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In retrospect, Katsuki probably should have seen this coming.
It’s not like the signs weren’t there. As much as Shouto likes to think he’s got his emotions locked up tight in that pretty little head of his, it was pretty telling that something was up when his behavior at the office was a bit more hostile than it was at home. After all these years, Katsuki can read Shouto like a book – and this particular chapter has been a bit different than the ones before it.
Hiring the new sidekick was a no brainer, Katsuki stands by that. Human Resources usually runs the show when it comes to personnel, but depending on the vacancies of the agency, certain pros will sit in on interviews since they’re the ones who’ll be working with the punks anyways. Naturally, Katsuki wanted to meet the kid that he’d potentially be working with. It takes serious balls to interview at the best hero agency in town, and it takes even bigger balls to interview for Katsuki and Shouto’s division of the agency, considering how few sidekicks make it there. Their work is fast-paced, violent, and typically complex – not a great spot for a rookie.
But Okada was sharp, and talented, and knew how to schmooze, so Katsuki decided to give him a shot. His quirk, though it was basically a less-useful version of Katsuki’s (he could generate gunpowder from his fingertips, leaving trails of it for a distanced detonation or gathering it for a cluster – no physiological ignition mechanism, though), was a good fit for the division, so he got the gig. He’s been working with them for maybe three months now, and it’s been– well, mostly fine.
Except for the fact that Okada’s so far up Katsuki’s ass he can practically taste the sulfur, and Shouto can’t fucking stand it.
Despite how obviously hostile he is, Halfie claims he has no problem with the guy. It was such a bold-faced lie that Katsuki laughed out loud the first time he tried to argue it. Shouto was against the idea of Okada from the get-go. He said he wasn’t a good fit for their small team. He claimed there wasn’t a good spot for him, since explosives and firepower were already well-covered by the two of them. In meetings, Shouto levels the kid with the iciest glare he can get away with in a professional setting.
Not that Okada has been undeserving of some of his ire, though. The kid picked up on the waves of hostility radiating off of Shouto, and plays into it now. He talks over Shouto in meetings, sends him sly smirks and winks like they’re both playing some fucked up game, and he’s winning.
Katsuki doesn’t really fucking get it. He thought it was just some petty hill that Icyhot had chosen to die on; he does that sometimes. But the kid works hard and is perfectly pleasant to Katsuki, so – Halfie can suck it up for a while. The world isn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. Not everyone has to get along all the time.
He’s just a rookie, after all – 19 or 20 years old and desperate to be Katsuki’s favorite for whatever reason. Always bringing him coffee, asking to go to lunch, scheduling one-on-one meetings at fucking 5:00pm to discuss his ‘progress’ or whatever. Okada doesn’t know it, but none of that schmoozy bullshit will ever earn him any points with Katsuki. He’s technically the kid’s supervisor, so it makes sense that he’d try and earn his favor with dumb shit like that.
The shit that matters – what makes Katsuki willing to keep the kid despite his somewhat shitty professional behavior – is his work ethic. And lucky for Okada, he’s damn good in the field. So good that Katsuki finds himself sitting at one of these stupid hero gala things with the rest of his division in a suit that’s too tight, because the fucker got nominated for an award. Shouto sits to his left, his arms crossed as he sports the same bored look he’s had all night.
Despite Icyhot’s pettiness, the evening has been going surprisingly smoothly – the two of them arrived together, made it through the paparazzi at the front with relative ease (turns out, once your relationship goes public, reporters give less of a shit about you), and then spent the rest of the night catching up with friends. The food was actually pretty damn good, the drinks were boozy, and by the time the award ceremony started, Katsuki was comfortably buzzed. With an arm around his boyfriend, he watched as Okada won runner-up for outstanding sidekick.
It’s what he expected, considering Ponytail’s mini-me was kicking absolute ass all over town for the past six months. She claimed the top spot instead, as everyone knew she would.
Shouto rolls his eyes when Okada’s name is called, and Katsuki smirks.
“I saw that, Halfie” he teases, elbowing his side. “Hate him all you want, at least he’s making us look good.”
