Archive of Our Own ^beta

Katsuki was pouting. He knew he was pouting. But he had a good reason to.

He had been texting Izuku, trying to make plans to take a trip out to the shrine, when it wouldn’t be as crowded. He had been eagerly awaiting Izuku’s reply while ignoring all the individual texts coming from classmates and relatives. But Deku had been taking his sweet ass time to get back to him, so Katsuki had been forced to sit there and stare at all the incoming messages.

It hadn’t seemed to matter that the lack of responses from Katsuki’s side meant he didn’t want to talk; people were sending him shit anyway. When he’d kept checking, thinking one of the messages was from Izuku, only to be disappointed, he’d found the Class A group chat and had sent the first Happy New Year sticker that had popped up, hoping that would get people off his back.

His plan had backfired as the number of messages he’d received doubled. Even people who were on patrol and hadn’t been active in the group chat were posting now, sending him New Year wishes and expressing their excitement at seeing Katsuki posting; some even had the gall to attempt to call him directly.

He had been in the middle of performing damage control– which consisted of declining calls and setting all his phone sounds to mute – when he’d caught sight of his mother’s apron in the corner of his eye.

“What?”

Without a word, she had reached out, snatched his phone in one hand, and had shoved it into one of the many apron pockets. With the other hand, she’d unceremoniously dropped a glossy black shoebox into the kotatsu.

“What’s this?” he had asked, but his mother had just clucked her tongue in the universal sign of maternal disapproval before turning around and returning to the kitchen. He’d watched her go, a prickle of shame crawling down his spine. His mother usually only gave him the silent treatment when she had reached her limit with his behavior. She must have been calling him for some time then. He had been so preoccupied with his phone that he hadn’t heard her at all.

Whatever, he’d thought, at least I don’t have to deal with those damn messages now. Turning his attention to the shoebox still in his lap, he’d resolved to do whatever task she’d given him without complaint or instruction as an apology.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t pout while doing so.

The shoebox lid had slid off when it bumped his arm on the way down. Removing the lid completely, he saw that the shoebox was full of red envelopes of various sizes.

Oh, right. I was supposed to do this ages ago.

As was tradition in their household, during the New Year celebrations, after they cleaned the house and set up the decorations, his parents cloistered themselves in the kitchen to prepare the New Year food boxes…while Katsuki divvied up the red envelopes they had received from friends, family, and acquaintances.

Left with nothing else to do, Katsuki got to work. Inside was a mix of cards with New Year greetings in golden lettering and red money envelopes with a horse, the year’s animal, etched in gold. Katsuki noticed that a few of those horses looked comically bloated, with 1,000 yen notes stuffed inside. Creating three piles for him and his parents, Katsuki diligently sorted through the red papers.

He was getting into the groove of separating when the doorbell rang. He was halfway to his feet when he heard his mother’s voice.

“Katsuki! Get the–”

“– Already on it!” he shouted back.

“Thank you!” she sang back. “It’s good to know you can hear me after all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki muttered, leaving the warmth of the kotatsu. He huffed and grumbled something about old hags and how rudeness made them ugly on his way to the door.

He turned the lock and yanked the door open. “Whaddya want–?” he started to ask, but stopped at the sight of the Midoriyas.

Mother and son both sported identical pink cheeks and red-tipped noses.

“Auntie? Izuku, what are you doing here?”

Izuku lifted his arms, fists full of reusable shopping bags. “Special delivery.” Izuku’s bright, wide smile had Katsuki’s heart racing as he stepped to the side to let them in. He wanted to pull Izuku to him. Hold him close just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“As much as I find you two smiling at each other like lovesick puppies heart-warming, the rest of me is freezing. Can we come in?

“Yeah, Yes. Yes. Let me take your coat, Auntie. Deku, you can leave the bags on the step, and I’ll bring them in.”

“Not likely,” Masaru said behind him. “You’re still not allowed to carry that much weight at once.”

Now that his boyfriend was here, Katsuki was in too good a mood to argue, so he only growled a little and let his father finish greeting Auntie Inko into the house.

“Izuku. It’s always lovely to see you.” Masaru got the hug from Izuku that Katsuki had been hoping for while he was busy in the closet.

“Uh, thank you, Uncle.”

“Ah, I am still awaiting the day you call me Father-in-Law,” Masaru chuckled as both Izuku and Katsuki stared open-mouthed at him, speechless.

“Oh, no. It’s much too early to think about marriage,” Aunt Inko shook her head and her hands.

Finally, someone with some sense.

“Besides, I’m still working on Katsuki calling me Mother.”

“Mom!” Izuku exclaimed, completely scandalized.

That was all it took to make their respective parents give in to their laughter.

“I told you they would react that way,” Masaru said, nudging Inko with his elbow.

Auntie Inko’s reply was cut off by his mother.

“Where is my favorite son?” Mitsuki appeared in the hallway, drying her hands on the dish towel over her shoulder. “There you are, my dearest Izuku.”

“You can cut it out, you old hag,” Katsuki snapped. “These two pranksters gave the game away already.”

Mistuki jutted out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “See how I’m treated in my own house? You ever talk to your mother that way, Izuku?”

