Archive of Our Own ^beta

—

“Hey, pretty fish.”

Katsuki grins, hands curling around the rim of the tub.

The iridescent shine of a freckled, red and white tailfin breaches the surface of the water, curving over the far edge as Pretty comes up to greet him.

It’s been a couple days since Katsuki found Pretty—or well, since he’d fished him up from whatever the hell he was doing in the shallow reefs of the ocean—and dropped him right here in this tub. Not that Katsuki’s to blame for catching him in the first place; it was Pretty’s fault for getting caught in his net.

Aren’t giant, half-human tunas supposed to be smarter than that?

Katsuki had joked about cooking Pretty up for dinner all the way back to the cottage (half-joked, at least—part of him wanted to eat whatever came out of the ocean that very second, he’d been freaking starving), and made him at home in the washroom while promptly ignoring all of Izuku and Ochako’s pressing questions. It was hard to tell, at the time, if they had been more excited or concerned, but it hadn’t mattered to Katsuki either way.

Especially after Izuku had lightly suggested throwing Pretty back into the ocean; he was loath to listen to anything after that.

Katsuki said he was going to keep him, so he is.

Besides, Pretty hadn’t seemed the least bit unhappy about it.

Still. It’s been days and Katsuki doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to communicate with his catch. Pretty always seems to have something to say, strings of indiscernible syllables tumbling out of his mouth—all in a language none of them can wrap their heads around.

But he keeps on talking despite that—to Katsuki, specifically.

On that first afternoon when he’d set Pretty inside of their tub and argued with Izuku and Ochako about what they were going to do with him, Katsuki had been dragged down into the water by a pair of strong hands. Beneath the surface, that shrill, tangled-up cacophony coming out of Pretty’s mouth became an echo of otherworldly sounds. They were so poignant, so full of emotion, that Katsuki felt like he knew exactly what Pretty was saying even if he couldn’t put any of it into words.

And he’s supposed to throw him back, just like that, without figuring it all out first?

No goddamn way.

That’s why finding a way to communicate with Pretty is top priority—important, regardless because, despite Katsuki wanting to satisfy his own curiosities, there’s no real way for Pretty to tell anyone what he needs. Carrying his fish from the bathtub to the pond and from the pond back again doesn’t do much to actually help in that respect; except for the fact that Pretty gets to swim around with the three of them in a place where he has plenty of room.

And people can actually bathe, Katsuki guesses.

They’ll figure something out, eventually, even if it drives Katsuki nuts that he has to wait for whatever that might be.

Tapping his fingertips along the inside of the porcelain tub, he chews the inside of his cheek.

Pretty looks up at him—curious and bemused—with those mismatched, sea-glass eyes, and speaks in that ridiculous language Katsuki can’t understand.

And Katsuki, he’s... he’s just gotta know.

“You got somethin’ important to say,” he begins, and it comes out softer than he intends for it to, “don’t ya?”

༄

Izuku’s the first one to give anything a try because of course he is.

Katsuki watches from the washroom doorway as Izuku, sitting on one of their kitchen stools with a notebook and pencil in hand, attempts to teach Pretty everything he knows about the common tongue—starting from the very beginning.

Alphabet, grammar and structures, combinations of words. Izuku rattles them off in long-winded explanations accompanied by examples he draws from the top-to-bottom scrawl he has written in his notebook. He probably spent all night putting this lesson plan together, going through book after book and filling up as many pages for Pretty as possible, just so they could learn to communicate with each other.

It’s nice, yeah, but a little over-complicated, Katsuki thinks, especially because he’s not really sure Pretty understands it all that much.

Pretty’s face pinches in frustration halfway through the lesson. Izuku doesn’t seem to think anything of it—doesn’t even notice the way that calm expression has morphed into a narrow-eyed glare, wrinkled nose, and jutted mouth. Katsuki’s fish learns sounds and vowels, but he doesn’t get any closer to having an actual conversation with anyone.

“He ain’t no guppy, Deku. You don’t hafta start from the top, he’s not gonna get it like that,” Katsuki tells Izuku as he steps over to the tub. His eyes flicker to Pretty, who’s looking at him like he’s interested in everything Katsuki says and does.

As he should be, obviously. Katsuki’s fucking amazing.

“But everybody starts at the beginning,” Izuku counters, frowning down at his notebook page; there’s a breakdown of fifty words filling every line full—difficulties ranging. Some of them are actual people and objects, but a lot of them are words Katsuki doesn’t think Pretty will pick up the use for like this. “What do you think I should do, Kacchan?”

“I dunno—teach him your dumb name or somethin’? Just a few loose translations of things he can actually see should work,” Katsuki continues with a shrug. “He’ll pick it up eventually. ‘Sides, Eijirou’s gonna be our translator while he’s learnin’.”

Izuku looks up at him in surprise. “He is?”

“Well, duh. You were there when Round Face said somethin’ ‘bout him. You forget?”

