This Tuesday morning finds two teens standing in the laundry room, staring down an innocent washing machine.
“How hard can it fucking be?” The blonde one, Katsuki, sneers with crossed arms as he faces his expressionless companion. “We just dump all the clothes in and add some soap. Easy as beating up a bunch of villainous losers.”
“Shouldn’t we look at the tags on the clothes?” The other teen, Shouto, asks, picking up various items from one of the baskets to examine them. “Some of the instructions say to use hot water and some to use cold. It also seems like different ones require different settings in the dryer—”
“What-the-fuck-ever,” the blonde says as he dumps the contents of the closest laundry basket into the washing machine. “How can you even tell what those fucking squiggly lines mean anyway?”
“Well, some of them are common sense, like this one has a washing machine with a diagonal slash through it, so maybe we shouldn’t wash it.” Katsuki snatches their other boyfriend’s back-up hero costume with a scoff and tosses it in. “....or I guess we can.”
Once Katsuki has filled the machine to the brim—after squashing the clothes down multiple times to fit as many items as he can, of course—he looks to his boyfriend. “So what now? What kind of soap do we use?”
“I… don’t actually know,” Shouto admits. He reaches up to open the cabinet above the machines to search for a clue on how to proceed. Unfortunately, the only thing he finds are dryer sheets and a lint roller. He grabs the box of sheets. “Well, these are for the dryer, I’m guessing,” he says, pointing at the label, “but there isn’t any soap up there or anything.” The hot-and-cold hero sighs; things just can’t be easy for them, can they?
“No shit, Sherlock. Dryer sheets are for dryers, way to state the fucking obvious,” Katsuki grouches.
Shouto hums. “No need to be a smartass, Katsu. Neither of us know what we’re doing. Are you sure we shouldn’t just call Izuku and ask?”
“Fuck that! This is supposed to be a surprise, and it won’t be if we ask him how to do it!” The muscular teen growls. He just wants to do something fucking nice for his altruistic-ass boyfriend, and laundry shouldn’t be that complicated. He just has to put in the clothes and the soap and start it, so why are they having such a hard fucking time? Izuku has been working his ass off as an up and coming pro-hero; Katsuki and Shouto just want to show some goddamn appreciation.
The three partners had just graduated from UA the previous month, and they made the move to the apartment only two weeks ago. All three of them have been dating since the beginning of their third year, and even though they had lived in the same dorms, living in the same apartment is a bit different as they discover each other’s daily habits: like how Izuku leaves his slippers wherever he pleases (such as the middle of the fucking hallway where Katsuki trips over them), or how Shouto has a daily scar-care routine, or how Katsuki murders his toothbrushes and freaks out about having the toilet seat down when it’s flushed.
Or how Katsuki and Shouto don’t know how to do their own fucking laundry. It was a strange thing for them to have to address, but three teens who work as pro-heroes accumulate dirty clothes very quickly. When it came time for them to divvy up the chores, it finally came out that neither Katsuki nor Shouto knew what they were doing. So, Izuku has been stuck doing the laundry for two weeks now, and even though Katsuki and Shouto have taken on extra shares of everything else, they don’t expect the shorter teen to continue to do their laundry all the time. That would be fucking pathetic. Hence, their current predicament.
“Even if it’s not a surprise, Izuku will appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. If you don’t want to ask him, we could call someone else, like Momo—”
“ Fuck no. ” Like hell would Katsuki allow any of his shitty classmates to hold this over their heads. Shouto is naive as hell if he thinks no one else will find out if he goes blabbing his mouth.
Shouto sighs again, dry-washing his face, “Then what do you suggest we do? We could just look it up online, I guess.” But when he looks up, his explosive boyfriend is no longer there. He walks out of the room to see Katsuki rummaging in the cabinet under the sink. “What are you doing, Katsu?”
The blonde stands up, holding a bottle of dish soap, and brandishes it at the other. “Here. Soap.” They just need soap, right? Soap is soap; as long as it gets everything clean, that’s what’s important.
“Ah, I don’t think we should use dish soap…”
“Why the hell not, Icyhot?” Katsuki questions as he slides past Shouto, back into the small laundry room.
The taller teen eyes the blonde in exasperation, “It’s dish soap for a reason, Katsuki.”
“But it is soap, and it cleans our dishes, so it can clean clothes too, right?”
