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The airport is roaring loud and busy, with far too many screaming children and crying adults for Katsuki’s liking. There are bodies pressing in on him every which way as he struggles to find the meet-up point. Everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere else. He hated such liminal spaces. He'd rather be at his destination.
But he's here, and he's here for a reason. The reason is his spiky-haired idiot of a best friend who's been in America for three weeks. Apparently, they've reached 'pick me up at the airport at seven a.m.' in their friendship. Katsuki hadn't believed Kirishima had even asked. He really couldn't believe it when he said yes. Maybe he knew then what he was unable to admit to himself even now—he missed Kirishima a lot when he was gone. So he'd agreed to pick him up at this sinful time of day.
He's getting soft.
He pulls the baseball cap lower over his eyes and adjusts his face mask. Thankfully no one seems to recognize him, or if they do they don't bother him. Maybe even heroes are awarded the comfort of anonymity in an airport at ass o'clock in the morning.
There's a stream of people who suddenly come rushing through; another flight must have just arrived. Katsuki leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches the reunions.
There's an older woman, short and plump in a way that reminds him of Auntie Inko. She has long purple hair with grey roots, and smile lines around her mouth. When she catches sight of whoever she's waiting for, Katsuki gets to see that smile in practice. It's bright and genuine, the kind of contagious smile that lights up a room. She’s waiting for a woman probably around Katsuki’s age, who has the same hair and the same smile; they embrace, and Katsuki watches as the daughter bends down and buries her face in her mother’s neck.
Katsuki looks away. He can’t imagine greeting the hag like that.
The next group that catches his eye is a family of four, a lovely little nuclear family with a mom and a dad and two kids. Vomit inducing, to be honest, but he watches as the youngest runs forward and launches herself into the arms of what looks like their grandmother. The oldest is a little more restrained, jogging the final two steps before he also envelops his grandmother in a hug. The woman kneels down and begins to rummage in her purse before she pulls out two wrapped gifts, one of which she hands to each of her grandchildren. Both of them yell in excitement, and he watches her beam at them.
He looks away from this sickening tableau, and he looks away with an eye roll.
His eyes land on someone else, a couple this time. It’s two women, similar in height, and one of them has completely leaped into the other's arms, arms and legs wrapped around the other in an offensive display of PDA that should have him clicking his tongue and turning away.
He doesn’t. Instead he keeps his eyes fixed on them, like he can’t look away. The one holding her partner—she has choppy white hair and a tail—grins up at her and fucking spins, and her partner shrieks in happiness before she uses her hands to cup her partner’s cheeks and leans in for a kiss. Katsuki looks away then, not wanting to be weird, and not wanting to intrude on their happiness too much.
He’s starting to understand a little something about airports.
He hadn’t fully understood why picking Kirishima up felt like such a big deal, and he chalked it up to the fact that it was stupidly early. But looking at the people around him he understands a little better why this feels so monumental.
It’s a form of love language.
Katsuki isn’t quite as emotionally stunted as he was in the past, so he’s willing to admit and acknowledge that he loves Kirishima. He’s his best friend. They’ve been through a lot together. There aren’t a lot of people he’d pick up at the airport, and there are even less people he’d pick up at seven in the morning. But he’s here, and there wasn’t even a fraction of a doubt that he wouldn’t be here. Kirishima had needed him, and no matter how Katsuki might bitch and moan about it, he’ll always be there for anything Kirishima needed—even if it was just to pick him up at the airport once in a blue moon.
Kirishima never asked for much. Katsuki would probably give him a lot more than he has if Kirishima ever asked, but he never does. He gives like crazy, though, even without being asked. Kirishima loved giving gifts or doing things for his friends, Katsuki included. Katsuki especially. How many little gadgets does he have at home because Kirishima saw them and thought of Katsuki? The ones he has on display, the ones he can never quite bring himself to throw away. And how many times has Katsuki needed a favour and he went straight to Kirishima? And how many times, when Katsuki woke up in the middle of the night with the nightmares that never really go away, was it Kirishima that he turned to, who would talk him down at all hours of the night with no complaints?
He watches the people around him, the families and the friends and the couples, and he tries to make sense of where he would place him and Kirishima, and he isn’t quite sure. Friends doesn’t seem like a big enough word to describe them, but family doesn’t seem like an appropriate label, either. Which leaves—what?
Beside him, the couple exchanges another kiss.
Why is he even thinking about this? Kirishima and him aren’t like that… are they?
No, they’re not. They don’t do the things couples do, like kiss or hold hands. They’re not like that.
So then the next question is… does he want them to be?
No, is his first, immediate thought. Katsuki has never wanted that with anybody. But if he had it… if he and Kirishima were like that…
Why is he thinking about this? They’re not like that, so thinking about what it would be like if they were like that is useless. Besides, all he was doing was picking Shitty Hair up from the airport. There were probably tons of people who were willing to pick up Kirishima from the airport.
He scowls before he can stop himself; the thought of someone else waking up at this ungodly hour to come pick up Kirishima makes him angry. There’s something undeniably intimate about picking someone up from the airport, and he doesn’t want anyone else to be that person for Kirishima.
The more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets at just the idea of someone else picking Kirishima up from the airport. By the time Kirishima’s plane arrives, he’s stewing in his anger; and when he catches sight of Kirishima, looking tired and dragging his luggage behind him, he stomps over to him and envelops him in a tight hug. Kirishima stops dead in his tracks, and it takes him a while to react and hug Katsuki back.
“Hey, man,” he says. “You good?”
Katsuki doesn’t want to tell him he missed him, so instead he pulls back and demands, “If I hadn’t picked you up, what would you have done?”
Kirishima blinks at him. “Oh, uh. I’d probably have just taken a cab, you know?”
Something suspiciously like relief spreads through Katsuki’s chest. “Whatever,” he says. “I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home.” And then he reaches out and grabs Kirishima’s hand.
Kirishima rears back a little in surprise; his palm is sweaty. His fingers curl around Katsuki’s, and with his other hand he grabs his luggage.
Together, like that, they walk out of the airport hand in hand.