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His mother sings cheerfully while hanging the garlands and fairy lights around the apartment. Soon, the tinsel and gingerbread man decals will be next, and then the small decorative tree will tie everything together.
John would like to help, but seeing how he's currently a one-year-old with the body coordination of a newborn panda, he'll probably only make a mess. Plus, he's in the crib, and the rails are adjusted to prevent him from trying to escape it. Again.
So he watches, instead, as the apartment transforms into one suitable for December.
Yeah. December. And with December comes the holiday of Christmas.
John's not sure if he ever celebrated Christmas before.
Sure, the Director held recitals during the holiday, drilling the girls of the Ruska Roma to perform perfectly for the oblivious guests who attended her theater (most being high-profile targets for the boys to dissect later on), but she didn't go out of her way to have the whole place decorated or gave the kids gifts for the sake of providing them some slip of a happy childhood.
The Director was never that softhearted, and they knew that, so they never said anything.
(Except one of them did. One. An orphan who came to the Ruska Roma far later than John did, covered in bruises and scars because of an old gang laying low in North Carolina. He had yet to learn the rules. He asked the Director repeatedly, innocently, if they ever celebrated Christmas, went to church every Sunday, and believed in God the way other people do.
The Director trained him out of it.
David stopped asking after that.)
John did see others celebrate it, though. Mostly from afar and with a warm gun holstered in his belt. He never imagined he'd ever be normal like that, exchanging presents, eating delicious food, partying until the sun rose the next day, and creating memories with those you cared about.
The closest he got to being given a gift was receiving a new phone from Winston, and even then, it had been November, and the phone was but a welcoming gift to the Continental.
So, Christmas didn't matter much to him. It was another holiday on the calendar for normal people to look forward to. He wasn't part of that category. But then Helen came into his life and Christmas held a different meaning to him altogether. For a time, whenever December rolled around, John felt just a little bit normal. He exchanged presents with Helen, ate delicious food with her (even if half of those meals were takeout and eaten in her studio apartment during their first two years of dating), and created new memories he wanted to cherish forever.
Once she passed away, he stopped anticipating.
He didn't want to hang up the lights and set up the tree if Helen wouldn't be coming in to tease him over how terrible his decorating was and then help him right after with a smile. He didn't want a grand meal on the table if she wouldn't be beside him to inevitably start a food fight once the wine came into play. He didn't want to make new memories if the only person who brought light, warmth, and love into his life was no longer there.
Daisy changed his mind, if only by a margin because at least in some way, he still had Helen with him. But his plans of getting the decorations out of the garage fell apart when Iosef happened, and the events thereafter.
John doubts the boxes and the tree survived Santino's attack.
"Are you excited, Izuku? We're going to have the best Christmas ever, I know it!"
His mother finishes putting up the last of the decorations, the mini tree that used to be bare now adorned with lights, ornaments, and a star at the peak. It sits in the corner of the main room, waiting for presents to pile up underneath it. It's not like the ginormous tree in Winston's hotel, or the potted version in most of his past clients' homes, but to his mother, it's perfect.
(Helen had been the same too. Their first Christmas tree had been small, but it was perfect for just the two of them.)
"We'll eat a lot of yummy food, play some games- Ooh! How about we invite Mitsuki and her family over? And your grandparents too, it'll be fun!"
John has already prepared himself when his mother scoops him up from the crib she brought to the living room, kissing his cheek with a loud smack, and walks to the balcony window. Outside, the afternoon sky is a little dull, promising snow and a new year ahead.
A new year of whatever his life has become now.
He'll think about what that will entail at a different time, though. His mother is bursting with infectious energy at the prospect of Christmas shopping, bouncing him in her arms to the rhythm of some festive tune playing in the radio, and with nothing to contribute verbally (and being content to just let his mother be excited for the both of them), he rests his tiny head on her shoulder.
The lights on the tree twinkle just a little bit brighter to him.
~
John's (Izuku's, technically) first Christmas gift from his father is a pair of black shoes that are way too big and bulky for his tiny feet.
Midoriya Hisashi sent them via package rather than in person like his mother hoped. John pretended not to notice how she deflated slightly when she opened the front door and saw the mailman instead of her husband.
"Maybe next time," she says with a fragile smile. Disappointed, but not surprised.
With the hand-written note taped to the cover, the shoe box stays untouched and forgotten in his bedroom closet while John - out of a budding spite for a man he barely knows - treats Mom to mother-son outings as time passes.
~
"Hey, doofus, what do you want for Christmas?"
Slowly sipping his store-bought cup of hot chocolate, John side-eyes Katsuki in consideration. Other than his usual resting grump face, he seems composed enough, his feet lazily pushing the ground to move the swing seat while his hands are hidden inside his pockets. Must be thinking some thoughts.