Shouto straightens. “I don’t hate him.”
“Sure you don’t,” Katsuki retorts, leaning further into Shouto, who smells like smoke mixed with that flowery cologne of his, and squeezing his leg under the table. He’s been running warm all night – Katsuki can feel the heat even from where he sits on Shouto’s cool side. Maybe it’s the drinks doing it to him.
Shouto cracks a smile, biting his lip to fight against it. Tipsy Icyhot is fun to mess with, since he’s a little bit more relaxed. The flush of alcohol looks so damn good on that pale face – Katsuki wants to kiss him all over to make the shade of pink even darker.
“I just think ‘outstanding’ might be a bit generous,” Shouto says, downing the rest of his drink. “But I digress.”
Katsuki laughs, and stands up. He grabs his and Shouto’s empty glasses in his hand. “Can’t believe I’m the one telling you to be nice for once. ‘Nother drink?”
“Yes please,” Shouto nods, batting those long eyelashes as he looks up with spring storm eyes that traverse Katsuki’s body unabashedly, up and down. “Hurry back.”
Now it’s Katsuki’s turn to flush. “I will, princess. Try not to get in a fight with the guy while I’m gone, yeah?”
He pats Halfie’s shoulder and turns and walks away towards the bar, which is alllll the way across the room. Whoever designed the layout for the event must’ve wanted to keep everyone sober, because the walk to the back corner of the conference hall really gets old after the second or third time.
Luckily, since the award ceremony is still going on, there aren’t very many people around the bar. Katsuki’s able to walk right up and and order without elbowing his way through a bajillion different people.
As he’s leaning on the counter waiting for the slow ass bartender to get his shit together, someone taps him on the shoulder.
Katsuki turns, and knocks his shoulder hard against what turns out to be Okada, standing way too close.
“Jesus,” Katsuki hisses, stepping backwards. “What’d I fucking tell you about personal space, rookie?”
“Sorry,” he answers with a smirk on his face, his giant ass body leering over Katsuki in a way that’s actually kind of fucking annoying. “Just wanted to come chat.”
He’s a big guy – Katsuki’s not small, but he swears these kids fresh out of high school get taller every year. He’s at least Shouto’s height, with a good 10 or 20 extra pounds of muscle on him. His dark hair is styled in a way that seems laid back and relaxed, but Katsuki knows it probably took him a good half-hour to perfect the ‘precariously ruffled’ look. He leans on the bar next to Kastuki, leveling him with a playfully bored expression as he places his runner-up plaque next to him.
“Nice plaque,” Katsuki grunts. “Second place. Almost worth a damn.”
Okada chuckles. “How’d I know you were gonna say something like that?” He shifts his weight and steps slightly closer, angling himself so that he’s between Katsuki and the rest of the room. He motions to the other bartender. “Two shots of dark rum, please. Top shelf.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Don’t expect me to let you call out tomorrow just because you’re hungover and won a stupid little award.”
“Oh, only one is for me,” he lilts, as the bartender comes over, pouring both glasses right between them. “I got the second one to share. We’re celebrating, after all.”
“I’m good,” Katsuki declines, prickling at the schmoozy tilt of his tone of voice. “I don’t do shots.”
Okada laughs lightly, and Katsuki busies himself with trying to figure out where the fuck his bartender went, and why the hell it’s taking so long to pour a fucking dirty Shirley and a beer. It’s like five fucking ingredients, maximum. Should take two damn seconds.
Okada playfully hits Katsuki on the arm, and he stiffens on instinct. “Oh, come on. You’re too much of a pussy to have a drink with your favorite sidekick?”
He wiggles his eyebrows and plasters a shitty grin on his face, and Katsuki’s blood pressure spikes as he grits his teeth. The guy steps even closer, boxing Katsuki in between the wall of the conference room and the bar counter.
And only when Katsuki sees the kid staring at his mouth does he realize exactly what the fuck is happening here.
Okada’s fucking— is he trying to fucking flirt with him? That’s what this is, right? Why the fuck else would he be staring at his boss with that gross half-lidded look on his face?
