He rolled his eyes as Deku fumbled with the keys to his flat. "Hurry up, nerd!" he barked, shifting the weight of the bags in his arms.
It was Thursday night—and they both had Friday mornings off. They'd been using their Thursdays as low-key movie nights for years. Katsuki would cook, they'd eat while watching a movie, Deku would clean, and then they'd watch re-runs of old shows until one of them fell asleep.
"Sorry," he laughed, finally pushing the door open. "So impatient, Kacchan."
The tension eased off his shoulders as he entered the omega's apartment. It smelled like Deku— like warm, sweet comfort and familiarity tinged with strawberry blossoms and spearmint.
"I'm not impatient," he huffed. "You're just slow as shit." "Impatient," Deku sang, hanging up his coat.
It had been almost a month, and his own home wasn't worn in yet. It had been drenched in neutralizers before he'd moved in, and it still smelled sterile. It was something that he was working on, but he couldn't relax there yet. For fuck's sake, he still slept in his old apartment because he didn't feel secure there yet.
He hadn't had anyone over yet. He wanted it to at least feel like his home before people invaded it. His alpha was finicky about territory—always had been. He didn't want anyone's scent to overpower his, and he didn't want anyone's shitty opinion on how it should look.
Deku's place was a little small, but worn in and comfortable. Like a favorite sweater that you were outgrowing—soft to the touch and soothing. It reminded him of Auntie Inko's old apartment.
Katsuki made himself at home, kicking his shoes off and traipsing into the kitchen—getting to work as soon as he put the bags on the counter.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower.
"I don't know why you still feel the need to tell me that when it's what you do every time," Katsuki chuckled.
"Because I'm polite," he sniffed imperiously.
Deku had worked hard today, and he'd taken some serious hits. He was a little annoyed with Katsuki, too. Ever since the house hunt, Katsuki picked up a bad habit—snapping at other alphas who got too close.
As far as he could tell, the whole thing had reminded him that Deku was an unmated omega who had to cater to subgender pissing contests to get what he wanted. It had made him a little protective, which Deku did not appreciate.
By the time Deku got out of the shower, Katsuki was already half-done cooking in his tiny-ass kitchen. "You need to organize your shit better," he huffed.
"I don't have that many drawers," he chuckled, rubbing his curls down with a towel. "Stuff's gotta go where there's space."
"At least fuckin' alphabetize, fucker," he snapped. "It took me ten fucking minutes to find your spider."
"...my what?"
Katsuki rolled his eyes, turning to give him an unimpressed glare. He held up the metal strainer- spoon. "This. The thing I use to pull your precious pork cutlets out of the fucking fryer, shithead. It's called a spider. And you put it with your silverware instead of the rest of your cooking utensils," he scolded.
"If you have a problem with my kitchen, go cook in yours," Deku huffed. Katsuki turned and raised an eyebrow at him.
"You good?" Katsuki asked him earnestly. That had been at least 10% bitchier than Deku's standard bitchy allowance.
Deku nibbled on his lower lip. "Why haven't you invited me over yet? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable when—"
Katsuki threw a dishtowel at him. "Don't be fuckin' stupid. It's just not done yet. I've barely had any time to decorate it," he huffed. "It doesn't feel like my place yet, y'know? Not comfortable having anyone over yet."
Deku pouted, but Katsuki saw his jaw unclench. "Really?"
"Haven't even let the hag come over yet," he confirmed. Deku unwound even further. "Is that why you've been so pissy this week?"
"I haven't been pissy, you asshole, you've been an overprotective alpha jackass," he snapped. "I'm a pro-hero—I don't need you snapping at every shitty alpha who makes a lewd comment. It makes me look like I can't take care of myself. Do you think I can't take care of myself?" he demanded.
Katsuki wrinkled his nose at the sour scent that was starting to pollute the apartment. "Of course I fucking don't," he growled. "I think that just because you're a capable omega doesn't mean I should just stand by and let shit like that happen. I'm trying to be a good fucking ally."
