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ho ho hopefully

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Ho ho hopefully this holiday will make us believe that

We're exactly where we're supposed to be

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Growing up, Christmas had become Kirishima’s favorite holiday of the year. Whenever December rolled around he would eagerly help his mother set up the decorations around the house, either it is the lights strung across the fireplace in his living room or placing ornaments around the Christmas tree. Kirishima’s eyes would sparkle as he covered every inch of the house in Christmas, only to diminish once the holidays were over and all of it had to be taken down.

When Kirishima was eighteen, he packed up his things and moved to Tokyo for university. Adjusting to life in Tokyo was hard at first, living closer to the big city and having to put up with the craziness that came with it. Part of him missed Chiba, the smaller neighborhood he grew up in, and his old friends. 

The move was worth it in the end. Kirishima made do with what he had in Tokyo; he made friends he could never replace, scored a decent enough job that had him well off, and was able to treat himself every now and then. His family was able to visit him occasionally, the journey nothing too drastic, and in return, he would return to Chiba for Christmas to reunite himself with the snow and the pieces of the holiday he loved most. 

When Kirishima was twenty, his family spent Christmas with him in Tokyo. They stayed in his small apartment, and while his sisters were less than chipper about the cramped space, Kirishima was still smiling brightly about the whole thing and obsessing over how wonderful it was to have them all together during the holiday again. 

As time went on, Kirishima graduated from his University at the age of twenty-one with a degree in Physical Therapy and what he had thought was a bright future. He’d finally finished school, graduating from a prestigious University, and was going to take on the world, what wasn’t bright about that?

Yet, as it turned out, he had imagined a future far too bright for himself, and that’s what landed him where he was today.

Stuck working the front desk on Christmas Eve at Bakugou Plaza, the world-famous hotel chain whose home base happened to be right in Tokyo. Most definitely not what he had planned for when he graduated.

It wasn’t that working at the hotel was an incredibly terrible job; Bakugou Masaru was a kind man nearing fifty years, always having a beaming smile on his face and treating his staff with the most exceptional care. Kirishima couldn’t imagine another place in the world treating him as well as he was treated at Bakugou Plaza. Then again, all perfect places have a few faults, and Kirishima’s one fault of Bakugou Plaza had to be their parties.

Whenever the ballroom was scheduled for a party, it was quite a lavish one. Celebrities and popular entertainment icons would all appear at the hotel to dance the night away, losing themselves in alcohol as they celebrated whatever it was that brought them together. This evening was Christmas Eve, and of course the ballroom had already been decorated in the most beautiful Christmas décor of all, complete with fine dining and music by apparently a local talent whom Masaru hired.

Kirishima’s fault with the parties? He could never attend any of them. He was always told that staff members could not attend any of the parties the hotel threw unless of course they had been personally invited by Masaru himself. It was incredibly rare that one of the staff members was allowed to attend unless they were a part of the catering crew.

So, of course, Kirishima was a little bit bitter.

His phone manages to tear his eyes away from the decorators, the little chime indicating he has an incoming call. Looking around the hotel lobby for any of his coworkers, Kirishima slides his thumb across the screen to answer, already bracing himself for the sob fest on the other end. “Hey mom.”

Kirishima Ami was a wonderful mother to Kirishima, and Kirishima could call himself a momma’s boy proudly. He loved his mother with all of his heart, and to hear the heartbreaking sobs on the other end of the phone nearly killed him. “I cannot believe you won’t be here for Christmas!” she wails, and Kirishima’s mood saddens. “You promised you would be here, it’s just not that same without you.”

He had meant those words at the time he had spoken them two weeks ago. He had been anticipating returning home and seeing his family. It wasn’t until the Christmas Eve party came up that he was unable to leave, having to come into work and attend to guests. Kirishima had to resort to leaving a voicemail for his parents back home, telling them about his canceled flight and his work schedule. He knew his mother would be heartbroken, but he didn’t have much of a choice on the matter. It wasn’t like he wanted this to happen after all.

“I wish I was there too, mom,” Kirishima tells her honestly, heart crumbling. “There is nothing I would want more than to be spending Christmas with the family, but you know I can’t. I can promise you this time though that I will be there next year, regardless of my job.” He knows that might not be possible either, but he just wanted his mother to have some hope. That was all he wanted in life, to make his mother incredibly happy.

It seems to be enough for Ami, who sniffles shortly after. “I just miss you so much, Eijirou. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kirishima whispers the sentiment back, bidding his mother a farewell before locking his phone and placing it in his pocket. His mood had now decreased even more after the phone call, and now he was forced to watch as a party went on in the ballroom while he was stuck out here at the front desk.

It was shaping up to be a terrible Christmas Eve it seemed.

The elevator across from the front desk dings then, signaling more guests coming down from their suites to enjoy the party. Kirishima prepares himself to greet them and lead them towards the ballroom, only to have a little girl come darting out from the elevator, ash-blonde curls and bright crimson eyes. She beams brightly at Kirishima the minute she’s out of the elevator, holding up a wrapped gift to him.

“Merry Christmas Mr. Kirishima!” She chirps, clapping excitedly as Kirishima takes the gift from her and examines the tag dangling from the ribbon. Sure enough, Kirishima’s name is on it in neat handwriting, with the little girl’s name right underneath.

“Well, this is quite sweet of you Akari!” Kirishima tells her, placing the gift on the front desk before lifting the little girl up off the floor. She giggles as he spins her around, placing her atop of the front desk so she can be at Kirishima’s level. “Am I allowed to open it now, or do you want me to wait until Christmas morning?”

Akari taps her chin, deep in thought as she considers her options. It's adorable, to see her little nose scrunch up in thought. She finally holds a finger up, declaring, “Open it tomorrow!”

Kirishima had struck up a friendship with the little girl shortly after he started working at Bakugou Plaza. She had been lurking around the lobby on Kirishima’s first day, and Kirishima, being the concerned employee he was, had asked her where her parents were and if she was lost. The little girl had just let out a laugh and explained to him that, “My daddy owns the hotel!”

Kirishima had never known Mr. Bakugou had a young daughter, only ever having encountered the man’s son briefly. From that day on, though it really wasn’t his responsibility, he made sure to keep a close eye on the little girl when she wandered around the lobby. He felt close to Akari, almost as if she was his own sister.

More people begin to enter through the hotel’s main entrance, and Akari huffs. “Daddy is making me stay with Mommy tonight, so I can’t go to the party,” she looks at Kirishima, crimson eyes big and sparkling. “Are you going to the party, Mr. Kirishima?”

Sighing, Kirishima takes her down from his desk and brushes off her coat. “Looks like none of us will be partying tonight Akari. I can tell you this though,” he leans close, whispering into her ear. “I’ll snatch some leftover dessert.”

The little girl’s smile lights up then, and she wraps her arms around Kirishima’s neck tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Kirishima!” She plants a kiss on his cheek, making Kirishima laugh as he hugs the girl back just as tightly. He wishes Akari wasn’t going to her mother’s tonight, and that the little girl could keep him company in the lobby.

The elevator chimes once more, and Kirishima looks up to see the arrival of another guest, only for his breath to catch in his throat completely. The guest has the same ash blonde hair as Akari, though it’s shorter and less curly. Their eyes sparkle with the same crimson, skin porcelain. 

It makes sense though, considering the guest is none other than Bakugou Katsuki, Akari’s older brother.

“You can’t just get on the elevator yourself, monster!” Bakugou scolds, a hint of amusement in his voice as the little girl removes herself from Kirishima and tears off towards her brother. The man picks her up and blows a raspberry into her cheek, the little girl squealing in his arms. “Let’s get you to your mom’s alright?”

Akari pouts once more, crossing her arms against her chest. “What if I say I want to stay here with Mr. Kirishima? Can he babysit me while you party?”

Bakugou snorts, all while Kirishima blushes. “Well, as much as you like stupid hair here, your mother has you for the holidays this year. I don’t want to make her angry by keeping you away from her. Besides, don’t you want to see her?”

Kirishima has never meant Akari’s infamous mother, only having heard stories. Some say that she was a model of some sort, ditching Mr. Bakugou once Akari had been born. Other stories say that she’s a completely devoted mother, but her relationship with Mr. Bakugou seemingly fizzled after the pregnancy. Kirishima wasn’t sure which of the thousands of stories were true, but from what he has heard from Akari, her mother seems like a kind woman.

“I do,” Akari admits, cuddling into Bakugou’s chest. “I’ll just miss you is all.”

Bakugou and Akari seemed closer than most siblings, something Kirishima had noticed during his time here. Bakugou looked after her with a hawk’s eyes, being incredibly cautious about who his sister was around. Kirishima understood that kind of protectiveness, having two younger sisters himself, but there was something different about Bakugou’s sense of protection. Kirishima had just assumed it was from their dad not being around as much to be a father, but sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

Watching Akari and Bakugou enter their limousine, snow falling around them, makes Kirishima’s heartache more to be around his family. He hated being alone in the hotel lobby for the night, but he knew there wasn’t much of a choice for him.

All he could hope for was a miracle. Maybe something eventful would happen tonight.

Maybe.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Midoriya Izuku had never once had a wonderful Christmas. Having been in and out of foster homes his whole life left little time to really celebrate the holiday, even if the particular families he stayed with celebrated the holiday. Still, despite the lack of holiday cheer around him, Midoriya loved the holiday just as much as his mother had when she was alive.

He had lost his parents when he was young, barely six years old. Typical car accident. Midoriya had been at his grandmother’s house at the time of the accident, only hearing about it when a police officer came knocking on his grandmother’s door. The poor woman wasn’t able-bodied enough to care for a six-year-old, which led to Midoriya being placed into foster care.

It hadn’t been so bad a first, being placed with other kids whose parents had also passed. Midoriya was a shy kid though, so he was quite isolated from the others as time went on. He had different interests growing up as well, trading time to play dinosaurs with the other kids in favor of playing around on an old guitar one of the ladies at the orphanage gave him. He loved making music, even if some of it didn’t make sense at all.

His first foster home was one of an older woman and her drunkard husband. The woman herself was awfully kind, making Midoriya sweet treats and singing him to sleep. Her husband, however, was violent and cruel towards Midoriya. Eventually, the neighbors called social services on the couple and Midoriya had been removed. He’s not sure how he was placed there to begin with, with the husband’s violent nature, but he assumes the foster system just imagined the wife being perfect and overlooked the other imperfections.

His second family didn’t last long either, nor did his third one. He was in and out of various homes for various reasons, and he never once managed to find a place where he belonged. It was as if no one wanted to handle Midoriya, and he didn’t quite understand why that was.

As he grew older, Midoriya began to dye his hair in various different colors. In a life that was bleak and grey, Midoriya just wanted to throw in some color. He’d seen the colors in a magazine before, decorating a guy’s hair. It looked neat, amazing, and Midoriya had wanted to give it a try for himself. Hair dye was expensive for someone as poor as Midoriya, but it was also the one thing that made him happy aside from his guitar.

That was how Midoriya made his way through the cruel world: people were either attracted to the way he played his guitar on various street corners, or they were mesmerized by the colors in his hair. Either way, one of the two earned him some sort of income to survive. He was grateful.

Tonight’s location happened to be the famous Bakugou Plaza, where Midoriya had overheard was hosting a glamorous Christmas party for the night. Figuring he could make some quick cash, he set up his guitar at the front of the hotel and began to strum some Christmas tunes. If the word about the party was correct, some of the rich might take some kind of pity on him and offer him a couple of bucks. It would definitely be enough to pay for another night in the cheap motel down the street, that was for sure.

He’s begun to play the opening chords of ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ when he spots a man arriving in a taxi, hands stuffed in his expensive wool coat and a grey beanie covering his head. When he looks up at the hotel, Midoriya nearly forgets the chords to the song as his breath gets knocked out of him.

The man is absolutely breathtaking. Eyes heterochromatic, a beautiful blue paired with a striking grey. His hair is long, pulled back into a ponytail and showing a mix of snow white and scarlet red. An angry, red scar covers the left side of his face, but to Midoriya it only brings out his beauty. 

“What do you mean our performers will not be here?” The man says angrily into his phone, his voice filled with malice. It completely throws Midoriya’s assumption of the man being sweet out the window. His soft, beautiful eyes were definitely off-putting to his attitude. “I can’t just schedule a DJ this late! What do you expect me to do now, find someone off the street?”

His final words make Midoriya’s ears perk up, though he continues to play. There was no point in getting his hopes up in getting a bigger gig, and he was definitely not prepared for a performance in front of a bunch of rich socialites. He certainly didn’t fit in with them, clothing or look wise. He’d be ridiculed rather than praised and he’d rather get through the night without a bruised ego.

