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Katsuki is still shaking. He's sore, he's aching and his hands are still shaking even hours after the fact.
The mission had gone tits up so quickly that it took everything in him to keep a level head, to keep everyone safe, and even so, Denki still almost died.
Katsuki shakes harder when he remembers how close it had been, how close he came to losing his friend that day, all because of one fucking villain who took all of them by surprise.
He lets out a rough breath, that comes out so much more unsteady than he'd like and he needs—he needs—
There's only one thing Katsuki needs right now, one person, and he has his phone out before he can really think about it.
A message is waiting for him, from Hitoshi himself and it just reads You okay? because of course he saw, it was all over the news, it must have been, and of course Hitoshi would want to check in.
He always does, if one of Katsuki's missions is big enough to make the news.
Katsuki almost fumbles his phone when he types his answer, his hands still not steady, even after all these hours but he eventually gets the message out there.
No. Meet at home?
It's short and precise and not unlike his usual writing style, but he's unusually honest, at least everyone else would say that. Not Hitoshi though, because he knows Katsuki is always as honest with him as he can, tries to parse through his stupid angry feelings to get to whatever is beneath for Hitoshi and him admitting that he's not okay is just one big part of this.
But with Hitoshi feels like he can say it, like he can be honest like that since it's not as if Hitoshi is going to judge him—hell, if anything at all, he will only be able to understand him best, because Hitoshi's missions leave him so fucked up sometimes that he can't even pretend to be okay, and he lets Katsuki see all the raw and hurting parts of him without a fuss.
And somewhere along the line of their friendship Katsuki has learned to do the same.
I'll be there in 20, is the answer Katsuki gets not even thirty seconds later so Hitoshi must have been glued to his phone and that sends a warm shiver down Katsuki's back.
Hitoshi has waited for word from him, has waited for him to say something, has waited for Katsuki to confirm that he's not dead and it's a comforting feeling, knowing that he's not the only one who gets worried when Hitoshi goes on missions.
Katsuki pockets the phone again and starts walking because twenty minutes will just be enough time to make it to Hitoshi's place, especially with how gooey his knees still feel. Katsuki sure took a beating today and even though the parade of healing quirks that went over him fixed him right back up, he's tired and exhausted and he can't shake Pikachu's wide, panicked eyes from his mind.
He needs a distraction and Hitoshi will know exactly what do to, what to say to turn his thoughts into a different direction.
Katsuki hurries along and some of the tension flows out of his shoulders as soon as he spots the building because that means comfort is imminent. He pushes himself up the stairs—why the fuck did Hitoshi not move into a building with a goddamn elevator—and he practically slumps against the door when he finally reaches it.
He weakly knocks, moving his weight against the doorway instead of the door so he doesn't fall flat on his face when Hitoshi opens it and then he waits. And waits.
And waits.
He waits long enough that he starts to frown before he knocks on the door again, louder and more insistent this time and he gets a pitiful meow in response but he doesn't hear any other movement.
What the fuck?
Katsuki gets his phone out again, speed dialling the purple-haired fucker because he said he'd be there and to let Katsuki hanging like this—
It stings.
It really fucking stings and after the day he's had Katsuki cannot handle this.
Hitoshi, to his credit, picks up after the second ring.
"Where the fuck are you?" Katsuki growls out and for a second there's a confused silence at the other end.
"Where the fuck are you?" Hitoshi shoots right back and Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose, praying for patience.
"I'm standing in front of your goddamn door, why the hell are you not letting me in?"
"My door?" Hitoshi almost incredulously asks and there's a bit of rustling on the other end, as if he's checking something on his phone. "Kats, you texted to meet at home. I'm at your place."
"My place? Why the fuck would you—" Katsuki starts and then abruptly falls silent.
Because what the actual fuck.
He thought of home and came straight here. He thought home and pictured Hitoshi's apartment, imagined sinking into his couch, imagined watching something mindless on Hitoshi's TV before he inevitable would end up sleeping on the couch.
Going back to his own apartment never even crossed his mind.
"Shit," Katsuki whispers out, his stomach almost dropping out with that realisation because how the fuck is he ever going to explain that but before he can panic and come up with a lie, anything, Hitoshi's voice teethers him back to the ground.
"Give me ten minutes. Don't go anywhere, Kats," he says, right before he hangs up on Katsuki and it almost feels as if Hitoshi's voice was the only thing keeping him upright because as soon as the call ends he sinks to the floor.
This is so fucked and it's so stupid and he doesn't even know when he started to think of Hitoshi's place as home and now he'll have to explain himself and Katsuki can barely formulate a coherent thought as it is and this is not helping.
Shit.
Something else occurs to Katsuki then: Hitoshi said to give him ten minutes.
Twenty is the normal time it takes to get from Katsuki's apartment here. Seven, if Katsuki flies himself across. If Hitoshi is aiming for ten—and Katsuki has no doubt that he's going to make it—then that means he's going to use his capture weapon for it, which—fuck.