Ochako had brought up Eijirou’s ability to speak to all sorts of creatures and foreign-tongues, all the while muttering off about a potion recipe she read in a book once. Katsuki had contacted him the first chance he got, and was told in a messily-scrawled return letter that Eijirou would be right over to help as soon as he got back from assisting a pack of traveling mages.

Katsuki hadn’t been too pleased to hear it. It only meant that he’d have to wait longer than he wanted to. Because of course Eijirou would be out doing a bunch of other people’s work by choice. It’s annoying, how easily he gives in to helping everyone and their fucking goat. Always at someone’s beck and call.

Not that he can really complain, though—he’d asked for Eijirou, too. He and Ochako. And Izuku, if he’d bothered to remember.

But this is for, by far, a way better cause.

Katsuki sniffs. “He said he’d drop by and help us out.”

Izuku’s gaze shifts from Katsuki to Pretty and back to his notebook. He sighs.

“I guess I am going a little overboard, aren’t I?” he asks Pretty, who seems to read the room and gives Izuku a small, sympathetic smile. He gets the overpacked notebook waved in front of his face in return. “But, we can still try a few more things, right? We can...”

That sympathetic look becomes wary, but it’s not like Pretty can go anywhere. He sets his pleading eyes on Katsuki, who steps behind Izuku on the stool and begins making faces over his shoulder as he speaks. Pretty’s pink mouth mushes together into a wavy line, shoulders trembling, until he eventually laughs—all hiccups and snorts. It’s cute as fuck.

“Hey!” Izuku turns around in his seat, green eyes narrow and mouth crossed between a scowl and a pout. Katsuki mocks it with the ugliest face in his arsenal.

Izuku huffs. “Kacchan, maybe you should leave.”

Katsuki snorts.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m goin’,” he says, resting his hands behind his head as he turns to walk away. “But only ‘cause you losers would starve if I didn’t bring home the bacon.”

A scramble of soft, forlorn garbles has him pivoting back around the very next second.

“I’m takin’ my fish with me,” he decides, marching over to the tub and pulling Pretty up by the waist. Arms reach out to circle his neck, but he tosses Pretty over his shoulder before they can catch him in that insane merman vice grip of his.

Besides, Katsuki’s got other things to carry; he needs an arm free.

“Kacchan!” Izuku hops up off of his chair, lifting an arm to ward off the spray that showers over him when Pretty’s tail emerges from the tub. He drops it the very next second, thinking himself safe, only to sputter when Pretty flicks his fin and splashes him with a faceful of water. Sighing, he glares up at Katsuki, who laughs as droplets drip from his dewy nose. “We’ve still got lessons to get through!”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t wanna hear your stupid lessons! He wants to go fishin’ with me,” Katsuki calls back as he steps out of the washroom and into the hall.

Pretty shifts on his shoulder (probably waving back at Izuku, whose soft ‘bye’ precedes a string of muttered words when they split off into opposite ends of the cottage), and his hands wrap around the leather straps of Katsuki’s pelt shawl as he walks them out the front door.

He swishes his tail back and forth in the air as Katsuki gathers up his nets, and makes soft, music-like sounds as Katsuki treks along the mountainside and over to his favorite fishing spot. Katsuki’s arm burns under Pretty’s weight, the heavy rocks and knots of his net only balancing the burden he’s carrying somewhat.

It’s fine, of course—he can handle it, no doubt—even if he knows it’ll be a bigger pain in the ass to haul Pretty back once he’s got a net full of fish.

“Stay right here, got it?” Katsuki tells him, setting his gear and his fish down the second they get to the spot and shoving his hands onto his hips. “I’m gonna cast the net and catch some fish so everybody can eat tonight, so don’t go causin’ any trouble. I’m already gonna get an earful from Round Face for this—even though you’re my fish and I can do whatever I want with ya.”

Pretty blinks. And Katsuki shakes his head.

His prized fishing spot is a bed of huge boulders that stairway down into the sea, the largest few raised just enough to be the perfect vantagepoint. It’s a matchless place, untouched by anyone else, as far as he knows—and his catches are always plentiful here, more than anywhere else.

True enough, considering he caught a huge-ass man-tuna.

Wasting no time, Katsuki looks out at the water and reads the currents before unraveling his net until it's laid out for casting. Wrapping one hand around the net’s swivel and another around the handline, he throws out a flawless drop.

Katsuki looks over at Pretty, grinning when he sees those mismatched eyes watching his every move; mouth parted, curved into an impressed ‘o’.

“That’s how it’s done,” he says, proudly, tittering under his breath. Keeping a firm grip on the line, Katsuki sits down on his rock next to Pretty, taking in the seasalt air. “Now we just gotta wait for a school to pass through. Once the handline pulls tight, we wrangle those fuckers in.”

It’s nice out today, and he feels calmed almost instantly by the sight of the ocean. It’s the first time he’s been out since finding Pretty—sticking mostly to scavenging and hunting just so he’s close to home—and he’s missed it.