“Only when she deserves it,” Izuku said with a nervous laugh.

“Izuku!” Auntie Inko scolded.

“Which is never,” Izuku hastily added in a panic and immediately hugged his mother. “I’m sorry.”

“I should box your ears for saying such a thing,” Inko said, but there was no true threat in it.

He was about to apologize again when a timer went off somewhere in the house.

“That’ll have to wait. We have work to do. Izuku, why don’t you take Katsuki into the living room?”

“Uh, okay. This way, Kacchan.” Izuku released his mother and turned on his heel, his entire body stiff as he rigidly moved towards the hallway. It seemed Izuku was just as off-kilter as he was with their parents’ little joke.

Katsuki glared at the three of them before walking after Izuku.

“It was funnier in my head,” Izuku admitted, still worrying over his joke.

“It was pretty funny out loud, too. Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming over?” he asked, giving Izuku a playful little shove in the arm.

“Maybe because I didn’t know,” Izuku defended, shoving Katsuki back. “And before you ask, by the time I realized where we were going, I couldn’t text because of the bags.”

“Right. It’s fine. I wouldn’t have seen it anyway.”

Izuku’s head cocked to the side at that, his question clear.

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s wrist and led him the rest of the way into the living room.

“Kacchan, look,” Izuku paused, transfixed by the dazzling firework display erupting all over the TV screen.

“Yeah, very pretty,” Katsuki said drolly, settling back down in his spot under the kotatsu. “Izuku.” He waited until those brilliant green eyes held his full attention before he held out his hand.

Katsuki delighted in the way that gaze went wide, and then hazy as he placed his hand over his, allowing Katsuki to pull him down next to him.

“Whoa.” Izuku picked up a greeting card and read it. “Did all of this arrive today?”

“Nah. Been gettin’ them since Christmas. I’m just sortin’ them now.”

“Ah, I see. Do you want help?”

“If you want.” Katsuki pointed to each pile and explained which one belonged to whom.

“We don’t really get a lot of greeting cards,” Izuku said conversationally. “Small family.”

Katsuki peeked over at him. “What about yer pop?”

Izuku perked up at the mention of his dad. “He sends me the digital ones. But he also sent me a video of himself wishing me a happy New Year.”

“He’s not home?”

“He only has two days off from work, which he would spend the majority of traveling if he did.”

“That blows.”

Izuku paused in his work. “Yeah, I miss him, but I’d rather he use that time to rest and enjoy himself.”

Katsuki said nothing as he watched Izuku straighten his posture, physically steeling himself as he pushed down the complicated feelings for his absent father.

“Do you normally wait until New Year’s Day to open these?” Izuku asked, handing over an envelope to add to his pile.

If Izuku wanted to change topics, then Katsuki was fine with it. “Yeah, but I usually sort ‘em earlier,” Katsuki gave him a meaningful look. “I’ve been distracted.”

Izuku had the decency to blush. “So, doing this is what you meant when you said that you wouldn’t have seen my message?”

“Nope. The old hag kidnapped my phone for not listening to her.”

“Again?”

“Was waitin’ on your reply. But people kept sendin’ me shit so I just…” Katsuki paused to run a palm through his hair. “Did sumthin’ stupid.”

“Kacchan, what did you do?” Izuku whispered, enthralled by his boyfriend’s antics.

Katsuki pretended to read a greeting card as he said, “I may have posted one of those stupid sticker things in the group chat.”

The silence, more than anything, made him look over. Izuku had his phone in his hand, mouth, and eyes wide with the same glee he often had when watching any hero news. He knew the second Izuku found his stupid sticker post. Izuku’s grin wided and he giggled.

“Lame,” Katsuki sneered.

“It’s not lame,” Izuku protested and knocked his shoulder onto Katsuki’s side, but then stayed there, comfortably glued to his side.

“No, it’s double lame because you liked it,” he declared, and returned the favor by shrugging Izuku off his arm.

“If me liking things makes things lame, you’re the lamest thing ever.”

Katsuki quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, what do you have to say about that, Mr. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“Oh, plenty, but I’m saving it for later,” Katsuki promised.

“Sure,” Izuku said, typing something on his phone. “I bet you are.”

Izuku might not have picked up on Katsuki’s seductive tone, but Katsuki definitely heard Izuku’s sarcasm.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing. Just liked it.”

“Show me.”

Izuku held his phone up, but pulled it away before Katsuki could read anything.

“You sneaky shit.”

Izuku chuckled when Katsuki grabbed his wrist to pull him in close. Izuku easily shifted his body and went in for a kiss, thwarting Katsuki’s plans. Katsuki backed away first, chuckling as Izuku leaned in to chase after another kiss.

“You set me up, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Izuku lied, his scarred arms coming up to encircle his neck.

Katsuki’s next accusation left him as he focused on kissing a smirking Izuku.

Soon their parents would join them, and they would eat as much of the New Year’s food as they could manage. Katsuki and Izuku would not-so-secretly hold hands under the table and bicker while finalizing their travel plans to visit a temple.

And Katsuki couldn’t think of a better way to start the new year.