Of smelly cats and tickle fights - Shinsou Hitoshi x Ochako Uraraka
“You have the worst breath I have ever smelled!” Ochako groans, pinching her nose.
From somewhere behind her, she can hear Hitoshi chuckle and the pain of owning a smelly cat is immediately forgotten.
“You’re home?!” She turns so fast that Sir Ranchelot jumps in surprise, making a beeline for the bedroom.
“I think so,” from her perch on the Couch she can only see the tips of his purple hair peaking out of a heap on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get my shoes off.”
Ochako snorts and climbs over the backrest to get to him.
“Ugh, you smell just as bad as Ranch.”
“Sorry,” he groans as she pulls on his left foot, untangling a bit of the mess she call her husband. “One of the bad guys called himself the Sew-i-nator, with an emphasis on the sewer.”
“Creative.”
“That’s what I said,” he laughs, the sound almost becoming a moan of relief when she gets the first shoe off.
“Are you hungry?” She asks, getting the second shoe off and watching him, pleased and happy that he’s finally home.
“I don’t know? I was hungry an hour ago, now I feel a little bit nauseated.”
“Dinner it is.”
She pats his thigh as a sign to get up, but he remains on the floor.
“I can’t get up. Please?”
“You’re lucky I love you,” she tells him, slapping his ass as she activates her Quirk.
-
“Did you just fart?” Hitoshi asks an hour later, freshly bathed and well-fed, face pressed against her shoulder blade. “Or do we have to take Ranch to the vet again?”
“I think he got into the Peanut Butter again,” Ochako explains the awful stench and pulls the blanket over her face. “Maybe we could ask Koji? He listened the last time.”
Hitoshi sighs, but he doesn’t answer.
Maybe he’s not happy about having to ask his old classmate for help with a cat that will eat anything besides regular cat food.
Or, which is a lot more plausible, he’s already fast asleep.
-
“Are you watching me sleep?” Hitoshi asks in the morning, eyes closed, hair fanned out like a purple Halo.
“Maybe?” She shifts a little closer, dragging a curious fingertip over a fresh new scar on his bicep. “When did you get that?”
“Pissed Bakugo off.”
“Hmm,” she's not sure if he’s telling the truth or some variation of it. After all, she's got some scars too, for very similar reasons. “Did it hurt?”
“No, it was so nice I wanted it to happen agai- Did you just bite me?”
“Maybe,” she presses a kiss to the fresh mark her teeth left, giggling. “Just checking.”
“If I’m edible?”
“If you taste as sweet as you look.”
His face flushes a vibrant pink and his eyes finally open to glare at her.
“Must you really fluster me in the morning? Before I’ve had my first coffee?”
“Yes,” she grins meanly, “That’s when you’re the most vulnerable.”
“Traitor,” he pulls her close, wandering hands moving toward her most ticklish spots. “I’ll pay you back in no time.”
And she could probably fight her way out of this… if she wanted to, that is.
-
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