The sticky air, the rhythmic rise and fall of crashing waves. The patience he finds himself having, waiting for the perfect catch.

Pretty wriggles beside him, like he’s antsy. Red and white brows are drawn tight; mirrored gaze trained on the ocean. His tailfin lifts once and whips down against the surface of a wave-washed rock.

Katsuki doesn’t like it. It makes him feel guilty, like maybe Pretty doesn’t actually want to stay with him, like maybe he wants to go back home and Katsuki’s just been keeping him here on a whim.

He feels proven right when Pretty suddenly pushes off the rocks with his hands and tumbles down the stair-cased line into the ocean—a sight that would’ve been funny as hell if it didn’t end with Pretty disappearing under the water.

“HEY!”

Katsuki sits up, heart pounding in his ears as Pretty’s speckled tailfin sinks beneath the surface of the sea. Gone in an instant, the remaining ripples covered by foamy waves.

“Fuck...”

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, bringing Pretty out here where he’d be surrounded by the fucking ocean. Of course he’d want to go back—that ungrateful, that goddamn, ugh!—but it still leaves a sore spot in Katsuki’s chest that he would just leave when—

Something hits him square in the face.

“What the—!”

Katsuki reels back with a shout, the taste of seawater on his lips and the sting of it in his eyes. Rubbing it away, he looks down at his side and to the huge, spotted seatrout floundering around along the rocks. Without a second thought, he unsheathes the knife at his hip and stabs it in place before it wriggles away.

Thing’s fucking huge. He wants to filet it right here and now.

Merman garble captures his attention, and Katsuki’s gaze snaps down to the water. Pretty is there, smiling proudly as he props his arms up atop the lowest, half-sunk boulder. His small, close-lipped smile brightens the second Katsuki’s eyes are on his, and he says something softly, inaudibly (not that it matters) under his breath.

Relief sinks into Katsuki’s bones, and he looks between his fish and the fish his fish caught.

So, Pretty wasn’t leaving him. He was just trying to help by going out and fetching him a fish like a mutt would a bone. Or like Ochako’s familiar—a frolicky little frog with the habit of collecting every tiny pink flower it can find for its master.

With that sorted, Katsuki brushes a free hand over his spikes, looking over at Pretty with a huff and a smile—one that’s easily returned tenfold.

“Good work, pretty fish,” he praises. Pretty’s smile doesn’t waver, but his brows frown, unsure of what he’s being told. Gripping his knife, Katsuki tugs it out of the seatrout and taps its scaly side with the flat of the blade instead. “Fish,” he says pointedly, giving Pretty a thumbs-up.

Two-toned eyes go alight.

“Fihh,” Pretty repeats, swimming backwards and lifting two thumbs up into the air. “Fihh!”

Katsuki’s lips curl into a smirk, and he rests back against the rocks, watching Pretty rally a school right into his net until it’s full enough to pull back to shore.

Take that, Izuku.

༄

Ochako, she’s better at teaching than Izuku is—but not all of her lessons stick.

“I think Izuku was doing a little too much,” she says, the soft smile on her face mirroring Pretty’s own. “We just need to have a one-on-one conversation.”

Katsuki watches her much in the same way he had Izuku, but this time he doesn’t find himself interrupting or stealing Pretty away for an impromptu fishing trip. Especially when Pretty seems content in her presence—which may or may not be due to the fact that she isn’t holding a notebook that weighs two stones on her lap.

“Ochako,” she begins without introduction or fanfare, just a single index finger that she uses to point to herself.

“Oh-cha-kuh,” Pretty Fish mimics, voice soft and low.

Katsuki crosses his arms with a sniff. A valiant fucking effort, he thinks proudly.

“Ocha-ko,” Ochako tries again, really stressing the last syllable of her name. Pretty squints at her curving lips, his mouth opening and closing into what Katsuki can guess are several different variations of ‘o’.

“Oh-cha-koh,” he says, looking a little surprised at himself.

“Yeah, that’s exactly right!” Ochako cheers, a grin spreading across her face as she claps her hands together. Repeating her action, Pretty reacts in the same, positive way he had when Katsuki gave him a thumbs-up. “See? This is going better already.”

Pretty starts getting into it after that, pointing at random objects around the room and repeating the words Ochako syllabically speaks for him. He has a hard time with the long ‘o’ and ‘u’ sounds—they’re fumbling and funny coming out of his mouth—but he gets by for the most part.

He looks like he’s having fun. More fun than he was having with Izuku, anyway. Ochako teaches him what things are, instead of just the basics of their language, so he can start actually using the words that he learns.

It’s the smarter approach—but it isn’t enough because, being a magic user, Ochako’s impatient as fuck. Things tend to come a little more simply to her, and when she doesn’t see the results of her hard work within a couple of days—beyond the words ‘book’ and ‘sun’ and ‘water’—she leaves Pretty with the promise that Eijirou will be here soon, and will be a much better teacher than she could ever be.