Shouto grabs the bottle from his boyfriend’s hand before said boyfriend could dump its contents into the washing machine. “Well, I suppose that is true.”
“What the hell?!” Small explosions crackle in the blonde’s hands. “Give it back!”
“Just, hold on. I think there’s a specific spot we’re supposed to put it,” Shouto replies, unaffected by his boyfriend’s mini-tantrum. He knows Katsuki won’t actually turn his quirk on him unless they’re sparring.
“Tch. What does it matter? It’ll all end up on the clothes either way.”
The red-and-white haired teen rolls his eyes. “Can we at least attempt to learn how to do this properly? Or do you want to ask Izuku?”
Katsuki grumbles petulantly under his breath, “No, I guess you’re right... Bastard.”
Shouto smiles to himself as he examines the machine for the proper area to pour the liquid. Katsuki is as brash as ever, but the almost-nineteen-year-old has calmed down considerably from the fifteen-year-old Katsuki that Shouto had first met. The blonde can’t hide his fond tone behind the insulting words. ‘Bastard’ is practically a term of endearment, and the taller teen has come to enjoy it.
“Here, this indentation says detergent,” He says, running his finger over the raised word. Katsuki presses against his side to look too.
“Shit. You’re right,” Katsuki laments. He makes it sound as if he had been hoping for Shouto to be wrong. He probably was, to be honest.
Shouto dryly affirms, “Yes, I am.”
“So, who wants to do the fucking honors?” He asks, picking up the bottle Shouto had placed on the dryer and spinning it around on his palm.
“It’s not like it matters, but you can do it, Katsu.” Katsuki doesn’t bother replying, instead twisting off the cap to dump the liquid soap in the designated area. When it’s almost filled to the brim Shouto finally breaks in, “Ahh, that’s probably enough, love…”
The blonde jerks the bottle upright, ignoring the trail of soap that slides down the side of the bottle as he twists the cap back on. “I know. There’s a lot of fuckin’ clothes though, gotta make sure they get clean.”
A huffs escapes the scarred boy. “I’m sure that’s more than enough. There’s a fill line, you know.”
“I didn’t notice,” Katsuki says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I have no clue… but I’m sure we will find out,” Shouto mutters lowly.
“Oi! What was that?!” Katsuki yells in mock offense, shoving his boyfriend’s shoulder. The two end up in a play fight, pushing and shoving each other good-naturedly (with maybe a few kisses in between). After a while, they calm themselves enough to return to the matter at hand. Shouto closes the lid of the machine, and they both decide to set it on large load, with cold water, and on the heavy cycle since they had put so many clothes in. Once they hear the water start to run, they smile at each other—Shouto’s a small grin of pride, and Katsuki’s one of satisfaction.
“All in a day’s work,” Katsuki crows, thumping the top of the machine with his fist.
Shouto smiles at his boyfriend, amused by his enthusiasm. “So while they wash, let’s make some breakfast.”
“Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Katsuki grins viciously. One would think Shouto had suggested beating up some villains rather than making breakfast.
They make their way into the compact kitchen together, and, after a brief discussion, both decide on miso and rice—mostly because it’s easy and they still don’t have a fully stocked fridge. The two effortlessly work around each other after all the years of group training, Katsuki starting up the rice cooker and Shouto heating up some of their pre-prepared dashi.
The teens work in silence for a while before Katsuki breaks the it. “Why don’t you know how to do the laundry anyhow? I know Endeavor didn’t do it, that’s for damn sure.”
“Fuyumi washed our clothes. She did whatever she could to lessen everyone’s loads,” Shouto says, maintaining his deadpan expression.
“... Was that a fucking laundry joke?”
“Well, I think you’re a goddamn joke!” Katsuki chokes, turning around to check on the rice cooker so that Shouto couldn’t see him attempting (and failing) to hold back his laughter, “Y-You’re so fuckin’ lame!” Katsuki regrets everything because he can practically feel the smug satisfaction emanating from his asshole boyfriend.
Shouto walks up next to him, leaning his elbow against the counter and cradling his cheek in his hand. “I love you too, Katsuki,” he says, staring at the muscular teen’s face and blinking innocently.
Katsuki’s face lights up in a fierce blush. He will never get used to his boyfriends’ random expressions of love, no matter how often the two subject him to them. “Shut up! I might love you, but that won’t stop me from blasting your ass to Sunday and back!” He lets off some small blasts to emphasize his point.
