Archive of Our Own ^beta

Katsuki has had a long day. This isn’t new and of it itself. It’s expected even. Hero work is tiring. It is a simple fact of life.

He knew what he was signing up for, so he can’t complain about it. Well, no, he can and he will. But still, it’s not unexpected.

Today’s villains were particularly annoying too. Or maybe Katsuki was just more annoyed than normal. No, he’s the picture of perfect sanity, he’s sure of it. The fact that all the colours he’s seeing are moving at weird paces is absolutely not at all relevant. He blinks, and they become still again, as they should be. He blinks again and they start moving. Blink. Still. Blink. Moving. Blink—

Huh.

It’s a neat trick actually.

He opens the door to his apartment. It’s a nice one bedroom, not too far from his agency. Convenient, if not slightly small, but he doesn’t spend too much time in it anyway. He lives alone which is absolutely a bonus because all his friends are extremely loud and would probably scream if they saw the way he always drops his stuff on the floor and collapses face down onto his designated couch to scream his frustrations into the pillows. He does this everyday after work. It’s very cathartic, if he was giving a life skills talk he would recommend it.

Today is no different. He walks in, eyes half open, kicks off his shoes and falls onto the couch. It’s a very smooth process, he’s rather proud of himself for it. The couch is as comfortable as it always is. Soft enough for him to sink into it, but not too soft, that it makes it hard to scream into. Naturally, he picked it for its superior acoustic accommodations.

Usually, he does this for an indeterminable amount of time (20 minutes) then gets up and sorts his shit out.

Today, he only gets to an indistinguishable amount of time (10 minutes) before he is rudely interrupted.

“Uh. Are you okay?” A vaguely concerned voice asks.

What the fuck? Katsuki lives alone. He should be alone. And here he is, not alone.

Ugh .

He doubts an intruder would care about his wellbeing, aside from the fact that they would not want his being to be well.

He turns to his side with a glare strong enough to make All Might himself piss his pants. Not that he’s tried. Huh. He should have tried it on All for One. Or Shigaraki. Or Dabi. Or Izuku. Well, he can still try it on Izuku. Yes, he resolutes, he will do that later.

For now it is directed to whatever bitch let themselves into Katsuki’s house. There is a person laying on Katsuki’s other couch, their hands and legs are tied with rope. What the fuck? How did they open the door?

Upon further looking (glaring), he figures out that Shinsou Hitoshi is in his house. Once again, what the actual fuck?

Katuski blinks. Shinsou is still there. Motherfucker. He thinks, with feeling.

“Motherfucker.” He sighs out loud. With more feeling.

 “What the fuck?” He adds. Because what the fuck? And also, what the fuck? Furthermore, what the fuck?

Shinsou shrugs. It looks weird because he’s lying down and also because he’s still tied up. Katsuki has so many questions. He doesn’t even know if he wants answers. “It’s been a weird day.” Shinsou says with a wince.

Katsuki narrows his eyes. That was a wince of pain. He’s very familiar with them. A lot of people like to stab him. Or try to at least. Some of them do succeed. But he’s no weak bitch, that would go down from something as basic as a stab wound. Half of the time, he’s not even stabbed with a knife. Is there another word for that? Impaled? No, that sounds too drastic. It’s not nearly as dramatic as the emergency doctors make it out to be, in his hardly humble opinion.

His eyes trace Shinsou’s frame, checking for signs of injury. Ah. There. There’s a growing patch of red on his abdomen. Was he stabbed too? No, not too. Katsuki was not stabbed.

Fuck.

Was Katsuki stabbed? He does a quick mental check of himself. Hm. No. He seems relatively intact. Good. He does not want to bleed onto his favourite couch. It would ruin the acoustic experience.

Although, he does not want blood on his other couch either. Shinsou is on the couch he has designated for laziness. It’s perfect for falling asleep on. And for his weekly tea dishing sessions with Momo. It is perfectly comfortable in the way it has been worn out.

It is not made for bleeding out onto. Actually, he has no furniture for bleeding out onto. Huh. Maybe he should invest in something. But that’s for later. Right now, he needs to focus on the bitch that is currently bleeding out on his couch.

The bitch that is not even supposed to be in his house.

Katsuki frowns.

“How the fuck did you get here?” He asks. Because, what the fuck? How does Shinsou know where he lives? He’s never been here. They’re not even friends? Katsuki can’t even remember the last time he spoke to Shinsou. Maybe at UA? Maybe at one of Denki’s parties. But they’ve never hung out . Never really interacted.

So. It makes no sense that Shinsou would know where he lives. He probably should have addressed that first. But the bleeding is also starting to look pretty bad. Fuck, he’s going to have to get up from his couch isn’t he. What a horrible day.

