Chapter Text
Katsuki wakes up to the dim glow of the sunrise, with a golden hue tinged rose filtering through a set of shuttered blinds hanging on a window near his head. The bed he lays in is firm beneath him, the sheets are the kind of soft that you only get from washing them one too many times, and there’s someone sprawled out beside him.
He can tell because there’s a slight dip in the mattress that’s causing gravity to tug him towards this other person, his body on a slight incline facing them. There’s also the arm currently resting beside his face on a pillow that feels just shy of too thin. It’s the first thing Katsuki sees when he wakes up and groggily opens his eyes to the odd scene in front of him.
It’s an interesting arm, all things considered. It’s pale and littered with criss-crossing scars all along it. Some of them are dark, others paler than the skin they mar. Some are raised, but most of them are just faint markings on what would be otherwise unblemished skin. There’s a light amount of dark hair covering it too. More hair than Katsuki has on his arms, that’s for sure. It looks more like the arm of someone closer to his dad’s age than his own. He’s pretty sure most teenagers don’t have that much arm hair. It’s also, evidently, a man’s arm.
The body the arm is attached to moves slightly, a low groan coming from him, and Katsuki feels a warm foot rub up against his calf, tipping to tuck under his ankle, entwining them together under the thin sheets.
“Mmm, morning.” Comes a groggy voice, weighted down by sleep. It’s impossible to recognize in that state, probably lower than it normally would be, and all Katsuki can do is blink motionlessly at the arm that’s still in his eyesight.
And it’s about at the same moment it clicks with Katsuki that hey, he’s just woken up in a strange place, lying next to a man probably much older than him, who he has no way of actually knowing that the door across from the bed he’s on is thrown open and he’s showered in bright light and the sounds of multiple scuffling footsteps.
“There he is!” Cries someone as they saunter into the room, and it takes a moment for Katsuki’s eyes to adjust enough to recognize who it is in front of him. The light from the doorway illuminates the outlines of the figures crowding about there, and if it weren’t for the extremely distinctive shape of the leader of the intruders’ hair, Katsuki might not have figured it out as quickly. But he does, because he’s one hundred percent certain it doesn’t matter where he is, he’ll always recognize that dumbass haircut.
“Hair-for-brains, what the fuck–”
“Tut, tut, tut.” Goes Kirishima, effectively cutting off Katsuki’s swearing as he wags his finger in front of Katsuki’s face, a mischievous grin growing on his now visible face as he leans in closer. “You know the rules, no peeking until the ceremony!”
Katsuki just grunts in reply, completely at a loss as to what’s going on around him. He’d probably, under normal circumstances, be extremely frustrated at this point, but he’s just a little too shocked right now to have any sort of reaction that’s much more than just cautious observation.
“C’mon, big fella, up and at ‘em!” Comes Ashido’s voice from behind Kirishima, and suddenly Katsuki feels multiple pairs of hands wrap around him as the others wrestle him from the bed. His legs are effectively untangled from the sheets and the warm foot he previously felt cling to him and he’s abruptly forced into a standing position, the cold hardwood floor steading under the soles of his feet.
“Hey! What is going on?” Cries Katsuki as he’s manhandled into standing by Kirishima, Ashido, and - now that he can properly see them - Kaminari and Sero.
“Dude, have a heart!” Swoons Kaminari, gesturing grandly back to the figure still on the previously shared bed. “Don’t wake the poor guy up, he’s got it bad enough, what with having to deal with you indefinitely from now on. Not sure who in their right mind would agree to that living damnation, but here we are.”
“Hey, fuck you, Pikachu.” Argues Katsuki on instinct alone before glancing back over at the body still unmoving on the bed before him. The man’s essentially star-fished on his stomach, with his head buried under the pillow, because he’s some sort of weirdo, obviously. A few tuffs of dark hair peak out from under the pillow, but besides that Katsuki can’t see any significantly defining factors in his partially hidden figure.