Pretty must’ve realized the fruitlessness of the endeavor, too, when her final words to him that night made his face twist in confusion.

It has to be frustrating, Katsuki thinks, to be surrounded by people you can’t talk to.

But it’ll be fine. Eijirou’s most recent letter said he’d be here by the end of the week. If anyone can teach Pretty the common tongue, it’ll be someone who can understand what he’s saying in the first place.

Katsuki idly wishes it was him, though. He wants to be the one teaching his fish, the one that gets Pretty to light up in understanding like that time at the rocks. It’s good help having Izuku and Ochako around to pick up the slack (not his, of course, he has his own responsibilities—it’s Eijirou’s slack, clearly), not that he’ll admit it out loud.

While Katsuki’s out hunting and fishing and heavy-lifting, they have the privilege of staying home with Pretty and keeping him company; Katsuki needs to keep present, too, or Pretty’s going to start looking at them like they’re the greatest thing since baked bread instead.

He just... needs some time. He’ll think of something.

༄

“His name is Shouto.”

Katsuki’s gaze shifts from Eijirou to Pretty—Shouto, now that he knows—and he keeps his stare level with those expectant, two-toned eyes as he tests the syllables on his tongue.

“Shouto, huh?”

“Kat-ski,” Shouto answers.

Katsuki’s eyes widen.

“We’re working through a lot of the sticky bits, but at least he can say your name now!” Eijirou exclaims happily, his hand coming down heavy on Katsuki’s shoulder. “I can translate anything too hard for him to say until he gets there. For now, I’ve just been listening to him talk and thinking of the best way to go about teaching him.”

“Well?” Katsuki asks, turning to look at Eijirou. “Did he say anything important to you? He’s always yellin’ nonsense, so he has to have somethin’ to tell us, right?”

Eijirou looks thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. “I dunno, man. I think he’s more concerned with learning words so he can have an actual conversation with you.”

—

It becomes routine, Eijirou’s visits. He comes over a couple times a week and teaches Shouto how to say the things he wants to say; mostly short sentences and the names of things he’s given to eat.

Sometimes the two of them sit there for hours talking about a whole lot of nothing, in Katsuki’s opinion. But more often than not, there’s teaching and translating going on in the washroom and, on occasion, while swimming in the pond out by the woods.

Ochako had spoken to Katsuki sometime after the second and third visit and explained to him more in depth about a potion she’s brewing—how it would help Shouto adjust to life on land despite its short duration, but that she’s yet to perfect it and would need just a little more time.

If they’re lucky, Shouto should be communicating pretty well by then.

Things start to look up. And even if Shouto doesn’t actually have anything pressing to say like Katsuki once thought, he seems to enjoy living here and interacting with everyone. He seems to want to be their friend.

That’s good enough for Katsuki.

༄

Katsuki’s in the middle of an argument with Ochako when Eijirou visits next.

She’s been using the dishes they eat with for her stupid magic experiments—a habit she’s picked up from who fucking knows where—and has the audacity to say it’s no big deal when she’s dropped newt eyes and rat toes into the same bowls Katsuki eats his stews from.

It’s disgusting. He wants to kill her.

“Hey, guys!” Eijirou calls out cheerfully as he closes the door behind him.

Katsuki almost turns his head—almost says something back—but Ochako huffs up at him, arms crossed and eyes glaring.

He can’t help but want to challenge that expression with his own snarls and scowls.

“I wash them when I’m finished,” she reasons. “It’s not like they’re dirty!”

Katsuki begs to differ. “You fuckin’ suck at cleanin’! I’m supposed to trust that?”

“Guys?” Eijirou tries again.

“Well, nothing’s happened to you yet!” Ochako holds, muttering her next words under her breath. “Wouldn’t be a tragedy if you turned into something small and quiet every once in a while, though.”

“Oh, yeah?! Try me, you bubble-faced—”

“O-kay! I’m just gonna be in here with Shouto,” Eijirou interrupts.

Katsuki’s mouth clamps shut at that.

Turning his head, he watches Eijirou trod into the washroom, and feels immediately compelled to follow. Turning back for just a second, he points a finger in Ochako’s face.

“This isn’t over,” he warns, ignoring her narrowing eyes as he follows Eijirou’s footsteps.

Peeking around the doorway, Katsuki makes it in time to see Shouto perk up as his new friend comes near.

“Shouto!” Eijirou grins, sitting down heavy on the stool and resting his arms over the edge of the tub. “How are ya, dude?”

Shouto trills his lips, muttering something under his breath that Katsuki can’t really hear.

“Yeah, the tub’s cramped, ain’t it?” Eijirou asks, flicking his finger across the top of the water. “We should go swimming in the pond later!”

“Pond,” Shouto agrees, nodding his head. “Need soo-wimm.”

There’s another trilling noise, and the sound of splashing water. Eijirou laughs.