Yeah, sure, Katuski’s not the best at picking up on what’s flirting and what isn’t. By the time he and Shouto got their shit together and started dating, they were already so fucking wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even start sweet talkin’ each other until way after they got together. He doesn’t fucking know what flirting looks like on other people. All he knows is what it looks like on Shouto, which is basically just Halfie walking right up to Katsuki with a straight face and calling him handsome, or talented, or whatever. He’s direct and clear with his intentions – shameless and kind, always treating Katsuki like some piece of priceless art that he never wants to stop admiring.
It’s what caught Katsuki’s attention about him in the first place – Halfie’s much braver than the rest of the losers who try to get in Katsuki’s pants. Despite how he was as a teenager, at the ripe age of 26, Katsuki’s come to realize that it takes serious guts not to hide behind sarcasm or cynicism or tiny, subtle little implications when you’re trying to win someone’s affection. Icyhot’s not afraid to let Katsuki know exactly how he feels, exactly what he likes. Goodmorning handsome, he says every time Katsuki wakes up next to him. Your bad attitude is hurting my feelings, he says when Katsuki’s frustrated from a hard day at work. I love the way you love me, he’ll fucking say, out of the blue when they’re relaxing on the couch together, as if it’s nothing. As if it’s easy.
The affection Katsuki receives from Shouto is somehow both gentle and heavy-handed. Precise yet all-encompassing. Completely and utterly genuine, since that’s the only way Shouto has ever known how to be.
Okada assuming that the opposite approach – a flirty insult dripping in cologne and fake smiles – would yield some sort of positive response from Katsuki would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so fucking uncomfortable.
He places both hands on Okada’s chest and pushes him away, feeling hot embarrassment rise to his face.
“The fuck did I say about personal space?”
The guy looks mildly affronted, but keeps that easy-going smile on his face. His brown eyes darken slightly.
“Can’t help myself,” he muses, licking his lips. “I guess you just draw me in.”
“Well knock it off.”
He shrugs, raising his eyebrows and smirking. “Yes sir, boss man.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, wanting to fucking hurl as his bartender finally comes out from the back, placing his two drinks on the bar in front of him. “Sorry for the wait, sir. Had to change the keg.”
“S’fine,” Katuski mumbles, placing cash on the counter. “Keep the change.”
Okada lightly chuckles, gesturing to Shouto’s drink – a pink fruity thing. “Is that for the missus?”
Katsuki’s hand sparks at his side, the other against his glass. His eyebrows lower over his eyes, nostrils flaring.
“Watch your fucking mouth, rookie.”
“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he urges, putting his hands up innocently. “I just assumed your type would be– well, you know. More manly.”
He tosses back both of his shots of rum one after the other and moves to touch Katsuki’s lapel, who shoves his hand away once more.
“How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?!”
Okada grabs Katsuki’s belt loops with his index fingers, using his size to yank Katsuki forward towards him. “Come on, Dynamight. You gotta admit it’d be fun, wouldn’t it? You n’ me?”
“Get your hands off me, you fucking loser–”
Before Okada has the chance to spit out whatever other cringey bullshit he has locked and loaded in his mouth, and before Katsuki has a chance to blast his fucking face off, the fucker gets slammed agasint the wall in a lightning-fast blur of motion that leaves Kastuki blinking in confusion, palms still igniting at his sides.
His eyes widen as he sees Shouto standing between them somehow, with his hand wrapped around Okada’s throat as he presses him up against the wall with all of his weight. Little wisps of flame are floating off of his hair as Katsuki stares at him in shock.
“What the fuck–” Okada chokes, grasping at the hand around his neck.
“It’s not very fun is it?” Shouto growls, low and venomous through clenched teeth. “To be assaulted by someone, huh?”
Okada’s Adam’s apple bobs against Shouto’s hand on his neck as he tries to kick out at him. “Get off’a me–”
Icyhot smirks, and he looks damn near villainous. “Should I? Or should I just keep pushing until you give in? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it? ” he says, mocking the inflection of the way Okada had said it a second ago.