Hitoshi might wear it as a scarf in winter and he treats it like an accessory most of the time, but he hates using it outside of patrol and officially scheduled missions and to think that Katsuki freaked him out hard enough with this slip up for him to use it to come here is just—
Katsuki buries his face in his knees with a groan, because this entire day is clearly cursed and maybe he should have stayed in bed this morning. Maybe he needs to bury himself somewhere deep and never come out again and then everything will be okay.
Then Hitoshi can't ask, and he can't tell him to fuck off and Katsuki won't have to look too closely as to why he thinks of Hitoshi's apartment as home and everything can be fine.
Yeah, that sounds like a good, a perfect plan and Katsuki pushes himself up on his feet, ready to ditch and never speak to Hitoshi ever again.
Except when he turns around, Hitoshi comes jogging down the hallway already and a quick look at the phone still in Katsuki's hand reveals that it took him eight minutes.
Eight minutes from Katsuki's apartment to his, which is insane. It takes Katsuki seven. Seven.
"How the fuck did you do that?" he blurts out because it's mind-boggling to think that Hitoshi pushed himself this hard just to make it here and Hitoshi bends over at his waist, his hands braced on his legs as he's trying to catch his breath.
"Knew that—you'd—run," he gets out between pants and Katsuki hates how Hitoshi has him figured all out. "Had to be faster than your brain," Hitoshi adds when he stands up straight again and he gives Katsuki a lopsided grin. "Seems like I barely just made it."
"Fuck you," Katsuki weakly gets out and something in his voice must sound off because Hitoshi's gaze sharpens.
"No. Come inside," Hitoshi simply says, sliding past Katsuki and unlocking his door, moving quickly to stop Garbage from escaping and he hooked one hand into Katsuki's shirt and drags him right inside behind him.
Might be a good thing, too, because Katsuki is still pretty sure that running is the better option here but now it's out of his hands because he's inside Hitoshi's apartment, and the sound of the door being closed behind him almost feels like a gun-shot in the silence between them.
Katsuki roughly inhales, ready to brush this all off when the smell hits him.
It smells like home.
Hitoshi's apartment smells like home to him and the thought leaves him so unmoored that he sways on the spot.
Hitoshi immediately reaches out to steady him and Katsuki clutches weakly at his arm.
"Hey, hey, you good?" Hitoshi asks, voice barely above a whisper and Katsuki nods before he shakes his head and then he simply shrugs.
"Yeah, sure, totally got that," Hitoshi mutters and steers him towards the living-room, towards the couch Katsuki already saw himself curled up on and there's the ever-lingering smell of coffee in the air, joined by whatever Hitoshi had for lunch, and just the general smell of his apartment and it's so comforting that Katsuki sinks down on the couch easily when Hitoshi pushes him.
"Stay," Hitoshi orders him as if Katsuki has ever listened to him and then he vanishes into the kitchen.
Katsuki exchanges a look with Garbage, who stares up at him as if she knows exactly what he's thinking and maybe she can voice his jumbled thoughts for him.
"You gonna talk for me, Gabby?" Katsuki mutters and his lips twitch up in a small smile when she meows as him and then nips his fingertips as if to tell him to not be so damn stupid.
"We're not quite there yet," Hitoshi says when he comes back and hands Katsuki a mug of his favourite tea.
Because he stocks that here. Because one day Katsuki brought it with him and left it here and ever since then it's never run out.
"So you'll have to talk to me yourself," Hitoshi adds as he sits himself down next to Katsuki and just like that Katsuki feels tired.
"Do I have to?" he breathes out, clutching the mug close and leeching the heat of it and Hitoshi looks at him for a long moment before he lets out a sigh.
"No. How are you?"
It's a pretty abrupt change of topic and not at all what Katsuki expected and for a moment he doesn't know if this isn't harder to talk about.
He shakes his head, suddenly afraid that if he speaks he'll cry as Denki's face flashes in his mind again.
But Denki is okay. He's safe and sound—shaken maybe, but otherwise unharmed and certainly not dead and that's all that matters, so Katsuki forces the lump in his throat down and speaks, because Hitoshi deserves that much.
"'s okay," he offers. "Everyone survived."
"Doesn't mean it wasn't fucked up and horrible," Hitoshi replies as he leans forward to capture Katsuki's eyes. "Doesn't mean it's easy. Or that it won't haunt you."
"You saw?" Katsuki asks because it seems as if Hitoshi already knows what happened and he shrugs.
"Pieced it together. Made a few calls to get the body cam footage and the report," he says as if it doesn't mean anything, as if that is a normal thing to do and Katsuki frowns at him.
"Why?" he breathes out and Hitoshi quickly glances to the side.
"The part with Denks wasn't televised but you looked shaken. Horrified. I had to know," he admits. "I don't normally see you like that."
Because Katsuki isn't normally like that, no matter what happens. He lost people before; failed to save civilians and saw fellow heroes die but something about today just got to him in a way none of the other times did.
"I'm not normally like that," Katsuki admits and leans back against the couch. "But it was Denki," he then admits in a whisper and maybe that made all the difference.
That it was someone he knows, someone he considers a dear friend. Maybe that does change things.
"Yeah," Hitoshi says as if that makes sense and Katsuki closes his eyes and melts into the couch, comforted by everything.