“Heck yeah, I totally get you!”

Katsuki smiles at the exchange, but something like a hunger pang twists his gut.

Eijirou and Shouto get to have conversations together, and they get along so well because of it. Eijirou’s endlessly patient with him; listens to him carefully and answers his questions calmly and clearly, adding explanations into the mix here and there so Shouto can pick up extra words or grammar intricacies.

Sometimes, Eijirou will just sit there and tell him jokes, and Shouto will either get stuck trying to figure them out or laugh (so fucking bubbly that they sound just like hiccups), but he’ll appreciate them either way.

Katsuki knows Shouto likes people other than just him. But he looks happy talking to Eijirou.

It’s annoying to watch—the two of them laughing and enjoying each other’s company like that.

Shouto’s his fish. He should be the one talking to him.

“What’s he tellin’ you?” Katsuki asks, stepping further inside the washroom.

Shouto sits up taller all of a sudden, that same, soft, dopey smile he always wears for Katsuki appearing as he stops in front of the tub.

Katsuki’s lips curl smugly at the sight.

“About how you guys met. Poor dude was just hangin’ out with the jellies and you went and scooped him right up.” Eijirou sighs with a shake of his head, Shouto’s concurring hum accompanying him. “Not very manly of you.”

“He’s my catch and I’m keepin’ him!” Katsuki retorts, crossing his arms and exhaling sharply through his nose. “It’s his fault for swimmin’ into it.”

Shouto’s expression melts for him like ice milk in the sun and Katsuki’s confidence rises with his fall.

“Sho hasn’t said anything about wantin’ to go back anyway,” he adds.

“Nah, I think he’s way too happy here,” Eijirou agrees with a sly, sharp-toothed grin.

He sends Shouto a knowing look, one that’s returned with something shy. An averted, lash-curtained gaze that falls onto round, tinged-pink cheeks is Shouto’s only reaction; and it becomes so obvious that they’re sharing something between just them.

A secret. A thing.

Katsuki has to admit to himself right then and there that he feels jealous.

Eijirou’s able to translate Shouto’s full-on sentences, making it easier for him to piece together words and speak even more. It’s not perfect, and he forgets some of the translations between visits, but he’s able to say simple things in their tongue now without much help.

Between that and Eijirou being able to understand him anyway, they get to talk to each other and have personal moments like these. It’s so goddamn irritating.

It’s different with Izuku and Ochako; they’re in the dark as much as Katsuki is. Their progress teaching Shouto hadn’t meant anything because Katsuki hadn’t felt like he’d lost anything. Hadn’t felt like he was missing out. But Eijirou can speak to Shouto well, can sit there and get to know him... That’s not something Katsuki can do even if he tried.

It fucking burns him.

Katsuki knows he shouldn’t feel so annoyed. Shouto and Eijirou becoming friends isn’t a terrible thing. What really gets to him is the fact that he can’t really say he knows enough about Shouto to call himself a friend. With all the hunting and fishing he spends hours doing in the mornings, he can’t even say he spends a lot of time with Shouto—and he’s the one who found him.

Why does it feel like everyone else is doing more for Shouto than he is?

Well, that’s going to fucking change. He’s not going to get left in the dust here.

Shouto’s his fish. Not Eijirou’s.

There’s no way he’s sharing.

༄

“Did ya get all that?”

Katsuki nods the second Shouto answers with a thumbs-up, dropping his nose right back into the book he’s reading aloud.

It’s one of those cutesy little fantasy novels that Ochako likes to read, plucked right from her bookshelf. The language used is plain and simple, and there are pictures to point to when the right words come up across the pages. It’s perfect for what he’s got in mind.

Which is teaching Shouto the common tongue. Better than anyone else ever could.

Turning the page, Katsuki begins telling the story of a Kingdom of Four friends and their adventures together. They meet one by one and become inseparable over the years. It’s supposed to be precious and sweet, and complete with all that feel good, found family bullshit.

Frankly, Katsuki thinks they’re just a big group of losers—a barbarian, an idiot, and two whole crybabies in one dumb package—but Shouto seems to like them, a soft look appearing on his face whenever he’s shown their illustrations.

Taking his time reading each chapter, Katsuki talks through different pronunciations and meanings. Shouto stops him every once in a while by repeating any unfamiliar word he hears, and Katsuki does his best to give visual examples and easy explanations until he gets a smile or thumbs-up in return.

It’s the best method Katsuki could come up with. Everyone learns language through reading, and Eijirou’s taught Shouto enough by now that he can identify plenty of things and understand most of what Katsuki’s saying, depending on the context.

And it seems to be working well enough because, every once in a while, Shouto will string a few words together into a sentence that actually makes sense.

So—this is how Katsuki’s decided to do it. How he’s decided to help out.

Just wait until Eijirou hears all the words Shouto’s going to be using because of him.