Katsuki’s not sure if it’s the heat radiating off of Halfie, or the alcohol, or the image of his boyfriend choking some fucker out – all he knows is that he’s fucking sweating, and the sound of Shouto snarling at someone for putting hands on him is making his pants grow tighter by the second.
Halfie finally lets go, seemingly unwilling to have the rest of the conference hall see whatever shit show this is. Even the bartenders made themselves scarce. Okada slides down the wall, sputtering and coughing.
“You’re a fucking crazy person, Todoroki.” He catches his breath with a hand on his throat as he glares at Halfie, who’s standing between Katsuki and the kid with his shoulders squared. “We were just talking-”
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Icyhot snaps, with that same flare in his eyes from earlier, daring Okada to challenge him. “Touch him again, and you’ll see exactly how crazy I am.”
Katsuki’s just standing there speechless, his eyebrows probably reaching his hairline as he grapples with being both horny and irritated at the same time. It’s pissing him off that Halfie felt the need to intervene, since Katsuki was perfectly capable of handling it himself, thank you very much. He could have sent that kid right through the wall if he wanted to, and he probably would have if Halfie didn’t steal his thunder. Maybe his reaction time was a bit slow, but still. He didn’t need help.
But then again – seeing Icyhot act like a rabid fucking guard dog was not on his bingo-card of events that might happen tonight, and witnessing it puts a lot of Icyhot’s behaviors towards Okada into perspective.
….It also puts a lot of Okada’s behaviors towards Icyhot into perspective too, now that Katsuki thinks about it.
God. He was– Okada was trying to woo Katsuki the whole time, wasn’t he? Fuck, he’s an idiot. And oblivious, dumb idiot. It’s so obvious in retrospect – with the little gifts and grins throughout the last couple of months. No wonder Halfie fucking hated him. He probably got a read on the dude’s intentions as soon as he was hired, and just kept his fucking mouth shut so that he wouldn’t seem jealous or controlling.
And Katsuki never fucking noticed, because– because usually he’s the one playing defense against outsiders in their relationship. Halfie’s so fucking perfect and special and desirable to everyone, and Katsuki’s just— well, some guy. Some guy who’s hot and awesome, obviously, but it’s just– it’s different. Shouto’s on a whole other level, and Katsuki was lucky enough to meet him before he realized just how far out of Katsuki’s league he actually was.
Icyhot, with venom in his voice and an arm extended out to his side to stand between Katsuki and the shithead, seems to think otherwise. And it’s making Katsuki all types of warm in all types of places.
Okada gathers himself, smoothing his disheveled hair and plastering on that shit-eating smile like he wasn’t just slammed against a wall a minute ago. He smooths his tight dress shirt and his stupid skinny tie, leaning against the bar.
He chuckles to himself. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think the guy who drinks frilly little cocktails had some balls on him.”
Halfie scowls, but before he can respond, Katsuki steps forward and wraps an arm around his waist.
“He sure does,” Katsuki bites, grinning at Okada. “And I empty them every night. So how about you go be a fucking sleazeball to someone who isn’t dating the hottest guy in Japan.”
Okada turns his nose up at both of them. “Whatever,” he huffs. And he sulks away towards his table of other lame-ass sidekicks.
Both he and Halfie heave an exhale, turning towards each other.
Halfie glares at him with a high flush on his cheeks. “I appreciate the compliment but you didn’t have to be so crude.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes. “Really? You’re gonna get on me about manners right now? You? The guy who just choke-slammed someone?”
He rolls his eyes, though it looks like there might be some fondness there as he bites back a smile. He runs his hands down the front of his blazer, smoothing it. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fucking great,” Katsuki grins. “Are you?”
Halfie shrugs. “Yeah. Been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“The fuck? How long were you watching?”
Halfie shakes his head. “I don’t mean tonight, I mean for months. Since we hired him, really. Every time you’d walk in a room he’d ogle you like a piece of meat. I didn’t like it.”
