Chapter Text
"World was saved once again…"
The voice came from the television in the living room.
Katsuki walked out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his head, hair still dripping. He grabbed the remote from the sofa and turned the volume up. Waited.
"How do you manage to—"
The camera swung toward a man with curly green hair and freckles across his face. Deku. That was his Hero name. His smile beamed, turning slightly awkward as a mic was thrust in front of him.
"W-Well, I'm not alone…" He scratched at the back of his neck. "Honestly, it's a miracle we pulled this off again—and that's thanks to everyone." His smile widened.
Katsuki sighed. "He should've taken the credit himself."
A few minutes later, the news shifted to the Hero Ranking Billboard. Number One Hero on the chart—Hero Dynamight—sat at the top of the list.
He turned the television off.
As if he had only been waiting for those few minutes to end.
He glanced toward the skyscraper outside his penthouse. The sunlight had softened, casting a warm, honey-like glow across the glass.
"Ah—shit. I'm late."
He said it to no one. The apartment was empty, had been for years since he moved out from his parents' house.
He changed quickly into formal clothes, layered a long dark coat over them, and looped a scarf loose around his neck before walking toward the elevator.
________________________________________
U.A. High School came into view through the windshield. Katsuki drove slowly as he approached the gate. It opened without him stopping; his face had been enough ID for a decade.
Someone stood outside the main entrance, greeting students as they passed. He wore effortless fall clothes—an oversized camel coat over his sweater vest, a laptop backpack slung over one shoulder.
Katsuki parked nearby and lowered the window. "Hey, Deku."
The man turned, and the moment he registered who it was, his whole face opened up. "Kacchan!"
Katsuki didn't answer. His gaze dropped to the bouquet in Izuku's hands—his jaw tightened, almost too faint to catch.
Izuku walked over and climbed into the passenger seat. "Was the road jammed?" He set his backpack on his lap, then the bouquet.
Katsuki's eyes lingered on the flowers a moment longer before he shifted toward Izuku. "No."
"Oh. That's unlike you."
"I overslept." A lie, and not a good one. He'd been awake since dawn.
"Your mission must've exhausted you. Is it okay for us to go to—"
Katsuki wasn't listening anymore. His eyes drifted back to the bouquet.
"What's with the flowers?"
"Mm? Ah—" Izuku's expression softened. "For you." He held the bouquet out a little awkwardly, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought they suited you. It's been a while since it was just the two of us."
Katsuki stared at him. "You looked at these roses and thought they suited me? Have you lost your mind?"
"W-Well… yes?"
Katsuki looked at the idiot in front of him, blushing like a goddamn teenager, yet he took the bouquet anyway. The stems were cool against his palm.
He gave a low sigh. "You don't have to…" he muttered, but he didn't hand them back. He set it on the back seat.
"Thanks."
Something flickered across Katsuki's face—not quite a smile, but close enough that Izuku's ears went red.
"I-I'll pick something better next time," Izuku blurted.
Katsuki clicked his tongue, sharp and loud. "Are we getting dinner or what? I'm hungry."
"Y-Yes."
Katsuki pulled onto the highway. The daylight had faded into a deep blue, and the city lights flickered on along the road. In the back seat, the dark roses sat quiet against the leather.
________________________________________
Izuku walked toward the front desk as soon as they entered the restaurant. "Reservation for Izuku Midoriya."
Katsuki followed close behind, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing toward the windows. Rows of elegant, transparent dining domes sat beneath the deep blue dusk sky, their curved glass reflecting the last of the fading light.
"Kacchan."
He looked up. Izuku stood waiting by the host's stand, watching him with that patient, familiar look. The host had already stepped ahead to lead them toward the domes.
Katsuki walked over and stopped beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
"I thought you would've picked a normal restaurant," he muttered.
Izuku's smile turned a little sheepish. "You're quite famous as the Number One Hero. I-I thought you would want more private space," he said, rubbing at his cheek.
This nerd. The thought rose and fell without a sound. Katsuki looked away and said nothing.
The host stopped, pointing at their dome. "Right this way, gentlemen."
As they walked into it, the glowing golden light from within cast a soft radiance onto the sleek wooden deck, creating a private sanctuary far above the bustling streets below.
Katsuki paused at the entrance. The glass curved around them on all sides, the city glittering beneath their feet, and Izuku was already pulling out his chair, already glancing back to make sure Katsuki was following.
"Kacchan?"
He exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, yeah." He pulled out the chair across from Izuku. "Have you been here?"
"I haven't."
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, watching Izuku open the menu that had been placed neatly on the table. So he'd picked this place without knowing it? Planned it anyway. Researched it, probably.
