Chapter Text
“Papa, when is daddy coming home?” Bakugou looked at his son and frowned. It had been exactly three hours since Shinsou had to leave for his three day seminar in Osaka. Once the door closed, their son had only one question on his mind.
“Papa,” Akira dragged the last vowel out, “When is daddy coming back? He’s been gone forever.”
“In three days, that’s not a long time Akira and I’ll be here the whole time with you,” Bakugou tried to keep his smile on when his son scowled at him. It made sense in a way, Shinsou had taken up the mantle of stay at home parent and Akira wasn’t even in kindergarten yet, he practically spent every waking moment with him at home. Bakugou only really spent time with his son when he wasn’t working .
“Does that mean you’re gonna cook,” Akira wrinkled his nose, “Cause I rather go to Uncle Izu’s house to eat,” Bakugou was an adult. He had gone to therapy, he had worked through his issues, but hearing his own son say he rather go to fucking Deku’s house to eat? Inconceivable.
“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cook! Don’t tell daddy I said that word,” Akira made a zipping motion over his mouth and giggle as his father stomped into the kitchen, “What do you wanna eat?”
“Pancakes!”
“Easy!” Bakugou grumbled getting out all his materials. Who the fuck was this kid, well it was his son, but still who the fuck was this kid to think he of all people couldn’t cook. The kid hadn’t even eaten his cooking before, always begging Shinsou to make something for him.
“Papa is talking to himself like Uncle Izu!” Bakugou shut his mouth with an audible click, trapping a feral growl behind his lips.
“Do you want fu- some blueberries in it,” Bakugou asked only to be taken aback by his son’s groan.
“Papa I derest blueberries.”
“Detest, and okay, no blueberries,” Bakugou said pushing the fruits aside as he mixed the ingredients in the bowl.
“Papa! You’re doing it wrong. Daddy always lets me mix it,” Akira whined. BAkugou sighed and picked up his son, putting him on the marble counter. Akira smiled, grabbing the whisk and looking at Bakugou expectantly.
“What?” Bakugou frowned deeply when his son pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had undoubtedly picked up from Shinsou.
“You have to hold the bowl. I thought you knew how to make pancakes,” Akira shook his head, “It’s like I’m the papa, Papa.”
Bakugou, held the bowl in place and allowed Akira to whisk, keeping mum when he managed to splash batter on to him. Making a show of his superior cooking abilities, Bakugou flipped the pancakes into the air as he cooked them, catching them back in the pan.
“Can daddy do that?” Bakugou smirked only to see that Akira was busy eating the blueberries he’d left on the counter. Sighing Bakugou served his son a few pancakes, putting syrup on them.
“So, what do you think?” Bakugou asked, a smug smile neatly in place.
“I like daddy’s better, he makes a smiley face with the syrup,” Akira replied with a small pout, his brown eyes downcast. Bakugou’s bravado fell as he sighed patting his son on the head. He watched his son slowly eat his food, who threw in a few sighs and longing looks at the door to get his point across that the wrong parent was home.
“I miss daddy too, but you know he’s not always going to be around. Daddy has to leave sometimes and one day you’re going to go to kindergarten and daddy is gonna start working again. Then you won’t be able to spend all day with him”
Akira looked down, his dark blue hair shielding tear filled eyes. Bakugou picked up his son and walked them over to the couch, sitting the four year old in his lap.
“I don’t wanna go to school, I wanna stay home and play with daddy,” tears came down his chubby cheeks. Bakugou rubbed his son’s back hoping to ease his hiccups.
“School is a great place, you’ll make new friends and learn how to be a hero just like your papa, some of my best memories were in school.”
“Like what?” Akira asked, a pout still on his face as he looked up at his father, unbelieving that any place can be greater than home with his dad .
“Well I met daddy at school, he was an asshole the first time though but so was I,” Bakugou laughed to himself.
“Papa, what’s an asshole?” Akira asked cocking his head to one side.
“A mean person...don’t tell your daddy I said that word either, okay?” Bakugou smiled as his son nodded.
“I also made friends like Uncle Eijiro, Uncle Denki, Uncle Hanta, and Auntie Ashido.”
“And Uncle Shouto too right?” Bakugou pursed his lips but nodded, “I learned the importance of friendship and relying on others. I used to be a huge brat back then.”
“You hit other kids at the playground too?!”
“I did what now?” Bakugou raised his son up to eye level, raising one eyebrow at Akira’s attempt at a bashful expression, “Shinsou-Bakugou Akira, were you hitting other kids at the playground?”
“Maybe,” Akira hung on the vowel sound, batting his eyelashes, “They wouldn’t let me be Ground Zero or Deku when we played heroes, I always had to be the villain, so I hit them like a villain would and daddy said that brats do that when they don’t get what they want.”
“And why didn’t daddy tell me?” Bakugou asked incredulously.
“I cried and he said if I don’t do it no more, he wouldn’t tell you,” Akira smiled his hands now exploring his father’s hair.
“That’s emotionally manipulative Akira.”
“What’s that?”
“Nevermind,” Bakugou sighed, “Anyway, school is important and you’re going to like it there, I promise. And then one day you’ll be a hero or whatever you wanna be and you can get married and have kids if you want. Everything will work out and you can still come and see me and daddy.”
“I wanna marry daddy! If I marry him we can play all the time!” Akira sang trying to climb onto Bakugou’s head.
“I’m married to daddy, find someone else brat.”
“Hey! I’m not a brat! I don’t hit the other kids anymore, I throw rocks instead.”
“Akira!”