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The cheerful jingle signaling the end of the dryer cycle wakes Katsuki from a deep sleep. When he first got the thing, he’d raised an eyebrow at the long, drawn out melody that plays for more than a minute, so that anyone in earshot knows to come get your fucking clothes before they’re more wrinkled than a Shar-Pei puppy, but he’s more or less used to it now. What he’s not used to is hearing the damn thing go off in the middle of the night for no reason. The second bar of the machine’s melody is interrupted by a series of beeps and someone shushing the dryer as if it’s a sentient being.
“Shhh. Yes, I hear you. That’s a nice song, but you need to be quiet or you’ll wake Katsuki.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. This isn’t the first time Shouto’s dropped by unannounced to use Katsuki’s dryer because the one in his own apartment crapped out. It is, however, the first time he’s done this at… Katsuki squints at the bright screen of his phone, 12:17 a.m. Who the hell does laundry at this time of night?
He considers ignoring Shouto and going back to sleep, but there’s a faint thud of the dryer door and another set of beeps signaling the start of a new load. The washer and dryer are situated in a closet directly opposite his bedroom, so he’ll undoubtedly be woken up again in another hour. Katsuki sighs, rolls out of bed, opens his bedroom door, and trips over Shouto, who is sitting cross-legged in the hallway.
A strong arm catches him around the waist, steadying him.
“Katsuki? Are you okay? What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” Katsuki shoots back, pushing himself upright, “Why the hell are you sitting here in the dark?”
Shouto taps his phone and a faint glow illuminates the hall. He’s wearing a faded black tank top, pajama bottoms with paw prints on them, and an apologetic look on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Then why the fuck are you in my apartment, doing laundry at midnight?”
“Daffodil had an accident and my dryer broke again.”
Katsuki shakes his head. The fluffy, white kitten that Shouto found on his fire escape three months ago is a constant menace as far as he’s concerned, but in Shouto’s eyes, she can do no wrong.
“I told you not to let the stray sleep on your bed.”
“She’s not a stray. You drove us to the vet to get her shots when I adopted her, remember?”
Of course Katsuki remembers. How could he forget Shouto in the passenger seat of his car, humming a lullaby to the tiny kitten in his arms, pausing only to scold Katsuki whenever he turned a corner too quickly? But then again, he remembers everything about Shouto, even mundane things, like the precise amount of cream and sugar he takes in his coffee, or the fact that he has an album on his phone named, “clouds that look like animals”, which contains a grand total of twelve photos, only five of which look like real animals.
“Did you eat?” Katsuki asks, changing the subject, “There’s leftover stir fry in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“I’m good. I got a tuna mayo onigiri and some dorayaki on the way home.”
Katsuki clicks his tongue but doesn’t comment on Shouto’s choice of dinner. He knows Shouto enjoys the occasional convenience store meal after a late night shift and that he’ll be back at Katsuki’s place tomorrow so they can cook together on their one shared night off. Their shoulders brush as Katsuki takes a seat and he catches the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus from Shouto’s shampoo.
“Catch any bad guys tonight?”
“Just a couple of pickpockets. I was following up on a lead for that case with Momo, but it turned out to be a dead end.”
There’s a hint of frustration in his voice. Katsuki knows the feeling all too well.
“You’ll figure it out. And if all else fails, you can call me and I’ll show both of you geniuses how it’s done.”
“Would that be before or after you solve the smuggling case you and Jirou have been working on for three weeks?”
Katsuki elbows him in the side.
“Fucker. It’s only been two and a half weeks. You and Ponytail better pick up the pace or me and Ears are gonna beat you.”
“I didn’t realize it was a competition. I’ll be sure to let her know. You can buy us dinner when we win.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Both of the cases they’re working on are the type where things move slowly until one piece of information makes everything else finally click into place, but a bit of healthy competition never hurts. Tonight, however, they can afford to rest. Not that sitting on the floor babysitting Shouto’s laundry at nearly 1 a.m. is Katsuki’s idea of a relaxing night. When Shouto yawns for the third time in as many minutes, Katsuki gets up and drags Shouto to his feet with him.
“Alright, c’mon.”
“Hmm?” Shouto asks.
Katsuki doesn’t answer, but when he leads the way into his bedroom, Shouto follows as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The first time they shared a bed had been two weeks after they became neighbors, when Katsuki got a nasty concussion from some shitty villain and Shouto decided it was his responsibility to make sure he was recovering properly. The second happened a few months later when Shouto was down with the flu and Katsuki, against his better judgment, crawled into bed with him because apparently the only way to keep Shouto’s stupid quirk in check when he had a fever was for someone to stay with him, and risk being frozen or boiled alive, in order to remind him to regulate his temperature.