He finishes up his song, earning a little bit of applause from some passing people. A few dollars find their way into his guitar case as he thanks them for listening, offering the kindest of smiles and a cheery ‘Happy Holidays!’ as they depart. He least expects it when a large stack of money is tossed into his case, making Midoriya’s eyes widen.

“As much as I completely loathe Christmas,” the man says, hands tucked into his wool coat once more. “You have an incredible voice. Though I must say, your guitar looks like it has seen much better days.”

That wasn’t a lie. Midoriya’s guitar was completely battered, duct tape covering various parts of it to keep it together. Of course, it wasn’t like he could afford to purchase a new one. He’d rather have a week’s worth of food than a brand new guitar. “Well, maybe with your generous tip I could afford a new one. Thank you very much.” He’s quick to adjust the beanie on his head, covering his ears. The wind was beginning to pick up a bit, and he was becoming incredibly chilly.

The man seems to notice this, removing his own coat and handing it to Midoriya. “The coat you are wearing seems really thin. Please, take mine.” There’s a genuine smile on his face as he offers up the coat, making Midoriya hesitant. Yes, his own coat was incredibly thin, and the harsh weather was making him incredibly cold, but he didn’t deserve this. He wasn’t worth losing such a nice coat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, removing his guitar and setting it down in the case. “That coat looks awfully expensive; I don’t think you should be letting a complete stranger wear it. Besides, don’t you need a coat as well?” While Midoriya assumes the man could probably afford another one, he still feels weird about taking the coat.

The man shakes his head. “You need it more than I do, that’s for sure.” He allows Midoriya to take the coat from his grasp, the eye crinkling smile never leaving his face. “I’m Todoroki Shouto, by the way. How would you like an opportunity to make a little more cash tonight, and keep warm?”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Camie’s house was absolutely beautiful this time of year. Bakugou assumes it must have taken hours to decorate it, with the glittering white lights lined along the front porch and the gutters. Light up snowflakes decorate the window to Akari’s room, and there are little candy canes lighting up the path towards the house. The spirit of Christmas was definitely at the house.

“I want to spend Christmas with you,” Akari pouts, unbuckling her seatbelt as they slid out of the backseat of the limousine. She has a tight grip on Bakugou’s hand as they walk up the path to the front door, her hand so, so small compared to the size of Bakugou’s hand. It makes Bakugou’s heartache to hear her words, but he knows that he can’t have her for this holiday. “Why do I have to spend Christmas with Mommy this year?”

It was hard, explaining why she had to be with her mother every other holiday. The little girl had yet to grasp the concept of why it was that she had to spend different holidays with her mother, and Bakugou never quite had a good answer to her questions. He mostly explained that it was only fair, but he could tell that Akari was not having it anymore.

“You spent Christmas with me last year, monster,” Bakugou tells her, knocking on the front door. “Don’t you think Mommy deserves a chance to have you for Christmas?” Akari just shrugs at his words, and Bakugou understands. Akari always got like this when she had to leave for her mother’s. It was going to be the same when he had to pick her up: she’d be clinging to her mother’s leg and not wanting to leave.

The door opens up a few moments later, the smell of sugar cookies leaving the home and entering Bakugou’s nose. A smaller woman stands there, her long blonde hair gathered into a messy ponytail and her face void of any makeup. Her eyes glimmer with love as she spots Akari, opening up her arms and gathering her into her arms. “How is my girl?” she asks as Akari wraps her arms around her.

“Are you making cookies?” Akari cheers, completely ignoring the question. Off of Camie’s nod, Akari squeals, planting a kiss on the woman’s cheek before being set down. The girl is already off towards the kitchen before Bakugou can even get out a goodbye.

Camie looks at Bakugou now, a soft smile on her face as she steps forward. “Hi,” she says, wrapping her arms around Bakugou in a friendly hug. Bakugou can smell the sugar cookies in her hair as they hug, and it makes his heart ache a little. “How have you been?”

“Better,” Bakugou tells her, pulling away and handing Camie Akari’s bag. “Since Akari happened to tear off before I could say anything, tell her I love her and that I hope she has a wonderful holiday. Also if she is missing something from her bag, don’t hesitate to let me know.” He runs a hand through his hair before beginning to turn away, only for a smaller hand to lightly touch his shoulder.

“Bakugou,” Camie’s voice is softer now, gentle. “I know you hate being away from her, but you can chill out, okay? You’ll see her tomorrow morning when you pick her up. She’ll want to tell you all about her present from Hoeiosho, I’m sure.”

Camie had always been so kind to him, even though Bakugou felt as if he didn’t deserve it. She was a far better person than Bakugou was, at least in his eyes, and he never understood how such a kind-hearted soul as Camie got tangled up in the mess that was Bakugou’s family. Sometimes he wishes she never had been, but at the same time, he knows Akari wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. He wouldn’t trade Akari for anything in the world.

“I’ll be waiting by the phone,” Bakugou tells her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as if telling her he promises. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about telling the press the truth one of these days. You know, about Akari’s real father.”

Camie’s expression seems to change then, going from cheerful to solemn. Both of them know how hard the press has been since the reveal of Akari, especially on Camie. Bakugou can’t keep track of how many of the magazines and news reports have labeled her a homewrecker, a tramp that just couldn’t keep her hands off of the billionaire that was Bakugou Masaru. Bakugou hated seeing what they said about her, knowing the truth behind it all was far beyond that.

“Have you said anything to Masaru?” Camie asks him, keeping her voice low. “I don’t want you to get a negative reputation because of this, Bakugou. The last thing I want is for your name to be dragged through the mud just because we were stupid teenagers. I’d hate to see your family be ruined in the press.”

“I’ve thought of the repercussions,” Bakugou tells her, sighing. “I’m just so tired of keeping this away from everyone. I want to be able to call Akari my daughter when I talk about her to the press, I want her to be allowed to call me ‘dad’ whenever she wants. It’s so hard explaining to her time and time again that she has to call me her brother. I can’t keep doing this to her, and if that makes me a martyr to the press, so be it.” He tries to ignore the stabbing of tears in his eyes, not even noticing they’ve already escaped until Camie reaches up to wipe them away. “I can’t keep doing this to her.”

Camie holds his face in her hands, thumbs swiping at his tears. Bakugou doesn’t bother to fight with her, knows it won’t do any good right now. “Think it over for the night, okay? Talk to your dad, go to the Christmas party he’s throwing. Have fun, enjoy yourself.” She kisses his cheek, giving his hand a parting squeeze. “Whatever you decide, I’m on your side, okay?”.

Camie’s right, Bakugou supposes. Maybe he should take the night to treat himself for a while, think about his decision. After all, the press would be having quite the field day when they find out that Bakugou Akari, the supposed daughter of billionaire Bakugou Masaru, was actually the illegitimate daughter of his son, Katsuki.

He arrives at the hotel a few minutes later, and from the looks of it, it appears that the guests have yet to arrive at the event. Maybe he could fit in a nice shower before he has to appear at the party, or maybe a long, hot bath. God knows he deserves one.

The same man from before, the one Akari calls ‘Mr. Kirishima’, still stands at the front desk, looking bored as ever. He’s staring off into space, Bakugou assuming that is the only way he doesn’t completely pass out from boredom. He wonders then if the man has a family, someone he is supposed to be spending the holiday with.

He approaches the front desk slowly, tapping on the little bell to get the man’s attention. It’s laughable when the man jumps out of the chair, startled by the sudden noise, but once he locks eyes with Bakugou a polite smile crosses his lips. “Oh, hi! Sorry about that, I was just, um,” he’s stumbling over his words, and Bakugou can’t help but chuckle in amusement.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bakugou tells him, sneaking a glance at his name tag. “Kirishima Eijirou. I’m not your boss, I can’t exactly be angry at you for being completely bored out of your damn mind.” He steals one of the mints that they have up front for guests, popping one into his mouth. “Don’t you have a family to spend the holiday with?”

Kirishima’s face shuts down then and Bakugou starts regretting that he asked. “I was told I had to work this Christmas and didn't get much of a choice in the matter.” Kirishima mumbles. “Hopefully I can make it home for the new year?”

Bakugou couldn’t imagine spending a holiday without his family. Then again, he was always with his father and Akari, never really being truly apart from them no matter what. From the looks of it, this man is separated from his family by distance. Bakugou might not be familiar with being alone during the holidays, but someone as bright and happy as Kirishima definitely shouldn’t have to spend it alone.

If Akari was spending Christmas here tonight, she would want Mr. Kirishima to have a good holiday, wouldn’t she?

“Hey,” Bakugou says, Kirishima lifting his face from his hands. “I know we haven’t talked, but how about you join me at the Christmas party tonight? Akari is spending the holiday with her mom, and I doubt the front desk needs you right now.” He looks over at the party, where some of the guests are starting to gather. “Besides, it’s stupid that you have to spend your holiday out here dealing with these rich snobs when you could be partying and enjoying the holiday season.”

Kirishima blushes, looking over at the party with what appeared to be a longing look. “That’s really kind of you, but I don’t want to leave the front desk short-staffed. Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for a party.”

That was true: Kirishima was dressed in his usual work uniform, looking obviously like a bell boy. The last thing Bakugou would want is to take Kirishima to a party and be treated like the help the rich were so used to having to wait on them. Tonight was about celebration, ringing in the holidays. Bakugou didn’t need an already sad Kirishima to be treated like crap during a party.

“Not that their opinion matters,” Bakugou mumbles. “I have a change of clothes for you up in my suite that could work. I’m also sure we overstaffed tonight anyway. Does that sound good?”

He can tell Kirishima is thinking it over, considering if it’s even worth it, and Bakugou understands. They’ve never really spoken to each other before tonight, and the random act of kindness certainly feels a little out of left field. Bakugou wasn’t exactly known for handouts. 

Still, there had to be something special about Kirishima if his daughter was so fascinated with him. Akari wasn’t a sociable little girl, had a hard time making friends as it was. What kind of dad would Bakugou be if he let one of her only friends have a bad holiday?

“Okay,” Kirishima decides. “I’ll go with you to this party.”

Bakugou nods. “Alright, let’s get you ready then.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Todoroki Shouto absolutely loathed Christmas. There wasn’t a single thing about the holiday that brought him joy, nor did it make him feel loved. In fact, Christmas had become the holiday in which Todoroki hated everything to do with it and everyone involved with it.

So it completely baffled him when his father’s good friend, Bakugou Masaru, asked Todoroki to be in charge of his annual Christmas party. Todoroki knew his father knew about his absolute hatred for the holiday. He made it quite obvious when Fuyumi began to put up the Christmas tree that he had no desire to celebrate the holiday at all. The fact that his father would actually recommend him to be in charge of a Christmas party was just cruel and insensitive in Todoroki’s eyes.

Planning had been a miserable task, having to force himself to be excited about the Christmas spirit. Most of the work had been perfectly planned, from catering to decorations. He had even spent a large sum of money on an amazing band Bakugou had referred to him too, only for the last-minute cancellation. As it had turned out, the band had decided that performing at someplace in Europe was more important than some Christmas party in Tokyo.

Todoroki was close, so, so close to tossing his phone into the pavement, when suddenly a voice entered his ears, followed by the soft strumming of a guitar. He knew it was a Christmas song, knew that the sense of hatred for Christmas should have smacked him in the face by now, but instead of anger filling him, it was awe. Whoever was singing the song, their voice was lovely. It had reminded Todoroki of when he was younger, and his mother would sing this exact song to him during the holiday season, back before the holiday became something different to him. 

He turns towards the sound and catches the eye of an incredibly beautiful man, strumming his guitar on the corner of the street. He looks in his element, a smile that leaves hope in Todoroki’s chest, and suddenly, he’s not so upset about the cancellation. Whomever this man was, he was incredible. This could be his chance to save the dreaded Christmas party.

He hardly expected the man to agree.

Now here they were, standing in the grand ballroom of the Bakugou Plaza, setting up the stage for the man’s, Midoriya’s, performance. Midoriya’s eyes are glistening in the bright lights decorating the stage, making the green sparkle in such a beautiful emerald shade. He’s absolutely mesmerized by the party before him, the adoration in his eyes making Todoroki smile the tiniest bit. 

“I’m going to grab you a change of clothes,” Todoroki tells him, hopping off of the stage. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable wearing something that isn’t covered in holes, wouldn’t you?” He’s sure Midoriya could fit into something from his closet, maybe something older of his that wasn’t so long in the sleeves and legs. All he needed was a nice sweater and some new jeans, nothing too much.