And oh, my god, he’s shirtless. Katsuki was lying, presumably sleeping next to, someone – a man – who has thick, hairy arms and is completely shirtless. And no one else but him seems to think this is unusual behaviour.
What the fuck is going on?
He’s not dreaming, because he knows what that feels like and it’s never this real. The only answer he can seem to find that could be remotely logical is that he’s somehow woken up in a different reality. Katsuki’s not one to give credit to someone, even if its due, but he has to admit that this might be the evidence Schrodinger needed to support his multiverse theory, because he can’t see any other way besides him having fallen somehow into a parallel universe for this all to be happening.
“Alright, alright, keep moving Mr. Sunshine.” Calls Ashido as she and the others usher him from the bedroom. His feet stubble over a thick rug place haphazardly in front of the entry way of a thin hallway and he grunts in annoyance. He does not like not knowing where he is and why on earth he could be there in the first place.
He’s led over to where a pile of shoes is laying out by what looks like the front door of the apartment, and he quickly slides his feet into a pair of workman boots that look like they could belong to him. All the other shoes seem to be worn out sneakers in different gaudily bright colors and Katsuki doesn’t think he’s worn anything that dumb since he was in elementary school. Does he live with a child too? A child with very large feet, apparently?
Katsuki doesn’t get a chance to look around at his surroundings, because once he’s got his feet into his boots Sero comes up behind him and shucks a cotton sweatshirt on over his head, covering up the thin tank top Katsuki woke up in. Sero then pushes him out the door that Kirishima has propped open. Katsuki says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever powers that be in existence that he seems to have fallen asleep in this strange reality wearing a pair of sweatpants, else he would be very exposed right now out on what appears to be the front step of a modest walk-up apartment complex.
“Jeez, your quiet this morning!” Exclaims Kirishima, patting him, much too hard, on the shoulder as they make their way over to the parking lot just beside the building. The sun is finally starting to properly rise in the sky and there’s a softness to the outside world that Katsuki doesn’t usually get to experience as a habitual late-riser. “Pensive about what day it is?”
Katsuki shifts his eyes over to look at Kirishima, whose got both his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders now and is directing him towards a huge, red, lifted ranger rover that looks like its seen better days going by the amount of mud it’s got caked on it. It seems like whatever version of himself this is, he’s still close friends with Kirishima. If anything, they might be better friends in this reality than in his own, as there’s no way the other boy would feel comfortable barging into his dorm room and dragging him out of it at an ungodly early hour in his lifetime.
Though, Kirishima hardly seems like a teenage boy here, none of the others do. It’s still obviously them, but everyone looks more… grown. They’re all larger and worn in most aspects. Kirishima might still have that stupid haircut, but his hair is no longer dyed that obviously fake color, instead it’s a more nature dark brown; and Sero seems to have filled out some, no longer the wiry teen Katsuki knows. Ashido’s just as bubbly as ever, but there’s a sense of professionalism in her that Katsuki doesn’t recognize. He can imagine her sitting down at the head of a sleek table, leading an executive board meeting for a fancy company just as easily as he can imagine her twirling around in a field of freshly bloomed flowers, and its throwing him off a bit.
Kaminari has goatee now, what the actual fuck is that? It looks so stupid, and Katsuki’s not surprised that the man thought the horrible piece of facial hair would be a good idea, but he is surprised he was able to grow it out. Katsuki still only uses his razor one or twice a week, he barely even needs it that often. Or at least, he thinks, he didn’t use to need it, as he rubs a hand over the prominent stubble he feels prickling his palm.
Katsuki thinks he can probably trust these guys anyways, they’re obviously just older versions of the kids he knows. He sighs and asks, “what day is it today then?”
Instead of giving him a proper answer, like he actually wanted - why the fuck else would he have fucking asked? – Kirishima just laughs and pats his shoulder again in a chummy way. Like they both get the joke that he apparently just made, even though Katsuki has no idea what’s going on and it’s so very frustrating.