Hitoshi. His apartment. Garbage curling up against his thigh. The warm tea in his hand.
It feels like safety and security and comfort and home.
It feels nothing like his empty apartment.
"I'm sorry for imposing," Katsuki suddenly says because fuck, he's been coming here so fucking often, so much more than Hitoshi ever comes to his place and sure, in the beginning it might have been fine because Hitoshi said he'd rather have Katsuki come to him so Garbage wouldn't have to be alone all the time, but that was months ago and only when they saw each other a few times every other week.
Now, it's almost daily. Fuck, Katsuki has spent more time in Hitoshi's apartment than in his own this last month and that is so fucked up that for a moment he doesn't even know how to apologise for it properly.
"Kats," Hitoshi softly says and then, when Katsuki decidedly does not look at him, more firmly. "Kats. You're not imposing. You don't have to apologise."
"Kinda do, though," Katsuki mutters, exhausted down to the bone, not just physically but also emotionally and this entire home mess doesn't help. "Should pay you rent."
That makes Hitoshi chuckle but only for a moment and then something cold and hard is being pressed into his hand.
Katsuki blinks an eye open only to see a key resting on his palm. The sight almost takes his breath away because surely that is not what he thinks it is.
"Hitoshi?"
"I've had this for a while," Hitoshi sheepishly admits. "Wanted to give it to you ages ago."
"You don’t have to—" Katsuki starts because fuck, he never wanted to guilt-trip him into something but Hitoshi cuts him right off.
"This apartment was a place to live in between missions," Hitoshi explains, his own gaze fixed on the key as well. "It was fine to stay in but it wasn't home. It got better with Garbage but—it only became home with you. It's only home for me because you're here so often and your presence is all over the place. I didn't want to mention it because I thought—you're kind of skittish, you know," Hitoshi says with a small chuckle. "And today is just case in point. You admitted you think of this as home, too and then almost ran off."
"Because I'm imposing," Katsuki hisses out but when Hitoshi finally looks at him the words die on his tongue.
"But you aren't. In fact, I want you to impose more. I want you to always be here, to live here. I want to know that this is the place you're coming home to, that I am—" Hitoshi cuts himself off there and Katsuki can only blink at him.
He is still freaking out about his comment about this being home, he'd never think that—
"What?" he croaks out, his heart beating in his throat it feels like and Hitoshi gives him a wry smile.
"I think you should stop sleeping on the damn couch."
"Get a better mattress and maybe I will," Katsuki shoots back on instinct before he realises what he just said but before he can panic some more, Hitoshi lets out a genuine laugh.
"You can bring your mattress when you move in," he says and closes Katsuki's hand around the key. "If you want to. There's always the office," he nonchalantly says, as if it's a viable option, as if that is something Katsuki might want.
"Fuck the office, that's where Gabby sleeps and she's a spoiled princess who doesn't share," Katsuki breathes out and it makes Hitoshi chuckle again and Katsuki takes that moment to put his mug down on the table, so he has a free hand to reach out for Hitoshi with. "Toshi, is this—" okay, he wants to ask but Hitoshi smiles at him so softly that he knows the answer before he can even finish the question.
"Yes," Hitoshi confidently says and intertwines their fingers. "Please. Come home."
"Fuck," Katsuki roughly breathes out because just that is bringing tears to his eyes and he blames the entire day for it.
Hitoshi moves in, cradles his face and kisses the tears right from the corner of his eyes and Katsuki melts into him as if his bones have turned to mush.
This is exactly what he needs, what he's always wanted if he's being honest and he lets out a deep sigh as he slumps against Hitoshi.
"You gonna be a stubborn prick or are you going to suck it up for a night?" Hitoshi asks after a moment of simply enjoying each other’s company, carding his fingers through Katsuki's hair and Katsuki blinks one eye open to look out of a window.
"It's the middle of the day," he finally says and Hitoshi lets out a weary sigh.
"Stubborn prick, I see," he mutters before he nuzzles Katsuki's head. "Today sucked for you, so let's just go to bed. You can tell me about the mission there."
"You already know," Katsuki says, Pikachu's eyes floating through his mind again and Hitoshi nods.
"Yeah. But talking it out helps. Take it from someone with experience."
Katsuki wants to argue, wants to stay stubborn and keep it all inside but he's usually the one who makes Hitoshi spill it all out between them and what kind of hypocrite would he be now if he denied him this.
"It sucks though," he says, untangling himself from Hitoshi who nods.
"Yeah, it does. Throughout all of it, until it doesn't anymore."
"Fucking bullshit," Katsuki decides and gets up, and for a split second Hitoshi's face falls before he takes in the direction Katsuki moves. "You coming, or what?"
Hitoshi is directly behind him before Katsuki even makes it to the bedroom and even though they've never done that, they move seamlessly besides each other, changing out of their clothes and putting on something more comfortable before they slide under the covers.
Katsuki doesn't waste any time to cuddle up close to Hitoshi, who brings his arms up without hesitation too and pulls him into his chest and it feels so much like coming home that for a moment Katsuki is all choked up.
And then, he just sinks into it.