Midoriya shakes his head at Todoroki, holding a hand up. “You’ve done so much for me already; I don’t need you getting me clothes.” He’s polite, that was for sure. Todoroki wondered how someone on the streets of Tokyo could have such kindness, especially since Todoroki hardly knew anyone here that did. It was a cutthroat world out there, after all.

“Well, no offense,” Todoroki begins, helping Midoriya off of the stage and allowing the man to follow him towards the elevators. “You need to clean up a little for the performance. I’ll allow you to use a shower, change into something classier for the party. I promise that it costs nothing, just put on a good performance.”

Midoriya seems incredibly hesitant, and Todoroki begins to wonder if, despite Midoriya’s kind heart, if anyone had ever treated him the same. It’s as if Todoroki’s generosity was shocking, that anyone giving him the time of day was unbelievable. Todoroki truly didn’t understand that either. Midoriya seemed like the person everyone wanted to be around.

“Thank you,” Midoriya finally says, following Todoroki into the elevator. “Sorry, it’s just a little strange to be treated such a way by someone like you.”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow. “Should I be taking offense to that?”

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. He’s blushing, the color making his freckles stand out more. “I didn’t mean to be offensive! Normally people with money spit at me and treat me with no respect. After all, I’m not exactly someone with a lot of cash to his name.” His hands fall into his pockets. “I’m just a man playing the guitar on the street.”

“I’m sure there is more to you than that,” Todoroki assures him, the elevator doors opening before them. “C’mon, my suite is just down this hallway.” 

When they arrive at Todoroki’s suite, he leaves Midoriya alone in the living room as he takes off towards his bedroom. He’s sure he has a sweater that could fit Midoriya somewhere in his closet, along with a pair of pants that were fitting enough for Midoriya to be presented to the rich people downstairs. Folding the clothing, he sets them down on the sink of the bathroom before starting up the shower.

He walks back towards the living room, stopping in the doorway when he sees Midoriya looking at the pictures. Most of them are of his family, of course, but there are a few of Bakugou with his family as well. Their two families had always been rather close, with Todoroki considering Bakugou to be his best friend growing up.

“Shower is waiting for you,” Todoroki tells him, making Midoriya turn to face him. “I laid out some clothes in there for you as well.” He walks towards the mantle Midoriya had been glancing at, smiling at a photo of him and his family. “That picture was taken on my birthday a few years back.”

Midoriya smiles softly, looking at the picture. “You look a lot like your mother.”

Todoroki stiffens involuntarily. 

Midoriya squeaks. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” He looks down the hall, jutting a thumb out towards the bathroom. “I’m, er, going to go take that shower, I promise I won’t take too long.” He’s gone before Todoroki can say another word.

Left alone in the living room, Todoroki looks back at the picture. He’s smiling in the photo; he looks happy almost. His face wasn’t scarred, his mother was smiling, his siblings were all laughing at something behind the camera. To anybody else, it was a perfect family.

Todoroki wasn’t going to dwell on that tonight. Tonight was about throwing the best Christmas party he could for Mr. Bakugou. He wasn’t about to let his sadness, or his sudden attraction towards the man currently using his shower, ruin this night for anybody. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Kirishima thought he looked absolutely ridiculous. Granted, he’s never had to dress formally before, aside from the simple nice shirt and jeans when it came to events his family forced him to attend. The black button-up Bakugou had lent him feels foreign on his body, and he’s embarrassed at the fact that he cannot button up the shirt all the way because his shoulders tug so hard on the fabric. The slacks Bakugou insisted he wore were slightly uncomfortable, definitely tailored for a perfect fit on someone else that was not him.

Maybe the hotel lobby’s mirror was some sort of funhouse mirror. He seems taller when he stares at his reflection, broader than he remembers himself ever being. Kirishima was never one to think of himself highly in any means, but he had to admit that he cleaned up incredibly well. Of course, with the party in mind, he couldn’t be anything but.

“You’ll definitely blend in,” Bakugou assures him from where he sits on one of the lounge chairs in the lobby, finishing with tying up his shoes. “It is definitely a step up from your uniform.” 

“You’ve never seen me in anything else,” Kirishima jokes, watching as Bakugou shakes his head to hide the growing red on his face. “However, this is a step up from all of my wardrobe,” Kirishima admits to the man, smoothing down the button up once more as he releases a nervous breath. The fact that he had been invited to one of the Bakugou Plaza parties, so prestigious and glamorous that you had to be some kind of higher up to even be considered? It was enough to have him nervously standing in front of the lobby mirror and not exactly wanting to move. “Are you sure it is alright for me to attend? I mean, I am supposed to be working.”

Bakugou scoffs at Kirishima’s argument, turning him to face the mirror. His features are calm, handsome, and Kirishima has to make sure he’s breathing steadily so Bakugou won’t question a thing. “I invited you, so yes you are allowed. As for the working part, I found someone to cover for you while you were getting dressed up for the evening.” He pats Kirishima’s chest softly before looking up at Kirishima’s hair, frowning. “Maybe we should flatten your spikes before we go.”

Kirishima pouts, hand going up to poke at them. “What’s wrong with my spikes?”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you being serious, shitty hair? Those people down there will take one look at you and demand you be thrown out. You need to blend in, remember?” Bakugou reaches up, an attempt to flatten the spikes, but he groans when his hands come back covered in gel. “Gross, how much of that shit is in there?”

Kirishima swats his hands away, frowning at his now lowered spikes. “A lot!” He looks in the mirror and frowns. “Now I have to fix it, you fiend.” 

Bakugou smirks, arms crossed against his chest. “Shame, really.” He pushes Kirishima towards the bathroom, handing him a washcloth. “C’mon, get that crap out and I’ll fix it for you.” 

By the time Bakugou finishes Kirishima’s hair, they are a few minutes late. Bakugou doesn’t seem all too bothered about it though, smiling as he pushes Kirishima in front of a mirror and observes his work. “There,” he says. “Much better than those stupid spikes.” 

His hair has been pulled into an elegant braid, a few pieces framing his face and lightly curled. It was better than his spikes, admittedly, and it made Kirishima feel proper. He hasn’t had his hair done in such a way since he was a teenager. 

“It’s beautiful,” Kirishima whispers, fingers tracing the braid. He turns to Bakugou with a grateful smile. “Am I presentable now?”

Bakugou shrugs, but Kirishima can see a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Close enough.” He holds an arm out for Kirishima to take. “C’mon, we are already late.”

The sound of Christmas music hits them the minute they exit the elevator, an American artist serenading them over the loudspeakers with his melodic voice. If Kirishima had felt out of place before, he certainly does now as he takes in the various people around him, each of them dressed exquisitely and adorning the finest of jewelry. Each hold glasses of alcoholic drinks in their hands, laughing amongst each other about this as soft Christmas music plays over loudspeakers. If Kirishima had to be honest, completely honest, this was not what he had expected.

“There is supposed to be a live band,” Bakugou tells him, pointing over towards an empty stage covered in Christmas lights. “Todoroki hires one almost every single year to perform. Most of the time it happens to be classical Christmas music, but in recent years he has been hiring more modern artists to perform.”

“So I might see Michael Buble in person and not just hear his voice on speakers?” Kirishima jokes, a grin on his face as he knocks into Bakugou’s shoulder. The man snorts along with him, unattractive and loud. It wasn’t the first time Kirishima has heard the infamous Bakugou laugh, but it feels as if it every time he hears it, his heart soars. Hearing it directed towards something he had said was a whole new experience.

“I don’t think he had enough in the budget to hire someone like that, but I can promise whoever he did sign is going to bring down the house,” Bakugou reaches for two glasses off of a passing waitresses tray, handing Kirishima the bubbling glass with a dazzling smile. “ I have to at least be a good host, so that means I have to mingle a bit, but I promise once I am done getting to know some of these people we can enjoy ourselves.” He taps his glass lightly against Kirishima’s before taking a drink, Kirishima following suit shortly after with his eyes tracing the various partygoers nervously.

Most of them were dressed to complete perfection, head to toe in diamonds and suits, impeccable. It didn’t matter that Kirishima was wearing quite the fine suit himself, he could still feel the various eyes on him, judging him where he stands. His hair was still a bright red, and who knew how he was supposed to behave at such an event? The only high-level event he has ever been a part of had been a business party of his mother's, and even then the people there were not close to the level the ones here were.

“Are you lost?” A woman asks him suddenly, making him turn to face her. She wears the largest of diamonds around her neck, a tight white dress hugging her figure as she continues to search Kirishima with her eyes. “I do believe I saw you working at the front desk when I had arrived, shouldn’t you be there now?”

Kirishima swallows deeply. “I was invited, thank you.”

The woman is disbelieving, laughing to herself as she looks around the room at the various other guests. “Who exactly would bring a front desk boy to a Bakugou party? Now, how about you go fetch my coat for me? It is a little drafty in here and I would prefer to be warm before the entertainment arrives.”

 If Kirishima hadn’t been raised a gentleman by his mother, he would have most definitely lashed out at the woman. He’s heard rather harsh words towards him before, the front desk giving him plenty of frustrated rich folk to snap at him, but this woman was directly insulting him. This was a whole new level that he hasn’t experienced since his harrowing days of high school and he certainly wasn’t about to deal with it now.

“Excuse me,” Bakugou’s voice cuts through the tension easily, and Kirishima feels himself breathing a little easier just by the man’s sudden appearance. “Nashiko, I do believe I saw your husband running off toward the bathrooms with someone awfully younger than you. Awful to see that marriage counseling was a waste.”

Nashiko gasps, looking at Bakugou horrified before excusing herself towards the exit. Bakugou chuckles as she attempts to run away in rather tall high heels, turning to Kirishima with a comforting hand placed upon his shoulder and lips pursed. “She had no right to speak to you like that.”

Kirishima merely shrugs, taking another sip from his glass. “She wasn’t wrong, you know. Someone like me doesn’t belong in a place like this. I do stick out like a sore thumb.” He shouldn’t be bitter, he doesn’t really need to be bitter after Bakugou has stood up for him, but the woman’s words continue to echo in his head.

Bakugou shakes his head, taking Kirishima’s glass away from him and placing it back on a passing waitress’s tray. “Her opinion doesn’t matter,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “We can go somewhere else if you want? The whole point of tonight is to have fun, not being dragged down by rich assholes that insult my guests.”

“This is your party though,” Kirishima defends, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t think your father would be very happy to find out that his son was not tending to the guests at their annual Christmas party, would he?” He doesn’t intend for there to be so much spite behind his words, but once they have left his mouth there is no turning back. “I can just go back to the front desk, it’s alright.” He begins to weave his way through the crowded ballroom, so close to the exit when Bakugou tugs on his sleeve.

“It’s not though!” Bakugou demands. “Look, you were miserable working at the desk tonight, that was obvious.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to keep his anger at bay. “We don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.”

Bakugou’s words surprise Kirishima greatly, leaving him standing there, fish mouthed. His mind cannot even form coherent words so he can respond, other than utterly ridiculous noises of shock. 

He’s heard stories of Bakugou Katsuki, the rumors of his infamous temper, his hard exterior being impossible to crack. The only people he seemed to care for were his family. It was strange to see someone rumored to be so selfish be so caring towards him, especially when Kirishima hasn’t done anything to deserve being treated so kindly. He’s just a front desk worker. 

“Tokyo has plenty of excitement,” Bakugou promises, releasing Kirishima’s sleeve. “At least let me show you that.”

Kirishima would be completely stupid to say no. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The change of clothes Todoroki provides him with is a near-perfect fit, and the warmth they provide is something Midoriya hasn’t had in so long. It’s strange to wear clothing that doesn’t feel tattered and worn, but rather expensive and soft to the touch. His hair feels healthy again, conditioned and losing the feeling of grease and straw. He was even able to shave off the stubble that had built up against his jaw, leaving himself clean-shaven and ready to take on just about anything.

“I know that your guitar looked rather broken down,” Todoroki comments as they stand on stage in the ballroom, half of the stage already set up for Midoriya’s set. It makes everything feel more real than it already was, and reminds Midoriya that this was actually happening; he was performing in a hotel, for Christmas, and not freezing his ass off outside in the winter snow. “So I managed to find one that could replace it, or at least one that can be used for tonight.”

It's a near replica of the one Midoriya has had for years, minus the battered edges his has endured over the years. This one is smooth, fitting into Midoriya’s hands as if it was meant to be in them. It sure helps ease the tension resting in Midoriya’s shoulders for sure. “Where did you get something like this on such short notice?”