John goes back to staring at nothing in particular because the neighborhood playground is pretty much empty except for them, occupying the swings. "I don't know."
Katsuki scoffs, "Yeah, right. You don't know."
John shakes his cup, feeling that it's close to empty and cold. "I don't."
"Why don't you know?" Katsuki slouches to meet his eyes. He's still frowning, but it's less of the vitriolic scowl that he wore before and more of a probing inspection, as if he doesn't believe that John (Izuku) has no idea what he wants for Christmas.
And it's true. He hasn't a slightest idea what he wants. He's never been a materialistic kind of person, and he grew up just not wanting or wishing for anything, so he never quite thought about it too deeply. Generally speaking, the things he "wanted" were for practicality and necessity rather than pleasure and whatever emotion people have when they garner gifts.
(And the last time he wanted something — freedom, happiness, a lifetime with her, a lifetime to grieve properly — there was a hefty price to pay.)
(There will always be a price.)
(He wondered when will he have paid enough.)
All things considered, he was a difficult person to shop for. Helen took that as a challenge.
John shrugs. "I don't want anything."
"I call bullshit," is Katsuki's immediate response.
"What do you want, then?" John asks because he honestly doesn't know what Katsuki would want if he can afford it anyway. The safest option would be something All Might-related, but John reckons it'll set him off out of embarrassment or something, so small weights it is. Maybe.
Katsuki points at him accusingly. "Oi, oi, we're not making this about me, asshole!" Shocking words from a kid who swam in attention when they were toddlers. "No dodging my questions and shit. There has to be something you want."
"There isn't."
He didn't mean for it to sound like dare. He didn't think being indecisive over presents would ever inspire such a thing, but Katsuki is Katsuki, and he takes it like a challenge as Helen did.
Except the blond has a glint in his eyes that John suddenly feels wary of.
"Wanna bet?"
"No." Because bets never lead to anything good, and if it's Katsuki inciting a bet, then it's definitely not good.
"Too fucking bad, I'm getting you shit that'll blow your stupid stockings off and you're gonna appreciate it!" Katsuki looks downright ferocious now when he gets to his feet, the pinnacle of a teenager who just had a bright idea, and John is somewhat grateful that the cold weather is keeping the sparks to a minimum. The last thing they want is unintentional property damage and pissed off mothers.
John sighs after finishing his drink.
He's long resigned himself to the reality that Bakugou Katsuki is chronically incapable of leaving things alone (take him confronting the local school tyrants after class over their regularly scheduled harrassment of John as an example) and ignoring a challenge - accidental or otherwise - so he figures he can let the guy do whatever he wants in this regard.
In gift-giving, he means. Last time Katsuki ever willingly gave him something gift-adjacent had been that one All Might card a few years back, and it was sent through the mail anonymously. Not that Katsuki is aware that John knows it was him, or that he still has it in his drawer, forever kept in its plastic packaging.
Katsuki would deny it vehemently for sure if John brings it up because he's like that.
Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to find out what sort of things Katsuki decides to get for him. Maybe he'll follow Helen's example and give him a travel mug with the auto-stirring feature. Or maybe just a notebook with a schedule page. Either outcome, John will at least appreciate it, as his friend eloquently put it.
John throws his empty cup in the direction of the trashbin sitting a few ways away. It lands perfectly without a single bump. ("Show-off," Katsuki says, lacking malice.)
"Fine."
~
"Merry Christmas, you fucking weirdo."
John only stares. The box is suspiciously and oddly big. It's wrapped in red and gold paper, and a deep green bow to top it all off. He's also pretty sure it's rigged to explode confetti and fake snow as soon as he opens it. Unlikely, in the realm of common sense, but anything is possible when Katsuki is highly motivated. Probably. And Katsuki appears absolutely proud of himself.
"What's this?"
"Open it and find out already!"
Luckily they're in Katsuki's room as this is happening. John doesn't want Mom and Mitsuki to get caught in the crossfire of a potential shredded gold paper eruption, and Katsuki doesn't want his Aunt Inko and mother to witness him acting soft and sweet, or he'd risk giving deadly ammunition of blackmail material to Mitsuki (Katsuki's words, not his) and her photo albums.
Next time, he'll scour the internet for ideas instead of leaving it up to chance with his perfectionist of a friend.
"...fine."
~
Hitoshi seems strangely nervous today. Perhaps not nervous in the shaky-perspiring-heaving-crying way, but the fidgety-pacing-unsure-frowning way.
Except Hitoshi is not doing either of those things. His shoulders are raised just slightly higher, his hands hidden under his crossed arms, and his brows are furrowed long enough that John thinks it'll leave an impression.
And he's been sneaking looks at John since they began their stroll around the shopping square, with John pretending he's oblivious to them. It's not the wary, tense, and fearful glances, but barring that, he doesn't know what's going on in the other's head.