"What do you want to eat?" Izuku asked.
Katsuki unfastened his coat. "Anything spicy." He draped it over the back of his chair, the scarf still loose around his neck.
"Then, do you want hot pot? This restaurant serves spicy food, so there's spicy soup for it. Let's add tofu, meats... There are some sweet desserts too."
"Hey, slow down." Katsuki leaned forward. "You can't handle spicy. Why would you order that?"
"I'll just take ice cream as dessert."
"That's not what I meant." He didn't push it further. He let Izuku order whatever he wanted, and when the food arrived, it filled the table—tofu, meats, vegetables, two kinds of broth, desserts he didn't ask for. Then the last thing came: sake.
Katsuki eyed the bottle. "Were you planning to eat the whole night?"
Izuku just smiled. "Let's eat."
They pressed their palms together before digging in.
"How's your mission?" Izuku asked after a few bites.
Katsuki placed the milk near Izuku's bowl. "As usual."
Izuku took it without hesitation. He coughed a little before continuing, "R-Really… your agency's been skyrocketing lately."
"Tch. I told you... you can't handle spicy."
"I-I'm fine... the water just went down the wrong pipe."
Katsuki sighed. "What about you? Don't you date that Round Face?"
Izuku sputtered some of the milk. "W-Where did that come from?" He quickly wiped it off.
"I saw you with her last year after the class reunion."
"Oh." Izuku's gaze drifted off, like he was reaching for a memory, then came back to Katsuki. "About that..."
Katsuki caught the change in those eyes. Softer than before. Good. Yet they wouldn't leave him.
"What?"
Izuku gulped, his gaze sliding to the window, the ceiling, anywhere but Katsuki's face. "I-I only bumped into her. We started talking, and I asked her for some advice, well—"
"What's up with you?" Something flickered across Katsuki's face. "Spill it out already."
"Well—about... about how to tell someone something I'd been keeping in for too long."
Katsuki's chopsticks stopped halfway to his bowl.
Someone. Not a name. Not him—Izuku would've just said it, wouldn't he? That was how Izuku worked, blurting things out before he could stop himself.
So it wasn't him.
"There's someone," he said. It wasn't a question. "And you asked Round Face how to tell her."
"Kacchan, that's not—"
"Forget it." He looked away and shoved a piece of tofu around the broth he wasn't going to eat anymore. "None of my business who you—" want.
"Will you let me finish?"
Katsuki blinked. That stopped him more than anything Izuku had said all night—the sharpness in his voice, unfamiliar, almost angry. He looked up.
Izuku wasn't smiling anymore. He wasn't blushing either. He looked like he'd made a decision and was daring himself not to take it back.
"I asked her," he said slowly, "because I was scared. Not because I didn't know who." He set his chopsticks down, very carefully, like his hands might not do it right otherwise. "I've known for years. You idiot."
Katsuki's mouth had gone dry. "...Huh." Not a question. He wasn't sure his voice could manage one right now. "Then why are you telling me this now, over hot pot, like—"
He didn't get to finish.
Izuku stood up.
The hell is he doing?
He walked around the table and stopped in front of him. His hands were shaking as he reached into his coat.
"I wanted to make this perfect," he said, voice thin. "I probably look ridiculous..."
Katsuki opened his mouth—to say what, he didn't know. Nothing came out.
Izuku's eyes glistened. His cheeks flushed pink. He couldn't look at Katsuki, not properly, not yet—
—and dropped to one knee.
The dome went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with sound. Katsuki was aware of every stupid detail at once: the sake still warm in the flask, the city lights smeared behind the curved glass, his own pulse loud enough to drown out whatever the restaurant's speakers were playing. His hands had gone still on the table, like they belonged to someone else.
"What the hell are you doing?"
It came out rougher than he meant it to. Not angry. He didn't have a word for what it was.
Izuku didn't listen. He didn't even look up yet. The redness was still there, burning at the edges of his ears, and his fingers were closed so tight around whatever he was holding that his knuckles had gone pale.
"Kacchan." He finally lifted his eyes—wet, terrified, certain all at once. "W-Will you..."
He opened his palm. Small. Simple. Katsuki's vision snagged on it and refused to move.
"Will you marry me?"
Katsuki's hand went numb against his thigh. His breath caught, sharp and useless.
Somewhere in the back of his skull, a version of himself was already cataloguing this for later—the shake in Izuku's voice, the ring, the fact that this idiot had planned a proposal around a hot pot he couldn't even eat properly—but none of it reached his mouth.
"What—"
Izuku's hand was still outstretched. The city glittered beneath them, indifferent, and Katsuki couldn't move.