“Like I said, it’s been a strange day.” Shinsou replies, like the bastard he is, in a way that explains absolutely nothing.

“Blame Shouto.” He adds. Which, unfortunately, still explains nothing but does make sense. Katsuki refuses to be appeased by it though. It is not enough information. Also. Since when were Shouto and Shinsou friends? Close enough friends to be on a first name basis too (Katsuki is only on a first name basis with him because he was forced to be, under immense duress). Were they dating? How did they even become friends in the first place? Katsuki cannot fathom the slightest hint of what they could possibly talk about.

Maybe they bonded about how badly they wanted to be adopted by Aizawa. Except, was Shinsou actually adopted by him? Katsuki has no idea if that was just a rumour or if it is actually true. He also, doesn’t actually care enough to know. Maybe Shouto was consumed by jealousy and they had a weird enemies to lovers situation.

Hm.

Possible. Plausible, even. Katsuki also realised, abruptly, that he does not want to think about it any further. Now that he has answers. As useless as they are, at least he’s pretty sure Shinsou isn’t actively being hunted by villains that are capable of following him here. Hopefully. He’s like 50% sure. Maybe 70%. Not more though.

“Do I gotta expect anyone showing up here?” He asks. He has to at this point. Anyone uninvited means villains but also Todoroki, now that he thinks about it. Maybe even Aizawa, but he would let him in at least. He would probably make Todoroki wait at the door. And. Hm. He does not know who else the purple freak on his couch hangs out with. Ah, whatever.

“Nah.” Shinsou says lazily. Like he’s not currently tied up and stabbed. And oh. Katsuki realises that they are both still just laying on their respective couches. Katsuki should really untie Shinsou. And treat his stab wound.

Wow. Is he a horrible hero? Nah. He’s much better on the field. He’s just biased in his own house. Uninvited guests get the real Lord Explosion God Dynamight King Murder treatment™.

Katsuki gets up. No uninvited guests are good. No more uninvited guests, he amends. This purple loser is looking a little too comfortable on his couch. A little too at home. Katsuki does not like it. After he patches him up, he will give him a new scar. Maybe a complementing one. He’s kind like that.

“The fuck happened?” He asks. It’s more of a demand really. He’s standing in front of Shinsou, who remains unmoving. His eyes turn up to look at Katsuki though. Katsuki feels thoroughly judged.

Motherfucker. What is the etiquette for a stab victim that you only kind of know, on your couch?

“Untie me?” Shinsou asks instead. He drawls out the question, like it’s a fucking casual request. Would he even care if Katsuki didn’t? Katsuki kind of wants to find out. Unfortunately, Shinsou is still bleeding out, which takes priority.

Katsuki slips a knife out from his sleeves and neatly cuts the ropes. They give way easily.

Shinsou sits up, now that his limbs are free. He winces though, because fucking obviously movement affects the probable stab wound. Although, he has yet to acknowledge it properly. Which is kinda weird. Katsuki narrows his eyes.

Shinsou is already staring at him with a strange look. Katsuki can’t really parse it out. He looks confused? Impressed? Scared? Aroused? Creeped out? “Do you just always have knives on you?” He asks.

Oh.

He probably doesn’t know Katsuki just got off patrol. Even though he’s changed out of his gear, he keeps his weapons on him till he reaches home. Well, at least Shinsou isn’t stalking him. “I’m not an idiot.” Katsuki hisses in response. The blood spot is expanding. “Why are you stabbed?”

Now Shinsou only looks startled. What the fuck? Does he not know he’s been stabbed? The knife isn’t even in him anymore, how the fuck did he not notice? He looks down and gently, but curiously pokes at the red spot that does not at all compliment his ugly fucking shirt. He winces, because he is a dumbass. “Huh.” He comments.

Does he not know stab wounds hurt? What the fuck do they teach them at whatever the fuck he does. Probably some sort of hero work. Underground, if he had to guess.

Still. More pressing issues need to be attended to. “Don’t bleed out on my couch.” Katsuki warns.

Shinsou stares at him. Hesitant. “Where can I bleed out then?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Isn’t that fucking obvious? “Bathroom.”

He gestures vaguely down the hall and stomps off with the expectation that Shinsou will follow. He does. Which is good, because there really was no other choice. Katsuki is not above hurting injured people if they deserve it.

He takes out his first aid kit and washes his hands. Shinsou has finally ambled in and made himself comfortable standing in Katsuki’s space. He’s looming over Katsuki’s shoulder, because he’s somehow a lanky giant. Did the lab that made him not understand proportions? His eyes still look sleepy, Katsuki hopes it’s just insomnia and not a concussion. He does not know how to keep a sleep deprived zombie like Shinsou awake. He himself, is crashing.

