god, he was genuinely excited for exchanging those roles with his boyfriend, whom he lived with.
His mother, explosive woman that she was, had demanded why this step in their relationship had even taken so long. Mitsuki had gone on and on about how they'd been friends since they were in diapers, seen each other every day, been dating for nigh on a goddamn decade, but she's only just now watching them sign a lease. Then she'd said something about how she'd never have grandchildren, but Katsuki had seen that coming into one ear and had already began preparing to shove it out the other one, forcibly forgetting it as soon as it was said. What does he expect, he supposes, being an only child, and all. He'd told her, as he usually did when she expressed concern unto an issue he'd willingly told her about, wanting her opinion, to mind her own fucking business.
But it was his father, all but eating popcorn at watching his family fuss and fight like Katsuki was 15 again, that had said something that actually had some merit. “When're you going shopping?”
Katsuki had blanked, confused for a moment. He explained to his dad he had already paid for the condo. It was done.
Masaru laughed. “No, dummy,” he said, in a very dadlike fashion. “For furniture. A bigger couch, hell, a bigger bed. You gotta double your stuff, now, firecracker. There's gonna be two of you.”
For all his genius, Katsuki had not thought about that. This was apparent on his face, and his mother laughed, and called him “a fucking idiot,” as tenderly as a mother possibly could.
So, the master strategist that he was, Katsuki cleared off a day from his own and Izuku's schedule to go shopping.
And, here's the thing. Obviously Katsuki is in love with Izuku. He would not do what he does for Izuku to just any shmuck off the street. He let's Izuku sing in the shower when he stays over, he buys ice cream and keeps it stocked for when Izuku's sweet tooth kicks in (which is often), he watches all the stupid videos and vines that makes Izuku wheeze and cry even if sometimes they aren't even that funny. But Izuku is the worst person to go shopping with. He is incredibly, insanely, fucking awfully indecisive.
He is indecisive, and he has an opinion on everything. Izuku is the sort of person who is at least a budding professional on every topic you have ever heard of and definitely a lot you haven't heard of. Introducing him to bands is a nightmare, Katsuki's halfway to emailing the guy the first song he's heard and Izuku already has charts on other artists they sound like and which musicians they could've gotten their inspiration from. Fighting with him – while effective – can sometimes be migraine inducing, too, because, while Izuku's gotten better in age, when he was a kid he used to spend way too long forming a plan.
Don't even get Katsuki fucking started on what getting Izuku to pick what he wants for dinner.
It's with this knowledge about his partner that makes Katsuki kind of dread going into the department store. His own apartment had a very minimalist aesthetic, which is to say, his color scheme had been a grey-white and red, solely because his mom just kept on giving him red stuff and because grey-white stuff was really easy to find. So he's just a little anxious about how this whole trip is going to go down. That Izuku can never make up his mind and that Katsuki would most definitely live in a cave if he could is probably not the best recipe for success.
But Izuku is holding his hand as they cross the barrier into the store, and after all that they have been through, all that's been said and done between them, Katsuki rethinks that last part. Maybe their old nickname, Wonder Duo, stuck around for a reason.
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The first time they had sex it was in a bed neither of them have seen since. It makes for a great story at school reunions, especially with Iida there, because the first time Izuku and Katsuki had sex it was in some spare bedroom at the Tenya Family beach house.
It was their third year of high school, Katsuki had just turned 18, and he confessed to Izuku that he liked Iida alright, for the stick in the mud weirdo that he was, and all. Izuku had called Katsuki a closet softy. Then Izuku had cupped Katsuki's face in his scarred hands and kissed him so soft it burned.
By sex, Katsuki means they got each other off hurriedly and Izuku had cried, so pretty, so quietly. It had been a strictly platonic affair in that they were both trying very hard to label their feelings as platonic, and it would be over two years later until they would have, as Izuku so eloquently called it, the full sex. And Izuku would cry then, but open, fainter, with such a brutal honesty about the flush to his cheeks and the way he sighed Katsuki's name out of his mouth like he was a man drowning and Katsuki, so dangerous and vile and loud, was his air.
