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Katsuki’s on his break at the agency when he notices the missed call on his phone. He debates, for a moment, not dialing back and letting it to go hell because he’s fucking exhausted today okay? It’s been a long ass day already, villains pulling overtime for no reason, and he’s only halfway done with it. But something nags at his brain until his phone is in his hand.
“This better be fucking important,” Katsuki snaps when he hears the dial tone pick up.
“Bakugo-san?”
“Who else?”
“I’m calling from Korellia Elementary School. It’s about your son.”
Katsuki’s eyes widen, He’s on his feet in an instant, heart in his throat. “What happened? Is he alright— ”
“His quirk manifested today.”
“Holy shit.”
“He, um, blew up the school jungle gym.”
“Holy fucking shit."
Katsuro’s elementary school is very evidently a piece of shit because they make him sit through a reading of their insurance policy and a couple of pamphlets on quirk manifestation before they let him meet his goddamn kid. Apparently there had been a skirmish or something in the playground. No one had actually been seriously injured though, so that’s a good thing.
Katsuki’s jittery and cranky through the whole time, bouncing his leg and gritting his teeth through his responses. When he’s finally done signing their papers, they lead him to the nurse's office where Katsuro’s waiting.
The teacher in front of him is chatting a mile a minute and normally Katsuki’d get annoyed but right now she gets a pass because he’s too distracted to actually pay attention to her. His son has a quirk! His son has his fucking quirk! For a time now, they’d thought...
“Hey, little man! How’re you feeling?”
He pushes open the door to find Katsuro sitting on the bed, swinging his legs and looking miserable as all-hell. The nurse herself is missing, fucking typical. There are obvious tear tracks on his face, his clothes are dusty and singed and—
Bandages. On his hands. The hell.
“Daddy!”
There’s a tell-tale tremble on his kid's lips that Katsuki knows very well. Immediately, he drops to his knees and opens his arms wide. “Get over here,” he says.
With a hitched little sob, Katsuro scrambles off the bed and pitches straight into Katsuki’s arms, burying his face in his hoodie. Katsuki closes his arms and makes shushing noises, running his hands down his son’s back.
“Crybaby,” he teases affectionately. “It’s alright, you don't have to cry anymore. I’m here now, aren't I?”
“ ‘M not cryin’,” he lies through the sniffles he’s muffling in Katsuki’s hoodie.
“Sure you're not,” Katsuki rolls his eyes, half fond, half exasperated. “But you don't ever have to pretend in front of me, you know?”
Katsuro mumbles something unintelligibly and just hugs him tighter.
Both kids take more after Deku than they do him. Although he thinks that Nanako might have inherited some of his own boisterousness (some weird nature versus nurture thing, given that biologically Katsuro was related to him and Nanako to Izuku), overall they were excitable, bright-eyed, cheerful.
Sweet kids, he thinks fiercely, tightening his hold.
And late-bloomers too. Both of their toes are fine but Nanako is four now with no signs of a quirk yet and as for Katsuro—Well he’s six now and his quirk has finally come in. Better late than never.
Izuku and him…they’d never really talked about it. The possibility of their children being quirkless. They’d thought about it of course. But they’d never really brought it up more than the one time it took Katsuki to declare that he didn’t fucking care when it came to discussing their surrogacy options. Fuck if he let the tiny chance of their kid being quirkless stop them from having a kid that was Izuku’s.
They’d talked to their son about it once when his fifth birthday had come and gone and Katsuro had declared with all the confidence that only a five year old could have, that of course his quirk would come in, duh. Were Daddy and Papa dumb or something?
Cross that bridge when they came to it, they’d unanimously decided. Especially since the X-rays had shown that his toe doesn’t have the extra joint.
(Cowardice maybe, on Katsuki’s end. Awkwardness on Izuku's. And Katsuro himself had never seemed particularly bothered by it. No one in school teased him about it.)
...Not that it ended up mattering. Katsuro has his quirk now and chances are Nanako would get hers soon. And if she doesn't, again, Katsuki doesn't give a damn. They’re sweet kids, good kids, and they’re his damn it.
“Come on, up you get squirt.” Katsuki releases Katsuro who starts wiping his nose on his shirt sleeves.