“Please, don’t give me that calm and collected act. Remember that it was my apartment you were stomping around last night, freaking out again over this whole thing.” Kirishima says, rolling his eyes. “’You don’t understand, hair-for-brains, everything has to be perfect. It’s the least that idiot deserves for saying yes after everything I’ve put him through. I have to make it perfect, okay!’” He teases, and Katsuki recognizes the brash tone as his own, and the underlying perfectionism he’s so familiar with in the words said. It’s obvious that whatever’s going to happen today is pretty important to Katsuki.
“We’ll have to shave that all off.” Adds in Ashido with a twinkle in her eye as she sees him continue to rub his hand over the stubble that’s covering his jaw. He’s still not used to it and he can’t seem to stop the motion. He looks over at her, raising an eyebrow, unsure as to why that matters at all. Is everyone in this futuristic version of his life somewhat obsessed with facial hair?
“We wouldn’t want that idiot of yours to burst into giggles up there just because your neck tickled him.” She elaborates, chuckling lightly behind her hand. Katsuki just stares wide eyed at her, trying and failing to come up with any reason he can possibly think of that would require him to rub his neck against someone.
The distinctive car ends up being Kirishima’s, which does not surprise Katsuki at all. They all pile into it, slamming the doors and take off at a completely reasonable pace. Kirishima seems to be a perfectly good driver, following all the rules of the road to a T, and Katsuki gets an itch under his skin to reach over and press his foot on the accelerator just to see how fast the hunk of junk can go.
He wonders if this version of him ever bought that Bugatti that he’s always wanted. He hopes that whoever that was in the bed he woke up beside isn’t a buzzkill and wouldn’t stop him from driving it as fast as he could on a freeway. Katsuki rests his head on the car window, strumming his hands on the dashboard in front of him, thoughts of scarred arms, bare backs and warm feet sliding across body-heated sheets flitting through his mind.
-x-
They end up at another apartment, because why the fuck not make everything more complicated than it needs to be guesses Katsuki. It’s messy, and filled with a mix of random pieces of furniture and decorations that don’t seem to match at all, along with a large selection of things covered in designs of flames and a fair amount of work out equipment all pushed into the small space together. It’s headache-inducing, is what it is, and Katsuki finds himself longing for the simply decorated, but comfy arrangement of the first apartment. It seemed homier than this place.
Kaminari runs to the cabinet by the fridge once Katsuki’s been pushed into the kitchen, which seems to be just as disorganized as the living room, grabbing a bottle of dark liquid and a couple shot glasses. He sets them out on the small table in the corner of the room and fills each one up with the alcohol, probably spiced rum if Katsuki had to guess, spilling drops of the strong drink over the edges of the small glasses.
“Shots!” He calls, grabbing one of the glasses and pushes it into Katsuki’s palm, wrapping the man’s fingers forcibly around it and tipping his own fingers under it to force it up Katsuki’s lips.
Katsuki complies and takes the shot, only because he has a set of guidelines he likes to live by and one of those aforementioned guidelines is that he always has to accept free booze when it's offered to him. When he slams the glass back on the table everyone hoots and hollers before each of them take their own shot, Katsuki joining them in for a second one of this own. It was spiced rum, and pretty smooth stuff at that, so he’s slightly impressed with Kaminari, but it’s not as if he’d tell the other man that.
Anyways, his newly raised opinion of his friend drops back down almost instantly after that, since the goatee-growing dumbass can’t even handle his own liquor. He’s spluttering after choking down the drink and Kirishima has to pat his back to get him to stop coughing. Katsuki notices that the pats Kaminari gets are much softer than the harsh ones he got earlier and he’s slightly miffed about that. What did Kaminari do to deserve less severe back pats?
