i could never give you peace

katsuki considers himself a proper man, with manners and etiquette and discipline. he’s never late, and he fucking despises being rushed when he’s supposed to be preparing for his shift.

he has his morning routine down to a science. he likes to take his time in the steaming hot confines of their shower, clean up nicely even though he’ll have rubble and mud caked into his skin within the first hour of work. he makes an expansive breakfast and leaves leftovers in the fridge in hopes that deku might hit his head, get confused and eat a real meal.

but he doesn’t get to do any of that shit if deku has any say so. katsuki tries to disentangle himself from deku’s sleepy embrace and roll off the bed as gingerly as possible, but after this much time, deku’s subconscious is fine-tuned to his every move.

katsuki is pulled back into deku’s arms before he can get a foot on the floor beneath, and he sighs with far less conviction than he means to. “deks, come on,” he grumbles, swatting at deku’s grabby hands pulling at his tanktop. “i have to get up you fuckin’...loaf.”

deku huffs a laugh into the back of his neck.

“loaf?” he croaks out, voice thick with sleep. the sound of it settles deep in katsuki’s chest, flips his heart around a few times.

“seems accurate to me,” katsuki replies. “get the fuck off.”

but even as he says it, he’s sinking back into deku’s arms and pulling the duvet back to his chin. deku hums happily, tightening his hold and pressing soft kisses to the back of katsuki’s head.

“five more minutes,” deku says, his words punctuated with a drawn out yawn. “thirty. maybe an hour. who knows.”

“there is nothing you could to do convince me to stay in bed an extra hour,” katsuki scoffs.

deku goes quiet and still. katsuki can hear the cogs whirring in his head as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“...nothing?” deku asks, his voice gone high and innocent. “you sure about that, kacchan?”

before katsuki can even reply, deku is clambering on top of him and straddling his hips. and he’s—goddamn it, he’s wearing black briefs with little flames and ‘dynamight’ across the waistband. katsuki makes a mental note to ask for more creative control over his merchandise.

“menace,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. his hands settle on deku’s hips despite his annoyance.

deku drops low so his forearms bracket katsuki’s head. he plants a kiss on katsuki’s temple, trailing more like brushstrokes across his face. cheekbones, eyelids, nose bridge, nothing forgotten under deku’s fervid affection.

distantly, katsuki hears birds singing. from the kitchen, the buzzing hum of the heat kicking on. above him, deku’s soft lips dragging his skin, the sound of rough skin rubbing silk sheets.

he catalogues all the noises, then the sunshine demanding attention through the curtains and setting deku’s freckles alight, deku’s hair tickling his face, his thumb rubbing circles into katsuki’s throat.

they trade lazy, sleep-laden kisses so long that katsuki’s lips start to ache. deku eventually stills atop him, and moments later katsuki feels drool tickling his collarbone. deku is dead weight on top him, but he still feels lighter than the renewed weight on katsuki’s eyelids.

he spares a defeated glance at the clock and prays the city can keep itself glued together long enough for him to be thirty minutes late.

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