Heat winds up Katsuki’s entire body once more from his stomach, as Halfie confirms Katsuki’s suspicions about the tension between the two of them. He certainly didn't know about the ogling thing, otherwise he would have ripped the kid to shreds already and fired his ass. Damn, it’s annoying how long Katsuki’s been blind and deaf to all this shit.
“Shoulda said something, idiot,” Katsuki says, leaning an elbow on the bar. “I didn’t know you got jealous like that. It’s kinda hot.”
Halfie tilts his head, his brows lowering in thought. “Jealous isn’t the right word,” he decides. “He’s not your type. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly certain I have your full attention.”
His lips upturn when he says it, and Katsuki’s heart does a stupid little dance in his chest to prove the bastard right.
Confidence looks so damn good on him. Shouto has spent too many years of his life unaware of just how fucking breathtaking he is, and Katsuki’s chest fills with pride whenever Shouto mentions being aware of the depth of Katsuki’s feelings for him. Because he should fucking know that he’s a catch. He should know that at any given moment Katsuki’s thinking about running his hands up those milky white thighs, biting the lobe of his ear to elicit the addicting sound of his stuttered gasp. Hell, he’s just standing there in that navy suit, perfectly tailored for his lean frame and broad shoulders, and Katsuki can’t help but wonder – literally who else could compare? Maybe he’ll take him home right fucking now, strip all of it off until they’re both bare and show Shouto exactly how much of Katsuki’s full attention he’s got.
“I just knew he didn’t respect you, and I figured he might do something like this eventually. I had my eye on him,” he continues, seemingly unaware of Katsuki’s increasingly lewd thoughts.
“You think I need your protection?” Katsuki asks, mostly teasing, though a part of him is genuinely curious.
“No,” Halfie answers easily, taking Kasuki’s hand and squeezing. “But you have it, anyway.”
Katsuki huffs air out of his nose, shaking his head fondly. “My fucking hero.”
He grabs either side of Halfie’s face, and pulls him down for a heated kiss that might be a little too much for a public event, but he doesn’t give a damn. All of these extras need to see that Halfie belongs to him, and that he sure as hell belongs to Halfie.
They’re a package deal. Two for one. No room for schmoozy pretty boys with insolent hands and rum on their breath.
Eventually they break apart to grab their drinks and head back to their table. Katsuki slides the bartenders another tip for keeping their mouths shut about all the bullshit that transpired right in front of them, and as Shouto takes a sip from his absurdly pink drink on the walk back to the table, Katsuki chuckles.
“What?” He asks.
Katsuki smiles, rolls his eyes. “The kid made fun of your drink when I ordered it. Said it wasn’t manly.”
Shouto tilts his head again, looking at Katsuki with that stupidly cute blank look. “How can a beverage have or lack manliness?”
Katsuki laughs, placing a hand on the small of his back as they walk. This is exactly what Katsuki adores about Shouto – the guy doesn’t give a fuck. It’s manly as hell to do what you want without worrying about appearances or stupid societal bullshit. He’s the polar opposite of Okada in every way.
And when they sit back down at their table, seeing Okada’s pouty face looking in their direction is the cherry on top of the surprisingly eventful evening.
“I dunno. It’s stupid. I guess cuz it’s pink?” Katsuki answers.
“It’s delicious, is what it is.”
“You’re fucking delicious,” he leans in to whisper, grabbing Shouto’s leg underneath the table, high up on his thigh.
Shouto’s eyes flutter at the touch, his pink tongue darting out to lick the cherry drink from his lips. Katsuki wants a taste too.
“Wanna get outta here soon?” he asks, voice low. “I know we just got drinks, so maybe when we finish ‘em–”
Shouto looks him dead in the eyes, chugs his dirty Shirley in a few seconds, and sets it back on the table with a thud.
“Shall we?”
Katsuki grins, letting Shouto pull him by his wrist as they walk through the conference hall towards the front doors.
And by the time Shouto’s on his lap, grinding against him with his tongue in Katsuki’s mouth on the cab ride home, Katsuki’s long forgotten about what’s-his-face the sidekick.