"You should ask how to be a good ally then," Deku spat. "Because I haven't felt supported, I've felt coddled. Like a damsel in distress."
Katsuki swallowed, turning back to the stove. That was hard to hear. Deku was one of the strongest people he knew, regardless of his subgender. The last thing he wanted was to make Deku feel less than. He'd done that enough in the first half of their life.
"Sorry," he muttered, turning back to look Deku in the eye. "Really, Deku. I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me earlier? You just bitched at me or stormed off. How am I supposed to figure out what I'm doing wrong if you don't beat it into me like you usually do?"
"I thought you were mad at me? Maybe not mad, but uncomfortable. And I thought it...the whole overbearing dickhead alpha thing—might be a...punishment? For making you uncomfortable?"
He frowned deep, his gut twisting. "I wouldn't do that to you."
"Of course you wouldn't, not on purpose," Deku huffed—offended, somehow, on both of their behalves. "You wouldn't be my best friend if you were that sort of person, Kacchan."
And just like that, the air felt clear. Katsuki's stomach unknotted and his shoulders unclenched. Deku trusted him. Sometimes it still surprised him, but he really did. And he assumed and expected the best from him. He was so fucking lucky to have him.
"Good," he said, moving to pull bowls out of Deku's tiny kitchen cupboards. "You're my partner, dipshit. If something's bothering you, fuckin' tell me so I can fix it. Or at least we can fuckin' work through it. Isn't that why you got us couple's therapy in third year?"
"It wasn't couple's therapy! It was relationship counseling!" Katsuki looked over at him in disbelief. "That's the same thing!"
Katsuki growled in annoyance.
He'd told parents not to come—he wasn't done setting the place up yet. He'd barely had any time to set up his den, and the living room only had one couch.
"Why'd you get such a big fuckin' house, brat?" Mitsuki hollered as she kicked her shoes off and made herself at home. "Thought you wanted a smaller place."
"It's beautiful, Katsuki," his father said, toeing off his shoes more delicately. "But it is a bit bigger than we thought you wanted."
He shrugged, taking the boxes that his dad was holding out for him. "Deku helped me narrow down what I wanted. This house has everything on the list. It's a little big, but I can fuckin' handle
it. What's this shit?" he asked, shaking the boxes.
"Your childhood shit," Mitsuki replied. "Might make the place homier since you live like a fuckin' robot."
"Fuck you too," he grumbled. "Come in, I was making lunch. You can eat whatever scraps are left."
"I gave birth to you, you ungrateful little troll!"
"That was your mistake," he scoffed, serving them full portions of the curry he'd made. "Happy,
hag?"
"Ecstatic," she replied sarcastically. "But really, brat, this is like...twice as large as you said you wanted. Why?"
He shrugged, looking around. It didn't feel that big, but it also did. He was attempting to furnish the place but it felt like there was endless shit to buy for the place. But the thought of something smaller filled him with unease.
"You have a library?" Masaru asked sometime after lunch and the perfunctory tour he'd given them.
"What, don't think I can read, old man?" he barked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Katsuki," Masaru chuckled. "It just seems like unnecessary space—probably one of the things you could have cut down on. I'm surprised, that's all."
He rolled his eyes. "It's for my merch collection," he huffed.
"Oh! If we'd have known, we would have brought some of your older merch," his mom said, disappointed. "Get some more clutter out of the house."
"Gee, thanks, Hag," he drawled sarcastically. "Can you go now?"
His den still wasn't ready, and even his parents' presence was grating on him. He especially didn't
like them in the unfinished rooms, like the merch room and the living room.
"Have we seen everything?" his mother asked, shoving him aside. "No! So no, we can't go yet."
She walked into the last room, and Katsuki growled. Both his parents paused—both at the aggression and the room itself. "Katsuki?" his dad uttered, staring wide-eyed into the room. It was a kind of foyer to the master suite. The antiquated term was a fore-den—a private space that was appropriate for trusted pack members, that guarded the more private nest or den within.