Katsuki gestures for Shinsou to lean against the counter. He does, silently obliging. Katsuki narrows his eyes, he may not really know the bastard, but he does know he is a bastard. And yet. He’s acting somewhat unbastardly.

“Strip.” He huffs. He needs to see what he’s working with. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks because Shinsou is evidently not the paradigm of forthcoming information. It’s like pulling teeth, except, Katsuki would actually prefer to pull teeth. Not even in a dental setting, he just thinks it might be fun. Hm. How attached is Shinsou to his teeth?

“Aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” Shinsou hums, but takes his shirt off anyway. The retort is appropriately bastard-like, it mollifies Katsuki to an extent. Not that much though, because it sounds like he’s reading it off a script.

“I’d leave you out to starve.” Katsuki retorts, merciless as always. Shinsou deserves it, for disrupting Katsuki’s designating self care yelling time.

He examines the wound. It’s not super deep, a few stitches should be enough. The cut rests among an array of other scars, Katsuki doesn’t ask about them. Most of them have faded, only lightly decorating Shinsou's torso. It is a nice torso, objectively speaking. Subjectively too, Katsuki has a weird urge to lick it. He doesn’t. If he wanted to look at well defined abs he could just look in the mirror. But, well, Shinsou is rather pretty. Somehow. Maybe Katsuki is going insane.

He picks up the alcohol bottle to clean the wound. “Are you allergic to hospitals?” He asks because really, why the fuck is Shinsou in his house? Katsuki thinks he’s really not yelling at him enough about this.

Actually. He’s barely been yelling at all. And sure, he doesn’t yell as much as he used to, but it’s not like he’s lost the art form. Strange. He doesn’t yell much in his own house though, mainly because he is usually alone. Maybe it’s just because Shinsou looks extremely pathetic right now, he doesn’t feel the need to. Maybe he’s just a little too tired today too.

“Yeah.” Shinsou smiles, wry and mocking. “Deathly so.”

Katsuki huffs. Since when were zombies funny? “Unfortunate.” He cleans the wound, trying to keep his touch as light as possible, Shinsou hisses at the pain. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to torture it out of you?”

Shinsou looks like he’s contemplating the torture option.

What a fucking weirdo. Katsuki picks up the needle. “I’ll stitch you a real embarrassing scar if you pick torture.” He threatens because clearly one threat is not enough to get the brain cells clicking in Shinsou's probably empty head.

“I got kidnapped. And hit with a weird quirk.” Shinsou says, monontonous. “Not in that order.”

What the fuck?

That was two things. It’s not hard to put them in order. Maybe Katsuki really should check for a concussion.

Katsuki stares at him. Very judgementally. If this were a courtroom he would be the supreme judge or whatever the fuck the highest position is. He will be able to hit the gavel. Is the point. He imagines it, it’s very soothing. It’s even more soothing when he imagines the gavel is a comically large hammer and he’s hitting Shinsou on the head.

Wow.

Katsuki is so fucking good at this self care thing.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re in my house.” He says when Shinsou doesn’t elaborate. He’s a decent patient though. He isn’t moving much as Katsuki stitches him up. After the first few, he manages to breathe in time with the needle's movements. “Also.” He pauses, glaring at Shinsou, “who the fuck would want to kidnap you?”

Who in their right minds would kidnap Shinsou? He looks like he’s on the brink of death. It would be impossible to carry him and his eyebags anyway. The airplane baggage fee itself would be insane. And . Ignoring all that, what would the point be? Who would they even call for ransom? Aizawa? That man looks like he doesn’t know what the fuck a bank is, let alone the concept of money.

“Rude.” Shinsou snipes, “I’m very popular.” He sounds offended. Because being a popular kidnapping victim is absolutely something to be prideful about.

And.

Fuck that, if it is, then Katsuki will win. “And yet the league of villains didn’t even know who you were.” He scowls.

Shinsou huffs a laugh at that. Katsuki finds himself inordinately pleased. How disgusting. “Well, not all of us can be such prime suspects Bakugou.” Shinsou drawls, and oh , Katsuki doesn’t think he’s ever heard his name said like that. “Maybe if you showed them your outstanding nurse etiquette, they would have kept you longer.”

This fucking bastard.

Katsuki is going to give him a whole fucking new set of scars. He’s fucking enjoying himself. Who knew talking to people could actually be fun?

