A Comfortable Existence - #4 [The Couch]

[Part 3]

Katsuki normally enjoyed documentaries, but either the one he’d picked out was a total dud, or he was far more tired than he’d initially thought. He’d started out sitting up like a normal person on the couch, before quickly turning and kicking his feet up on the cushions to get comfortable. As the narrator had droned on, he had slowly slid further and further down, until his head lay on the arm rest, one eye partially obscured by the fabric, so the other one had to do all the heavy-lifting on actually paying attention. Apparently, it was offended by the job, because his eyelid kept slowly drooping, threatening to close entirely.

Any logical person would have switched off the movie and just gone to bed, but Katsuki was nothing if he wasn’t stubborn. Besides, as much as he adored his bed, his couch was super damn comfortable as well. He’d managed to sink in just right, found himself a cosy spot to just relax for once, and there wasn’t a single fibre of his being that didn’t scream at him every time he considered leaving it. He’d clearly been outvoted, what was a man to do?

It was another one of those things he loved about living alone. No one stumbling in drunk at two o’clock in the morning, drunk out of their mind, slamming into walls and talking way too loudly, waking him from his peaceful dozing – whether that be in bed or otherwise. Because yeah, sometimes a man fell in front of the television, and that was nothing to be ashamed of! He loved his couch naps, they were the best part of his day! And when he woke up at five to go to the gym or take on an early patrol, he, in turn, didn’t have to tiptoe around to avoid waking people up. Not that they had afforded him the same courtesy, so he wasn’t really sure why he’d ever bothered, other than he wasn’t a fucking heathen.

That was also the reason he hadn’t taken couch naps more often, back then: despite popular belief, he wasn’t a complete asshole, so he tried not to monopolise their shared living spaces by sleeping in them. He’d had a bedroom for that, after all, even when it had only held a futon and some old clothes that had desperately needed replacing. Those were the years when he’d finally stopped rolling his eyes when his mother bought him socks and underwear as gifts; they’d been lifesavers, honestly. Or at least wallet savers.

Now, he could take naps any damn time he wanted. Middle of the day? Couch nap. Right after a good dinner? Couch nap. Can’t be bothered going to bed properly? Long couch nap. He even had a phone charger set up on his coffee table, so he could stay there until morning when he so desired.

But now, he had Izuku to think about. And sure, it was his home, but it still seemed a little cruel to make him tiptoe around. He was working late, which meant he’d get back exhausted, and Katsuki knew he’d never stop feeling guilty about it if he woke Katsuki up by closing the door too heavily or speaking to him without realising he was sleeping, let alone if he was trying to silently make himself a meal in the next room and screwed it up. So no, no couch naps for him, at least for a few more days. Or weeks, more likely. Izuku had lost everything he’d ever owned, the least he could do was sacrifice some couch naps.

Fuck, Izuku really did have it bad, didn’t he? Life just seemed to keep fucking him over. Right from that first doctor’s appointment when he was still a toddler, life had just kept finding new and exciting ways to screw him over. Katsuki was the luckiest man in the world, compared to Izuku. Katsuki was gonna have to keep his eye out for some decent All Might figures, to start rebuilding the nerd’s collection.

Izuku was a quiet person anyway, in all honesty. Sure, he was probably being careful too, but he’d never once woken Katsuki up with any of his late-night antics or early-morning departures, when their schedules were out of sync with each other. On a rare occasion, Katsuki might hear him mumbling from the next room, when he got intently focussed on something, but it wasn’t enough to actually bother him, after a lifetime of that and more. All in all, Izuku was... a good housemate. Katsuki kind of hated to admit it, but he really was. He was considerate, and clean, and quiet, and apparently unphased by dicks. What else could he ask for?

With a yawn, Katsuki settled in a little more comfortably on his couch, and this time, when his eyelids began to droop, he gave in.

