Twenty-Four Hours - Part 5

17:00

When they moved into the dorms, no one in Class 1-A had expected Katsuki to be the chef of the group. He’d shown up with a few different spice blends he couldn’t do without and a hefty, well-used frying pan that he used for everything. Between that and the massive school-provided rice cooker, he seemed to be able to produce anything. When one of his classmates had a bad day, he could always be found in the kitchen cooking up cakes and cookies to let them stress eat, and when someone had something to celebrate, he was there making their favourite dinner dishes.

The only problem had been the quality of the tools they were provided – or, the lack thereof. Any time they got a new pot or pan, it was wrecked within the week. They had melted spatulas, wooden spoons with their handles broken off, rusted knives, and pots so burnt that they made your water taste like charcoal.

So at the beginning of their second year, when Katsuki had turned seventeen, Izuku had bought him a whole set of shiny new kitchen supplies, engraved with his name to make sure no one else dared to use them. There were brand new spatulas, two shiny pots, a vegetable peeler that actually worked, a slotted spoon, a ladle, and a dozen other things that Katsuki used every day for years. Even when they moved into their apartments, Katsuki still had all those same tools in his new kitchen, and most of them had made it to their shared apartment, too.

The only thing he didn’t have in that set was a decent knife, since those were so damn expensive. He had settled for cheap ones and a decent sharpening block, having to sharpen them most weeks to be satisfied, but thanks to Izuku that would be no more.

At five o’clock, after the conference and the workshops all wrapped up for the day, Izuku and Katsuki ran home to change for dinner with their friends. Before Katsuki could step into the bedroom, though, Izuku grabbed the back of his shirt, dragging him into the kitchen.

“We’d better make this one quick,” Izuku grinned, handing over the box. “Happy birthday, Kacchan!”

Katsuki unwrapped it just like all the others, and when he found the set of beautiful, fancy, expensive knives inside, a smile slowly stretched across his face.

“You even remembered the brand,” he whispered, opening the box to take a peek. “I only told you once.”

“I like remembering things Kacchan tells me!” Izuku grinned. “Especially if it means I get to surprise you like this!”

“You’re incredible.”

“I try my best!”

Katsuki leaned over, pressing a firm kiss to Izuku’s lips, and for a long time they remained there, wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing lazy, leisurely kisses in their shared kitchen.

“Tomorrow I’m gonna cook you the best dinner ever,” Katsuki promised. “Everything is gonna be sliced and diced to oblivion.”

“Ratatouille with wafer-thin layers?” Izuku grinned.

“And salad with ridiculously tiny tomatoes, and homemade potato chips, and-”

“Sounds great,” Izuku laughed, before he could get carried away. “I can’t wait, Kacchan.”

─────

18:00

Despite being in the middle of dinner, when Izuku’s watch buzzed for six o’clock, he reached into the bag he’d been carting around all evening. He was sure Katsuki’s had to have been curious about it, especially seeing the pretty silver paper and red bow sticking out the top, but he’d managed to keep himself under control and avoid asking, avoid ruining his surprise.

Izuku was glad, too, considering this was maybe the most heavily anticipated gift he’d bought. He’d had to rope in a few friends to help, since he couldn’t hide it at their place as easily as the smaller stuff, and each and every one of them had bawled when they saw it.

If Katsuki cried at dinner in front of their friends and colleagues, well, that was his own problem.

Katsuki’s eighteenth birthday had been shortly after they started getting close again, and their friends had been convinced it was when they started dating, too. On the contrary, Izuku hadn’t even realised that what he was feeling was something special, yet. All he’d known was that Katsuki was his best friend, the one he always admired and wanted to be around – he hadn’t managed to put a word to all of that yet.

