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Katsuki’s hands are covered in sticky dough when the doorbell rings.
“Ring that again and I’ll blow your hands off!” he yells, when the bastard at his door jabs the bell again as he washes his hands. He scrubs his hands clean with more force than strictly necessary and stomps to the door to slam it open.
“You won’t,” Todoroki says, finger hovering over the bell. He stares down at Katsuki as he presses it again. “You like my hands.”
Katsuki kicks his shins and turns back to the kitchen, ignoring the groans of pain from behind him. Dramatic bitch. Doesn’t even make a peep when he gets tossed around during training.
They’ve been in some strange limbo for the past few months that Katsuki can’t put a name to, no matter how hard he tries. Todoroki had been transferred to his agency a couple of years ago, and there’s always been an odd tension between them, but it’s only recently that it's evolved into… something. Something that means calling Todoroki over to bake the cookies for the agency Christmas party tomorrow.
Yeah, they could’ve done it separately. But he has an inkling of what the tightening in his chest every time he catches Todoroki sweeping his bangs out of his eyes means, and it’s not like he’d deliberately planned on asking Todoroki over, anyway. They’d been on patrol, the popsicle bastard had stopped to feed a stray cat, and Katsuki had blurted the words before he could swallow them back into his heart.
It’s not his fault that stupid pair of heterochromia eyes softening made his heart do backflips. Be for real. Anyone would fall victim too.
“Hurry up and wash your hands, you’re already late.” Katsuki covers his fingers in flour and resumes kneading the dough. “This cookie isn’t going to bake itself, and I’m certainly not letting your lazy ass slack off.”
“I thought you called me over for moral support.” Todoroki does not pout, and Katsuki’s legs do not go weak.
“Where in ‘be useful for once and help me bake cookies’ does it imply that?”
Todoroki toddles into the kitchen and peers over Katsuki’s shoulder. His breath is hot on Katsuki’s neck, the faint lavender scent of his shampoo mingling with the smell of sugar in Katsuki’s bubble. He fights down a shiver, but his fingers press harder into the dough.
“You seem like you’re doing fine on your own,” Todoroki points out, and oh God Katsuki can smell his breath too, he’s that close. It’s befittingly minty.
“Of course I’m fine on my own,” Katsuki scoffs. “Your ass in a kitchen is as good as your ass behind a steering wheel.” He starts flattening the dough. “A fucking accident waiting to happen.”
Todoroki starts playing with the strings of his apron. He thinks he might die today — if not from Todoroki setting his kitchen on fire, then this. “Why ask me to help then… I’m content cheering you on from a distance, for your information. Preferably the distance of your living room.”
“I’m not letting you slap your name on these cookies after you’ve done nothing but sit there and twiddle your thumbs.” He points to the end of the counter. “Now wash your damn hands and get my cookie cutters.”
Christmas is a time for miracles. The one happening right now in Katsuki’s kitchen, for example. Against all odds, Todoroki has managed to far exceed the low expectations Katsuki had for him. It’s a superhuman feat, really, that Todoroki can take down A-rate villains in the blink of an eye, but if any of those villains had a Quirk that forced him to either to know how use a fucking cookie cutter or die, Todoroki would be in a casket instantly.
“It’s genuinely incredible how dogshit you are at this,” he comments, watching Todoroki struggle to press the cutter into the dough.
“Stop making snide comments and help me,” Todoroki DOES NOT pout. Katsuki sighs, with all the exasperation of a babysitter watching a child eat their own foot, and covers Todoroki’s hands with his own. He hopes Todoroki doesn’t notice how sweaty his palms are.
“Press it down completely, dumbass,” he says, but there’s no heat to it. How can there be, when his heart is racing at a hundred miles per hour, and the only thoughts in his head are holy fuck his hands are so firm how can these pretty hands be so fucking useless why does he smell so good I need to beat him with a stick why is he looking at me stop looking TODOROKI SHOUTO TODOROKI SHOUTO TODOROKI SHOUTO TODOROKI SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FOCUS! “Wiggle it to loosen the dough around it, then lift it straight up. Don’t cut them so far apart, you’re wasting my damn dough.”
Todoroki nods. “Can you hold up my bangs? They’re in my eyes.”
“What do you think I am, your fucking hair clip?” he grumbles.
But he does it anyway. He always does, always will, and he suspects Todoroki knows it and is playing him like a fiddle. He wipes his hand on his apron and reaches for Todoroki’s forehead, gathering the soft strands of hair together. This is not an excuse to stare at Todoroki’s face, it’s not his fault his face is in his line of vision.
It’s also not his fault his eyes keep skittering all over Todoroki’s features, tracing the angles sharpened by age. He’s grown into his looks really nicely, unfortunately. Katsuki imagines being allowed to touch. Press his thumb against the furrow between his brows, pinch the tiny cheek fat he’s retained from adolescence, and oh, his tongue is peeking out shyly from the corner of his mouth in concentration. It looks so pink. Katsuki wants to bite it off.
“I’m done,” Todoroki says, and Katsuki blinks out of shamelessly ogling his face.
He looks down at the work Todoroki has done in the absence of his attention. None of the edges are even, some of them are dented from Todoroki trying to get them to stop sticking to the cutter, and there’s enough excess dough that Katsuki could probably make a bigger batch of cookies with it. All in all, it looks like he could take a shit and it’d probably look better than the mess on his kitchen island.
“The cutter is shaped like a tree,” Katsuki says. He pries the cutter from Todoroki’s cursed hands. “Not a turd.”
“Don’t be rude, I tried my best,” Todoroki STOP FUCKING POUTING.
“I shudder to imagine what your worst is,” he says, in a calm and nonchalant voice. “Get out of my kitchen, I’ll take it from here.”