“This is an intruder special.” Katsuki informs him seriously. He’s still holding the needle and thread, but the stitches are done. “If they ordered my services beforehand, I would have brought out the nurse outfit too.”

Shinsou blinks. Once. Twice. Slow, like a cat. He might be short-circuiting. Either he’s imagining Katsuki in a nurse outfit, or he’s realising Katsuki is actually funny. Somehow, both of these tend to have a weird effect on people. Katsuki snorts and finishes his nurse duties with efficiency. He’s patched up his own stab wounds countless times, it’s almost muscle memory.

By the time Shinsou comes back from whatever far off land his brain took him, Katsuki has washed the blood off his hands and put away the first aid kit. Shinsou is all patched up and still shirtless in Katsuki’s bathroom. The lights highlight his abs very well .

Still. He does not waste time admiring the view. He does not want a passed out giant on his floor. Dragging bodies is a fucking pain. One of Katsuki’s least favourite activities. “Kitchen.” Katsuki snaps at Shinsou. Full sentences are a privilege for people who don’t appear in his house unannounced.

Shinsou remains unmoving. Fucking hell, Katsuki really has to do everything around here. He grabs Shinsou’s wrist and drags him to the kitchen. He’s not gentle. Shinsou doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly as Katsuki deposits him on a chair.

Katsuki hands him two glasses, one with water and one with electrolytes. “Drink.” He demands.

Shinsou drinks.

Well, drinks is a strong word. Gulps maybe. But even that seems lackluster. Katsuki is also too horrified to think of any better words because what the actual fuck?

Who taught Shinsou how to drink things? Clearly fucking no one from earth.

Shinsou took both glasses at the same time.

Which. Is fine. Katsuki handed him both at the same time. Maybe this was his fault. No. He shakes himself. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this horror. It was unavoidable.

Shinsou drank from both cups at the same time.

Just fucking. Opened his mouth. And poured.

And–

And he didn’t fucking spill anything.

Not even a single drop.

Katsuki thinks his jaw is on the floor. Maybe even lower. Maybe it’s discovering life at the earth's core and living there peacefully.

Shinsou puts the two glasses down. Like what he just did was normal .

Like–

Like it’s something he does. And. And. Is this how he drinks things? Katsuki is going to have an aneurysm.

He should have stayed on his screaming couch.

“Thanks.” Shinsou says.

Katsuki is going to scream. Couch be damned.

Shinsou stands. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” He says. Like this was some fucking casual visit. “You’re a good nurse.” He winks, “I’ll give you advance notice next time.”

He starts walking and Katsuki remembers that he has some amount of free will. He’s going to kill this motherfucker. “The next stab would you’re getting is from me you shitty fucker.” He hisses and dashes in front of Shinsou to block his path.

It’s easy. Shinsou can’t move very fast right now. Shinsou looks at him, confused.

The fucking audacity of this bitch! How dare he be confused when all he has done in the last hour is give Katsuki a headache and trauma.

Katsuki pushes him back into the chair. “Explain yourself.” He demands.

Shinsou’s shoulders are trying to kiss his ears. Which. Is not what they’re supposed to do. “It’s embarrassing.” He admits. At least he has the decency to look ashamed.

Katsuki, of course, does not give a single shit about such things.

“Your entire existence is embarrassing.”

Shinsou’s shoulders pause in their movement. And start to lower. Huh. Did that reassure him? What a fucking weirdo. Katsuki thinks for the millionth time in the last hour. Has it even been an hour? Time isn’t real.

“I was hanging out with Shouto yesterday.” He starts. Katsuki feels his eye twitch. He does not care about his social life? What the fuck?

“And he was talking about you.” He continues, before Katsuki can blow him up into medium sized pieces. Medium on purpose, because they are still in his house and he will inevitably need to be the one to clean up the mess. So. This is easier for him. He can make sure he hasn’t missed any parts in his cleaning. All while still fulfilling his urge to destroy Shinsou. In another life, Bakugou Katsuki is the name of the most efficient and feared strategist of all the lands. For now, he is a simple hero pondering the pros and cons of first degree murder. He’ll get away with it, he assumes, once the judges realise how annoying Shinsou is. Maybe he’ll even get a medal. A nobel prize perhaps. If he’s lucky, which he is. Sometimes.

Apart from all the stabbings and kidnappings, attempted and completed, he’s doing pretty all right. Except for now. But this is an outlier to the norms. Because clearly the most unnerving things in life come in purple. It’s becoming his most hated colour.