“Why did we have to move apartments so damn early in the morning anyways?” Asks Katsuki, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his chin. He’s got a lot more questions he’d like to ask, like, why are we doing shots before the sun has even fully risen? Or, who was I sharing a bed with, and why aren’t any of you surprised that I apparently live with someone? But he feels like the question he posed is more likely to be actually answered, so he’s sticking with that one.
“Don’t keep reminding me of my failure as a man, Bakugou!” Wails Kirishima, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes and he tilts he head in shame. “How was I supposed to know that Todoroki could bench press that much? It still seems physically impossible!”
“Oh, it’s okay, Eijiro-kun,” Comforts Ashido. “It doesn’t matter that you lost the competition to him. Your guys’ place is just as rad, if not better than Katsuki-kun’s home. Let those nerds get ready over there, the cool kids are going to be partying at this rocking pad!” She emphasizes her point by punching the air with a fist and popping one of her heels off the ground. Kirishima looks at her from under his arms and smiles slightly.
“Still,” He sighs. “Losing a lifting competition? When Bakugou was counting on me, too? Makes me feel like the worst man, not the best one.”
“Please,” Grunts Katsuki, rolling his eyes at the dramatics. “None of you are the best at anything.”
“Oh, there’s the grumpy guy we know and terrifyingly love.” Kaminari teases, jabbing his elbow into Katsuki’s side. “I thought we had lost him to the stoic stranger weighted down by last-minute jitters.” Katsuki just huffs and sticks out his chin at that comment, rubbing the sore spot where Kaminari ribbed him. It’s not his fault he has still no fucking clue what’s going on. He did just abruptly wake up in a whole different universe, what was he supposed to do?
“Alright, enough of the bro-bonding.” Says Ashido, rubbing her hands together almost manically. “It’s time to get ready! Katsuki-kun, get that butt of yours into the shower and clean up. Eijiro-kun, you’re in charge of his hair, and Hanta-kun, you’re in charge of his suit. Make sure he actually wears that tie we had picked out for him!”
“Hey! There’s no way shitty-hair over there is coming anywhere near my head!” Shouts Katsuki, batting away Kirishima’s roaming fingers as they approach his blond spikes. “I don’t want to look like a demented cactus!”
“What about me?” Asks Kaminari, ignoring the scuffle between Katsuki and Kirishima. “What job do I get?”
“Oh, Denki-kun… You can be in charge of the snacks…?” Offers Ashido, sliding a slightly strained smile his way.
“She didn’t give you a job because she doesn’t want you to screw anything up, Lightening McQueen!” Shouts Katsuki while dodging Kirishima’s most recent attempt to grab a handful of his hair.
He shoves Kirishima away from him with a jab from his arm and bolts through the entryway between the kitchen and the living room before turning quickly to the first of two doors he sees attached to the main room. Opening it, he finds the bathroom, and quickly steps in, shutting the door with a loud smack before locking the doorknob and leaning against the cool wood of the door, giving his brain a few moments as a break so it can hopefully stop spinning.
He takes in the bathroom around him. Unsurprisingly it seems to match the rest of the apartment. All the towels folded in the cupboard are a mix match of colors and patterns, as if they were all purchased haphazardly at different times and with no care about if they would match the others already there. The shower curtain has flames licking the bottom of it, melting into an ombré reminiscent of a sunset as they reach the top of the material. Katsuki’s unsure how he ever became friends with people who had such bad taste in interior décor.
After looking over the array of hair products on the counter Katsuki’s eyes finally meet their reflection in the mirror above the sink. His eyes, the first thing he sees, are the same ones he recognizes from early mornings before school starts, the ones he glances at whenever he passes under the mirrored ceiling at the local mall. The lines around his eyes are unfamiliar however, the wrinkles there reflective of an uncountable number of smiles and laughs that Katsuki has no way of ever remembering, as he never experienced them in the first place. He can’t remember ever being a person who smiles an extravagant amount, but obviously this Katsuki does often enough, since the effects of them have sunk into his skin, a permanent reminder of all those bittersweet memories.