It’s just after the close of the third chapter, just after the group meets Crybaby Number Two, that a glint of movement in the water makes Katsuki look up from the pages. Shouto’s meandered over to the opposite end of the tub, leaving a wide berth of cool, rippling blue between them.

“Hey, where do ya think you’re goin’? We’re not done,” Katsuki grouses.

Shouto stretches out against the porcelain rim, a soft yawn drawing from his lips. There’s a glittering shine to his skin that’s so different from the way a normal human’s would look upon surfacing from a bath; from a lake or pond—or even the ocean. Every inch of him gleams like white snow reflecting the sun. Like an amalgamation of pale flesh and diamonds.

It’s fucking breathtaking.

Katsuki watches Shouto settle back down into the water. Two-toned eyes blinking open, slightly wet from yawning, he looks over at Katsuki and pats the surface of it twice. It splashes.

“Sit,” he says, patting the water again. “Sit, Kats’ki.”

“You want me to sit in your tub?” Katsuki breathes, flinching back with a growl when he feels water spray across the skin of his forearm. “I can’t. The book’ll get wet, dummy!”

Shouto looks at him like a kicked guppy, mouth curling downward ever so slightly. Even his tailfin gets all pouty, falling into a droop over the edge of the tub—sad and miserable.

Katsuki snorts at the display, but he still gives in because he sure as hell would rather Ochako be upset than Shouto.

It won’t hurt, anyway.

“Fine, I’m comin’ in. But don’t come cryin’ to me when Ochako finds out you got her favorite book all soggy.”

With a sigh, Katsuki stands, setting the book down on the stool before tugging at his pants. He shimmies them off and kicks them to the side, gripping the waistline of his smalls before throwing one leg over the edge of the tub. After taking a quick once-over the length of Shouto’s tail, he braces himself along the rim and pulls his other leg into the cool water.

“Shit, it’s fuckin’ freezin’—move it,” he hisses, waiting for Shouto to bend his tail so he can lower himself slowly into his cold as shit water.

As soon as he’s down, he sits back against the edge, body acclimating quickly to the temperature. Shouto shifts as he stretches out, the flat of his tailfin almost smacking Katsuki’s head. It disappears halfway into the water and shoves at his side, as if trying to tell him that it needs more room.

“Hey, quit splashin’!” Katsuki gripes, rolling his eyes when he sees Shouto sulking. He moves over until he’s flush against one side of the tub, that flapping, speckled tail curling cosy against his hip. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m only in here ‘cause you begged.”

“Mean, Kats’ki.”

“Can it,” he mutters, reaching over to grab the book from the stool and flipping over to the page they’d left off on. “Why am I always the mean one?”

Ignoring Shouto’s answering huff, Katsuki starts the next chapter.

Barbarian Guy and Crybaby Number One have developed feelings for each other—freakin’ typical. They’re cloyingly sweet, and Katsuki has to hold back a gag whenever he’s forced to describe the sappy looks they share.

At the very least, the idiot’s been entertaining. He’s half-dragon and funny as hell.

It’s somewhere halfway through the book when Katsuki realizes how quiet it’s become. Cutting his gaze up over the top of the pages, he watches as mismatched lashes open and close at a slow, dragging pace. He’d been so engrossed in the story (which Ochako will never have the pleasure of knowing), that he hadn’t even noticed Shouto’s been dozing off this entire time.

Katsuki nudges him in the side with his foot.

“‘Leep,” is the tired answer he gets in response.

Turning his head to the high window, Katsuki notes that the sun’s fallen from view, painting the sky orange and pink instead of blue.

“Not yet,” he says; there’s still light out and he’s not nearly done teaching Shouto everything he wanted to today. “Just a few more words, okay, pretty fish?”

Shouto trills his lips, but doesn’t protest further as Katsuki begins reading again.

Barbarian Guy and Crybaby Number One are sitting at the edge of the lake where they met, watching the sunset. From the dialogue, Katsuki thinks they’re doing a shitty job at coming right out with their feelings, but it gets better as it goes. They’re holding hands by the time the sun’s just barely over the horizon, and Barbarian Guy finally has the balls to lean in and seal the deal.

Crybaby takes his time reciprocating. He’s fucking staring at Barbarian Guy’s “full, slightly chapped” lips, and after about three more lines of waxing poetic, they finally come together for a—

“Kih?”

Shouto seems wide awake now, eyes watching Katsuki intently. He’s wearing that dumb, curious look on his face that always makes Katsuki’s lips quirk.

This is an opportunity, Katsuki thinks. Though he can’t say he’s very excited about Shouto’s word of choice.

“Kiss,” he corrects.

Shouto’s brows knit. “Kih.”

“Kiss,” Katsuki says again, sitting up a little taller, leaning forward.

“Kih. Kiiih. Kiiiih—sss.” Shouto closes his teeth, a hiss pushing out from between them, and his eyes round in surprise at the sound. Licking his lips, he tries again. “Kih-sss.”

