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Katsuki tugs his scarf further up his chin to ward off the autumn chill and tries not to look like he’s listening to the argument happening behind him.
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re talking about—”
He’s in line for his coffee. The argument is happening at another food truck across the square. It’s none of his business.
“How about you get your ears looked at, huh? Mister whiny baby?”
He just wants his regular coffee and spicy chilli pepper senbei. Is a drink and a rice cracker in relative peace too much of a big ask?
“How about I come over the counter and rip your face off—”
Okay, that’s enough for Katsuki. He spins around, losing his place in line to stomp across the makeshift food court. It’s easy to spot the problem—a greasy guy swats ineffectually over the counter of a coffee van, where a wild-haired blonde woman looks ready to bite his fingers off.
Katsuki’s worked food service. He gets it. The only thing stopping him from biting some of his old customers was his lack of confidence in their personal hygiene (and a hardass boss, but that’s not the point).
“Fuck you bothering her for?” Katsuki aims for hero-from-an-action-film but feels he’s missing the mark somewhat. Maybe it’s the feral grin he can feel from cheek to cheek.
This is for all the dumbasses he couldn’t argue back against.
Greasy whirls around, hand still raised. “Great. A white knight, just what we need.”
With the huge treads on his boots doing a bunch of the heavy lifting, Katsuki matches the man’s height well enough to stare him down, eye-to-eye.
“You wanna pick on someone that doesn’t have a convenient counter to let you hide behind?” Katsuki spreads his arms wide. “Whaddaya know, I’m here.”
Not quite a direct quote from his favourite Golden Age All Might film, but close enough. The spirit is there.
“Clear off,” grumbles Greasy. Behind him, the blonde woman plonks her chin down on the counter to watch. She could at least try to look impressed.
“I’m buying,” Katsuki looks up to discern what the van sells, “speciality coffee and cake. Are you getting anything or just starting shit?”
“Tomura,” the woman warns, and Katsuki startles.
“You know this dipshit?”
The woman rests her cheek on the counter and pouts. “We’re friends, even when Tomura’s being silly.” Tomura’s furious blush disputes this.
“Where’s your mute button, Himiko? Get lost,” Tomura grumbles, turning away. “You too,” he shoots over his shoulder in a last-second jab at Katsuki.
“I coulda taken him in a fight,” Katsuki says, mostly just to get the last word, even if Tomura skulks out of earshot before he can finish. Himiko finally perks up from her resting place on the counter.
“Oh? Even if he got a real good right hook in that makes you all bruised and bloody?”
Katsuki has no idea what the fuck she’s talking about, because obviously Katsuki would never take the first hit, so he ignores it.
“What was he yapping about?” He fishes his wallet out his pocket because the adrenaline of an almost-fight has left him keyed up and needing to do something, and buying whatever shit Himiko sells counts as something. He’s lost his place in the other line anyway.
Himiko sighs, cups her face between her hands, and her face lights up.
“He’s in love,” she says dreamily. Katsuki scoffs, and Himiko’s smile drops into a pout. “But he won’t tell Izuku how he feels. It’s so dramatic.” Himiko knocks her forehead to the counter and Katsuki strongly considers walking away.
He’s got no idea who ‘Izuku’ is, but he’ll report back to the office gossip, Deku. He’s always up in everyone’s business. He’ll probably know.
“Right,” Katsuki says. “Gimme one of whatever you have here to drink. Warm, caffeine, no sugar. And something to eat.”
Himiko’s head pops back up.
“Sugar okay on the something to eat?”
Katsuki looks up at the list of food on the menu and doesn’t see a single savoury option.
“Whatever,” he says, and Himiko squeals happily.
Katsuki watches with interest as she loads coffee into the shiny pink espresso machine, fills a small paper cup, and adds a small amount of hot milk.
“And a secret syrup, no looking!” Himiko chirps. She turns her back on Katsuki and fiddles with a bottle he can’t see, so he rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the menu. It’s full of sweet cakes and cookies with pop-culturey names; exactly the kind of frou-frou shit he usually avoids.
Well. He’s here now. And Himiko’s spicing up his morning coffee break much more than the grumpy old geezer that does his normal coffee, so maybe it’s alright. Himiko sets his mystery drink down on the counter, and Katsuki raises his card to pay.
“What are you doing?” Himiko asks.
“...paying?”
Himiko cocks her head to the side. “But you saved me?”
“From your friend.” Katsuki says ‘friend’ with as much disbelief as he can manage—which is a lot, because he’s a frequent target of Denki’s bullshit stories, so he’s had lots of practice.
“Yeah, but you didn’t know that.” Himiko plucks some mystery tart from the display beside her and sets it in a small pink box. “You didn’t save me just for the free drink?”
Katsuki, baffled, lets his obvious confusion do the talking for him. Himiko blinks her big red eyes at him.
“You saved me for me?”
Katsuki doesn’t know whether he should lower the hand holding his card. Is he paying for this shit or not?
“You thought I was worth saving?”
“Fuck off, I’ll save who I want, tell me what I gotta pay for the food!” To Katsuki’s horror, Himiko’s eyes well up with tears. “Fuck, fine, I’ll take it for free, jesus christ.”
“I would save you too.” Himiko’s eyes shine so brightly that Katsuki doesn’t doubt she means it. “Wait, let me add a special topping!”
She snatches back the box, and Katsuki awkwardly lowers his card.
“It’s another secret so no peeking!”
“Right,” says Katsuki, and slips his card back in his wallet. He’s lost any control he once had of this interaction. “Does everyone get the secret topping or am I just special?”
Himiko places the newly-topped item on the counter, lid off, for Katsuki to inspect.
“You’ll have to come back tomorrow and find that out for yourself!”
He peers into the box. Soft pastry encases a soft pumpkin-coloured centre. A small mountain of cream sits on top, crowned by a tiny scoop of almonds and drizzled in something the colour of a blood orange.
“It’s a pumpkin tart! With a special addition just for you,” Himiko beams, before Katsuki has the chance to figure it out himself.
“Huh.” It looks alright. Smells great, actually. Katsuki kind of can’t wait to get into it. “What’s the drizzle?”
Himiko winks at him.
“Himiko’s secret recipe! No questions. And no payment, for coming to the rescue of a helpless young girl!”
Katsuki opens his mouth to protest that, as much as she might have daubed herself in cute accessories, she’s clearly a grown woman—but she switches her attention to another customer that Katsuki hadn’t even noticed.
He watches for a few moments, but another customer turns up behind that, so Katsuki takes his goodies and heads back to his office.
***
That night, Katsuki has strange dreams about red eyes and redder fangs.
When he returns to Himiko’s van the next day, she’s ecstatic to see him.