Shouto straightens up and smirks. “Oh? Your quirk lets you travel through time now?” The taller boy teases. “Besides, according to our track record, you only have a fifty percent chance of ‘blasting my ass to Sunday and back.’” Yes, they really do keep track of wins and losses in their spars—mostly for Katsuki’s sake after the disastrous conclusion of their first sports festival. Right now, they’re at 89-82 in Katsuki’s favor, but apparently that’s close enough to an even score that the blonde is constantly chomping at the bit for another spar. Shouto is usually happy to oblige.
Growling, Katsuki turns around. “You wanna test that, bastard?”
Still smirking, the heterochromatic-eyed teen replies, “Maybe I do.” He steps closer, crowding Katsuki back against the counter and placing his hands on either side of his boyfriend, trapping him. He leans closer so that there’s hardly any space between them, and exhales a visible puff of cold air—that sort of thing drives the blonde wild. “When do you want to do that?”
The blonde scowls at him, glancing down at Shouto’s parted lips every few seconds, “This afternoon, the usual spot.”
“I’ll be there.”
A calloused hand grabs a fistful of his shirt, “You fuckin’ better.” Katsuki’s hand drags Shouto’s body forward, crashing their lips together. Unlike their flirtatious kisses in the laundry room, these are full of heat and desire. Shouto brings his hands to Katsuki’s body, sliding his palm up and down his boyfriend’s side, and one sneaking under his thin shirt to caress his toned chest. Katsuki’s hands aren’t idle either, the one that had been grasping Shouto’s shirt is now buried in his dual colored hair, and the other is at the small of his back, his pinky brushing under the tops of his shorts, sending electricity up and down Shouto’s body.
The pair continue on for a time, losing themselves in the pleasurable feeling of their roaming hands and joined mouths. What used to feel like a fight for dominance when they had first started dating is now a push and pull that they both enjoy. At some point, Katsuki manages to slit his eyes open, only to see a small movement from the corner of his eye. He breaks away from the taller teen to ask, “Uh, Shou, babe… what the fuck is that?”
Shouto turns around to see a white mass poking out from the open door to the laundry area. “That… is probably the worst case scenario we were talking about earlier.” And just like that, the mood they had going evaporates.
“Let’s go check it out,” Katsuki suggests. He’s scowling, and a faint blush is scattered across his cheeks. Shouto isn’t sure if that’s from their previous activities or the fact that they’ve both realized they must have screwed up big time on the clothes.
They step away from each other and make their way over to find a heap of soap bubbles and water overflowing from the washing machine. Shouto hadn’t noticed the water until it soaked through his socks, and it is… not a pleasant feeling.
“Fuck!” Katsuki swears.
Despite the vulgar way of putting it, or perhaps because of it, Shouto fully agrees with his boyfriend’s utterance. “Fuck, indeed.” They lock eyes momentarily. “I’ll get some towels.”
“I’ll turn off this machine before it floods the entire goddamn apartment.” Katsuki steps through the water, getting the bottom of his pant legs wet and soapy as he heads to turn of the machine. Meanwhile, Shouto pads toward the closet to grab some clean towels, pausing to shuck off the water bloated socks on the way back.
Katsuki meets him halfway, and the pair get to work attempting to sop up the water and get rid of the bubbles—liberally sprinkled with curses from Katsuki and the occasional water fight, followed with some sort of inane competition over who could clean up more water. Shouto wins all of them of course: he just heats up his left hand enough to evaporate the water as he absorbs it in the towel, while Katsuki has to stop every minute or so the wring out his towel.
By the time the two had noticed the water earlier, it had already begun to spread out into the living area. So even fifteen minutes in, they have only sort of dried the living room, with lots of soap residue still coating the floor. The only thing that really saves them is the fact that the room is still fairly bare from their recent move.
They freeze as they hear the front door close and a voice from the entryway shout, “I’m home!”
“Welcome home,” Shouto says, echoed by Katsuki’s, “Welcome home, shithead!” But it’s just a reflex at this point. There’s no way they will get out of this without giving an explanation. When Izuku walks in, already changed back into his civilian clothes and carrying a few shopping bags, there’s an awkward silence. From behind him, Shouto can practically feel the heat from Katsuki’s humiliated blush, and Shouto isn’t doing much better—he’s staring at the floor where there’s still a thin layer of bubbles and water under his feet.