"This...doesn't seem like your style, kiddo," Mitsuki said slowly.
"Why the fuck not? I told you I'm not done decorating yet," he snapped. "And I like my fuckin' privacy, this shit will help keep extras out of my fuckin' space."
He hissed when his mother took another step into the room before biting down on his lip hard. His mother was pack. He loved her. He didn't know why he was being so aggressive about this shit, but he didn't want this space tainted by other people. At least not yet.
Masaru seized Mitsuki's shoulder, pulling her back. "Sweetheart, let's not aggravate him," he said calmly. "He'll show us the whole thing when he's ready."
Mitsuki gave a jerky nod and took a few more steps back—and with each step, Katsuki felt the tension in his body unwind. They were his parents, why was he being so weird about them seeing his den?
"We're gonna get going. But when you're done, or if you need help, let us know," Masaru offered, kinda and warm.
He shifted in place. He needed to scent the room—to wipe out the lingering notes of cedar, sugar, and citrus that his parents had left behind. "Can you find the door on your own?" he asked. "I need —fuck, I don't wanna be rude—well, not actually rude—but I need to scent my den—"
"It's okay, Katsuki," Mitsuki interrupted, surprising them both. "When you have time, maybe talk to your doctor about compulsive den scenting, alright, honey?"
He squinted at her. "Fine," he agreed despite his suspicion. She wouldn't have suggested it unless she knew something was up.
"Come by for dinner soon, brat," she called over her shoulder, pulling Masaru from the room. His lip curled into a snarl when the scent didn't vanish around the corner with them and he got to work scenting the place as thoroughly as he could, swiping his wrists along the walls and the cushions on the couch and chairs.
He finally had a long weekend—a full four days where he could work on the house and get the last of his furniture from his flat.
He would have hired movers, but he'd spent a shit-ton of money outbidding the other potential buyers so—despite his trepidation—he asked Eijirou for help.
"Sure, dude!" Eijirou exclaimed over the phone. "What do you need me to do?"
"I got some painting and shit to do, so if you could get the rest of the furniture and boxes to the house sometime in the next few days, that would be fuckin' awesome," he replied, standing in the middle of his living room and looking around.
He shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't right yet. It had to be perfect. "Yeah, whatever you need, man. Need the key to your place, though." "Wanna swing by, or should I come give it to you?"
"I'll swing by," Eijirou replied. "Just text me the address."
"Thanks, Ei," Katsuki mumbled, still not good at being earnest out loud (unless it was with Deku, whose very presence demanded it), but genuinely grateful for his no-questions-asked willingness to help.
He'd already picked out the colors for his walls. The plan was to have cool, neutral greys matched with green accent walls—grenade green, if possible—in the rooms that didn't have any natural light. The interior rooms were darker by nature and the green would feel organic there.
In the rooms with larger windows that accepted more sunlight, he planned to use warmer toned sand-colored walls paired with sunset orange details. It was a bit on the nose, but the execution would be subtle and impactful.
He had taste and class, goddammit.
It was more colorful than his apartment had been, but he technically hadn't been allowed to paint
his apartment. He probably would have added more color if he'd been allowed to, right? Right.
Deku texted him right as he was texting Eijirou.
From: Supreme Dork
hi kacchan! wanna grab dinner/have a movie night tonight? I still need to prove u wrong abt capt. america
To: Supreme Dork
sure, it'll be kinda late tho. wrking on the house. and you won't prove shit u little fuck
From: Supreme Dork
yay! see u whenever get here ig! hehe cant wait for u to eat ur words
Eijirou came and left and while he was gone, Katsuki got started on all the details he felt compelled to add. It was weird. He'd never been this obsessed with the shit that didn't directly affect his life. Painting the fucking walls green wouldn't affect how he slept or how his coffee tasted in the morning, but it felt fucking important.
When Eijirou finally showed up with his furniture, Katsuki wanted to fucking strangle him. Because he didn't come alone.
"Sorry, dude," the redhead said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I needed some help lifting stuff into the truck, and then I couldn't convince them to wait until you invited them—"
Katsuki glared at him. "Who."