This is what Katsuki thinks about when they look at beds for their room. He watches Izuku fit himself under a different-looking bed frame, all smiles and freckles, and Katsuki thinks, can he imagine pinning Izuku's hands to that head board? He joins Izuku on the mattress, and his face is scary-serious as he folds his hands on his chest, stares up, and asks himself if it would be comfortable even with his Deku on top of him on this particular bed.
They choose that bed because Izuku jokingly puts his hands on either sides of Katsuki's frame and waggles his eyebrows. It's a very stupid motion, and it makes Katsuki roll his eyes on a good day. But it also makes him remember that his Deku is infuriatingly lovable, and the idea of recalling this moment some years down the line appeals to the sentimental son of a bitch in Katsuki so much he nods, sternly, that this will be the bed frame, and this the mattress.
“Are you sure,” suggests Izuku. “I mean, there are a lot of other--”
Katsuki persists this one is fine. And just to sell it he tells Izuku he really likes it and doesn't want any other one. He watches his Deku melt, and frees himself from the torture of lying on all the mattresses on the goddamn floor.
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The kitchen is important. Not really for Izuku, but definitely for Katsuki.
Izuku has many talents, y'see. He is a fucking mastermind when it comes to Sudoku, for one, and for another, he is so crazily heroic and kind and selfless, sometimes he smiles and Katsuki goes cross eyed because he can so easily see him on the cover of some literal and actual comic book. This is partly because Katsuki has seen Izuku's visage on magazines several times, but also partly because (and, yes, this is disgusting, this next part) Katsuki is so over the moon enamored with Izuku that sometimes he just does something as simple as brushing his teeth and Katsuki has to close his eyes and take a breath and still his pulse.
It– and, sometimes Katsuki has trouble getting it out of his throat and past his tightly-clenched teeth, which is something he and his therapist have definitely talked about, thanks – it's because he's in love with Izuku. Anyway.
Anyway, the guys got all these talents. Cooking isn't one of them. Izuku never remembers to add butter or oil or whatever to anything he fries and the simplest of things just end up tasting burnt and awful. He once made homemade fried rice but didn't actually cook the rice first, he just tossed dried up rice-shaped little pellets into a wok and Katsuki lost at least 10 years of his life watching that one.
“So,” Katsuki had said, looking at the IKEA article with Izuku some days ago. “Because we will be paying an equal amount of money to live here, I'm going to take what you say into consideration.”
They were stationed in the Midoriya kitchen; its island, to be exact. Inko was flitting around, hanging on every word and trying very hard not to butt in every chance she got. Izuku, eyes wide, ears open, was so close to pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from his back pocket to take notes with, which Katsuki had seen him do in everyday conversation - but Izuku was able to fight off in the end, and just smile and nod.
“That being said,” Katsuki continued. “It's my kitchen.”
Izuku cracked a smile, and Katsuki cut him off before he could really start laughing. “I'm serious,” he said, seriously. “In the years we've – been – together – not even counting the years I have known you, which is, like all of them, all the years I've ever experienced, you have broken two of my coffeemakers, one electric tea-kettle, and, arguably, your own goddamn microwave.”
“Kacchan, that's not fair,” Izuku started to say, and there was still, after all these years, just a hint of the teenage Izuku whining in that phrase. “My mom has--”
“Confessed to all three members of my house several fucking times she didn't have the heart to blame you on it? Yeah, I know – anyway, the kitchen is mine, and you can do the dishes and heat up my leftovers but that is basically fucking it, so understand that at the end of the day, I am making the final call on the kitchen, OK?”
(There had been a silence, because Izuku forgot all the fight on that subject he had and just kind of started to stare at Katsuki. A confused look turned into the same lovelorn gaze Katsuki had seen many, many times. Times like: when they graduated, the first time they held hands, the first of Katsuki's birthday they had celebrated as a couple and Izuku got him flowers, several times Katsuki made dinner and had it ready when Izuku was over without telling him. And many, many times over, that was for Katsuki's memory and his only.