Barring illness and injuries, they don’t do this often. But sometimes, on nights like tonight, slipping into bed together and falling asleep side by side feels like a natural extension of their conversation when both of them are too tired to keep talking, but neither wants to leave. He’s not sure what to call this, but it’s nice having someone he trusts so completely, and who trusts him, someone he can share his space with in these quiet moments.
Shouto slides closer and drapes an arm over Katsuki’s waist.
“This is better. Thank you.”
“‘Course it’s better than sleeping on the floor, dumbass. You finally gonna ditch your futon and get an actual bed?”
Shouto laughs, his breath tickling the back of Katsuki’s neck.
“I like my futon. But I think I could get used to this too.”
Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat and he’s suddenly wide awake, heart beating so fast he’s worried it’ll trigger an alert from the monitor he’s still required to wear on his wrist. They’ve never properly talked about whatever this is, and part of him has always been afraid that what he wants and what Shouto wants are two completely different things. But then Shouto murmurs Katsuki’s name and runs his hand down his arm, and Katsuki lets himself believe that maybe they’re on the same page after all.
He rolls over to face Shouto and fuck, he’s so beautiful, even half asleep with just the dim glow of the streetlights filtering in through the curtains. He reaches out to take Shouto’s face in his palm, running his thumb over the lower edge of his scar, and down through the constellation of freckles on his cheek that are only visible in the sunlight, but which Katsuki has memorized like the back of his own hand. Shouto smiles and leans into his touch like a cat.
“Is this something you wanna ‘get used to’?” Katsuki asks.
“Yes.”
Shouto says it so easily, as if it was never a question for him, and all Katsuki can do is stare at him, trying to figure out where to go from here. After a while, Shouto breaks the silence.
“What do you want, Katsuki?”
Katsuki thinks that should be obvious. He wants everything when it comes to Shouto. To be his partner, not just for the occasional team-up mission, but in their lives outside of hero work too. He wants all the things they already have—sharing a meal after a long day, watching all the movies Shouto never saw as a kid, even taking care of that damn cat together. But he also wants to be with Shouto, the way the shitty gossip sites are always speculating about, going on dates, doing stupid romantic shit like holding hands under the table and kissing him under the stars. Fuck, he wants to kiss Shouto so badly.
So, he does.
For a few heart-stopping seconds, Shouto stays frozen in place and Katsuki wonders if he misjudged the situation, but then Shouto melts into him, wrapping his arms tighter around Katsuki’s waist, pulling him closer. Shouto’s lips are soft and warm, with a lingering taste of strawberry lip balm and spearmint toothpaste, and when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, the way his tongue fluctuates between hot and cold makes Katsuki’s head spin.
Katsuki reaches up to run his fingers through Shouto’s hair, and grins at the noise Shouto makes when he tugs gently at the silky strands. There’s tenderness, and desire, and years of longing in the kiss, and Katsuki realizes that Shouto’s been waiting for this too, maybe as long as he has. When they finally separate to catch their breath, Katsuki pushes himself up on his elbows to drink in the sight of him.
“What are you looking at?” Shouto asks. His lips are kiss-swollen and his hair is disheveled in a way that has Katsuki’s imagination running wild.
“You,” Katsuki answers. “You’re so fucking perfect, Shou. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
In response, Shouto pulls him down, so that Katsuki is lying across his chest, one hand on the small of his back, the other tracing lazy patterns along his spine as their lips meet once more.
Katsuki feels like he could keep kissing Shouto all night, but just as the thought crosses his mind, the dryer cycle ends and the machine sings its obnoxious, cheerful tune. Katsuki curses, but Shouto just laughs and gives him another kiss before slipping out into the hall to shut the thing up. Katsuki lies there for a minute to let the reality of what just happened sink in, then goes to join him; the faster they fold Shouto’s laundry, the faster they can get back to bed.
The freshly-dried sheets are still hot to the touch despite the supposed cool-down cycle, and by the time they finish folding everything, Katsuki’s starting to sweat. He sighs in relief when Shouto activates his ice quirk as they slide back into his bed. They exchange a few more lazy kisses before the lateness of the hour and exhaustion from the day overtakes them. Katsuki’s almost asleep when something occurs to him.
“Hey.”
He prods Shouto in the side and receives a sleepy grunt in response.
“Couldn’t you just use your quirk to dry your laundry?” Katsuki asks.
“I could have, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see you.”
Shouto doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when he answers and within a minute he’s fast asleep, curled up against Katsuki like an overgrown cat. Katsuki lets out a huff of laughter and settles in beside him. They’re not going to make this a habit—doing laundry at midnight, but after tonight he’ll never complain about that damn dryer again.