These Things Take Forever (I especially am slow)

Morning

Shouto woke up to the feeling of another warm body against him and fluffy blond hair tickling his nose. Neither of them had bothered with nightclothes so Shouto was free to marvel in the soft feeling of skin against skin all through his long body, with Katsuki pressed against him from head to toe. His body still sang with the memories of the night before, when their breaths had mingled, their bodies moving as one, and whispered affirmations had been pressed into skin.

It was unusual for him to wake up before his husband but the jet lag and travelling had thrown off his sleep pattern, waking him up when the first rays of sunlight were lazily crawling across the carpet towards their bed.

He revelled in the feeling of Katsuki's warm chest against his fingertips, dancing his fingers across hard muscles before resting them against the steady beating of his husband's heart. Shouto pressed his smile into Katsuki's hair, remembering the relaxed evening they'd shared, eating food together after their bath before tumbling into bed. No matter how far Shouto travelled or how long he stayed away, he always knew he would find home when wrapped around Katsuki.

The mission this time had been particularly taxing, not just in the nature of the crime, but the time it took, time he was apart from his husband and the life they had built together in Tokyo. The five long weeks had dragged despite the intense hours of surveillance, infiltration and rescue. Shouto never doubted the importance of his work, he knew that he had found real worth in what he did, and was told many times he was good at it.

Still. It hurt to leave Katsuki. It always hurt to leave Katsuki.

Even now, Shouto could remember how angry Katsuki had been when he'd first approached his then-boyfriend about the possibility of him working abroad, of him becoming predominantly an underground hero. Those vicious words, barbed with intimate knowledge, and aimed with precision, hiding the hurt Katsuki felt. Shouto knew Katsuki, he knew that he would see the choice as at least partly a rejection of their life, a rejection of him. Shouto just hoped Katsuki now understood that it was the opposite, the only reason he felt able to pursue it, had the strength to take on the missions he did, was because of their life, because he knew he had a home in Katsuki.

Katsuki was made for the big stage, for the large-scale battles that ran across news screens for weeks, he revelled in climbing the rankings, in showing everyone how strong he is, how good he is at what he does. Shouto loved to watch the beautiful figure of his husband shine in the admiration and limelight he so richly deserved.

Shouto wasn't like that. Born into an unrelenting spotlight, he'd found the pro-hero circuit hollow, unable to shake the knowledge that for every great villain he fought in front of thousands, there would be a dozen more hiding in the shadows, hidden by the very society they harmed, their victims' voices going unheard over the clashes of quirks and the flashes of camera lenses. There was no greater villain than the one who could pass for something else.

Shouto still took public cases, still took part in the circus that surrounded the life of a pro-hero, still fought in flashy fights with big quirks; but he did so with all the more ease, knowing that that wasn't all he did. That he could be there for those with big voices and big dreams that the cameras just loved to pan to, just as he could be there for those society would rather pretend didn't exist.

A low groan interrupted the silence of the morning as Katsuki rolled over to face Shouto.

"... time is it?" he mumbled.

Shouto reached blindly for his phone, squinting at the light that emanated from the screen, "still early," he whispered, running his hands through chaotic blond hair, "you've still got an hour before you need to get up."

"Got longer than that," Katsuki said with a grin, putting in his hearing aids as he did so, "got the nerd to swap shifts with me yesterday, didn't want you fucking up the kitchen when you got back. How the fuck you can learn to bake without gaining any basic cooking skills is completely beyond me."