He’s glad to see that he’s still fit, if anything he’s more muscular than his teenage self. Scratch that, flexing his arms he can tell that he’s much more muscular than the other version of himself. Damn, he could practically crush a car with his bare hands. Maybe he should try?
His physique isn’t the only noticeable difference. For one, he now has the previously noticed stubble, slightly darker than his pale hair, covering his face in a prickly fashion. He wonders how long it’s been since he last shaved in this reality. It would have to have been at least a few days, he can’t imagine growing this much facial hair in one day. His jaw also looks squarer than he thinks it used to look. It seems stronger and less sharp than before. He wonders if that affects his ability to kiss. He’s always worried that his jaw was too pointy and would be a problem when making out with someone, though he’s never had the chance to test out that theory.
To Katsuki’s chagrin, there also seems to be a small growth of prematurely grey hairs along his temples. It’s faint, only a few shades lighter than the blond hairs that cover the rest of his head, but it’s still there. It makes him look like his dad, which a strange feeling. He thinks he might look more like his dad now than the other teenage version of himself. Well, except for his eyes, and the frown lines marring his forehead, those are entirely Katsuki.
If he'd have to label it, he'd probably estimate that this version of himself is somewhere in his twenties, but he's not entirely sure, since he still hasn't been able to check out a calendar to confirm such suspicions.
He wonders what the others think about his appearance. Do they tease him about his grey hair? Who makes him laugh so much that he’s gotten crow’s feet as a result? His thoughts find their way back to the man from earlier that morning, the one whose identity is still an unknown variable. What does he think about Katsuki, his eyes, his wrinkles? Does he care that Katsuki seems to be going slightly pre-maturely grey, or does he think it’s a becoming look?
He forcibly shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of those inquiries that stir up an array of complicated feelings in the pit of his gut. Instead he turns on the faucet of the shower and steps in without even a second thought towards letting the water warm up first. Honestly, a cold shower might do him some good right now.
-x-
Getting his body washed, hair styled, facial hair shaved, and suit tucked in takes a lot less time than it seems Ashido allotted for. Him and the other men are now lounging on the lumpy couch that’s situated haphazardly in the middle of the living room of the apartment, watching the baseball game on the big flat screen TV that’s attached to the wall across from them. They’re all somewhat dressed in their suits, but no one seems too concerned about putting on the finishing touches just yet.
Katsuki’s grateful that he hasn’t been nagged yet to tie his tie, as he hates the feeling of restriction that it puts on his relatively sensitive neck. Ties remind him of things he’d rather not think about, the feeling of restrains shackling him, and the like that he’d rather leave in the back of his mind where they can fester in peace, untouched.
Ashido just threw her hands up with a proclaimed “men!” when she saw them all sprawled out, sipping beer and yelling at the screen, before she fled to the bathroom, which is where she’s been for the past three innings. He honestly has no idea what could possibly be taking her so long in there, but he’s not judging either way.
“Come on, come on, come on!” Goads Kirishima as he pounds his fists on his thighs. His eyes are trained on the player stepping up to the bat, his body leaning precariously closer and closer to the TV as he gets more and more into the action on the screen.
The infielders shoot off towards the bases in front of them as the ball is hit with a resounding smack from the bat and suddenly Kirishima and Sero are on their feet shouting out encouraging words that the players have no way of hearing. Kaminari slaps Katsuki on the back unexpectedly, making him spit his most recent gulp of beer out, just barely avoiding his currently unblemished three-piece suit.
“Hey, fuck off, Sparky! Watch yourself or I’ll destroy you!” He cries in frustration. Kaminari surprisingly doesn’t seem fazed by his threats, only rolling his eyes and sighing out a “oh calm down, would you? Your perfectly fine,” in reply.