Todoroki shrugs at him, dismissing the question altogether. “Don’t worry about it, consider it a Christmas gift from me.” Midoriya can’t help but notice the slight bit of blush dusting his cheeks, and while he desperately wants to call attention to it, he keeps his mouth shut. “Now, I don’t exactly have a setlist for you, figured you could just wing it? The band has a huge repertoire of Christmas music for you at hand, just make sure you inform them just what you want to sing?” Midoriya nods, tuning the guitar as Todoroki speaks. “All I ask of you is to make a good impression, yeah? Mr. Bakugou is watching, and the last thing I need is for him to belittle me for not finding a good enough talent.”

Midoriya doesn’t like the tone of Todoroki’s words, shaking his head. “I don’t think I would be standing here if you didn’t think I was good enough, now would I?” He challenges. 

Todoroki doesn’t seem phased by the bit of venom behind Midoriya’s words, simply groaning and turning his attention to his cell phone. “Sorry. I just don’t need Mr. Bakugou on my ass about a performance that I didn’t even want to plan, or even a Christmas party that I wanted nothing to do with.” Shoving his cell phone back in his pocket he turns to face Midoriya one last time. “If he likes you, that could mean big things. Don’t mess up your chance.” He offers what Midoriya assumes must be a friendly smile, but it’s hard to determine exactly.

The sudden change in behavior is what has Midoriya confused about the rich man. Before Todoroki had been so kind to him, offering to help him in terms of shelter and warmth, when suddenly the cold shoulder came out. If Midoriya had not already felt the vibe of Christmas hatred Todoroki had, he certainly did now. It was only a matter of just why someone could hate such a joyful holiday that has Midoriya feeling even more drawn to this handsome rich guy.

He watches Todoroki walk away with his cell phone glued to his ear, curious about what made this man tick. It had only been a couple of hours since they had met, and Midoriya was already completely intrigued by him. He was an enigma, and normally Midoriya could read someone to a perfect T. 

He distracts himself by speaking with the band briefly to get a feel for the setlist, finding himself a little surprised when they recognize some of the more modern Christmas songs. Midoriya wanted a good mix when it came to the party, even though he did love the classic Christmas songs. They would play them constantly at the orphanage when he was younger, even in the foster homes he grew up in. Yet he also loved the more rock-sounding Christmas songs, and while this rich group didn’t seem all too fond of him at first glance it seemed, he was still going to play music he enjoyed. After all, it was his performance.

“The setlist looks great,” Todoroki tells him, hands stuffed into his expensive suit. “Surprised to find a bit of a rock vibe in them, if I am honest. I shouldn’t be, considering the green hair and the eyebrow piercing.”

Midoriya smirks, adjusting the strap of his guitar. “Just doing what feels right. I hope it’s enough to impress Mr. Bakugou for you.” 

Todoroki snorts. “I’m sure he will just appreciate the fact that there is some form of entertainment is all. I think you will do amazing if that is any consolation.” He goes to step away, wishing good luck to them once more, but Midoriya reaches forward to grab his arm before he can leave. There has been a question in his mind that has bothered him since they had met, and he needed to get it out now. Who knows if he would see Todoroki afterward?

“Tell me if I am overstepping, but why do you dislike Christmas?”

Todoroki stiffens, just like he did back in his suite. “Oh, um,” he clears his throat, adjusting his tie. “It’s just not my favorite holiday, that’s all. Now, I have to go speak with some of the guests, make sure everyone is enjoying themselves.” He steps off of the stage, but before he officially leaves earshot Midoriya spits out a promise he intends to keep.

“I am going to change your mind!” he promises, though he’s unsure if Todoroki even hears him over the crowd. 

Todoroki Shouto may dislike Christmas, but Midoriya is now dead set on changing his mind. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

It’s nearly freezing outside of the hotel, Bakugou suddenly grateful for the extra thick coat his father had purchased for him a few weeks back. The beanie atop of his head doesn’t exactly do a fantastic job at stopping the cold winter air from nipping at the tips of his ears, but it does become bearable. Gloves, however, seem to be completely out of the question, as he left them sitting atop of his bed back at the hotel.

Kirishima doesn’t seem at all bothered by the cold weather, tucked away carefully in a wool coat and gloves that looked quite expensive. His nose is nipped red still, and Bakugou can’t help but find it rather adorable the way he wrinkles it as they walk towards Citizen Plaza. It had been Kirishima’s idea to go ice skating at the famed plaza, explaining to Bakugou that this was what he had done the past few years when his family would come to visit him.

“It was pretty hard at first, but I managed to get the hang of it,” Kirishima explains as they walk towards the rental skates. “My mom always told me that I had legs of a baby giraffe, and the balance to match. I wasn’t the one who kept falling over that first night though.”

The image of Kirishima flailing all over the ice is amusing, making Bakugou smile. “My mom would take me skating when I was younger and taught me how to do some moves on the ice without seriously injuring myself.” Bakugou looks around as pairs skate around them, holding each other's hands and laughing amongst each other. He sighs.”I can’t do any of them with this many people around, but when it was just the two of us at the rink I could let loose. I haven’t really skated much since she moved to America.”

Kirishima grins, handing Bakugou his ice skates and leading them over towards a bench for them to lace up. “Well, I am glad I brought up coming here then! I promise it will be a lot of fun, and if you fall over I promise that I will not laugh.”

Bakugou tightens the laces on his skates, assuring his feet are locked in tight before he brings himself up and off of the bench and towards the rink. “I make no promises for when you fall.” He tells Kirishima, holding out his hand to help Kirishima off of the bench. His hand immediately feels warmer than it had during the walk there, and now he wishes he didn’t have to let go.

Kirishima giggles at Bakugou’s words, pushing past him and zipping down the rink. Bakugou watches in complete amazement as Kirishima skates circles around the others skating with them, looking so delicate and agile on the ice. Bakugou, however, finds himself clinging to the railing on the side, wondering if he should see if he could still skate and push off.

“Hey,” Kirishima calls to him, skating back over and holding out his hand for Bakugou. “C’mon, I thought you said you were good at this? Get off of the railing and come skate with me.”

Without even a moment to think, Bakugou takes Kirishima’s hand back in his, the warmth from before shooting up his arm as the two of them take off across the ice. All of Bakugou’s instincts rush back to him, the thrill of skating around on the ice taking him back to before he was given all the challenges of being a hotel owner’s son, the one who was supposed to be stoic and serious.

Kirishima looks happier than he had been back at the hotel. Looking over at the man has Bakugou smiling nearly as bright as the Christmas tree ahead of them, with the man’s dazzling crimson eyes glistening underneath all of the lights as he grips Bakugou’s hand tighter as they take a corner. It’s the innocence and childlike glee that reminds him so much of the Christmas season and the beauty it brings.

It also reminds him of one special person whom he misses with all his heart.

“I wish I could have taken Akari here before she went to her Mom’s,” Bakugou blurts out, looking towards the Christmas tree with a soft sigh. “She had been bugging me about taking her here for a few weeks now but I have never had the time. She’s always wanted to learn how to skate.”

Kirishima spins them around, making himself face Bakugou and stopping their movements near one of the railings. His hand still remains in Bakugou’s, however, something that Bakugou cannot help but note. “Tell me if I am overstepping at all, but this is something I have been meaning to ask you.” He leans in close, breath tickling Bakugou’s ears as he asks, “Is Akari really your sister?”

Bakugou rips his hand out of Kirishima’s. “What the fuck does that mean?” He recoils instantly, pushing himself away from Kirishima. There wasn’t a chance that this man knew unless Akari had said something to him during their hangouts. He’d been too careful keeping everything a secret, making sure nobody outside of his family or the Todoroki family knew a thing.

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima starts, noticing Bakugou’s face fall. “I was thinking about it earlier, with how protective you are over her, how she acts around you. I have younger sisters, but the way you treat Akari is more of a father-daughter bond than a sibling bond to me.” He reaches out for Bakugou once more. “She slipped up the other day, called you dad instead of Katsuki. I don’t think you noticed, but I did.”

Bakugou feels his chest closing in, the air leaving his body as he looks around frantically. “You cannot tell anyone, Kirishima. If the media found out they would tear my family apart, and the last thing I want is Akari to be the center of a huge scandal coming back to haunt us.” He can feel his hands shaking and he reaches for the railing to steady them. His breathing remains erratic, however, and he tries to take deep breaths.

A hand rests on his own, another reaching for his other hand and placing it against Kirishima’s chest. He looks up with blurry eyes to see Kirishima smiling softly at him, worried. “Follow my breathing,” Kirishima simply instructs, keeping Bakugou’s hand against his heart. “I promise I won’t say a word. It is not my secret to share, okay?”

Breathe in, breathe out. “I’ve just worked so damn hard to raise her, Kirishima. My dad helps when he is around, but it’s mostly been me and Camie trying to give her the best life we can. I was a stupid teenager who made a stupid mistake and the last thing I want is for Akari to feel like she wasn’t the best thing to come out of it. I love her so much, Kirishima. I just want her to be happy.”

Kirishima moves them away from the railing, back towards the benches where they placed their shoes. He helps Bakugou move to sit down, an arm immediately wrapping around his shoulders as Kirishima attempts to soothe the rather upset man. “You are the greatest part of her life, Bakugou. You are all she talks about with me, and she loves you right back, with just as much intensity.” There’s a slight pressure against Bakugou’s beanie, another flood of warmth rushing at his system as he realizes it was Kirishima’s lips. “How about we get out of here, maybe stop at a nearby restaurant I saw?”

Bakugou nods against the comfort of Kirishima’s chest, leaning forward to remove his skates and put his boots back on. Kirishima keeps a comforting hand resting against the small of his back as he does so, and he begins to allow himself to relax.

As they walk towards the restaurant, Kirishima reaches for Bakugou’s hand once more and holds it tightly in his grasp. “I noticed you weren’t wearing gloves,” he notes when Bakugou looks down at their hands. “Figured you would like to be warm, at least until we get inside.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He simply squeezes Kirishima’s hand back and allows the man to pull him towards the restaurant. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Midoriya is absolutely mesmerizing up on that stage.

Todoroki knows he has other things he should really be focusing on, such as the party guests and speaking with his siblings who have just arrived, but he can’t help but be incredibly drawn to the beautiful voice coming out of the boy on stage. He was incredible, his vocals sounding far better now that he was in front of a microphone and had the proper instruments backing him up. Todoroki may dislike Christmas music entirely, but Midoriya’s current rendition of ‘Rockin Around The Christmas Tree’ had him humming along despite it.

A few of the guests seem slightly put off by Midoriya’s appearance, which Todoroki knows is not as formal as everyone in the crowd. It was hard enough finding clothing in his closet that Midoriya could fit in, and while Todoroki thought Midoriya looked incredible in what he had selected, it seems as though some of the guests could disagree with that. He could see the looks on most of their faces, but it was covered up by the majority of the crowd dancing and enjoying the performance.

“Shouto!” he hears someone call out to him from within the crowd, only to find his sister holding her wine glass up high to catch his attention. She wears a beautiful grin on her face as she approaches him, kissing his cheek the minute she reaches him. “This party has been so spectacular so far, you have really outdone yourself.”

“Thanks, Fuyumi,” Todoroki’s grin falls as his father approaches a little more slowly, but he takes his dad’s hand and shakes it firmly. “Nice to see you here, dad. Figured you and Masaru would be off in your own little corner helping yourselves to the alcohol at the bar.”

Todoroki Enji was a rather strict man. While he was a lot kinder around Masaru or his clients, it seemed that when he was around Todoroki, or anyone else for that matter, he was rather stiff and to the point. It made Todoroki feel as though he was one of his father’s employees rather than his son. “Not sure about the man you have chosen to perform. I thought you had hired a band we recommended?”

Todoroki swallows. “They made a last-minute cancellation. I had to improvise rather quickly, but Midoriya is absolutely incredible.”

Fuyumi raises an eyebrow at the mention of Midoriya’s name, taking a sip of her wine. “Where exactly did you find him? He doesn’t exactly seem like the type of person you spend your time with.” She doesn’t sound as disapproving as his father did, more of a curiosity. 

“Actually, I found him right outside of the hotel,” Todoroki admits out loud, eyes steady on Midoriya as the man belts his heart out. He belongs up there, truly. “He was out front busking, and he was incredible. Even with how damaged his guitar was he managed to play so beautifully. The last thing I wanted was him to stay out there as it got colder, and with that cancellation throwing a wrench into things I decided to give him a shot.”

Enji scoffs, looking towards the stage with what appeared to be disdain. “He certainly looks like someone you would find off of the street. Shouto, I know that you have a specific hatred towards Christmas, but the least you could have done is find Masaru an act that wasn’t homeless.” He shakes his head as he looks back at Todoroki, hands stuffed away into his pockets. “I am going to find Masaru.”