———

Izuku felt his shoulders sag as he finally reached the apartment door, slipping his key into the lock and letting himself inside. He’d been so tense all day, dealing with class after class and incident after incident, it was such a relief to just be home for the night, to be able to kick off his shoes and change out of his sweaty clothes, and maybe take a hot bath. Spending an hour sitting in a hot tub with his nice headphones on, maybe munching on a snack as he sat there, sounded like an amazing way to end his night. He knew most people would be horrified at the idea of him eating in the bathtub, but he swore it made so many foods taste better. Popsicles or ice creams were right up there on the list of amazing bath foods, potentially the top entry, but he hadn’t thought to buy any at the supermarket, and he hadn’t had the forethought to stop at a convenience store, in his eagerness to get home.

He took his bags down to his room first, glancing at Katsuki’s closed door as he opened his own. The room was quiet, with no light shining out around the edges, so clearly he’d gone for an early night. That was good, it meant he didn’t need to worry about taking too long in the bath. He set his stuff down on the dresser, then headed across to the bathroom, oddly gleeful as he leaned over to put the plug in.

Hotdogs were another bath snack that people didn’t appreciate enough. The ice cream kind of made sense, eating something cold while he sat in the hot water, but hotdogs he’d never been able to explain. They were just so damn good.

With the bath running on max heat – he’d adjust it later – he went back out to the kitchen, in search of bath snacks. Katsuki had always told him to help himself, to eat whatever he wanted, so maybe he’d have something lying around that Izuku could enjoy in his tub time. No hotdogs, he was sure, but maybe he’d have sausages and bread, and Izuku could cobble together something that was passable. If not, anything without too many vegetables in it would do the trick. Normally Izuku had no problem with vegetables, but they were definitely not a bath food. Bath salad? Weird. The bath was for carbs and desserts. But sometimes Katsuki’s meal prep meant a container of cooked meat ready to add to something fresh later, and meat seemed like it could be an acceptable substitute when lacking the Proper™ bath foods. If he was even luckier – though he dared not get his hopes up – maybe Katsuki would have a container stashed away of that amazing alfredo pasta he cooked once in a while. If not, well, maybe he could go buy all the ingredients and subtly convince Katsuki to make him some for the next time.

Or, well, he could just buy some hotdogs. Now that he’d thought about that pasta, though, hotdogs were sounding somehow slightly less appealing. Damn Katsuki and his god-tier cooking skills, he’d become spoiled in just a matter of days.

The fridge, while full of amazing looking meals for any other time of the day, was a disappointment. No pasta, no sausages, not even a loaf of bread. Damn Katsuki and his hatred of sandwiches. He opened the freezer next, praying that Katsuki thought that far ahead when it came to meal prep, but instead of finding the stacks of containers he expected, he struck gold. One entire shelf of the freezer was stocked with little tubs and boxes and plastic packages, and Izuku grinned to himself as he rummaged through them, inspecting the different flavours. There was a whole variety in there, like he’d just picked up the freezer at the supermarket and said “gimme these” which honestly wouldn’t have even surprised Izuku. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the thought of it, imagining Katsuki walking up to a counter with a freezer tucked under his arm, oblivious to the stares of the people he queued behind.

Deciding a spoon in the bath sounded annoying, Izuku went for the plastic packages, picking out a couple that looked tasty and unhealthy, before heading back to the bathroom. He paused in the kitchen doorway, though, when he saw the faint glow of the television still on in the living room. The screen was dark, but it still had that gentle glow of the backlight, so he tiptoed over to investigate, to make sure he hadn’t left it on himself, somehow, after he’d watched the news that morning. Instead, he found Katsuki passed out on the couch, looking comfier and more content than Izuku thought he’d ever seen him. While Izuku had his weird affinity for sitting on the floor, Katsuki was clearly in love with his couch, from how much time he spent on it in the evenings. Not that Izuku could blame him, it was a comfy couch, he knew from the few times he’d used it. He was also clearly sound asleep, and seemed like he had been for a while.

Smiling faintly, Izuku reached across to the remote, hitting the power button to cast the room into darkness. He glanced up at the air conditioner, making sure it was running, then picked up a blanket from the back of the couch, gently draping it over Katsuki’s sleeping form. Hopefully, between the two, he’d be able to maintain a comfortable temperature without waking up to find a fix for it. He could nestle into the blanket, or kick it off entirely, as his unconscious body deemed fit.

With Katsuki settled, Izuku switched out the kitchen light and grabbed his comfy headphones, ready to sink into his hellfire bath with his stolen ice creams.