“Gross,” Katsuki makes a face and fishes some tissues from the bedside table. Then, realizing that his bandages would probably make it hard for him to wipe his face himself, Katsuki bends down again and starts rubbing out the snot himself.
“Daddy!” Katsuro complains.
“What, you want shit all over your face?” Once Katsuro’s face is appropriately red and clean, Katsuki leans back. Gently, he takes one of his hands in his own, surveying the bandages. “How is it?” he asks quietly.
“Hurts,” he bites his lip. “It hurt…when I…” he makes a vague gesture with her hands that Katsuki takes to mean ‘exploded.’
“Hurt, huh...” Katsuki considers that. “We’ll have to get that checked out. But, y’know what, that can come later. We gotta celebrate first! You just got your quirk, bud! We’re gonna get the best fucking ice cream in town and then we’re going to—well, we’ll go wherever the hell you wanna go!”
Katsuro jumps up and fist pumps the air, and smiles. Katsuki’s chest swells with relief at the sight. “Fuck yeah!”
Behind them, Katsuro’s homeroom teacher makes a choking sound.
As they make their way back out the school, Katsuki passes by the office door. He pauses. “Hang on a sec. I just gotta take care of something,” he tells Katsuro and enters the room without knocking. The door slams shut behind him.
“WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU FUCKERS TELL ME MY KID WAS FUCKING INJURED?!”
-
“HAH?! DO YOU IDIOTS HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT ‘SCRAPES’ LOOK LIKE?!”
-
“INSURE THIS ASSHOLES!”
Katsuki takes his kid to the park because, again like Deku, he's a complete nerd and somehow enjoys shit like feeding ducks. Katsuki buys him a double scoop of chocolate and strawberry ice-cream and lets him settle down on the bench. Katsuro has to hold the cone carefully between his bandaged hands as he birdwatches. Seriously. But you know, his quirk, his celebration.
Except, Katsuki surveys the chocolate dripping onto his son’s sleeves as the kid stares off into space. Except Katsuro doesn't much look like he's celebrating at all.
Katsuki’s heart sinks at the downright mournful look on his face. Getting your quirk is…it’s supposed to be a happy occasion. Something kids are excited about and look forward to. Your whole life changes after you get your quirk. Katsuro looks like someone just ran over his cat, then set the remains on fire.
Maybe his quirk hurt him more than he’s letting on. He’d insisted that he was fine but…Katsuki doesn't remember what it had felt like, physically, when he’d first gotten his quirk. He remembers the event of course, in elementary school, bursts of light escaping from his palms as his peers and teachers looked on in awe. He remembers the emotions he’d felt—excitement, euphoria, the idea, even then, that he was going to be so fucking awesome—
But he’d used his quirk so excessively from the very start, he’d become desensitised to any physical discomfort it could have caused. Could be that Katsuro just needs practice. Or...it could be that his genetic makeup makes the explosion quirk painful for him. That’s certainly a possibility, one that Katsuki desperately doesn’t want to consider.
He remembers IcyHot’s shitty older brother. How could he forget? Hotter flames than even fucking Endeavor and IcyHot but a weaker constitution that couldn’t handle the heat without...well…
Katuski takes out his phone, one eye on the mess Katsuro’s making of his sleeves. Deku’s out of town but he should be back by tonight. He looks at the chat history.
Kacchan: yo took the day off, kid just got his quirk. clear ur schedule. u better be back tonite or else
Deku: !!!!
Deku: wait katsuro did??
Deku: kacchan!! how is he?? what’s the quirk??
You missed a call from Deku
You missed a call from Deku
You missed a call from Deku
Deku: kacchan!! please!!
Kacchan: fuckin relax was signing papers. explosion, same as me. he was cryin a bit but were going out for ice-cream. nanako’s with the old hag and ur mom
Deku: that’s amazing!! tell him i’m so proud of him and i love him!! he’s the best!!
Kacchan: shitty deku ure supposed to be on patrol rn
Deku: it’s fiiinnnnee. i’ll get back to work soon, see you tonight!! we have to celebrate!!
Kacchan: obv. easy on the exclamations there. don’t cry on national tv again.