As he walks away, Fuyumi sighs softly. “Dad’s words do contain some merit, Shouto. You cannot bring some poor, homeless man into an event so formal. Most of the people that spend their time outside of this place are begging for handouts.”

“Really?” Todoroki starts, arms folded across his chest as he looks at his sister. “I was trying to do something out of kindness. He was outside freezing his ass off and was making quite the load of money. In return, he expected nothing, didn’t ask me for more money? He tried rejecting everything I offered him, and you dare to tell me he is begging for handouts?” The song Midoriya had been playing begins to fade out in the background, the crowd cheering as Todoroki pushes past his sister to head towards the stage. He can hear her calling out to him, but he doesn’t care.

Midoriya is smiling wide, face slightly sweaty from the performance. Todoroki has never seen someone so in their element before, the wide smile as a feeling of immense pride rushes through their system. Seeing Midoriya up there with such a smile, such excitement over being up there? It made Todoroki’s heart thud rather quickly.

“This next song I dedicate to a friend of mine, who, for some reason, has decided that Christmas is his least favorite holiday,” He turns towards the corner of the stage, where Todoroki now stands. The man rolls his eyes at Midoriya’s words. “Hope you enjoy this. Count it as one of my attempts to change your mind.” He winks, before strumming softly on his guitar to the tune of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’.

A smile manages to creep its way onto Todoroki’s face as Midoriya sings, and he doesn’t bother with forcing it away. Maybe it was some kind of miracle, but for a moment, just watching Midoriya sing so beautifully about the rather awful holiday, Todoroki could feel himself beginning to get into the Christmas spirit.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The place Kirishima managed to find is rather quaint, empty with the exception of a few lonely people enjoying mediocre tea at the bar top. They manage to get a booth to themselves, Kirishima automatically ordering them two hot chocolates and some slices of whatever the dessert of the day happened to be. “Figured it is a little late in the day to have dinner,” Kirishima explains to Bakugou as their waitress jots down their order before darting off towards the back to gather their drinks. “Besides, their cakes are absolutely incredible. I promise it will lift your spirits.”

Bakugou only offers a shrug, but the tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips says otherwise. He shrugs off his coat and sets it beside him, removing the beanie from his head and ruffling his ash-blond hair. “It feels better here. Maybe I need to move someplace warmer.”

“It snows far more in Chiba,” Kirishima informs him, thanking their waitress as she sets down their drinks and dessert. “I’m not a huge fan of the cold, but I really like the snow. There isn’t a lot of it here in the city, so I like going back home to experience a real winter.” He takes a drink of his hot chocolate, ignoring how hot it feels against his tongue.

Bakugou grumbles as he takes a bite of his dessert. “That sounds like hell.” He swallows down the dessert quickly, wiping his mouth before asking, “Is that where you are from, Chiba?”

Kirishima nods, staring down at his cake, biting down on his lip. He hadn’t even thought of his family tonight, them being a little more distant as Bakugou surrounded his thoughts instead. He hadn’t meant to do it on purpose, after all, he did wish for some kind of distraction when it came to being unable to return home. Yet in his pursuit for a distraction, he had forgotten all about his family back home. For that, he felt awful. 

A foot collides with his shin, making him look back up at Bakugou. “You zoned off,” Bakugou raises an eyebrow at him as he takes a drink of his hot chocolate. “Thinking about your family?”

“Yeah,” Kirishima admits, picking at his dessert. “I haven’t spent a Christmas away from them before. It’s been nice spending time with you, but I guess I feel guilty that I’m enjoying myself when they are back home missing me.” He knows he shouldn’t, that his mother is probably overjoyed he is able to spend it with someone, but the feeling rests on his chest heavily. 

“I spent Christmas last year with Akari,” Bakugou tells him, voice low. “My mom was in the city too, so we were able to see her for a little while before she went back to America. Ever since she divorced my dad I haven’t seen her much so it was a nice surprise.” 

“What about Akari’s mom?” Kirishima dares to ask, almost a whisper in case others are listening. The restaurant isn’t crowded at the moment, but the last thing he wants to be responsible for is the media finding out Bakugou’s secret. It wouldn’t be fair. “Are the two of you close?”

“Not anymore,” Bakugou admits. “We used to be before Akari was born. Then everything got fucked up and now we only see each other when I’m picking up Akari or dropping her off.” He pushes the plate of dessert away from him. “I think part of her resents me for how bad things got when the media found out about her pregnancy. I don’t blame her, she should hate me for everything that happened.” 

Kirishima hums against the rim of his cup. He remembers reading about the scandal in the magazines, how each one painted her in a bad light while never placing any sort of blame on the Bakugou family. “Did she agree to it?”

Bakugou’s grip on his mug looks dangerous. “She didn’t have a choice. My fucking parents were so damn concerned with how I would look that they didn’t bother giving her a chance. They paid her off, my dad agreed to take the damn fall for it all. My parents were already getting divorced by then anyway.” There’s a sadness in his eyes that Kirishima wishes would fade. “They think I knocked her up as a rebellion of sorts, to show how angry I was that they were separating.”

Kirishima reaches for the hand wrapped tightly around the mug, fingers tracing Bakugou’s shaking knuckles until the man releases his grip. Before Kirishima can take his hand in his own Bakugou is pulling his hand back towards him, crossing his arms. “Did you love her?” Kirishima dares to ask. 

“She was a friend,” Bakugou sighs. “Nothing more than that. She was there when my parents weren’t; when Shouto was dealing with his own family drama and wasn’t around for mine.”

“Sounds like a good friend to me,” Kirishima smiles at him, once again nudging Bakugou’s foot against his own. “You told me before that all you want is for Akari to be happy, and you are doing an amazing job. She loves you, Bakugou. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t rave about you to me. I’m sure Camie hears all about it too.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. He turns back to his dessert and shovels the last of it into his mouth, swallowing it down. “You were right.” 

Kirishima smiles. “Oh?”

“The cake,” Bakugou clarifies. “It did help.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Midoriya is given a short intermission before he has to perform again, one long enough that he can search the crowd for Todoroki. The man had managed to vanish shortly after Midoriya had dedicated one of his songs to him, and while Midoriya knew that the man was most likely busy with other affairs in regards to the party, he needed to speak with him, thank him. 

“Hey, kid!” a stagehand calls out to him, Midoriya turning in surprise. “I have someone over here that wants to speak with you! He promises it won’t take long!”

Midoriya looks over towards the other end of the stage, where a man in a suit stands with a welcoming grin and his hands clasped together. Midoriya tries not to look so excited once he realizes who the man is, keeping it bubbling in his chest as he strides towards him. This is a man he’s seen plastered on the magazines in front of the shabby hotel he lived, in all of the rock magazines he managed to scour through before being swat away by the front desk. 

“Toshinori Yagi,” the man greets him, shaking Midoriya’s hand with a warm, welcoming smile. He’s seen better days, his age catching up to him as his suit hangs off his body as if it was meant for someone bigger. “Before I start, I have to tell you how incredible you were up there. You have some talent within you kid.”

Midoriya forgets how to breathe. “Thank you!” he manages, hand to his chest. “I’ve never, uh, performed on an actual stage before, so I’m glad to hear that I did a good job.” He wrings his hands nervously, doing his best to display some sort of confidence in the face of his hero. This wasn’t something he was anticipating ever happening, adding another miracle to an already miraculous night. 

Toshinori laughs, a deep sound. “I wouldn’t have known that was your first time performing if you hadn’t just told me! Could have confused you with a veteran performer.” He beckons Midoriya to follow him back towards the stage, looking up there with what Midoriya could only imagine was a vision. “I can see something bright in your future, though it is a little too soon to determine much. I’m sure the rest of your set will settle things for me.”

Midoriya feels like he is about to pass out. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t say that unless I was sure,” Toshinori promises, reaching into his suit jacket for a business card and placing it into Midoriya’s open palm. “There is a good chance we will be talking by the end of the night, but I want you to have this in case I can’t catch you.” He gives Midoriya one last pat on the shoulder before asking, “I don’t believe I caught your name, young man.”

“Midoriya!” Midoriya blurts, blushing. “Midoriya Izuku.”

Toshinori grins, a wide smile that puts Midoriya at ease. “I won’t forget that name, Midoriya. I look forward to the rest of your performance.” 

Now more than ever, Midoriya wants to find Todoroki. 

He finds him in the lobby, sitting with a glass in his hand and looking rather discouraged. He seems to be staring off into his own world as Midoriya approaches, distracted by the swirling of his drink as Midoriya takes a seat beside him. “I just spoke with Toshinori Yagi.” He tries to conceal his excitement, nearly squealing the man’s name as he feels his body jolt with excitement. 

Todoroki looks at him, a hint of surprise on his otherwise blank face. “Music producer Toshinori Yagi?”

Midoriya nods excitedly. “Yeah! He pulled me aside, told me I have potential. He wants to see the rest of my set, see if I have what it takes.” The bubbling in his chest threatens to burst then and there, a million thanks on the tip of his tongue reserved just for Todoroki.

Todoroki’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but nonetheless, he looks happy for him. “You deserve to be up there, Midoriya. You’ve proven yourself that much.” He sets his drink down, getting up and ushering Midoriya back towards the party. The band has taken over with playing instrumentals, Oh Holy Night has couples pairing up around them and swaying to the soft sound, leaving Midoriya awkwardly standing beside Todoroki. 

A hand slips into Midoriya’s, cold to the touch and making him jump. “Do you want to dance?” Todoroki asks him. 

Midoriya would be foolish to tell him no. 

For a moment it is only the two of them on the dance floor. Midoriya doesn’t hear the rest of the rich socialites around them, doesn’t have the nervous energy of Toshinori Yagi’s offer, or even the fact that the elusive Bakugou Masaru was somewhere amongst the crowd bearing down on him. None of them mattered except for Todoroki, holding Midoriya close to him with a hand on his hip and the other holding his free hand to sway him to the music. 

He’s known Todoroki for a moment, but it feels like a lifetime. It scares him, that such a short amount of time has him feeling lighter, happy, content. Todoroki has done so much for him in such a small timeframe that Midoriya isn’t even sure where to begin repaying him. 

He pulls back from Todoroki’s chest, opening his mouth to express his gratitude, but he finds himself lost in a heterochromatic dreamland, in the softness of Todoroki’s features and the rhythm of the music around him. 

In an impulsive moment, he presses his lips against Todoroki’s. 

There isn’t a pull away, and demand that he leave. Instead, there’s a hand moving from his hip to his hair, keeping Midoriya’s face close and allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony. There isn’t a rushing sensation of ‘this is the kiss’ that follows, nor is there the overwhelming beat in his chest that threatens to burst. It’s one of the most comforting feelings of being in the right place for the first time in forever, without the stress of something going wrong. It is, in the simplest way Midoriya could put it, perfect. 

It’s heartbreaking when it ends. Todoroki pulls away from him rather abruptly and keeps him at an arm’s distance. Gone is the shared feeling Todoroki had in his eyes when they first kissed, replaced by a cloud of confusion and what Midoriya begs not to be regret. “We shouldn't have done that.” 

Midoriya tries to hide his embarrassment. The band wraps up their song, and he’s due back on stage soon. This could be a perfect breakaway, a way to save himself the humiliation that his feelings were not reciprocated. “It’s my fault.”

“I can’t be with you,” Todoroki continues, running a hand down his face. It’s as though he’s at war with himself, but when Midoriya reaches out towards him, he steps further away. “I can’t be with someone I found on the street.”

Midoriya’s heart shatters, and the excitement that once bubbled in his chest switches to anger in an instant. He’s grown used to hateful words towards him over the years over his appearance, been spit on by people passing him on the street over sheer disgust over things he couldn’t control.

It’s different when it’s someone he thought was kind, someone he thought was worth something to him. 

“I wouldn’t want to be with someone so entitled, anyway,” Midoriya retorts, pushing himself past Todoroki and making his way towards the stage. He ignores the tears burning his eyes as he pulls himself onto the stage, ignores the way the band looks at him with pity, as if they saw the entire thing happen right before their eyes. 

He instructs the band to begin playing the next song and channels Todoroki out entirely. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

 

Kirishima’s hand is warm in his, making Bakugou forget about the bitter cold that surrounded them as they walked back to Bakugou Plaza. It’s been a long time since Bakugou has felt content with another person being this close to him, a hand intertwined with his and allowing them to ask questions about his family, about Akari. He’s been careful about letting people know about any details, keeping friends at arm’s length in fear that they would spill something to the media. 