The celebrations over the home run is soon cut short by a sharp knock on the front door. Katsuki’s part relieved at having something to disrupt the completely embarrassing show of inaptitude his friends have for dancing, and part unsure, because he liked the comfort that was found in the simple act of watching a game with the bros, and he’s got no idea what waits for him on the other side of that door.
Before any of them have a chance to move towards the door Ashido comes flying out of the bathroom, tittering in a pair of extremely high and extremely pink heels, a skin-tight cheetah print dress and an up-do that looks like its fighting – and winning – against gravity. In her wake, she leaves a heavy sent of something floral and it causes Katsuki to sneeze when the fumes reach his poor, unprotected nose.
The door opens to reveal Jiro and Yaoyorozu and Katsuki takes a moment to wonder what possible reasons the two of them have for showing up on his friends’ doorstep. These versons of them don’t look much different than the ones he knows from his own universe, just slightly older, as seems to be the theme in place. Their obviously headed to the same event that the others are, as they’re dressed in their formal best; Yaoyorozu wearing a red velvet dress with a low neckline and a slit up one of the legs and Jiro’s clad in a black leather number that’s got a huge zipper going from the entire front of it.
Katsuki takes one look at the skin-tightness of the women’s outfits and then down at his loose and baggy dress pants and thanks the universe again for having been born male in this sexist and heteronormative world.
“Why aren’t you guys ready yet?” Blurts out Yaoyorozu the minute she sees them all, her eyes widening comically large. “I just got a text from Shouto-kun, and he said their group is already on their way to the venue!” She waves her phone as if to give proof to her statement, but the screen in black and so the point doesn’t really get across that effectively.
“Men,” Signs Jiro, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head in annoyance. She looks unsurprised, as if this is an argument she makes often. “You can’t take them anywhere.”
From there it’s a flurry of motion as the three women forcibly get the rest of their group dressed, pressed and ready to go. Katsuki sees Kaminari gasping out breaths as Jiro does his cummerbund up tightly around his stomach while Yoayorozu pins white rose corsages onto everyone’s lapels.
“Ouch, Yaomomo, you stabbed me!” Complains Sero to deaf ears, as the woman is already moved onto her next victim.
Katsuki feels his pants being pulled up to his hips and his belt properly synched snugly on around waist, much to his displeasure. He glares down at Ashido as she buttons up his vest and dress shirt to his neck, before looping the aforementioned tie around his neck, which is pale pink, so who on earth picked out that color and why the fuck did Katsuki agree to wear it?!
They’re then ushered out of the front door and into a slick SUV that Yaoyorozu slides behind the wheel of and navigates them smoothly out onto the road. Katsuki finds himself sitting in the middle of the backseat, one hand been tightly squeezed by Ashido and the other clamped under Jiro’s tight grasp. Kirishima keeps looking back over the arm he has draped around Kaminari’s shoulders from the middle row to shoot him expectant looks that Katsuki has no way of interpreting the meaning of.
Katsuki can feel his hands becoming clammy, but neither of the girls seem to mind as they only seem to squeeze his fingers tighter the longer they’re in the van. He feels jittery for some unknown reason, butterflies filling his stomach and his foot starts to tap insistently on the soft carpet of the vehicle.
“What?” He grumbles a little self-consciously when Kirishima looks back at him again for the what feels like the fiftieth fucking time.
“Nothing, man.” Replies Kirishima, giving him a bright smile. “I’m just proud of you that’s all. This has been a long time coming and everything, but it’s still a pretty big deal and I think you’re really manly for going through with it. I know you’ve worked really hard to get to where you are.”
With that comment, he can feel everyone turn to look at him, sparing Yaoyorozu whose eyes are still glued to the road in front of her, and beam up at him with something akin to pride, which doesn’t really make sense as far as Katsuki knows. He’s not sure what he could have done that made them all proud of him. The compliments and attention makes his chest feel tight and he has to clear his throat a couple times to dislodge the lump that somehow got stuck there.
He can’t fathom why he’s friends with such softies.
He can’t imagine it any other way.
-x-