"Uh...the squad," he replied uncomfortably, shifting under the heat of Katsuki's stare. "No. Leave the truck and get—FUCK!"
Denki was shoving past him into the room, excitedly taking in whatever he could even as Katsuki grabbed him by the neck and tried to force him out the door, growling. "C'mon, Kacchan! Lemme seeeee!"
"Get out!"
"This place is amazing, Blasty!" Mina cooed, skirting the scuffling duo as she entered his home uninvited. "Aww, why's it all covered in plastic?" she pouted.
"I'm fuckin' painting the place, fuckhead!" he snarled, twisting to try to grab her before she could get too far. "Don't touch the goddamn walls, if I have to redo them I'll paint them with your blood instead!"
"Gross, dude," Hanta laughed, strolling in after them. He stopped cold. "That's the color you're painting your place? Bro, they're all cool tones, what's wrong with you?" he demanded.
"It's fucking green," Katsuki snapped. "What's wrong with green?" "You're defined by warm tones, man!"
"I ain't defined by shit except being the fuckin' best," he growled, shoving Denki out the door just for the blonde omega to slip under his arm and dart into the living room. Mina had lifted up part of the plastic tarp and was cooing at his new couch.
"Aww, I've always wanted one of these!" she exclaimed, pushing the tarp back to curl up on the extra-deep-seated sofa and picking up one of the plush pillows, squeezing it greedily. "And these blankets are so cute! Ei, I told you one of these extra large-knit blankets would look cozy and not clunky—"
Katsuki growled furiously as Mina put her greedy little hands—and therefore, her cloying scent— all over his brand new shit. His lip curled up to expose his teeth in a vicious snarl, and Mina went still before very carefully setting the cushion down and sliding off the couch. "Don't. Touch. Anything."
"But Blasty—"
"I don't even have my fuckin' scent in here enough," he snapped, fangs still bared aggressively.
"The fuck gives you the right to scent my den before I do?"
"But you have all this cute soft stuff! Why don't you want it to be touched?" she pouted, still
standing a respectable distance away and palms forward in surrender. "It's mine," he snarled.
"Why do you have so much soft shit?" Hanta asked curiously, stepping closer to examine his decor but being very careful not to touch. "God, why would you even need this many pillows for? Your living room is basically a blanket fort—"
"I want my fuckin' space to be comfortable—"
"Yo, guys! He has a whole-ass library up here!" Denki yelled from upstairs. "Why is it so empty, dude?"
Katsuki stiffened. Denki was snooping in spaces he hadn't even let his parents explore.
"GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING DEN OR I'LL KILL YOU!" Katsuki bellowed, stomping toward the stairs. Mina and Hanta scurried after him—both to restrain Katsuki from murdering their friend and to see more of the house.
Mostly the former, since Katsuki's scent had turned legitimately aggressive and angry. It had gone from toasted marshmallows and charred cedar to smoky, caustic, and abrasive—like a wildfire burning a chemical plant.
They didn't even notice Eijirou—standing still and looking around the walls and furniture completely awestruck. Katsuki hadn't let him in the last time—he'd just shoved the key to his apartment through a gap in the door and then slammed it shut.
"You built him a whole-ass love nest before you even courted him, you goddamn simp," Eijirou whined, stopping everyone in their tracks as he cradled his head in his hands.
Mina turned around first, squinting at Eijirou. "Who?" she demanded.
"I'm with Pinky," Katuski agreed, turning around to glare at Eijirou, stance low and aggressive. "Who the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded.
Hanta was running a critical eye over the paint and furnishings just as Denki ran downstairs, frightened into compliance by Katsuki's murderous tone and scent. Then, Hanta seemed to get it.
"Wow," he breathed. "That's awesome."
"What do you mean, who?" Eijirou cried, flinging his arms out to gesture at the freshly painted
walls in exasperation. "I obviously mean Mido! He's like...the only thing missing from the place!" He felt Mina grab onto him, fingers digging into his bicep like claws. "You're fucking crazy, get
the hell out of my house," he snarled, trying to shake her off.