Kirishima was so, so different. He was kind, patient, almost unbelievable. He gave Bakugou the feeling of comfort, ease, that he’s only ever felt with his family or Todoroki. 

A bonus? Akari already adored him. He’s lost count of how many times Akari has rattled on and on about Mr. Kirishima at the front desk, how he always snuck her treats or made her smile when she was bored. Bakugou was already damn sure that Kirishima cared for her right back. 

Yet the feeling of unease lingered around his mind. There have been plenty of people he’s considered letting in, getting close, and some that have been around Akari without knowing the truth. They all wanted the same thing: to be in good graces with such a rich family, exposure. He was tired of feeling used, nothing more than just the son of someone with power. He wasn’t Masaru and Mitsuki Bakugou’s heir, he was Bakugou Katsuki: heir, human being. 

Kirishima squeezes his hand, thumb tracing over his knuckles. “Thinking of Akari?”

Bakugou squeezes his hand back, shaking his head. “Thinking about you.” 

It might be the cold, but Kirishima’s face burns red. It suits him, the color. “Oh?” he stutters, and Bakugou feels his own face warm considerably. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but there wasn’t any turning back now, was there?

“I don’t trust people,” Bakugou admits. “I’ve had people use me, use Akari. There is a surprising amount of people who think being kind to a little girl is enough to get them an in with my family.” He watches as snowflakes decorate Kirishima’s eyelashes, resisting the urge to brush them away. “I trust you.”

He doesn’t know Kirishima. He doesn’t know if the red in the man’s hair is his natural hair color, if he prefers boxers or briefs. He knows that he adores his family, Christmas is his favorite holiday, and Akari loves him. It certainly isn’t enough to establish anything beyond a friendship, but it is a chance to get to know one another, which is what he needs right now. 

He wants to know how Kirishima likes his eggs in the morning, what his favorite type of music is. Does he shower in the morning or at night? Does he have a preference for coffee, or does he like the taste of tea more? 

A thumb smooths out the wrinkles forming on his brow, Kirishima’s touch feeling warm on his skin. “Still thinking of me?” he teases, and Bakugou can’t stop the red that covers his face. 

“Shut up,” Bakugou blurts out, avoiding eye contact with the man. Instead, he tightens his grip on Kirishima’s hand, keeping his focus forward as the hotel comes into view. The front looks busy as ever, guests still arriving while others are drunkenly stumbling towards cabs. 

His phone has stayed silent the entire night, and even looking at it now he doesn’t have any missed calls or texts. He assumes his dad has been busy the majority of the night tending to guests, and there wasn’t a chance of Todoroki contacting him if he knew they were at the same place. 

He had been hoping for a text from Camie at least. Were they still making cookies, or was Akari in bed? Did she make sure she brushed her teeth or read a story to help her sleep?

His thought process is interrupted by his name being called across the lobby of the hotel, the voice loud and raspy. Kirishima’s grip on his hand loosens to the point where they are no longer touching, and before Bakugou can mourn the loss of touch, Bakugou Mistuki is directly in his face with a scowl. 

“Where have you been all night?” she asks, unamused. She’s dressed beautifully for the event, far different than Bakugou was used to seeing her. 

Hell, why was he seeing her?

“You’re supposed to be in America,” he says, earning a scoff from Mitsuki. “Something about hating the cold?” His tone is bitter, as it should be. 

“Figured my brat would appreciate me coming to see him for the holidays,” she explains, hands on her hips. “I’m assuming that isn’t the case, considering you haven’t been anywhere near the hotel for the night.” She looks over at Kirishima. “Who are you?”

Kirishima holds out his gloved hand, but he doesn’t look comfortable. Bakugou doesn’t like this look on him. “Kirishima Eijirou, I’m, uh, a friend of Bakugou’s.” Mitsuki takes his hand, shaking it firmly before looking back at her son. “Sorry for keeping him away from the hotel. The party was just a lot and we wanted to get away for a few hours.”

“So you’re keeping him from his responsibilities?” Mitsuki accuses, and Bakugou feels his fists clench. 

“It was my idea,” he defends. “Besides, Todoroki is the one who planned this party, not me. I made my appearance, decided to do something I wanted to do. I’m back here now, so I don’t see what the problem is.” 

He wants to reach for Kirishima’s hand again, wants the comfort that came from his fingers intertwined with his own. He wants to drag him towards the party and have fun, have it just be the two of them. 

Mitsuki sighs. “The issue is that we need you here to make appearances, not be here for a few minutes before running off. The whole reason we throw these parties every year is to-”

“Impress people,” Bakugou finishes for her, taking a deep breath of his own. “I’m not interested in impressing anybody here, that’s for sure. Nobody at this party gives a shit about me, they care about you or dad. They only care about the details of our personal lives so they can slander us in magazines, some scandal to expose for a payday, just so they can feel better about themselves.” He reaches back for Kirishima, takes the man’s hand in his before looking at his mother again. “I’ll go back to the party, but I’m not going to suck up to some assholes who just want some entertainment.”

Mitsuki looks as though she wants to say more, but she keeps her mouth closed. Bakugou hates arguing with her, knows it doesn’t go anywhere with how stubborn the two of them tend to be. It was for the best that they both let it go now rather than cause a scene.

“Merry Christmas,” Bakugou mutters before pulling Kirishima back towards the party. Both of them are quiet as they turn in their coats, and it’s only when they step back into the banquet room that Kirishima speaks up. 

“Are you alright?”

Bakugou takes a deep breath. “We’ve always been like that,” he tells him. “She’s always been about the business and how we present ourselves. This isn’t new.” He turns towards the stage, watches as a man with green hair and freckles takes the microphone with a smile and the band begins to play another classic. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you involved.”

Kirishima frowns at him. “What if I want to be?”

The beginning of ‘Merry Christmas, Darling’ begins to play, couples pairing up around them and swaying. 

“You don’t,” Bakugou assures him. He knows how this goes. “You are the last person I want to be dragged into this.” I’m starting to care about you too much. 

Kirishima doesn’t push him away, doesn’t argue. He takes Bakugou’s hands into his own, keeps his crimson eyes locked with Bakugou’s. “You don’t have to impress me. I don’t care what your family name is, about scandals or hungry press that just want a good story. I like the guy Akari never stops talking about, the guy who cares so, so much about his family that he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for them.” He rests his forehead against Bakugou’s, eyes closed as his breath hits Katuski’s trembling lips. “I like you, Bakugou.”

Bakugou wants to kiss him. He wants to pull Kirishima as far away from this party as possible and lose himself in him. 

“Dance with me?” he asks instead, but he doesn’t pull away. 

Kirishima grins. “I’d love to.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Todoroki was just about finished with his drink when a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him and nearly knocking him off the stool he’s taken perch on. There’s an amused laugh that’s deep, rough, and very familiar in his ear as he collects himself. 

“Finally found you,” Bakugou says, flicking his ear. “Saw your dad looking all pissed off in the corner, figured I’d check on you. Why are you sulking?”

“It’s Christmas,” Todoroki deadpans, taking another drink. “Do I need a reason?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, pulling a stool from nearby to sit beside his best friend. “You can’t use that excuse every year, dumbass.” He takes the drink away from him, ignoring Todoroki’s protests as he hands it off to a passing waiter. “C’mon, talk.”

Todoroki tells him everything that has happened that night: the band canceling, finding Midoriya, falling for him in the span of a few hours. He tells him about his dad’s words, what he told Midoriya and how he wished he could take it all back. 

Bakugou, as always, tells it like it is. “I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to hear, but you are a fucking idiot. That’s not why you don’t want to be with him, is it? You are not that fucking shallow.”

Todoroki groans, the sound muffled from his head being held in his hands. “I don’t care where he comes from. He’s nicer than half of the people in that damn party right now, and he certainly has more talent than they could ever wish to have.” He lifts his head up and hits it against Bakugou’s shoulder. 

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Bakugou asks softly, hand resting on the back of Todoroki’s head. 

“Dad was giving me shit about bringing him in from the street to perform, something about how I should have known better, and I just let my anger towards him get the best of me.” He groans once more, nearly wobbling off the stool as he continues to hit his head against Bakugou’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, I told you that already,” Bakugou confirms, moving his shoulder so Todoroki nearly falls onto the ground. “Yet you still managed to put some great talent up there despite the band canceling on you at the last minute. Do you see that party there? It’s a damn good one, and even though you completely despise the damn holiday you still put everything into making sure this went off without a hitch. I am not going to just sit here and let your stupid ass mouth ruin your night.” He pushes Todoroki up onto his feet, the man losing his balance for a moment but nonetheless standing upright. “Now, you are going to go in there, march right up to that green-haired idiot, and you are going to kiss the fuck out of him, okay?”

Todoroki rolls his eyes at his best friend’s words, but nonetheless straightens himself up. This was for Midoriya, somebody who managed to change Todoroki’s life in the span of one night, someone who deserved a good Christmas, regardless of how Todoroki himself felt about the holiday. 

The distinct opening of ‘Last Christmas’ begins, as if Todoroki didn’t feel bad enough already. Once again, it’s perfectly clear that Midoriya belongs up on the stage. The persona he puts on behind the microphone, a guitar in his hand, is something unlike any other talent Todoroki had seen come and go through the hotel’s doors. He knew from the very beginning that Midoriya was special, that he had an undeniable talent that couldn’t be matched. However, the clear pain in Midoriya’s vocals as the rather sad holiday tune played was enough to further cement that Todoroki had clearly messed up. 

He could only hope that it wasn’t too late to turn things around, if he could get Midoriya to listen to him and not run away. 

Todoroki approaches the stage as the song comes to a close, waiting for Midoriya to pull away from the microphone before he makes his move. The last thing he wants to do is take away Midoriya’s well-deserved spotlight when the man has proven just how much he belongs there. It’s still a stab to the heart when Midoriya looks down at him with disappointment in his eyes, but it doesn’t stop Todoroki from reach out for him and grabbing his wrist, halting the man from leaving the stage completely. The crowd doesn’t seem to be paying them much attention, already resuming their previous conversations and the band returning to speak with each other and messing around with their instruments. 

“I want to apologize for what I said,” Todoroki blurts out, relieved when Midoriya doesn’t attempt to tug his wrist out of his grasp. “It was uncalled for, and it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“I thought you made yourself pretty clear,” Midoriya spits, refusing to look at Todoroki. “I don’t care that you’ve given me the chance to be up here when in return you see me as nothing but some piece of garbage you found on the street. I don’t need your charity, you know. I’m perfectly happy with busking on the street for people who actually give a damn about what I do.”

“What about Toshiniori?” Todoroki counters, keeping his voice low. The last thing he wants to do is create a huge spectacle around them. “That man thought you had incredible talent, that you were worth more than just performing for selfish rich people who only want to look good to others.” He pulls himself onto the stage, making sure he’s keeping eye contact with Midoriya as he continues. “You are meant for more than just some disgusting street corner, Midoriya. You are meant for the bright stage lights, fans who take in your lyrics and fall in love with you for your performance and personality. Toshinori could take you there, but not if you return to playing for crumpled bills on a broken guitar.” He takes a deep breath, his hand sliding from Midoriya’s wrist to his open hand. “I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but I believe in you. For the first time since my mother died, I was starting to enjoy Christmas again, and it was because of you.”

The silence that follows his words is overwhelming, and he nearly makes a rush for the exit before Midoriya can even have a chance to respond. It’s been so long since he’s spoken about his mother, and suddenly the Christmas lights around them and the cheerfulness embodied in the guests just feels too much. If it wasn’t for Midoriya intertwining their fingers together he might have bolted off the stage. 

“That’s why you hate Christmas,” Midoriya concludes, running his thumb across Todoroki’s knuckles. “Because you lost your mother.”

“On Christmas,” Todoroki clarifies for him, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. “I lost her on what used to be my favorite holiday, and because of that I can’t stand to even look at the celebration as anything but a cruel reminder of what I lost.”

It’s unexpected when Midoriya’s arms wrap around him and pull him into his chest. He’s hesitant to wrap his arms around the man at first, but eventually, he allows himself to melt into the man, allowing himself to release the tears from his eyes and finally get the pain he’s bottled up inside for so long. 

“Do you know why I love Christmas so much?” Midoriya asks him, running his finger through Todoroki’s hair. “It was my mother’s favorite holiday when she was alive. Before I went through foster homes, before I was playing music to get by, I had an incredible mother who poured her heart into the holiday every single year. We would make our own ornaments, cut down our own tree.” He pulls away from Todoroki, their hands finding each other once more. “Despite losing her, I still love the holiday because of her. This holiday gave me the greatest memories I have of her.”