“Um—,” Izuku starts, looking around perplexed by the water and sodden towels on the floor.
“Fucking don’t,” Katsuki interrupts, standing up to stomp past Izuku to their exercise room and slamming the door.
“Sooo…,” Izuku tries again. Loud instrumental music starts from behind the door. Shouto sighs, but is too used to Katsuki’s temperamental nature to be seriously bothered by his response. His blonde boyfriend has always been bothered when he looks dumb, particularly in front of Izuku. “Alright, so, why are there bubbles everywhere? From Kacchan’s reaction I take it that this wasn’t intentional…”
Shouto fidgets lightly before looking up at his boyfriend. Even though he won’t throw a fit, it still is rather embarrassing. “We, uh, wanted to surprise you…”
Izuku quirks an eyebrow, his lips turning up in a questioning smile. “While I do like bubbles, I have a feeling that’s not what the surprise was supposed to be?”
Shouto lets out a soft laugh and stands from the floor where he had been cleaning, glad that his freckled boyfriend isn’t angry with them. “We tried to do the laundry, but we, um, I guess we did it wrong since it turned out like this,” he gestures at the floor, and in the corner of his eye he sees Izuku’s shoulders begin to shake. “I think we probably shouldn’t have used dish soap, now that I think about it.”
At this, Izuku busts into raucous laughter. “I’m-I’m sorry, but that’s h-hilarious! Dish soap?! ” He stops talking to laugh some more, bending over at the waist to clutch his stomach. Shouto’s face is on fire, figuratively, from his blush, but he can’t feel too bad about it if it means he gets to see Izuku laughing so freely. He can’t help but stare at the teen with an undoubtedly sappy expression. Izuku finally calms down enough to speak again, straightening up and wiping the tears from his eyes. “That’s so sweet of you guys. You know, you could have just asked me how to do it,” he says, smiling in what Shouto could only describe as genuine happiness.
“I actually suggested that, but Katsu wanted to surprise you, so we could do something nice for you,” Shouto steps forward and wraps his arms around Izuku’s broad shoulders. “We know you’ve been having a hard time lately, and all of this is a bit new. We don’t want you to carry any extra stress.”
Sighing, Izuku slings his arms around Shouto’s waist, returning the hug. “We’re all adjusting still; you guys don’t have to do all that just for me. I don’t mind doing the clothes, honestly, besides—” The smaller boy breaks into a slew of muttering, getting quieter and quieter as he speaks aloud about the chores, the way they had divvied them, what chores suit them best, and exactly how stressed each of the three are (as if Shouto needs the reminder).
Shouto lets Izuku’s words wash over him for a while before he pulls away to grasp the teen’s face, stopping the flow of anxious words with a soft kiss. “We want to do stuff like that for you, just to take some of that burden for a while. We know we’re all busy and stressed, and that’s all the more reason we want to show you how much we love you, Izuku.”
Izuku stares at his boyfriend in wonderment before hugging him again, more tightly this time. Wetness spreads where he presses his face into Shouto’s chest. Even though the smaller boy has learned to control his gut reactions, he is still as emotive as ever, and honestly Shouto finds it just as endearing as it was when he himself was a stoic mess of repressed emotions.
“Thank you. I love you, Shouto. You guys are the best boyfriends I could ever hope for. Let’s go get Kacchan, and I’ll help you guys clean up.” Izuku carefully makes his way over the messy floor to the kitchen to put his bags down on the counter before making his way back to where Shouto is waiting for him by the spare room.
“Let me go in first,” Shouto says. Izuku nods, waiting as his tallest boyfriend knocks on the wood hard and heads inside. Katsuki wouldn’t have answered if Shouto had waited for acknowledgement.
Shouto approaches Katsuki where he is doing chin ups. Apparently, the wet jeans had gotten annoying, because the teen had stripped to just his boxers—his discarded clothes haphazardly tossed in the corner. “Katsu. Izuku isn’t angry, you know he doesn’t get angry about stuff like this.” Of course, Shouto doubts that that’s what the explosive boy is worried about, but there isn’t really a good way to bring up Katsuki’s inferiority complex when it comes to their other boyfriend. The blonde has improved so much since the beginning of their time in UA, but sometimes he still wrestles past feelings. So, even something as small as needing help with the laundry, or, in this case, being caught having messed up something as ‘easy’ as the laundry, is enough to make a major blow to his pride. Especially since he was caught out by Izuku, who has probably been able to do the laundry since he was a kid.
