WBWNS: 22. December - Equals
They found themselves on one of the quieter side streets, tucked just far enough from the festive crowds that neither of them would draw much attention; a necessary cooldown period for Katsuki, considering he had nearly set an entire Christmas tree market on fire at the end of their patrol shift.
He’d been on edge all day. Yesterday too, actually. Wound tight like a corkscrew, his shoulders drawn high, jaw clenched, sparks practically sizzling on his fingertips (therefore the preventive time-out). Izuku would’ve bet a generous portion of his All-Might mug special collection that he, personally, was responsible for at least half of Kacchan’s grouchy mood. If not more. To his sincere regret.
Izuku sighed. Two days until Christmas. Around them, the city glittered.
Fairy lights draped from balcony to balcony in looping chains of gold and red, blinking in soft patterns like the heartbeat of the season. Shop windows glowed with warm amber light, displaying cookies and wreaths and last-minute holiday sales. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and candied apples. Snow crunched under their boots as they walked, fresh and crisp and so so white.
This winter — this December — was… fun. Soft in a way Izuku still wasn’t used to. Warm in places that had been cold for far too long. Everything about it felt different from last year.
Last year they hadn’t… not really celebrated Christmas. Not that holiday. Not with all the softness and implications it carried.
The gifts had been exchanged a day late, both of them having spent the actual holiday with their families. And honestly? It had been downright awkward to spend such a romantic, sappy holiday with Kacchan while living under the strict façade of being cordial roommates.
One year ago, they just… hadn’t been comfortable enough around each other to face Christmas together.
But things had changed. Oh, had they changed.
They’d been a breath away from mistletoeing each other even though there wasn't any mistletoe to be found. And Katsuki was the one who initiated that shift.
Katsuki. Not him. Kacchan.
GreatExplosionMurderGodDynamight had cut Christmas ornaments with him.
Had gone to the theater with him.
Had stood between Izuku’s big, knobbly knees and taken four huge sips of apple spritzer from a glass Izuku held up to his mouth.
They had eaten breakfast in Kacchan’s bed. Kacchan’s bed.
And… and despite writing nineteen pages about it in his journal- speculating, analyzing, contemplating - Izuku still wasn’t over those six words:
“I got a thing for tears.”
That was, uh… intimate knowledge, wasn't it? The kind of “this turns me on” knowledge?
So Izuku had spent the entire week + the walk here thinking. Planning. Plotting. Preparing, ... kind of. He’d found 26 words, one for every possible outcome, intending to give something back. Something to reveal about himself, equal in weight and honesty to Kacchan’s unhinged tears-and-dressers confession.
He glanced to the side, breath curling in the cold as he studied the profile next to him - a pretty face scrunched up, deep thought, jaw tight, mouth pressed into a thin stubborn line. The colorful street lights overhead washed over Katsuki in shifting patches of red, blue, and gold, catching on his lashes, dusting the tip of his nose, softening him despite the thundercloud simmering under his skin.
His beanie sat low, giving him a faint veneer of anonymity. A shield, so to say. But iIt didn’t exactly help their case, because people still cleared his path without a word.
Even the way Kacchan carried their tree, as if the evergreen itself had personally offended him and he was now dragging it to its execution made his heart squeeze in adoration.
Oh boy, he was so precious.
Grumpy, menacing, gorgeous.
“Kacchan.”
“What.” Sharp, flat, unmistakably irritated.
“Do you remember the day you told me about the dresser?”
The blond came to such an abrupt stop that an inattentive passerby bumped straight into the prickly side of their freshly wrapped fir.
“Ow— seriously?” the man barked, brushing some needles off his sleeve, “Watch where you’re carrying your stuff. People are trying to walk here.”
Katsuki’s head snapped toward him.
“Get outta that damn tree.”
“Huh? I’m not-?”
Izuku stepped an evasive little step back to make space, cause ... Katsuki gave the netting one brutal yank. It ripped open with a sharp snap, sending a scatter of needles everywhere.
“Are you insane?” the man sputtered, batting at his coat. “What is your- huh?”
Katsuki had dropped the tree, just like that, right where they stood.
“Deku,” he said, voice flat and dangerously deep, “I ain’t got the patience for this shit today.”
The man’s eyes went wide in recognition, “D-Deku?”
Well.
There went anonymity.
No patience and even less situational foresight. As usual.
Izuku sighed heavyly into his scarf, “Alrighty then.”
Blackwhip slipped from his sleeve and wrapped around Katsuki’s waist as Izuku dipped into a low crouch.
“Oh my—” the civilian choked, a gloved hand darting out toward him.
But nope. Nope. Not today.
“Hero Deku—wait! Dynamight! Please WAIT!”
They did not wait.
But they could buy a new tree whenever they wanted. They could have it delivered gift-wrapped with a bow, if they wanted to.
Green lightning cracked up the streetlamps, rattling the Christmas decorations strung between them, as Izuku launched. In under four seconds he shot them across the intersection, down the length of the street, and into the shadow beneath the main road’s bridge.
Katsuki, entirely cought off guard, flailed behind him like an angry helium balloon.
“You fuck! Put me down. I can damn well—”
“I know you can.”
tbc: here