Todoroki squeezes Midoriya’s hands, smiling at the man through his tears. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Losing your mother on your favorite holiday is a valid reason to despise it, but maybe you just need a new reason to love it.” He steps forward, their chests nearly pressed together as he asks, “Maybe if you let me, I could be that reason.”

Todoroki grins, hand reaching up to cup at Midoriya’s face. “What if I need a little more convincing?”

He could only imagine his father’s reaction to this, how mortified he’d be seeing Todoroki kiss the man he had told him was nothing more than someone asking for handouts. Others around him were probably sticking their noses up at the act, simply because how dare someone of Todoroki’s caliber be with someone who was simply hired to entertain them?

In the end, Todoroki didn’t care about any of them. Right now, his main focus was the way Midoriya’s lips slotted perfectly against his own, how his rough, scarred hands held his face so gently, and how for the first time in forever, Todoroki started to love Christmas again. 

When they pull away, Midoriya asks, “Would it be too cheesy to ask the band to play ‘All I Want for Christmas is You?’”

Todoroki laughs, resting his forehead against Midoriya’s before leaning down to kiss him once more. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

“Kirishima, right?”

Kirishima looks up from his glass of wine, startled by the sudden presence of one Mitsuki Bakugou. Bakugou had gone off a few minutes ago to speak with his friend Todoroki, leaving Kirishima alone in the hotel lobby facing off against possibly one of the scariest women he’s come into contact with. She’s not wearing the scowl she had during their first meeting though, so he assumes that could be a good thing. 

“That’s me,” he confirms, moving over on the lobby couch so she can take a seat beside him. “Um, Bakugou went to talk to his friend back at the party.”

Mitsuki dismisses that with a wave of her hand. “I’m not here to talk to him, I want to speak with you.” The way she looks at him has him fidgeting in his seat, the wine on his tongue suddenly bitter. 

“Oh?” Is all he can manage at the moment. He’s looking like a damn fool in front of the guy he likes mom, great. “What about?”

Mitsuki doesn’t beat around the bush, something that Kirishima would admire if it weren’t directed towards him. “What are you doing with my son, exactly?”

Maybe it wasn’t smart for him to laugh in such a tense moment, but he can’t help the chuckle that escapes. The last thing he expected to be getting on Christmas Eve was the fucking shovel talk if that was what Mitsuki was trying to give him. 

Mitsuki is giving him an unimpressed glare, making Kirishima clear his throat. “Sorry, um, he asked me to spend Christmas Eve with him? I, uh, usually work the front desk.” Mitsuki probably didn’t care about that detail, but he figured he could clarify why Bakugou would even give him the time of day. 

“He asked a bell boy to be his date tonight?” Mitsuki questions, more confused than harsh. Kirishima lets out a breath. “That doesn’t sound like Katsuki at all.”

Kirishima has known of Bakugou’s personality for a while now, either through the press or from witnessing it himself. He certainly wasn’t somebody who gave a crap about anybody other than himself or his family, so he definitely could see why Mitsuki was puzzled by this. Hell, Kirishima was still wrapping his head around the fact that Bakugou Katsuki chose him to hang out with on this night. He could only assume it was because of his closeness to Akari, he was somebody the little girl trusted. 

Still.

“I’m away from my family tonight,” he explains to her, setting his glass of wine down. “They live in Chiba, and I had to work tonight instead of going home to spend time with them. It looked like Bakugou was about to spend tonight by himself as well, so maybe he took pity on me.” No, it wasn’t pity. If Bakugou was spending time with him because he pitied him, he was sure he would have made that known. He couldn’t tell Mitsuki about Akari, could he? How would she react to somebody outside of her family knowing the family secret?

“My son is a lot of things,” Mitsuki begins crossing her arms. “But he isn’t one to take pity on people. The only reason he would genuinely care about another human being is if he cared a little for them, or he had a good impression of them.” She leans forward, staring into Kirishima’s eyes. It’s terrifying, to say the least. “Something tells me you made a good impression without knowing it, and it stuck with him.”

Kirishima goes to respond, even though his brain certainly hasn’t thought of anything, but he’s saved by a hand landing on his shoulder, a comforting squeeze through his shirt. “Are we really interrogating my guest?” Bakugou’s voice questions his mother. 

Mitsuki scoffs. “No, brat, I’m not,” she stands up, smoothing out her dress. “I was making conversation with him, wondering who had caught my son’s eye. Not every day I get to meet somebody that makes you blush like a teenager.” She offers a small smile at Kirishima. “Enjoy the rest of the party, Kirishima. Merry Christmas.” She’s gone before another word can be spoken, and Kirishima feels a large amount of tension leave his shoulders. 

“Your mother is terrifying,” Kirishima concludes, reaching for his glass of wine once more. He’s going to need a few more of those after that talk. He turns to face Bakugou, chest feeling lighter as he looks at the man before him. “Everything okay with Todoroki?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Idiot was having guy troubles, I had to help him out of them. Leave it to him to fall in love over the course of one night.” There’s a light pink color to his cheeks as he mumbles the last sentence, and Eijrou’s heart does a leap in his chest. 

It sounded like a bad movie: a working-class guy meets the son of a rich hotel owner, they spend Christmas Eve together and eventually fall in love over the course of one night. Wasn’t that exactly what the two of them were experiencing with each other? 

Was all of this simply a one-sided romance?

“Hey,” Bakugou’s hand is on his cheek, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts and sending his focus straight to Bakugou’s touch, his carmine eyes looking at Kirishima as if searching for answers. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Earlier, their dance. Kirishima bites his lip. “I did, yeah. I didn’t spend this Christmas Eve with you just because it got me away from working at the front desk or because your family owns this hotel. It wasn’t an obligation.”

Bakugou’s hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “So why did you, Kirishima? Tell me why you spent this Christmas Eve with me when you could have easily told me no. I want to know.”

Words have never been Kirishima’s strong suit. He fumbles through sentences, gets too nervous to say anything properly. He’s always been strongest when he expresses himself through actions, showing people what he wants. 

So he finally surges forward, hands cupping Bakugou’s face as he brings their lips together in a long-awaited kiss. Bakugou’s hand tangles in his hair as they move against one another, braid coming undone. The sounds of the band drowning out in the background, the mindless chatter of guests coming and going white noise as they lose themselves in each other. 

This was certainly going to be a story to tell his parents at New Year’s, for sure. 

Kirishima hates to pull away, but his lungs are beginning to burn. He chuckles as his eyes flutter open, watching as Bakugou chases his lips for one last peck before resting their foreheads together, wrapped up in each other. “Was that a good enough answer for you?” Kirishima asks. 

Bakugou doesn’t give him a proper response, instead pulling his lips back to him. 

Kirishima takes that as a yes. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Midoriya wakes up on Christmas morning wondering if the night before was a dream. 

He’s no longer at Bakugou Plaza, instead back at the cheap motel he’s spent countless nights in. The heater must have shut off sometime during the night as the winter chill creeps onto his bare skin, forcing him to curl tighter into the covers to escape it. 

The memories of last night come back to him slowly, but they are certainly enough to warm him. He remembers being on stage, singing in front of so many people and feeling confident in his voice, in his playing. He remembers the countless number of people that approached him that night to congratulate him on his performance, how his cheeks hurt from smiling so much at their kind words. 

He remembers Yagi Toshinori giving him his business card, and that he wants to talk with Midoriya about possibly recording a demo under him. 

Most of all he remembers Todoroki, how the man gathered him in his arms and kissed him in front of everybody at the Christmas party without a care in the world. 

He really, really hoped none of this had been a dream. 

It takes him a few minutes to pull himself out of bed, and another few minutes to make his way towards the shower. He feels exhausted, bones tired as he turns the water on, flinching when all that comes out of the showerhead is cold water. He already misses the hot shower from Bakugou Plaza. 

Just as he’s about to step into the shower there is a knock on his room door. He’s sure it couldn’t be housekeeping already, and even if it was he’s sure that he put a do not disturb card on the doorknob before he went to bed the night before. 

He shuts the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist before he unlocks the door. It’s a choice he immediately regrets once he sees who stands on the other side. 

“Were you busy?” Todoroki asks, face tinted red as he looks down at the towel. “I apologize for interrupting your shower.” 

Last night wasn’t a dream, that much was for certain. Unless he was still asleep. He’s quick to pinch himself, yelping when it hurts and making Todoroki raise an eyebrow at the action. “Sorry! Yeah, I was just about to, uh, shower before you knocked!” He pulls the door open a little wider, allowing Todoroki into the room. “Let me get dressed real quick and we can talk, okay?” He darts back into the bathroom before Todoroki can properly respond, leaning against the door to catch his breath before he begins to get dressed. 

What on Earth could bring Todoroki to his hotel room? He had already been paid for his performance the night before, money that he desperately tried to turn down but Todoroki had refused to take back. It was enough to pay for another month at this place, and Todoroki had allowed him to keep the guitar he had used to replace his old, broken one. What more could he want from him?

He dresses quickly, not wanting to keep Todoroki waiting too long in the freezing room. He makes sure his bed head doesn’t look too terrible before stepping out of the bathroom and heading back towards his bed, where Todoroki looks out the window as the snow falls lightly outside. It’s a perfect white Christmas. 

“Sorry about that,” Midoriya begins, but Todoroki cuts him off by pulling him in by his waist, bodies pressed together as he seals their lips together with a kiss. Midoriya squeaks against Todoroki’s lips in surprise, but he’s quick to return it once he gets over the initial shock. Todoroki’s lips are warm, far warmer than the rest of the room. 

“Don’t be,” Todoroki tells him as he pulls away, keeping his hands against Midoriya’s waist as he smiles ever so softly at the man. “I came here to ask you what you were doing for Christmas.” 

Midoriya didn’t have a clear plan for his day. Usually, he spends Christmas on a corner playing, coming back to the hotel to eat something before deciding if he wanted to spend the rest of the holiday in his room or going back out to get some extra cash. Nothing extravagant. “What I do best,” he responds with a light laugh that has Todoroki chuckling along with him. 

“What if I had something better for you?” Todoroki asks him, intertwining their fingers together. “My siblings are having a nice Christmas lunch back at the Plaza with Bakugou’s family. I would love for you to come with me.” 

Maybe it was the adoration in Todoroki’s eyes that had his brain short-circuiting or the warm touch of their hands as they stood together in a freezing cold hotel room, but Midoriya certainly couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do with his Christmas. 

“Another thing,” Todoroki continues, and Midoriya raises an eyebrow as the man pulls a small gift box out of his pocket, handing it to Midoriya. “I got you a Christmas gift.”

“I think you’ve given me plenty, Todoroki,” Midoriya insists, taking the box and opening the lid. A key rests inside, a small tag with the number 157 attached. The engraving on the key has the kanji for Bakugou on it, and Midoriya gasps. “What is this?”

Todoroki closes the box between their hands, thumbs tracing the scars along Midoriya’s knuckles as he speaks. “A room at the Plaza, just for you. I want you to stay there, where you can be close to me.” He clears his throat. “It’s also a nice place for you to stay that has warm water, good company. It could be your new home if you want it to be.”

There’s no stopping the tears that come from his eyes, and he doesn’t try to stop them. He flings himself at Todoroki, openly crying to the man’s chest as Todoroki runs a hand through his messy hair, smiling into his temple as he holds him close. 

“Merry Christmas, Midoriya,” Todoroki tells him, kissing his forehead.

Midoriya pulls away from Todoroki’s chest, eyes still sparkling with tears as he pulls the man down for a proper kiss. “The best one yet,” he says. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Bakugou wakes up to a warm body pressed up against his, trapped in an embrace and head buried into someone’s chest. It takes him a minute to process what’s happening as he yawns, wriggling one of his arms free to wipe the sleep from his eyes so he can focus on the person beside him. 

Kirishima isn’t necessarily a sleeping beauty. He’s drooling onto a pillow above Bakugou’s head, soft snores rumbling in his chest. His hair is spread out amongst the pillows, tangled and messy. It’s the furthest thing from being a nice sight to wake up to, but Bakugou can’t help himself from peppering kisses against the man’s jaw in lieu of a good morning. 

“Huh?” Kirishima breathes out, slowly waking up as Bakugou moves his kisses from the man’s jaw to his face. When his lips meet Kirishima’s cheek the man chuckles, opening his eyes to meet Bakugou’s. “Good morning to you too.”