“Why the fuck was he talking about me?” The question slips out. He can’t help it though, he’s fucking aghast . What purpose does the half-n-half fucker have talking about Katsuki of all people? They’re friends, sure, but it’s not like Katsuki brings up the bastard unless he’s complaining. And Shouto is not really the type to complain. Or talk shit. Katsuki has a sudden but strong urge to interrogate both Shinsou and Shouto on exactly what they discussed about Katsuki.

“It was good things only, don’t worry sweetcheeks.” Shinsou waves his hand dismissively. Like that’s what Katsuki was worried about. Which. Not at all? But actually, the thought of Shouto complimenting him out of the blue is horrific.

And.

He pauses.

“ Sweetcheeks?” He hisses. He is going to commit grievous bodily harm. Not for the first time, he mourns that he has such a nice penthouse, there’s no fucking basement for him to torture people, or that’s where Shinsou would be right now.

Shinsou somehow seems to have lost all self preservation with his blood. His common sense too, if he had any to start with. Katsuki highly doubts it. Shinsou blinks at him sleepily, lazy smirk decorating his face. Despite the aforementioned blood loss, he actually does not look too bad. If hard-pressed, Katsuki could even admit to him looking good. “Very sweet.” He nods solemnly, “wanna taste.” He says.

And what the actual fuck? This is not what the Shinsou Katsuki remembers is like. It has been a few years but still. What the fuck?

Much to his horror, and maybe a tinge of arousal mixed with the overwhelming confusion, Shinsou reaches his hands out to touch Katsuki’s ass.

The movement is slow and Katsuki grabs both his wrists before they reach their destination, if only on instinct. Because what the fuck? His cheeks are burning red, he hopes Shinsou thinks it’s because of anger and not whatever fucking weird concoction of emotions Katsuki is feeling right now. He is not going to dissect them. He is going to bury them deep down and convince himself this is all one very fucking strange fever dream. He is going to wake up tomorrow and forget all about it.

Shinsou pouts up at him and he looks so absurdly cute , Katsuki wants to throw up. Right. He’s never forgetting this now. Not even death could make him forget Shinsou sitting in his kitchen and pouting at him. He clears his throat awkwardly. He keeps holding Shinsou’s wrists, but loosens his grip. His skin is warm under Katsuki’s palms.

“What was the quirk?” He asks gruffly. Because if it’s not making him act like this, then Shinsou must have a concussion. Except, he doesn’t, because Katsuki checked so then– there’s no fucking way this is just what Shinsou is like. Right? What the fuck happened to him after UA?

Shinsou shrugs, the embarrassment is coming back. Good. Katsuki refuses to be the only one suffering here. “Don’t know specifically, but it’s what made me teleport to you.”

Ah.

That explains things much better than the vague image Katsuki’s brain provided him of Shinsou just wiggling his way to Katsuki’s house like a fucking worm. Still. He narrows his gaze. Shinsou said he wouldn’t be followed. Which means the teleportation occurred because of something in Shinsou’s mind.

Except. Why the fuck would he pick Katsuki’s place? There is no reason for it. Once again, they barely fucking know each other. So. That means he didn’t pick Katsuki’s place.

The cogs are turning at lightning speed in Katsuki’s head. Shouto was talking about him yesterday. To Shinsou. Who thought about Katsuki when kidnapped? And that’s why he’s here. But why the fuck would Shinsou think about him when kidnapped?

There are two options. Both of them lead to Katsuki potentially beating the shit out of Shinsou. Or laughing in his face. So he’s not too fussed about the outcome. He does want to know the answer though. It’s important that he is right. Mainly for his ego, but he’s sure he could come up with some hero bullshit reason later if he needed.

“Is it messing with your head?” He asks.

Shinsou shakes his head. “No.”

Katsuki grins. Wide and predatory. No fucking wonder why Shinsou was embarrassed. He can’t help the mean cackle that escapes him. Not that he would have suppressed it anyway, the bastard deserves payback for interrupting Katsuki’s afterwork routine.

“Awww.” He coos. “You weren’t gonna tell me you have a big fat crush on me?”

Shinsou groans, his head drops downwards so he doesn't have to look at Katsuki. Katsuki is still holding his wrists otherwise he assumes Shinsou’s head would be buried in his hands. “It’s not a crush.” He all but whines.

“Of course.” Katsuki mocks. “You want to touch my ass for business reasons only.”

Shinsou nods. He looks up at Katsuki for a second and stands. His wrists are still in Katsuki’s hands but he’s towering over him now. Katsuki drops his grip entirely. He doesn’t take a step back, no that’s too close to giving in and Katsuki never gives in.

He refuses to back down. He doesn’t know what this weird stand still is for, but he’s pretty sure he’s losing. He does not like it one bit. Shinsou's expression is unreadable. He has to crane his neck upwards to look at him too, he does not appreciate this either.