Shouto starts talking in his weird fish language, mouth curving into a frown and brows furrowing. Like he’s unhappy with how he’d said the word. Like he knows it isn’t exactly right and it frustrates him that he can’t communicate well enough.

Katsuki decides to encourage him with a nod.

“Kihss,” Shouto says again, for good measure.

“That’s right.”

“What kihss?” Shouto asks, looking between Katsuki and the book.

Katsuki wipes a hand down his mouth and thinks about it for a second before flicking through the next couple pages. There isn’t a picture of the characters kissing that he can point to. Which is stupid—what the hell? It’s the whole point of the chapter.

Taking a deep breath, he lets it back out in the form of an annoyed sigh.

“You know, it’s when you—it’s when—fuck.” Setting the book down on the stool, Katsuki pinches the thumb and four fingers of each of his hands closed. “It’s when two people...” Bringing his hand puppets closer to one another, he touches the tips of them together. “Like that.”

“Pee-puhl...”

Mimicking Katsuki with his own hands, Shouto taps the pinched tips of his fingers together, too—watching them “kiss” and come apart several times before he pauses.

It’s clicked. Shouto looks like he understands exactly what that means.

Reaching out, he begins smacking at Katsuki’s forearm.

“Quit it.” Katsuki pulls back, growling when Shouto’s hand hits the water instead, sending a spray flying. “What—what is it?”

Shouto points to Katsuki, and then to himself. “Kihss.”

Teeth clicking shut, Katsuki’s mind goes blank. His mouth feels dry and sticky all of a sudden, and his heart’s stuttering like a stone skipping across the surface of their pond. Blinking a few times, he wets his lips with his tongue, thinking it’ll make it easier for him to speak.

“You even know what you’re sayin’?”

“Kats’ki, kihss.”

Katsuki stares Shouto down for a long moment, eyes narrowed and mouth parted. It’s funny, it almost seems like...

“You want me to kiss you,” he says, face pinching and lips pressing into a thin line as he regards Shouto quietly. And maybe he does—want a kiss, that is—but that’s because he’s clueless, is all. Why else would he be so adamant in asking for one? “You just don’t get what it is, do ya?”

Reaching forward, Katsuki takes Shouto’s face in his hands. He leans in and presses his lips once to the raised, pink and red scar spanning over the entirety of Shouto’s left eye. Quick and messy. There and gone. Just to clear up any misunderstanding.

“That’s a kiss,” he tells him. Enough of a fucking deterent, Katsuki’s sure.

Only it must not have been, because Shouto leans forward before Katsuki can stop him, and pecks him square on the lips.

Katsuki’s frozen for what feels like a short eternity before time starts ticking again.

“That, too, I fucking guess.” He chokes out a surprised laugh, reeling back automatically when Shouto goes in for another one. Katsuki clamps a hand over his mouth, snorting when he feels lips move against his palm. “Hey, stop that!”

Shouto pulls back, a pout on his face again.

“What, you wanna kiss me that bad?” Katsuki asks, mirthfully.

“Yes,” Shouto answers easily, reaching up to brush at his own bottom lip. “Kihss.”

Katsuki’s face goes hot.

Rising from the tub in one swift movement, he throws his legs over the edge one by one. The back of his neck burns and he purposely avoids looking at Shouto, if just to rid himself of whatever the hell he’s got swirling around in his chest all of a sudden.

“You only got that as a reward, ya hear me?” Katsuki says, dripping all over the floor as he snatches his trousers up. With a backwards wave, he makes his way out of the washroom, dragging the garment across the ground behind him. “Good job learnin’ words or whatever.”

༄

Katsuki comes home from his morning fishing trip to the sound of Eijirou’s laughter.

It’s not a surprise. He’d expected Eijirou to be at the cottage today. It’s the whole reason Shouto hadn’t joined Katsuki out by the rocks in the first place. And even though Katsuki had taken it upon himself to read to Shouto every night (creating new, innovative ways to avoid the word ‘kiss’ aside), Eijirou’s language lessons are still important.

At the end of the day, he’s the only one who can understand what Shouto’s saying.

Eijirou’s sitting on the stool by the tub when Katsuki steps into the washroom. Shouto’s eyes are immediately drawn to him and, in turn, Eijirou looks over, too. He’s at Katsuki’s side instantly.

“Dude, check it out!” Eijirou’s hand comes down on his back with a loud smack—soft, nervous laughter following as Katsuki glares down at him; he guides them both over to the tub. “Shouto’s a natural.”

Katsuki’s eyes cut to Shouto, who clears his throat the second he has everyone’s attention.

“Kats’ki, I—” Shouto mushes his lips together, rubs them back and forth over each other before looking back up at Katsuki and smacking a hand to his chest. “Tawk now. Tooh yooh.”

“Damn right you’re talkin’!” Katsuki grins, shoving his hands onto his hips. “Fuck, at this rate...”