Had John done something wrong, maybe? Said something offensive during their conversations, as short and simple as they were? Or is Hitoshi trying to say something but doesn't know how to say it? Hm. It won't hurt to ask, right? At least if Hitoshi has questions, he'd be willing to answer them.
"Hitoshi—"
"I got you a present."
John blinks at the sudden declaration. Hitoshi avoids his gaze, focusing on the cats napping and playing through the large window of a cat cafe.
A present? Oh, right, Christmas. It's a week away now. Then after that, Entrance Exams, which still feels like a distant goal.
"You didn't have to."
Hitoshi shrugs and he looks at him this time, less nervous than when they first started their walk. His grin is small and genuine even when he appears close to dead on his feet. "Yeah, but I wanted to. 'Cuz, y'know, you've been cool with, well, me. And taught me a lot over the months we've known each other, like how to land on my ass without breaking a tail bone or getting a concussion. So, I thought you deserve something nice."
(Funny, John thinks in quiet, stilted humor. Between the two of them, it's Hitoshi who deserves something nice.)
He leads them to a bench near the square's fountain and soon brings out a green-wrapped box appears from his bag, handing it over which John automatically takes, carefully as to not accidentally drop it.
"It's probably, like, not much, but my pops recommended I give it a try. It's the thought that counts and all that junk, right?" Hitoshi rambles, a tactic he usually resorts to to ease off his anxiety and fill the quiet spaces. "And like, okay, maybe I can only make a decent sunnyside up, and killer pancakes too, but uh, I did- I mean, I practiced. A lot. So, um, yeah. Lemme know how they taste or whatever."
The contents are not what he expected, but they're not an unwelcome sight either. The eight macarons, each one a different color and flavor, sit snuggly in the box, and John can tell how much time and dedication Hitoshi spent in making them. He's always been dedicated, determined during training; it's interesting to find out how he's applying that to other things. (Maybe he can be like that too. Eventually.)
And since he's been given permission, he pops the pink one in his mouth.
(Strawberry chocolate was a treat she liked the most. He'd give her a box of it for Valentine's, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, normal days because he could, because he knew she loved them, because at some point, he started liking the flavor too.)
"So... How is it?"
I think Helen would've loved it. "They're really good."
A smile breaks out on Hitoshi's face, relieved and excited, clumsy and still a little awkward, but content, all the same. "You think so? I thought I botched the recipe halfway through, even with my pops' help."
"You did good," John assures because his friend must know that. "Thanks, Hitoshi."
Hitoshi's features seem to brighten even more until it settles into a calmer mien. His grin never leaves, small and genuine no matter what. "You're welcome."
~
"I also got something for Grinch the Younger, but don't tell him it's from me."
"Mm."
"No, but seriously, don't tell him or he'll think I'm going mushy on him. I am not mushy, ever."
"Mm."
"Just say it's from a secret admirer or whatever. Asshole's got plenty of those, right?"
"Not since the first semester of our second year in middle school."
"Nice."
~
~
As luck would have it, the weather is just right enough for All Might — Yagi Toshinori — to message John and Katsuki to come by Dagobah beach.
The text doesn't spell anything urgent, but an inkling settles in his mind over the peculiar timing. Christmas is just around the corner, and they've been granted some time off from training, so no doubt that Yagi has spent that space in their timetable to buy something for them and is set on presenting it to them before the holiday season fills up most of his schedule.
Apparently, it's always the special holidays that get All Might busy. It's not rocket science to figure out why that is.
"What do you think he's got for us?" Katsuki asks as they near the beach. His breath comes out as a cold fog, disappearing just as quickly. "Probably something stupid expensive or some shit."
"Hm." John wouldn't put it past the man if he decided to bestow on them some overpriced gadgets and leave it at that. Or he could be mistaken. He's working on not estimating anything about the Number One Hero these days.
"Does he even know what teenagers like anyway?"
"I don't think so."
"Fucking figures."
John glances at Katsuki pointedly from his peripheral. "We can always donate."
"Fuck no, if it's from All Might, I'm not giving away shit."
Why did John even ask?
"Oh, there you boys are!" Yagi greets them, having seen their approach. His smile today is unlike the ones John normally sees on television and in promotional material. This one is worn but jovial. Natural, and not stretched too far. "I hope I didn't disrupt any plans today."
Katsuki tries to hide it, but even John can tell he's excited about receiving a present from his hero. "We weren't busy."
They were lounging in John's room when they got Yagi's text, and Katsuki insisted they go or the world will end or something, shoving a coat in John's face and dragging both of them out the door. What a fanboy.
Yagi nods, still grinning. "That's good! Well, I don't want to keep you two for long since I'll be quite busy soon. Anyway..." He steps aside, revealing two bicycles - one a striking orange with yellow gradients, and the other a sleek green with black and white accents - gleaming in the pale lighting.