Bakugou can’t remember the last time he woke up to somebody in his bed. He’s used to being alone in the morning, at least until Akari bursts into his room and shakes him awake demanding breakfast and cartoons. He’d forgotten how nice it was to wake up to another human being staring at him, a smile on their lips as they hold him close and whisper good morning in his ear. 

After the party that night, he had asked Kirishima to stay the night with him. Nothing happened, aside from a very heated make-out session in the front room of Bakugou’s suite. Both of them had decided they could hold off on something like that, saving it for another time when the two of them knew each other better, when it wasn’t just the buzz of Christmas and alcohol making them cling to each other. 

Kirishima had offered to sleep on the pull-out couch, but Bakugou had refused. “I don’t want you fucking up your back on that thing,” he insisted, tugging him towards his own bedroom and tossing a pair of pajamas for him to change into. “You’re sleeping in here with me.”

A pair of lips kiss his nose, and he immediately wrinkles it in disgust. “Fuck, go brush your teeth.” He growls, Kirishima chuckling. “I’m serious, your breath is disgusting.”

“Yours isn’t exactly pleasant either,” Kirishima counters, ignoring Bakugou’s protests as he presses another kiss to his nose. “C’mon, don’t you have to pick up Akari in an hour anyway? Let’s get ready so you can see your daughter.” 

He had asked Kirishima last night, in between heated kisses and wandering hands, if he would join him in picking Akari up from Camie’s the next morning. “I’m sure she would love to see Mr. Kirishima,” he had used as an excuse, but Kirishima had immediately silenced him with an excited kiss, an exclamation of how he’d love to join him to pick her up. 

“I forgot to steal some dessert from the party for her,” Kirishima pouts as he comes out of the bathroom, standing in front of Bakugou in just a pair of borrowed pajama bottoms. They were a little short on him, hanging above his ankles, a sight that was rather amusing to Bakugou. “Oh! I haven’t opened her gift yet either!”

“Save it for when she gets here,” Bakugou tells him, reaching out to him and pulling him back onto the bed with him. Kirishima lands on top of him with a mischievous grin, hands on either side of Bakugou’s head as he hovers above him. “We can open presents together.”

He wonders what Akari got from her mother, if she’s having a large Christmas breakfast like they have here at the Plaza. He knows Camie has always been an excellent cook; maybe she’ll invite them inside to have breakfast together, and he could introduce Kirishima to her properly. He already knows Akari adores Kirishima, and can already picture her squealing with excitement over the fact that Mr. Kirishima would be joining them for Christmas day. 

Kirishima’s thumb traces his cheekbone. “Thinking about me again?” He jokes. 

Bakugou snorts, wrapping his legs around Kirishima’s middle and flipping them so he’s on top. “Thinking about my daughter, asshole. Don’t want to keep her waiting.” He presses a chaste kiss to Kirishima’s lips before moving himself up and off the bed, darting to the bedroom before Kirishima can convince him to stay. He can hear the man laughing from the bedroom, loud and happy, and the sound makes his heart do backflips. 

He gets dressed in record time, brushing his teeth before exiting the bathroom. Kirishima is sitting on the bed, dressed in an outfit Bakugou managed to put together for him the night before. His hair is out of the braid Bakugou did, leaving his hair wavy and beautiful. 

Bakugou tosses him a beanie from nearby. “I know you don’t have a hat, don’t want you to get cold.” 

Kirishima pulls the beanie over his head, standing up from the bed and moving across the room towards Bakugou. “Maybe I can convince you to braid my hair again later? I really like how you did it last night.”

Bakugou wraps a finger around a piece of long red hair, smiling up at Kirishima. “I think I like it better down like this.” He pulls Kirishima down for another quick kiss, trying to resist the urge to just stay here with him the rest of the morning and show him just how much he likes it. 

Akari was more important, however. 

They pull up to Camie’s house an hour later, Kirishima gripping his hand much tighter than he had been before they’d left. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here? I don’t want to interrupt a family moment, you know?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that, tugging Kirishima out of the car with him and walking up towards the house. He’s nervous himself honestly, for Akari’s reaction to him being there, to what Camie could possibly say about it. There’s no reason to be, he knows the two of them are more than welcoming. 

“You won’t be interrupting,” Bakugou promises him, squeezing his hand back. “I want you here, okay? If Camie has an issue with it, so be it. I promise it won’t be like that, okay?” 

He doesn’t even have to knock before the door is being thrown open, Akari bursting outside in her pajamas with a squeal. “Daddy!” she screams, jumping up into Bakugou’s arms and burying her head into his neck. He squeezes her back tightly, peppering kisses down the side of her face as she clings to him. 

“Akari, you aren’t wearing shoes!” Camie’s voice comes from inside the house, the woman appearing at the door shortly after. She stops when she sees Kirishima, startled by his appearance. “Oh! Hello?”

Akari looks up from where she’s buried her head into Bakugou’s neck, gasping when she notices who it is. “Mr. Kirishima!” she cheers, moving from Bakugou’s embrace into Kirishima’s. She bounces in his arms excitedly. “Mommy, this is my friend from the hotel!”

Camie laughs, hesitantly, but amused by her daughter’s excitement. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Kirishima.” She turns to Bakugou with an amused expression. “He’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at Camie’s words, pulling her into a hug. “Yeah, well, I have good taste.” He pulls back from their embrace to focus his attention back on Akari, who is speaking rather quickly to Kirishima. “This is Kirishima Eijirou, he works at the hotel.”

Camie raises an eyebrow at that, waiting for him to continue. “Is he your new driver or something?”

Bakugou shakes his head, watching as Kirishima bounces Akari in his arms and making her giggle uncontrollably as they walk back up to the house. “No, he actually works the front desk.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “We, um,” 

They haven’t talked about it yet, the night before. Bakugou is damn sure he wants Kirishima to stick around, wants him to be a part of his life and Akari’s for as long as he’ll have them. He’s rather confident that Kirishima feels the same way about him too if this morning was any indication, but speaking those words into existence, what they are to each other to someone else?

Camie’s hand falls onto his shoulder, a comforting squeeze. “You do have good taste, Bakugou,” she finishes for him, her focus on Kirishima and Akari. “Super cute, obviously good with kids? You’ve hit a jackpot.” She pinches his side, making him swat at her hand. “Don’t let him go, okay? You deserve this.”

“Yeah,” he concludes, locking eyes with Kirishima as they step into the house. “I do.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Midoriya’s hand tightens in Todoroki’s every time someone new comes into the suite, his face turning red when they greet him with a friendly smile and introduction. “Your family is a little intimidating,” he explains to Todoroki while they help Fuyumi in the kitchen. “I’m a little out of my element with them.”

Todoroki shakes his head, pressing a comforting kiss into the mess of curls on Midoriya’s head. “You are here with me, you belong here. They are the least intimidating people you could ever meet.” He passes a plate of chopped vegetables towards Fuyumi, chuckling to himself. “If you are worried about intimidation, Bakugou should be here any minute now.” 

The front door of the suite opens once again, this time followed by the squealing of a little girl. Todoroki can hear her footsteps approaching the kitchen, and he turns just in time to see the bright smile of Akari as she looks up at him with her arms outstretched. “Uncle Shouto!” she cheers, Todoroki squeezing her in his arms as she continues her giggles. 

“How are you?” He asks her, keeping her on his hip as she begins to list everything she’s received for Christmas. Todoroki can see a brand new bracelet around her wrist, charms rattling every time she moves her arm around as she tells her story. 

He turns towards the entrance of the kitchen to find Bakugou leaning against the door frame with an amused grin, followed by another man wrapping his arms around him from behind. 

“Gonna introduce us?” Bakugou teases him, looking at Midoriya with a raised eyebrow. 

Midoriya manages for himself, holding a hand out towards Bakugou with a nervous grin. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, a, uh, guest! Todoroki invited me to join you all for lunch.” 

Todoroki sets Akari down on the ground, allowing her to run back to the redhead behind Bakugou. He wraps his arms around Midoriya’s middle, pressing a kiss to his temple before he speaks. “He’s my date, actually. He’s the one I told you about last night, the performer?”

Midoriya squeaks. “You’ve told him about me?”

Bakugou laughs, shaking the nervous man’s hand with a solid grip. “So this is the nerd that gave you a crisis last night, eh?” He releases his hand just as quickly, looking back at the redhead with Akari. “I brought a date too. This is Kirishima, he works the front desk.” 

The redhead, Kirishima, looks up at them with a large grin, displaying a set of sharp teeth that has Todoroki a little taken back. “Nice to meet you officially! Bakugou here speaks highly of you.”

Bakugou snorts at the assumption, crossing his arms. “Not that highly, mind you. Don’t need your ego getting more of a boost than it deserves.” He leans back into Kirishima, a rare, dopey smile on his face as he looks up at the man. It’s a good look on Bakugou, Todoroki decides. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima,” Todoroki greets him, ignoring Bakugou’s jab in favor of kissing Midoriya’s head once more. “Why don’t we move to the living room? I’m sure Fuyumi doesn’t want people overcrowding the kitchen while she’s at work.”

From behind them, Fuyumi lets out a snort. “You weren’t much help anyway, Shouto! I can handle it from here, go entertain! I’m sure Natsuo will be here soon and he’s a much better assistant than you.” She waves her hand at them to shoo them out, making both Todoroki and Bakugou snicker at the action as they hustle towards the living room. 

Akari is already waiting for them by the Christmas tree, holding a wrapped package in her hand with her name written nearly on the tag. “Am I allowed to open them?” She asks Bakugou, who kneels down beside her and pulls the little girl into his lap. He takes the wrapped gift from her hands and places it back under the tree, tickling her sides. 

“Later, after we eat,” he promises. “How about I get to work with getting your hair pulled out of your face, yeah? I did promise you some pretty pigtails, didn’t I?” 

Kirishima holds his hand up. “Can I be next? I think I would look really good with some pretty pigtails.” 

Akari giggles at Kirishima’s request, pushing herself out of her father’s lap and heading towards Kirishima. “We could match!” she tells him, fists balled in excitement. Kirishima cheers alongside her, hugging her close to him as Todoroki watches with amusement. 

He moves towards Bakugou, nudging the man’s knee against his own. Midoriya has seemingly joined Kirishima and Akari on the couch, introducing himself with a soft wave and a handshake to Kirishima. 

“Front desk, huh?” Todoroki says, smiling as Midoriya speaks with Akari and Kirishima. “How did that happen?”

Bakugou shrugs, his own soft smile matching Todorki’s own as they watch their boyfriend’s interact. “I’m not really sure. Kind of like you and the nerd over there, we just clicked with each other. Akari already adored him, and it wasn’t hard to find out why.” 

Akari’s hands are messing with Midoriya’s curls, both of them giggling as she attempts to fluff them up more than they already are. “Akari seems to be pretty friendly with him. That’s good.”

“He knows the truth,” Bakugou tells him, and Todorki’s eyes widen. “He figured it out a while back, I guess. I trust him to not say anything, and he certainly doesn’t care.” He nudges Todoroki’s knee. “I’m thinking of telling the press anyway, after I talk with the old man about it. I think it’s about time.”

“I’m on your side,” Todoroki promises him, a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “You’ve got my whole family in your corner. I’m sure Masaru will agree with you too.”

Akari hopes down off the couch, jumping into her father’s arms once again while Midoriya joins Todoroki on the floor. He rests his head against his, humming. “I like your family,” he says, and Todoroki’s chest bursts. “They’re nice.”

“You haven’t met my dad yet,” Todoroki warns him, intertwining their hands together. “Keep that in mind.”

Midoriya snorts. “I’ve handled some pretty tough critics. I can handle your dad.” He kisses Todoroki’s cheek. “Now, where’s the bathroom in here again? Akari wants to do my hair and I need to find some hair ties.”

Todoroki laughs, pulling Midoriya up by his hand and leading him towards the suite’s bathroom. His chest feels lighter than it has the past few holidays, his heart soaring as he keeps his grip on Midoriya’s hand. He can hear Akari chatting excitedly to Kirishima on the couch still, and can hear Bakugou’s laughter mixing with theirs. He hears Natsuo arrive at the front door, dropping bags down as Akari races towards him shouting out his name with an excited squeal, followed by Fuyumi’s voice asking him to come help in the kitchen. 

“What are you thinking about?” Midoriya asks him, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

Todoroki looks at the man’s face, eyes tracing his freckles, the emerald green eyes he’s fallen so hard for, the beautiful smile he wears. “How you changed my mind.” 

Midoriya beams at him, pulling him down for a kiss that has Todoroki’s mind spinning. “Told you I would.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

 

And we're ho ho hoping that

We all come back and as a matter of fact I know

We're exactly where we're supposed to be

Together by this Christmas tree