“I’m gonna bite you.” Shinsou says— warns.

What.

Sure enough, Shinsou pitches forward and bites at Katsuki’s neck. Right above his collarbone, where his tank top does nothing to cover his skin.

What the fuck?

Katsuki is surprised, then curses himself for being so. Shinsou did warn him. But— how was Katsuki meant to know he was serious?

And more importantly, Shinsou is still at his neck. Because Katsuki hasn’t pushed him off. Why hasn’t he pushed him off?

It doesn’t hurt, not really. Not more than a hickey and— motherfucker that’s exactly what’s happening right now isn’t it? It’s gonna leave a mark that Katsuki’s hero costume doesn’t hide. Katsuki is going to enact very violent revenge on Shinsou.

Soon.

Now?

No, not now. It feels kinda nice. Which is also weird. This has been such a weird day. Shinsou is such a weird guy. Katsuki is kind of into it though. Which is also weird. And embarrassing. He’ll take this secret to his grave.

The bite turns to a lick and soft kisses against his neck. He sighs at the feeling. It’s pleasant, he supposes. It’s actually pretty nice but he’s not about to admit that. Not even to himself. Shinsou nibbles at the wound and Katsuki really has lost all intention to stop him.

His hands move to Shinou’s sides and slip under his shirt that is hiding some frankly impressive abs. They feel amazing. Just as impressive as he expected because Katsuki is a great judge of character and abs. He rakes his nails down the side that does not have the stab wound and relishes in the shuddered exhale against his neck.

Shinsou's own hands make themselves at home on Katsuki’s ass. And— Katsuki gets it, he knows what his ass looks like, he worked hard for it. So he doesn’t stop Shinsou. Doesn’t stop him as his hands gently caress and knead at him.

And it’s nice. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Katsuki feels admired . And, fuck, now he’s thinking of how he ended up here. The sequence of events is strange. Odd even. He pushes it out of his mind as best he can. The toned muscles under his fingertips are a good distraction.

They continue to be a good distraction until Shinsou, the fucking gremlin he is, squeezes his ass.

Fuck.

Katsuki disentangles himself immediately. He doesn’t yelp in surprise because that would be unbecoming, but he does glare at Shinsou in betrayal.

Katsuki fucking refuses to be groped in his own kitchen.

Hes a foot away from Shinsou and feeling very much like an on edge cat. It’s not his favourite feeling, he bares his teeth.

Shinsou, for his part, blinks at him slowly. Katsuki pauses, Shinsou is actually the more catlike one here. Strange, but not a deal breaker. He doesn’t look too apologetic about his actions.

But— Katsuki cannot read him actually. He doesn’t know what the purple beanpole is thinking. Probably nothing, given the whole situation.

Although, it’s not like Katsuki can say he’s been the pinnacle of rationality tonight either. He plays back the whole evening in his head, and really, what the hell? He can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in him.

It’s just so fucking bizarre.

And— somehow, between his laughs that are quickly turning maniacal. The fucking colour issue is back. He blinks and the colours are moving. He blinks again and they stop.

And. And— shinsous hair is so fucking purple. Was it always this purple? When it moves, it’s even more jarring. Katsuki laughs harder. He can’t help it. He doubles over to keep himself standing.

Maybe he should include mania induced cackling in his after work self care routine? This is pretty fucking fun.

“Uh.” Shinsou says nervously. Normally, Katsuki revels in making people nervous but right now he doesn’t think it’s for the right reasons. He tries to glare at Shinsou between his laughter, it doesn’t work very well. Shinsou's mouth quirks upwards in amusement.

Fuck. It’s hotter than it should be. Stupid fucking attractive home invader.

“Are you—“ he pauses, like he’s searching for the right word. “Okay?” He settles on. Fucking lameass choice of word but whatever.

Katsuki doesn’t think he can form words right now, his cackles have evolved into breathless wheezing. He’s now squatting rather weirdly on the floor, it doesn’t really help his oxygen situation but he also doesn’t think his legs will work enough to keep him standing. He extends a wobbly thumbs up to Shinsou instead.

Surprisingly, Shinsou does not take that to mean Katsuki is super good, rad, swag, money in the cash bag. Which— is rather rude because Katsuki thought his thumbs up demonstrated that rather well. But whatever, he should have known Shinsou is illiterate.

Katsuki blinks and suddenly Shinsou is sitting on the floor in front of him with a glass of water. He holds it out to Katsuki.

Katsuki stares, trying to catch his breath. He refuses to feel any shame about his laughing fit. This is his house dammit. He is the only one allowed to make any judgements here. Shinsou's raised eyebrow is not welcome here at all. No matter how hot he makes condescension look. Katsuki is going to serve him a very strongly worded eviction notice.