"No," Eijirou huffed, standing his ground and baring his own teeth. "Listen. You made me suffer through that wack-ass house viewing where you and Deku pretended to be a couple and scented each other and made pet names for each other—then a week later you buy a house that's got everything you want, and all the little things Mido said that he liked. The library, dude?"
Katsuki had gone silent, and Mina's grip on his arm had tightened so he wouldn't run or attack. "Kats, you got a bunch of omega nesting items," she murmured, casting a glance at the sofa. "And
you're painting the space in his colors—" "I'm painting them in mine too," he snapped.
"But you're painting it the way he liked it," Eijirou said, gesturing at the darker accent wall. "The way it was in the third house we saw. One big colorful wall in every room—"
"They're called accent walls, dude," Hanta interrupted.
"Does this seem like the right time to educate me on interior design, Hanta?" Eijirou hissed, clearly peeved. "You keep telling me the space isn't right, that you don't want people in your space because your scent isn't strong enough—you've never had that problem as long as I've known you. You just kick people out and neutralize after a few hours and then re-scent. Why is this different?"
"Because it's mine!" Katsuki hollered.
"IS IT?" he bellowed back. "Katsuki, this space is at least half his! That's why it's half empty! That's why it's half green!" he flailed his arms in frustration. Katsuki didn't know what he was frustrated about—he was the one spewing nonsense. "Just court him and move him in already!"
"HE DOESN'T WANT THAT!"
"But you do?" Denki asked. Katsuki stopped cold, shock running through him like a fucking freight train.
He hesitated—then said: "No." He didn't sound very sure. He'd never thought about it! Deku wasn't...he wasn't...they...no! They couldn't! Right?
Mina's grip on his arm eased, and she turned him to look at her, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Think about it," she said calmly. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "Doesn't have to be right now. We gotta unload your furniture anyway. But you should definitely think about it. And if Ei's right, you should do something about it."
Mina ushered him toward his den so he could process while they unloaded the rest of his shit. It
was stupid.
Sure, Deku was objectively attractive—he was even a regular part of Katsuki's masturbation rotation. But that was because he had thick thighs that could crumble cinderblocks and an ass that wouldn't quit. And sure he'd imagined the pretty greenette's eyes blinking up at him through tears as his plush little lips were wrapped around his cock. He was human. But he truly tried to separate Deku the sexy omega from Deku his best friend.
He didn't need to think about it. Deku was his hero partner and his closest person. That was all. But fuck, now that the idea was in his head, it sounded...perfect. He could see Deku in the space he
was creating—it was a clearer picture than the actual fucking pictures he'd hung on the walls.
He could see him curled on the sofa—wrapped in thick blankets as he marathoned All Might movies. He could see his merch filling the library-turned-display room. He could see him in the home gym on early mornings before their nightmarishly long shifts. He could see him spending time in the fore-den with friends during his preheats—staying close enough to his nest to be comfortable but far enough that he wouldn't ruin it while he was socializing and collecting pack scents.
The longer he thought about it, the worse it got. He could see Deku brushing his teeth at the double-vanity sink in the master suite—eyes bleary and hair rumpled first thing in the morning.
He could see Deku traipsing into the kitchen in his boxers, demanding pancakes before falling back asleep at the counter.
He could see Deku waking up in his arms clear as fucking day, and it made him want to throw up. In...a good way. It made his stomach roll over, and his stupid-ass heart flutter, and his palms sweat. Like riding a roller coaster or some shit, but better because Deku would be beside him for it.
God, what the fuck? Had his friends fucking drugged him?
No, he knew they didn't. Like Deku had said—he was self-aware. At least, he tried to be. He was also fucking smart. Once the evidence had been presented, it became really fucking clear, really fucking fast. He just needed some denial time to ease into his realization.
But that self-awareness meant that denial didn't last long. Fuck. He was ass-over-mouth in love with Deku.