Huh.
"Holy shit," Katsuki manages to whisper.
Chuckling, Yagi sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "I was initially indecisive about what to get you two, but I got some advice from a friend. Kids these days like to take bicycle rides, don't they?"
John wouldn't know, as he's never been interested at all before, but he can see the appeal. So does Katsuki, judging by the look on his face. He's almost certain he stopped breathing.
"I take it you like the—"
"Hell yeah we do!" Oh, Katsuki's rebooted. "How much did these things cost you? Nevermind, don't answer that, these are fucking cool."
John has never seen Yagi act so bashful until today. In this form, he looked like a strong winter breeze would send him straight to the heavens, or give him frostbite. He's not the indestructible, brawny hero that everyone admires. He's just a man.
A man who is, apparently, downplaying his choice of presents at the moment. Such an odd polarity from his confident hero persona.
"Well, I mean, I tried searching for stuff that were more suited to your interests, like- um- oh! Those battery-powered hoverboards. Those are still cool, aren't they? And the newest edition of phones and such. Of course, there was also—"
The words start pouring out of John's mouth before he can put a plug on it. "We love your gifts," he says, meeting the spindly man's gaze. For a man who has everything, he is as humble as they come. "Thank you, Yagi."
Fleetingly, Yagi doesn't utter a sound before the sun breaks through the thick clouds, and the rays join the brightness of his smile. (John should invest in sunglasses at some point.)
"You're very much welcome, young Midoriya, young Bakugou."
Soon, they say their temporary farewells, as the air grows colder and the hero's duties begin calling.
"You two take care, now. And keep up with your exercises at home but no overdoing it, alright?" Before either of them could talk, Yagi tousles their hair, and John...doesn't not like it. The hand mussing up his curls feels- well. Gentle. Big. Warm. Kind. Every aspect of Yagi Toshinori (and by extension, All Might). Beside him, John can sense Katsuki stiffening before relaxing under the contact, and he could've sworn he saw his ears turning a little red.
Yagi pauses his hair-tousling, but has yet to take his hands away. "Merry Christmas, my boys. Have a good one."
And it's All Might who takes Yagi's place, and with one last salute, he leaps, nothing but a shrinking dot in the pale sky.
~
"Oi, Deku."
"Mm."
"How the fuck do we explain the new bikes to our moms?"
"Figure it out."
"OH FUCK OFF—"
~
~
When Sansa strolled in his office with a package covered in a snowman-pattered wrapping, complete with a gold ribbon and a note stuck on top, Naomasa just knew.
His partner's face said it all, yet he still decided to be a little clown shit. "Guess you got upgraded to Almost Dad status, huh, detective?"
Naomasa doesn't grace that with a response. He opens the box and fishes out a new mug with a quote that says, 'I was normal before I became a detective' (he snorts at that because true) and a surprisingly soft sweater with a Detective Conrad design in the middle. He'll hand it to Midoriya, kid knows just the right present for Naomasa.
A night without incident and a good mug of hot chocolate. Maybe he should call his sister and have a small celebration in his apartment. It's been a while since they last chatted on video call. Perhaps he can rope Toshinori into joining.
Now if only he can get Sansa to stop showing off his new mug around the precinct like it's Simba's birth...
~
John has never been a materialistic person, and that will never change. He'll never quite know what he wants for his (Izuku's) birthdays and the special holidays. But he is a person who notices things, and is thus careful in choosing the perfect gift for the people in his new life.
He's quiet and unobtrusive when he gives them, half-expecting rejection, half-expecting fake acceptance, but he receives different responses that are, in summary, positive.
A kiss on the cheek and a tight, loving embrace from Mom; a comradely punch to the shoulder and a wild grin from Katsuki; a soft chuckle and an elbow nudge - and occasionally an excited ramble - from Hitoshi; a kind, warm smile and a ruffle on the head from Yagi; a tired but content expression from Tsukauchi.
(A colorful, joyful decade of life and freedom with Helen.)
Christmas may not be as special to him as it was in his past life, but he'll gladly take up decorating the tree again and again, and watch the lights flicker as time moves on, bringing him along for the ride. He's found a good reason to celebrate it.
~
"Hey. Hey, John. Johhhhhn."
"...Yeah?"
"Good, you're awake! Merry Christmas, hun."
"Merry Christmas."
"Alright, come with me! I got a surprise."
"I said you didn't have to—"
"I didn't, but I did, because I wanted to, and because I love my gwumpy, sweepy hubby so much~"
"Okay, okay..."
They didn't even need a mistletoe. He could steal kisses from her any time of the day and it would feel like fireworks were set off in his heart all over again. Forever.
"Now!" Helen pulled him near the tree where a hill of gifts awaited them. "Which one do you wanna start with first?"