He takes the glass and downs the water in one gulp. A violent gulp, he should add. It’s important to note that all his actions are violent and strong. He pushes the glass back to Shinsou, with enough force to rival an army. A large army. Small armies have got nothing on him.

Shinsou takes it delicately. It’s an out of place action on him. He’s so lucky Katsuki will probably die if he laughs anymore because it’s fucking hilarious. Katsuki settles for glaring at him and promptly falls to his side. The kitchen tiles are cold under him, it’s nice. Very soothing. He should do this more often. It seems like a great spot to nap. He could probably lucid dream like mad here.

Shinsou looks vaguely alarmed at Katsuki’s current form. Which. He guesses is fair. But also, Shinsou has a crush on him. So therefore, he no longer has any rights. Katsuki doesn’t make the rules, he just enforces them. No, that’s a lie. He makes the rules too. He wouldn’t trust any random extra with that.

Shinsou has also sucked a hickey onto Katsuki’s neck?

That seems like something that should be addressed. Maybe the stab wound too. But that’s not as important as Katsuki’s neck. He reaches a hand out to touch it. It hurts, as he presses, but there’s no blood. So Shinsou is not a vampire. Which is nice to know. Katsuki likes his blood to remain in his veins thank you very much.

The sound of Shinsou moving draws his gaze. He watches with rapt attention as Shinsou places the glass on the counter and just fucking lays down next to Katsuki? It’s the same sort of attention he pays to national geographic documentaries about how lions hunt.

“So.” Shinsou starts, because he is clearly incapable of shutting the fuck up when things are not about him. “Come here often?”

He’s laying on his back, Katsuki assumes it’s so he doesn’t reopen his wound, but his head is turned to face Katsuki. He’s wearing a cheeky grin to match his words. Katsuki feels the weight of all his ancestors looking down on this moment with severe judgement and disappointment.

“First time actually.” Katsuki says, he feels like he’s dreaming. One of those super weird ones that warps reality. He has no idea if this moment is real or not. It doesn’t even matter. “And you?”

“Same.” Shinsou hums. “You have a nice kitchen.”

Oh. That’s a nice compliment actually. Although, right now he’s just looking at Katsuki as he says this, so it’s not like he’s really looking around the kitchen. Katuski furrows his brow.

“This isn’t my house.” He says, like it’s an admission. Because he is a lying liar who lies. Mainly because it’s really funny when people believe him. Maybe it’s because he’s vocal about his hatred of liars. However, one must always remember that commitment to the bit is more important.

Shinsou’s eyes widen gloriously with surprise. His mouth falls open too. Like he’s not sure if he believes Katsuki or not. Katsuki smirks, victorious. He fucking loves this effect. Shinsou catches on quickly. Of course he does, he is probably somewhat competent. Even if he was kidnapped. And stabbed. And teleported. Huh, maybe he’s not actually that competent? Nah. Katsuki reasons to himself, that many scars don’t come from being stupid. Unless he makes a habit of walking into barbed wire fences? Fuck if Katsuki knows what he does in his spare time.

“Oh you bastard.” Shinsou breathes out a laugh and Katsuki promptly forgets all his competence weighing criteria. It doesn’t matter really, Shinsou looks pretty like this. How horrible. Katsuki has never wanted to kiss a bitch more.

And. He realises, abruptly, they haven’t kissed. Shinsou just gave Katsuki a hickey like some sort of lunatic. Damn. What a weirdo. He should really improve his taste in people.

“You gonna kiss me or what.” Katsuki sneers. It’s a challenge. He thinks Shinsou will rise to it.

And he does. Of course he does, Katsuki is the shit. He looks surprised, just for a brief second, before he smirks and leans in. Stupid cocky smirk. Katsuki wants to bite it off. He leans in too.

They’re in a weird position, on the floor, but they make it work somehow. Physics isn’t real when one is delusional enough. And right now, with the clear lack of brain cells from both, Katsuki and Shinsou, they can probably make quantum physics real.

Shinsou kisses him like he’s trying to drink Katsuki’s soul from his mouth. And maybe Katsuki should revisit the vampire hypothesis. He can’t say he’s not into it though, which is a true shame, because he loves being a bitch. But whatever, he guesses this is nice too. He’s not used to stuff like this. Fucking of course, he’s not. He likes his hook ups anonymous and in the dark, not on his kitchen floor with only half of the lights on. Even if the evening sun shining through the window is particularly flattering.