On his eighteenth birthday, Katsuki had unwrapped a dark wooden frame, very classy and elegant like his dorm room had been that year, with an old picture of the pair of them inside. They were only kids in the picture, not even at school yet, cheeks pressed together and arms slung around each other, dressed up in their favourite (matching) All Might t-shirts as they waited in line at a convention. Their parents had planned it all out together, had taken the boys into Tokyo for the massive hero convention and taken turns chasing them around the massive halls, and it was maybe Izuku’s favourite memory from his childhood, back before things had gotten so complicated between them.

This time, he’d gone a little more intense than just a photo. For Katsuki’s twenty-fourth, he’d commissioned an artist to paint them a canvas instead, and sure enough when Katsuki opened it, his lower lip began to wobble.

He refused to turn it around despite all their friends asking to see, still staring at it like the table of people didn’t even exist around him. It took a solid five minutes before he finally looked up again, blinking back tears, and let people lean over to look.

On the thick frame, their likenesses danced together in dark suits, staring into each other’s eyes with so much love and adoration that it made Izuku’s heart sing. The photo of their first dance had been a favourite for both of them, when they’d seen it in the collection, and while he could have had it printed a lot more easily, Izuku had known the painting would make it that extra bit more special. It had been well worth the time and money, the moment he saw the result, so much more dynamic with all the texture and colour that photos didn’t quite provide.

Not to mention anything that made Katsuki cry in public had to be a damn good gift.

─────

19:00

Despite what their friends liked to claim, Izuku and Katsuki had been well out of high school by the time they finally took the plunge and got together. They’d picked out one-bedroom apartments on opposite sides of the city without even a second thought – had even helped each other move in, since they’d been staying with their parents in the between-period. Within a week though, it had started to feel wrong. They’d been together their entire lives, been close enough to just walk to the other’s door and say hi if they wanted, even in the years where they didn’t.

The first thing Izuku had noticed when they moved Katsuki’s stuff in was how chilly the apartment was. Even though it was spring, Izuku felt like there should have been a heater on or something – something Katsuki definitely did not own, considering how much it would cost to install and how broke they were as newly-graduated sidekicks.

So when Katsuki turned nineteen a few weeks later, Izuku had shown up at his doorstep with a squishy package, and Katsuki had unwrapped a glorious electric blanket that he’d used every night for years, even in the middle of summer. It had just been so much nicer to turn it on for a little while as he got ready for bed, and to crawl into nice, warm blankets instead of chilly sheets.

Since moving in together and getting better jobs, the couple had gotten heating and cooling units installed in just about every room of their apartment, but there was one thing Katsuki still complained about.

Izuku’s watch buzzed as they stepped in the front door, ready to just sit down and be done with everything for the night. He stopped briefly at a closet to retrieve a big paper package, wrapped with a proper ribbon this time, and Katsuki collapsed onto the couch before he accepted it to take a look.

Inside, he found two sets of the fanciest, most expensive bedsheets and pillowcases Izuku could find. Four hundred thread count Egyptian cotton in a shade of pale grey that Katsuki loved – Izuku knew about his dislike for anything overly bright or pure white, preferring the in-between shades that he always thought looked classier.

Katsuki had been complaining for years about never being able to find decent bedsheets, but here he was, holding two sets.

“I got two so that we can put new ones on while the others are washing, it’s such a pain waiting for them to wash and dry before we can make the bed. And if anything happens to any of it, we’ll have spares!”

“I love you.”

“I love you too! Do you wanna go take a bath while I change the sheets?”

“How about we change the sheets together and then have a bath together?”

“That sounds even better.”

─────

20:00

At the stroke of midnight, on the day Katsuki turned twenty, Izuku rung his doorbell incessantly, a little box in his hand with two colourful shot glasses. They were limited edition, like most merch Izuku bought, hand-blown by an expert craftsman in some remote village, and patterned with a translucent blue and red design, a perfect replica of All Might’s old costume.

The moment a bleary-eyed Katsuki opened the door, sweatpants sinfully low around his hips, Izuku had thrust them at his chest with a beaming smile.

“Happy birthday, Kacchan! You’re getting so old!”