Katsuki scoffs, “‘Course not.” He continues his chin ups.
Watching the sweat roll down his boyfriend’s chest— definitely not getting distracted—Shouto says, “He appreciates what we tried to do, you know. He was crying. He’s really happy we thought of him. And you and I both know it was your idea, Katsu.”
The chin ups falter momentarily before resuming. “What’s,”—Katsuki pauses to lower himself—“your point?”
“Come out here and help us finish cleaning up, love. Or are you going to make us do it by ourselves?” Shouto knows that will kick his boyfriend’s ass into gear, at the very least.
“Hah?!” Katsuki releases the bar, and lands back on the ground with a thud. “Deku shouldn’t have to clean up our fuckin’ mess!”
“I guess you better come out here then,” Shouto says, amused by how easy it is to get Katsuki to do things. For such a complex guy, he’s pretty predictable.
Katsuki towels off his face and neck, giving a murmured, “Whatever.”
“Here, Katsu,” Shouto says, placing his right palm on the teen’s shoulder and making it cold—acting as an ice pack. “You don’t want to be too tired for our spar later, or else I’ll narrow the score.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes, “Keep dreamin’, bastard.”
Shouto’s smile is slightly predatory, and a bit challenging when he replies, “Well, I guess we’ll see. But only if we ever finish cleaning up.” A little extra incentive never hurt anybody.
The blonde doesn’t bother with a reply as he stalks pasts Shouto into the hall. He doesn’t make it far before he is tackled by their smaller (and surprisingly heavier—those muscles are no joke) boyfriend into a hug. A hardly intelligible string of words spill from the shorter teen’s mouth, “Kacchanthankyoufortryingtodoourclothes! Iloveyousomuchandthatwassothoughtful, I’mnotmadI—” He stops talking abruptly when Katsuki covers Izuku’s mouth with his hand. The blonde removes it after the words come to a halt, and gives the freckled teen a soft peck on his parted lips.
“I know you’re not mad, nerd. I just… fuckin’ overreacted, or whatever,” Katsuki admits, staring at the wall to the side of them, but returning the hug nevertheless. “And I love you, too.” The blush makes a reappearance.
Izuku beams at Katsuki, happy that everything had worked out. “Come on! I’ll help you guys finish cleaning!” He says, sliding his hand down the blonde’s forearm to grab his hand and tug him toward the living room.
Katsuki allows himself to be dragged, Shouto trailing behind them. “ We made the mess, so just sit the fuck down, and let us clean it up, Deku,” the spikey-haired teen growls. Seriously, why the hell does that little shithead think he has to help, when he and Shouto are the ones who fucked up? Fucked up because Katsuki was too prideful to ask for help doing the goddamn laundry. He’s mostly over it now after working off some of his anger and unease; the sting of his pride taking a beating is familiar to the explosive teen. His childhood friend/nemesis—now boyfriend—has always knocked his ego down a peg; usually it’s not even intentional, and sometimes that’s even worse.
“Things will go a lot faster if you just let me help, you know,” Izuku prods.
In an unusual display of childishness, Katsuki pokes his tongue out at his boyfriend as he settles himself where he had been before Izuku arrived home. Most of the bubbles have popped by now, and only the soapy residue is left behind. It’s gonna be a bitch to clean.
Shouto doesn’t even make a token protest because he knows Katsuki is stubborn enough to actually fight about it. He joins Katsuki on the floor, again using his quirk to speed up the process. Izuku chatters to them about his shift, which had started early that morning at 2AM. Shouto made the occasional comment and asked a few questions, but Katsuki remained silent, just enjoying the soothing sound of Izuku’s voice.
A few minutes later, Izuku doesn’t even bother saying anything before grabbing a towel and joining them on the floor. Katsuki rolls his eyes, but doesn’t reprimand his boyfriend. The green-eyed teen smiles at them.
With three people now working together to clean the floor, they quickly finish mopping up the rest of the suds and water. When they’re done, Shouto takes each towel and dries them out—they don’t want to have a pile of wet towels—placing them by the washing machine. Which brings up a good point.
“So, what the fuck are we gonna do about the washing machine?” Katsuki asks. He starts to get cold from his sweat and lack of clothes, so he goes to grab a pair of dry bottoms and a shirt from their shared bedroom.