And after being hissed at, after virtually getting an eyeful of Katsuki's claws and teeth, Izuku had only said, “OK,” and then, after a sigh, and an internal debate as to which of Katsuki's eyes were prettier. “I love you.”
Of course, Inko had been there, and had kind of yelled behind her hands, and so Katsuki had been ripped from the present and reminded how desperately he and Izuku really, really needed their own place.)
So, currently, in this very IKEA, Katsuki could look over to Izuku and see the question in his eyes. The question being: “Does that still stand? Is this still solely your kitchen?”
And that answer is, angrily: “Yes. Shut up.”
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Katsuki ends up buying a new coffeemaker 'preemptively' because he's already here and he'd rather be safe than sorry. The kitchen, though, he doesn't bother explaining to Izuku. He crosses a lot of things off that little list he'd gotten at the door, tells Izuku what kind of color the counter-tops were going to be, and that was essentially it. God bless Izuku too, because he just smiles and nods and asks, quite politely, if Katsuk might add, if he could help pick out the new dining room table and it's chairs, please.
Katsuki thinks about that. Or, had pretends to think about it, puckering his lips together and humming until Izuku clasps his hands together and offers to buy Katsuki some of those pastries he really likes, which was what Katsuki had wanted, so he 'concedes.'
They don't need a TV, because for two of them to dissect their favorite shows and movies, Katsuki already had to have a beautiful one mounted on his wall. And the couch he had there was perfect for those discussions/arguments already, too. So the living room didn't need much.
They did pick up new matching bookshelves, two for Katsuki, four for Izuku, because he had a lot of collectables that needed to be in their home, apparently. And Katsuki didn't even really fight on him that, because, he did have to admit, there was something weirdly endearing to watching Izuku dust all of them and explain their make and model for the hundredth time.
“I'll keep most of them in the office,” Izuku says, clutching Katsuki's hand and doing his best to be charming to get his way. It works way too easily, easier than Katsuki would like to admit, as a matter of fact.
“Most of them?” He parrots, raising one firm blond eyebrow.
“Well,” say Izuku, suddenly sheepish. He threads their fingers together because he knows he has to lay this next part on thick. “I just… I mean, I want your merch to be front and center. Like, in the foyer?”
Katsuki says nothing. He looks a little bit like he is offended, but also excited. It's a look Izuku says is really hard to explain, but one that loves beyond measure.
He's almost touched, but it's ruined when Izuku goes, “And I mean, I'm sure you know this but I have, like. A ton of All Might stuff.”
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Izuku gets lost at one point in the children's section because the kids some couple is carting around recognizes him as Deku, the hero, not just Deku, the asshole. Their mother, who most live in a fucking cloud, laughs, turns to Katsuki, and simply says, “your husband?”
Katsuki's life flashes before his eyes before the kids recognize him, too, and he tries his best to not think about the question.
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They go for a nice, cabin-y look to their new home. Lots of faux-wood, real wood, and browns and greens in colors. This theme is easy to find things for, until it comes to their bathroom.
“Do you like this whole, like, shower over here, bath next to it?” Katsuki asks, a pencil between his teeth as he puzzles over which set up he'd like.
“I like you,” says Izuku, which means he isn't listening, and Katsuki would like to berate him, but he doesn't get a chance to. Izuku steps into the fake shower with his partner, and kisses him like they are seriously at home, in their own shower.
Which, Katsuki guesses, is part of the appeal. “Deku,” he kisses, trying for angry, and Izuku just swallows the word right into his own mouth. “We are in a public fucking, ah, place, you--”
Izuku is just the smallest bit taller than Katsuki. This means, that instinctively, he puts his hands on Katsuki's hips when they kiss, and sometimes, to shut him up, he fits his thumb right over this spot on that hip that makes the blond's knees buckle and mouth go lax. Izuku takes advantage of this.
“Thank you,” he whispers, like a sacred promise, into Katsuki's mouth, in the middle of fucking IKEA. “Thanks for doing this, Kacchan, I just – you look so good, and you're being so sweet, and I'm so excited to live with you, and I love you.” Izuku's thumb presses into that spot again and angrily, Katsuki turns his head, rolling his lips together to keep any noise that may come out inside. And it's a bad idea, that, because then Izuku ducks his head that little bit and starts to whisper these confessions into the crook of Katsuki's neck and shoulder. “I love you,” he says, again, and then, like it's only just hitting him: “You bought me a house.”