He considers, for a moment, texting Deku about contacting a quirk specialist. They’ll have to get their surrogate’s health records as well, the sooner they get to it the better. But he doesn’t want to distract Deku on his last day out of town. Working disaster relief isn't really as bad as say, a sting operation, but knowing Deku, he’d call in the middle of field work just to make sure everything’s fine.
He sighs and sets a reminder on his phone instead before pocketing it. Katsuro’s ice-cream is in a pathetic state by now.
“Katsuro,” he says slowly. “Tell me the truth. You’re not badly hurt, are you?”
Katsuro looks surprised, glancing down at this hands and flexing his fingers. “No,” he replies. “Doesn’ hurt anymore. ‘Sides, nurse says it’ll be gone by tonight.” His tone is too genuine for Katsuki to disbelieve him. He narrows his eyes.
“Then who pissed in your ice-cream?” he asks bluntly. Katsuro eyes widen, he bites his lip. “Come on, tell me,” he needles, trying his best to be gentle. Of course, Deku would be gone at a time like this and leave Katsuki to do all the heavy lifting. “What’s buggin’ you, squirt?”
Katsuro looks down at his ice-cream, his bottom lip trembles before—
“Ai-chan,” he says, and it almost sounds like a wail. “Ai-chan hates me now!”
“Wait, what ? Why?”
Of all the things Katsuki hadn't been expecting this. Ai is Katsuro’s favorite playmate, a girl with the relatively mundane quirk of being able to breathe underwater. She’d never made too big of an impression on Katsuki but she’s friendly enough and practically attached to Katsuro at the hip. He can’t fathom why she would possibly hate him.
“She does!”
“Tell me why you think that, brat!”
“...We got into a fight,” he admits, voice wobbling. “She said that Shouto and Creati was gonna win the hero duo award this season which is super dumb cos everyone knows it's gonna be you two like always and she said that it's dumb that you two always win cos it's boring so I called her dumb— “
“Breathe, Katsuro!”
“She made me so mad! And then I— “ He makes that vague gesture with his hands again. “And then the jungle gym got broke…”
“Awww jeez kid,” Katsuki puts his hand on his head, combing through the rough blonde spikes. “...That sucks, I’m not gonna lie, it does. But best friends,” Katsuki swallows the lump against his throat. “Best friends are bound to have a fight or two eventually. It’ll be fine. I know it.”
He doesn't know it.
Katsuro drops his eyes, kicks his legs against the bench dejectedly. “You didn' see her,” he whispers. “I scared her. I scared her loads. She ran away from me. They all did.” His son takes a deep breath. “I don't want to scare people, Daddy.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Katsuro might as well have just taken a knife to Katsuki’s heart, with how absolutely gutted he feels. His son is so good. He’s so young but he's still so good. Miles better…miles better than Katsuki had ever been at this age.
“You won't,” Katsuki promises. “I swear you won't. You just need to learn to control it. Your quirk’s not a bad thing Katsuro and if Ai or the others think otherwise they can just get bent.”
“I don’ want her to get bent! I want her to still be my friend!” The waterworks burst forth again and Katsuki just watches, helpless and angry.
He wants to tell Katsuro that he’s being stupid. That Ai’s been his friend forever and she's not going to stop now. That tomorrow he’ll go back to school and it’ll be the same as ever.
But he can’t. He can’t. Because Katsuki knows first hand how things change. How awful kids can be, how thoughtless and cruel. For social status, for brownie points, out of fear or jealousy or superiority. They’ll be cruel over the lack of a quirk, over quirks they're scared of, over anything as long as they find a soft enough target. Katsuki knows.
And there’s not a damn thing he can do about it right now. This is one problem he can't just punch away.
(In some awful corner of his mind, he thinks that maybe this is poetic justice. He thinks of a soft woman in his childhood, who must have been just as helpless as she watched her son suffer. Maybe this is justice for her.
But then if this is karma or some bullshit like that it wouldn't happen like this. Izuku wouldn't be hurt along with Katsuki. Katsuro wouldn't be hurt. Just him. So maybe it’s the world being shit as usual).
“Hey,” he says gruffly and gathers Katsuro up into his arms. The ruined ice-cream cone finally flops uselessly onto the grass. “Hey, don't worry about it. She’ll still be your friend. Your friends…they wouldn't abandon you over something like this. They shouldn't. If they do, they don’t deserve you Katsuro.”