“Rude,” Katsuki snorted, pulling him into a hug all the same. “Thanks, nerd.”

“I could only get the glasses,” Izuku pouted, doing his best to look cute. “Hint hint.”

“Yeah, you’re so subtle,” Katsuki yawned. “Alright, you wait here, I’ll go to the konbini.”

“Here, use this to buy it!” Izuku insisted, shoving his wallet into Katsuki’s hands. “It’s your birthday, after all!”

“No, you already brought me a present,” Katsuki answered stubbornly, throwing it back and taking his glasses to the kitchen carefully. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He pulled on a hoodie, zipping it up to his chin to cover his bare chest, and kicked on a pair of sneakers without bothering to find socks. Izuku smiled at his back as he left, watching him trudge down the steps, and while he waited for his return, he set to work washing the shot glasses for them to share. They’d been dancing around the relationship subject for a few months, gone out on dates that they both refused to actually label dates,  and Izuku was determined that with a few drinks in them he was finally going to ask the question.

When Katsuki returned with a konbini bag in hand, all sleepy and adorable, Izuku felt his heart pound. He was so lucky to even be in Katsuki’s presence, was he really going to ruin it by pushing his luck?

No, he just had to be confident! He knew Katsuki felt the same, he’d seen way too many signs for it to not be true. He just had to be strong, had to take the plunge!

Katsuki produced a can of highball from the bag, pouring two shots into the freshly cleaned glasses, but when Izuku reached for one he slapped the scarred hand away with a smirk.

“Not gonna happen, baby. These are both for me, you’re still too young.”

“Meanie.”

He pouted again, and this time Katsuki slid him one wordlessly, picking up his own and preparing himself to down it. Izuku picked up his own and knocked it against Katsuki’s with a little clink, taking a deep breath before he threw the shot into his mouth.

“To Kacchan,” he croaked, the whiskey burning his throat. “Happy birthday.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki snorted, swallowing his own down easily and pouring two more. “Another?”

“Please.”

The can ran dry on the third round, Izuku’s final one a little smaller than the rest, and Katsuki paused before he set his glass down.

“You came here just to make me buy you shots?”

“I came here to hang out with you on your birthday!” Izuku countered, slapping the smile back on his face. “I know you’ll want to go to bed soon, but I thought we could have a little midnight party first, just the two of us.”

“Come on, then.”

Katsuki handed him a can of beer from the bag, much lighter in alcohol and less painful to swallow than the highball, and together they sat down on the couch, the cracking of their cans opening the only thing to break the silence.

“I like you,” Izuku whispered, as Katsuki took his first sip of beer. “Do you think you could ever... Be my boyfriend?”

Katsuki almost spat out his drink, clapping a hand over his mouth to hold it back, swallowing hard to keep from spluttering as he turned to Izuku with wide eyes.

“Am I not?” he asked, the most adorable picture of innocence Izuku had ever seen. “I thought we’d been dating for months.”

“W-What?! Kacchan! You can’t just decide that! You’re meant to ask me out!”

“Why the hell should I ask?! I knew what you’d say!”

“Because it’s polite!”

“Who gives a shit about polite?!”

“So are we a couple or not?!”

“Of course we are!”

“Well... Good!”

“Fine!”

“Great!”

“Yeah!”

For a moment they just stared at each other, dumbfounded, until finally it all began to sink in and Izuku started to laugh.

“I’ve been stressing out about how to ask,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I should have known you wouldn’t care.”

“C’mere, idiot.”

Katsuki wrapped an arm around his waist, dragging him in, and Izuku couldn’t help but grin. He fitted so perfectly in Katsuki’s grip, like it was made for him, and a part of Izuku suspected that it was.

At eight p.m., when Izuku’s alarm buzzed, he produced a bottle of expensive whiskey from the top cupboard in he kitchen. Katsuki accepted it with a soft smile, brushing his thumb over the bright red bow tied around the neck, and leaned in to kiss Izuku on the cheek.

“Thanks, baby.”