And for a second, Katsuki is actually excited, because this is what Izuku usually sounds like when he's getting ready to suck Katsuki's dick, but Katsuki was not raised in a barn, and he quickly puts that excitement away to remember that yeah, he did buy Izuku a house, a house they are not in currently.
The universe really saves Deku here because, right before he can castrate the little shit, an IKEA employee politely asks them to stop.
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When they were in UA together, they did that stupid thing where they fucked in the Tenya beach house.
Neither of them told anyone until well after graduation – Katsuki drunk, while Mina was taking him home from a bar where he was trying his hardest to chase down unrequited love with strawberry daiquiri after strawberry daiquiri, and Izuku to Iida's face when he told him he and Katsuki were finally dating, because, like a jackass, he just assumed Iida already knew. He did not.
But the next time they had, ahem, had relations, had been after what Katsuki would have called a pretty successful double date between Ochako and Asui.
Uraraka was a very powerful woman, in spirit and in her high-kicks, believe it or not. She had been a constant in both Katsuki and Izuku's life, even when the two of them had a tendency to go back and forth out of high school like, you know, fucking idiots. When she had finally come out, she did it forcefully, and with a mission: to wine and dine Asui Tsuyu. Katsuki was supporitve, gung-ho, even, and so had accepted when Uraraka had asked for he and Deku to double date with her and Tsu-chan.
“I think it'll make her feel better,” she had said, to win the boys over. “And, it'll probably make you feel better, too.”
Katsuki agreed for he and Deku on the conditions that Uraraka paid, which she didn't object to. But, that romance is definitely one for another day. The long and short is this:
It did make them feel better. The pairs parted ways, and Katsuki asked Izuku to stay. And he could see, for a second, that Izuku was worried that it would be High School all over again.
“I'm not gonna fuck you tonight,” he had said, like that was a phrase that ever made anyone sigh with relief, but it seemed to do the trick. “But I still wanna make you breakfast in the morning like I did.”
And Izuku, he had been wearing this adorable blue button up and his hair was freshly trimmed, a look Katsuki really, really liked on him, despite the lack of curls to grab unto. His eyes had been bright as ever, his lips trembling into a big, childlike grin like keeping them from stretching ear-to-ear was the biggest work out he'd faced all week. He had marched forward like a man on a mission, and Katsuki was so confused because he thought for a brief moment he honestly was going to picked up but--
But he wasn't. Izuku touched their noses together, held his hand, asked him to watch their favorite All Might cartoon with him. And Katsuki, like an idiot, had said yes.
And then he really had fucked him, but in the morning, and Izuku asked if they could keep doing this, exclusively. Katsuki said yes.
Later, Izuku asked if he could call Katsuki his boyfriend. Katsuki said yes.
Sometimes, it was terrifying. Knowing that no matter the circumstance, if Izuku asked, Katsuki would always want to say yes.
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There are pros and cons (“Pros,” his therapist had said, on the topic of his anger, of his family, his career, his relationship, his anxiety coping skills, his fear, and everything else he had brought to her attention over the last nine years, “and cons”).
The cons: while the house is modeled to their liking, he has to stay with Inko and Izuku. This takes a month. It's hard, but it builds character.
The pros, though: every night, or, something like that, since being The Wonder Duo is a job that sometimes calls for 70 hours a week, he gets to set next to Izuku, and watch that fucking All Might cartoon, or whatever the hell else they want, anytime he feels like it.
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“So, Katsuki,” says his therapist, fighting a smile as she writes a refill for Katsuki's medication. “The pros are high, but how're the cons? Paying attention to them?”
Katsuki scoffs, slipping a ring on and off his finger, a new nervous habit. “Who fucking cares about the cons?”
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"I bet a lot of folks can sing in harmony,
but no one can ever know me like you know me."