When he returns, pulling on a loose long sleeve shirt, Izuku is watching the toned chest disappear under the clothing with regret. The shorter teen replies, “Well, we should remove all the clothes in the tub, and we should probably run an empty cycle to make sure all the dish soap is gone. Then, I’ll show the two of you how to do it for next time.” He grins at them, still amused and touched that they had tried to learn for him, even if they had gone about it the wrong way.
By the time Izuku is done talking, Katsuki is fully dressed in comfy house clothes. “Okay, but what the fuck kinda soap are we gonna use if we can't use dish soap?”
Izuku laughs, walking to the kitchen to grab the grocery bags he had brought home with him. “We had run out of the leftover laundry detergent I brought from my mom’s, so I just got some new stuff!” He says, pulling a brightly colored container out of the bag. “These are laundry pods! You just throw one in the washing machine before you start it.” His eyes crinkle in amusement as his boyfriends process this new piece of information.
“You mean, if we had waited, all we would have had to do was throw in one of those little shits?!” The blonde demands, a tick forming on his brow, and crackles of his quirk emanating from his palm.
“Yep!” Their shorter boyfriend says, popping the ‘p’. He’s looking far too giddy for Katsuki’s taste.
Shouto is staring at the container of pods as if it offended him. “That is… oddly infuriating,” the teen’s announces, face twisted in distaste.
At this point, Izuku is covering his mouth, not doing well at hiding his mirth as his shoulders shake. “Oi! Shut it, Deku! We get it, it’s fuckin’ funny. Haha.” Katsuki is scowling, but Izuku’s genuine delight at their blunder makes it hard to be truly mad. It is pretty fucking funny if he looks at it objectively. He and Shouto’s gazes meet momentarily, and they both smirk—deciding without words to turn the embarrassment back around on their easily flustered boyfriend.
“Hey, Izuku, remember when we first moved in, and you used Katsuki’s vibrator as a back massager because you didn’t know what it was?” Shouto asks with an incredibly blank face.
Their boyfriend’s laughter cuts off abruptly with a choke. “ W-What?! ” He squeaks, a bright blush crawling over his freckled cheeks. “I-I had never seen one before—!”
Katsuki sniggers quietly, “Yes, you had. Don’t you remember? We found your mom's one day when we were little. Mrs. Midoriya said it was her ‘magic wand.’ She was so embarrassed, but you thought her ‘wand’ was the coolest fucking thing!” Shouto snorts quietly, slapping his hand over his mouth.
Now, Izuku looks downright horrified, mouth opening and closing without words. Eventually, he gathers his wits enough to respond, “I know what you guys are doing!” He glares half-heartedly at the two, but he can’t help the twitch of his lips. “Bringing up embarrassing things I’ve done doesn’t change the fact that you guys managed to fuck up the laundry!” There’s a pause, and the teen’s blush intensifies. Katsuki’s grin is borderline manic. “I’ve been hanging around Kacchan too much,” he says, holding his hands up defensively.
Shouto tuts. “I guess I’m the only innocent one around here, now.”
Matching scoffs come from Izuku and Katsuki this time. The three boyfriends look at each other from where they’re standing in the kitchen, before breaking down in laughter: Izuku’s loud, and uninhibited, Katsuki’s rough and wild, and Shouto’s quiet and low—but no less happy for it. Every time they almost calm, another wave of laughter hits anew. When they finally stop, their cheeks hurt from smiling, and Izuku has tears running down his cheeks.
Shouto is the first to speak. “So… how about breakfast?” His stomach growls audibly.
Katsuki looks at the lumpy, half-finished miso soup, to the burnt poached eggs, to the clock on the stove displaying 12:30PM. “I have a better idea. Let’s get some damn takeout; it’s fuckin’ lunchtime anyway.”
The suggestion is fair, so Shouto nods. “Soba does sound pretty good. Are you okay with takeout, Izuku?” He asks turning to the shorter teen.
Said teen is still smiling dopily at them, “As long as I’m with you guys, I don’t care.”
“Tch, what a sap.” Katsuki says, smirking. He reaches for Izuku’s hand, who in turn grabs Shouto’s hand. Together, the three head to the door past the newly water-stained floor and put on their shoes—otherwise uncaring of their appearances.
"So… we don't need the security deposit on this apartment back, right?" Shouto asks, closing the door as they leave.