Although, he doesn’t really know Shinsou, so maybe it’s alright. The fact that he’s a scarily good kisser does absolutely nothing to sway his decision. Nothing at all. Katsuki bites at his lower lip if only out of revenge. This is probably not the best revenge plan, given that Shinsou seems to be enjoying it as much, if not more, than him. But he doesn’t care too much currently.

Shinsou pulls away much too soon. It’s dark outside now though. Katsuki has no idea how long they’ve been here for. Time clearly is having fun being a fucking confusing asshole today. Is it even still today? Katsuki has no idea. Maybe it’s 10 years into the future. Maybe the past. Maybe it’s been two minutes and the sun set notoriously quick.

“Now who’s the one with the crush?” Shinsou smirks, his voice is slightly raw. Katsuki abruptly wants to hear more of it.

“Still you.” He replies and if it sounds more soft than cutting? That’s no one’s business. Besides, “You literally teleported into my house just because you wanted to touch my ass.”

Shinsou snorts. It’s inelegant and not at all fitting with his usual impassive disposition. It makes him look younger, more human too. Katsuki is unfortunately endeared. “Oops?”

He doesn’t sound the slightest bit apologetic. Smug bastard got what he wanted after all. Katsuki doesn’t find that he minds one bit.

“Fuckin perv.” He snorts. It’s hardly insulting.

Shinsou grins, teeth glistening with mischief. Cute . “Would you rather I have wined and dined you first?”

Katsuki scrunches his face. Gross. He cooks better than half the restaurants he knows already. Plus, he fucking hates wine. He knows how to be a bitch about them though, so at least he can do that. He has frequented too many wineries for some odd reason, he can give the most nuanced feedback and analysis on most wines. It’s a shame they all suck though.

“Do I seem like someone who wants that?” He snarls. It’s half assed.

Shinsou hums. “Well you do seem kinda posh.” He admits. “But then again, what’s more romantic than your kitchen floor?”

“You trying to romance me?” It’s supposed to be an insult. A jab. It comes out as a somewhat genuine question. Unfortunately, he does actually want to know what Shinsou thinks.

Shinsou hums again, “you gonna let me?” It sounds like a dare. A challenge.

Katsuki is never one to back down from a challenge. He is a winner in all aspects of life. Even romance.

“Don’t expect me to put out on the first date.” His acceptance could not be clearer. He doesn’t actually know why he’s accepting. He never has a problem rejecting people. He also does actually put out on the first date. But Shinsou just fucking appeared in his house, what else is a man to do? The only two options are to either get a restraining order or date the loser.

And well, he can’t kiss Shinsou from 20 meters away.

“What date do you put out on then?” He asks, sly grin in place. Katsuki already knows he’s going to want to kill this bitch everyday. He can’t wait. “I saw your bed earlier and it looks sooooooo comfy. I wanna try it out.”

Despite the accompanying wink, Katsuki has a feeling Shinsou's intentions with his bed are more slumber related. And. Well, it is a very comfortable bed, he gets it. Besides, he has a perfectly respectable kitchen counter that has multiple uses he’s always wanted to try. He’s an extremely adaptable hero after all.

“I’m saving myself till marriage.” He says seriously.

“Hm.” Shinsou contemplates. “You take the couch and I’ll take the bed.”

“Hahhhhh!?” The audacity of this bitch. Katsuki is going to murder him so hard. He’s going to draw it out, make it super painful and slow. He’s going to kiss him breathless and then strangle him to death. He glares at his future victim.

Fuck.

Shinsou would probably be into it. What a fucking horror show he’s signed himself up for. His grin refuses to stay hidden. He’s so fucking excited. How embarrassing.

“We also shouldn’t hold hands till we have our first kid, at least.” Shinsou says seriously. What a fucking bastard. Katsuki is going to kiss him so hard. If he didn’t have a stab wound like some fucking weak bitch, Katsuki would have fucked him so hard his kitchen tiles would have a permanent mark in the shape of one annoyingly well built lanky purple bitch. Alas, he put too much work into stitching him up, he refuses to be the reason they undo.

“The fuck?” Katsuki scrunches his face in disgust. “You some kinda slut? No hand holding till we are buried in our shared grave. At the minimum. ”

Seriously. The audacity of this fuckhead. Katsuki is going to hold his hand so fucking hard. Maybe even kiss him under the moonlight. He might even drag the shitbag along for a long walk on the beach at sunrise. Sunrise because there’s less people, but more importantly, because he thinks Shinsou would hate waking up early. And clearly, if he loves inconveniencing Katsuki so much, Katsuki should be allowed to enact revenge.

All’s fair in stab wounds and hickeys or whatever the saying is.