When he steps out into his living room, after placing the baking tray in the oven and setting the timer, and doesn’t see Todoroki anywhere, he starts to panic. Not that he has anything to hide but his bullshit feelings, but still. And then Todoroki steps out of his bathroom, wearing a ridiculous Santa hat that matches his ridiculous hair, and Katsuki feels like he’s been punched in the gut.
He’s even holding a candy cane that also matches his stupid hair. This is so unfair.
“I couldn’t get the hat to stay on,” Todoroki announces, “so I had to borrow some clips from your bathroom.”
“Thanks for asking,” Katsuki replies blandly, over the roaring of his heart in his ears. This is fine. Or it’s not, and he’s going to die tonight. His coroner’s report would be pretty pathetic. Cause of death: Todoroki Shouto in his fucking house. God, he’s crashing out so bad.
“I’m wearing this to the party tomorrow,” Todoroki tells him, and pulls out an identical hat. “I got you a matching one.”
“I’m not wearing that corny shit,” he grunts, moving to sink into his sofa to steady himself. Of course he’ll wear the hat. He’ll spend a decent amount of time in front of the mirror adjusting it, because his hair is a bitch to clip accessories to.
Todoroki sits on the arm of his sofa, and Katsuki pretends like he doesn’t notice the mere inches between them. He drops the stupid hat into Katsuki’s lap.
“I told you, I’m not wearing—”
“Katsuki,” he interrupts, and Katsuki’s brain comes screeching to a halt.
He looks up at Todoroki, who’s fixing him with an intense gaze that’s flooded with an emotion he cannot place. “The fuck?”
“Katsuki,” Todoroki repeats, like he can’t help himself, and a little like Katsuki’s name is all he knows to say.
The air between them stills. It’s been supercharged with tension for so long that Katsuki almost misses how this time it’s different, something more, something like everything Katsuki’s been yearning for.
Almost.
“You better be serious about this,” he breathes, and then he’s reaching up to haul Todoroki into him.
Todoroki comes easily, pliant under Katsuki’s calloused hands, and crashes down on top of him. The tip of their noses scrape against each other. The godforsaken hat topples from Todoroki’s head to the floor. Todoroki stares down at him, pinning him to the sofa with his gorgeous fucking eyes, and tells him solemnly, “I’m really serious.”
“Good,” he murmurs. His palms slide around Todoroki’s neck, and finally, he presses their lips together.
It’s slow, tentative at first. A careful peck, hesitant, like riding a bike for the first time. Until his hands slide up into Todoroki’s hair and pull, and Todoroki keens into his mouth, and then they’re kissing.
It’s Christmas Eve, and Katsuki has an armful of boy, and the boy is Todoroki Shouto, and this is the most perfect present he’ll ever receive. Todoroki’s lips are plush, slightly chapped, but so, so warm. Everything about him is warm and good and warm. The tongue he pushes against the roof of Katsuki’s mouth, the pads of his fingers curled around Katsuki’s cheeks. The weight of his lean body against Katsuki’s chest.
Todoroki whines when Katsuki pulls away for air. Katsuki knocks their foreheads together and laughs. There’s a boy on his chest but he’s never felt lighter.
“How long?” Todoroki asks.
“Forever,” he says, and kisses Todoroki again, because he can. And he wants to, God, he wants so bad. “You’re so fucking pretty, anybody tell you that?”
It’s real fucking cute, the way his face reddens like a Christmas light. Even cuter how he buries his face in the crook of Katsuki’s neck.
“You can’t just say stuff like that, ‘s not fair.”
Katsuki tilts down and kisses the top of his head. The strands of his hair tickle the corners of Katsuki’s mouth, but Todoroki’s hair is smooth and pretty, so he doesn’t mind. “Mm, I think I can.”
Todoroki pouts up at him. Katsuki can’t hold himself back anymore.
He takes Todoroki’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks between his palms so that his lower lip juts out even more. And then Katsuki bites.
“Owww,” he complains, when Katsuki finally releases him.
“Been wanting to do that all night,” Katsuki says triumphantly. “You need to stop pouting or I’m actually gonna die.”
“You’re a menace,” Todoroki whispers, pressing butterfly kisses along his jawline. Katsuki sighs into it, gently scratching the roots of Todoroki’s silk-smooth hair.
Todoroki’s legs tangle in his, body wound around him like a cat, and he can’t tell where they start and end. They’re making out now, lazily (because Todoroki is Lazy with a capital L), and every part of Katsuki’s monkey brain feels cosy and satiated. He could spend the rest of his life like this.
There’s a few long moments where the only sounds in the room are the soft slick of their lips moving against each other, and the quiet ticking of the oven timer. He asks Todoroki the same question. “How long?”
“Since high school, maybe,” Todoroki answers, a little sheepishly.
Ding!
With all the reluctance in the world, Katsuki pushes him off to get the cookies out of the oven. He sets them on the counter to cool as Todoroki watches him from the couch.
Katsuki walks back out to him, ducks down and kisses him. Because he can and he wants.
“I win then,” he mumbles, into the curve of Todoroki’s bottom lip.
There’s a loud, crackling sound from outside, and they both instinctually tense against a potential villain attack. But when they look out the windows, it’s only Christmas fireworks going off. Brilliant, spectacular, and Katsuki sees the dazzling reflection in Todoroki’s mismatched eyes when he looks back down at Todoroki.
Todoroki leans into his chest. “Merry Christmas, Katsuki.”
The smell of freshly baked cookies starts seeping into the room. They might look like crap, but he knows they’re going to taste truly delicious. Briefly, he wonders if they’d taste different if he savoured them from the heat of Todoroki’s mouth. He could find out, he realises. He’s allowed now. He feels his heart soar.
Katsuki bends and presses his lips softly against Todoroki’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Shouto.”