“Yeah! He’ll be having full conversations with you guys,” Eijirou finishes. Maybe not yet, Katsuki thinks, as an afterthought—but it’s impossible not to feel hopeful. “And Uraraka said she’s got this potion that’ll help give Shouto a little more mobility and independence. Not sure what she meant by that exactly, but...”

Legs. That's gotta be it. What else would give Shouto mobility and independence? If he weren’t a fish, he’d have that already.

Ochako’s gonna give Shouto a pair of fucking legs.

“It’s ready?” Katsuki asks, a little too quick. “She was talking about a potion a few weeks back, but she was so fuckin’ vague about it, I barely paid attention.”

“Not yet. ‘Soon’ was the best answer I got,” Eijirou admits, not thinking anything of it. For Katsuki, it’ll be a constant thought in the back of his mind until it’s finished. “Still, I’m so excited! We can all travel together”—he leans forward against the tub and grins at Shouto—“and then you can use all those new words you learned.”

“‘Fih-shing,’ ‘pon-duh,’ ‘beeg catch,’” Shouto lists, pointing to himself as he speaks the last word. “Thah’s me.”

Katsuki nods, lips curling into a smirk because that’s right, as fuckin’ expected of my smart-ass fish.

“You’re gonna be readin’ me books pretty soon,” he says. “Since you’re so good at talkin’ now.”

Eijirou laughs, giggly and bright from beside him, and reaches over to ruffle Shouto’s hair. “Yeah, good job, Shouto!”

Shouto looks pleased with the praise, his smile growing bigger as he reaches for Katsuki’s arm. He smacks at it like he doesn’t already have all of Katsuki’s attention, those big, pretty eyes staring upward expectantly.

Katsuki lets out an amused hiss from between his teeth. “What is it, Sho?”

“Kats’ki, kihss?” Shouto asks.

The entire room goes still. Or maybe it’s just Katsuki.

He’s frozen, eyes zeroed-in and locked onto Shouto’s.

Two-toned brows come together at his reaction, and pretty pink lips part as if they’re about to ask ‘what’s wrong?’ Katsuki saves Shouto the trouble of trying to form words he doesn’t know for his sake, and looks over at Eijirou, who grins at him knowingly.

“Why’s he asking for kisses, Kats?” Eijirou asks, teasingly. His eyes, so needle-focused on Katsuki, are practically sparkling; his expression is a near-perfect mirror image of Izuku’s when he’s fanboying over his favorite storybook hero. “Huh, huh?”

“Gooh-duh job,” Shouto answers instead.

Their gazes simultaneously shift, and Katsuki watches as Shouto maneuvers forward, hands curling over the edge of the tub as he stares up at them.

Shit.

“Gotcha!” Eijirou exclaims as though he understands perfectly. “If that’s the case, I’ll just leave you two to it. Wouldn’t wanna intrude.” Eijirou yelps when Katsuki smacks him in the gut, and laughs as he trots over towards the door, adding, “Gotta go say ‘hi’ to Midoriya and Uraraka anyway!”

With one last wave from the entryway, Eijirou’s gone, and Katsuki’s left glaring at the door.

A soft splash is enough to turn him around. Pulling back his jutted lips, Katsuki drops his gaze to Shouto, who watches him bemusedly.

“No kihss?” Shouto asks quietly.

Katsuki sighs, shoving a hand onto his hip and brushing another over his spikes. How’s he even supposed to explain himself after what he told Shouto last night?

“Look. Ya don’t—ya don’t just kiss people for nothin’,” he starts, irked by the fact that his face is starting to feel hot now that he’s opened his mouth and said the word. “It’s not somethin’ you—that you... ya know?” Shouto barely looks like he’s following. “You kiss people that you like, or...”

Katsuki sucks his bottom lips into his mouth. Leans down and curls his hands around the rim of the tub. Watches Shouto as he watches him silently.

“Kats-ki,” Shouto says lightly. The tone is confused; not quite a question but not merely the breath of his name, either. It’s pretty, all the same, smooth and deep despite the sharp corners of the word.

Katsuki can’t help the fond look that softens his face. And after a long moment, he gives in, bending down to press a lingering kiss to the apple of Shouto’s left cheek, beneath his scar. It lasts for a handful of seconds, until he’s sure Shouto’s satisfied, before Katsuki pulls back with a loud smack.

“There, happy?” he asks.

There’s a knock at the open door, and Katsuki turns away from Shouto to see Izuku waiting, already in a pair of shorts to swim in.

“Hey, are you guys ready to go out to the pond?” he asks, a cheerful smile on his face. Izuku points behind himself with his thumb. “Kirishima and Ochako are already out back.”

Katsuki turns back to Shouto—to suggest they go, they should be out having fun with everyone else—only to see him resting at the bottom of the tub, that round little face of his red and smiley, his hand cupping his kissed cheek.

With a soft, mirthful huff, Katsuki smiles.

“Yeah,” he says, running his fingers across the surface of the water. “We’ll be right there.”