And he tries his damndest to will the thought into reality.
He waits until Katsuro’s sniffles die down quietly against him against him. “Tell you what,” he says. “We'll go over to Ai’s tomorrow with flowers. Or chocolate or whatever kinda shit Ai likes. And then we’ll talk to her about it. That sound good?”
Because at the end of the day there might not be much Katsuki can do, if this is the point in life where Ai chooses to drift apart. But he’d be damned if he didn't try his very best.
“Okay,” his son says quietly. “You really sure it’ll be fine?”
“I’m sure,” he lies.
Katsuki knows that Deku’s home from the commotion that suddenly starts.
“Papa’s home!”
Then there’s noises of yelling and whooping and jumping, cries of ‘Papa’s back! Papa got presents! Daddy come look!’ reaching him in the kitchen.
Katsuki sets aside the ladle, wipes his hands on his apron, then pokes his head out of the kitchen. He’s greeted by the sight of Katsuro on Izuku’s shoulders and Nanako hanging from one arm and shopping bags from another. It makes him huff around a smile.
“You’re early, ” he accuses.
“I, uh, hopped?” Izuku smiles sheepishly. “Did you honestly expect me to be able to wait?” He swings around a squealing Nanako until he can more firmly carry her on his side. “C’mon, not everyday your kid gets their quirk!”
“Papa, bro’s such a meanie he won’ show me the splosions— ”
“I told you, dumbass, it’s dangerous! Daddy said he’d take me training soon— “
“But I wanna see it now! Now now now now— ”
“Look! Presents!” Izuku declares hurriedly and Katsuki snorts at the unsubtle distraction but it works anyway of course; they scramble off Izuku so that he can unload the shopping bags. Kids really are something, he thinks fondly, so easily distracted. After Katsuki had reassured him about Ai and bought him a new ice-cream cone, Katsuro had more-or-less returned to being cheerful. They’d walked together to pick up Nanako from his mother’s place and he’d managed to lure Katsuro into a discussion of the intricacies of his quirk. Nanako’s childish excitement and pestering had likely driven the rest from his mind.
Katsuki watches Izuku bring out a (wildly inaccurate) lego set of UA for Katsuro and a frankly monstrously-proportioned Uravity doll for Nanako—likely so that she wouldn’t feel left out. Then he draws them in with tales of the disaster relief, appropriately keeping it rated G. They’re both enthralled, naturally and Katsuki goes back to their curry and the cupcake batter.
By the time they’re finishing up dinner, the conversation’s still going. There really is no stopping the damn nerd when he gets going. Deku relays their friends’ (all the honorary ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’) congratulations and then starts geeking out about Katsuki’s explosion quirk with Katsuro. Katsuki shares a commiserating look with a pouty Nanako over their pudding.
“I’ll get mine too right?” she asks suddenly, voice sullen.
Izuku falters for a moment, his eyes flit towards Katsuki then back at her. Nanako looks painfully like Izuku. Her eyes are blue and her hair’s more flat than curly but she’s got the same green color and freckles and button nose. She’s got his genes and genes could be a bitch sometimes.
“...Course you will,” Izuku says with a smile that Katsuki would have been able to mark as tense from a mile away.
“It better be cool,” she stabs her pudding moodily.
“You will be,” Izuku soothes, hand on her hair. Katsuki doesn’t miss his wording.
Christ. Parenting, Katsuki thinks, really is just an exercise in bullshitting sometimes.
(There’s always a newfound appreciation in him nowadays, every step of the way with his kids, for people like his dad, Aunt Inko, Aizawa-sensei. Hell, even the old hag).
After that, conversation drifts for a bit. Katsuki lets Izuku put the kids to bed while he washes the dishes and finally puts the cupcake batter into the oven. He doesn’t realize he’s been scrubbing the same dish since he started until Deku drapes himself across his back, arms wrapping around his waist.
“Get off nerd, you’re heavy,” he grunts.
“I’m so tired, Kacchan,” Deku groans and Katsuki buys it. His voice sounds exhausted. Obligingly Katsuki turns his head so that he can press a kiss against Deku’s lips, who hums out a sigh in response. “It’s been such a long day…” he continues softly, eyes downcast. “I came home as fast as I could for Katsuro but...there were a lot of families out there who’re still separated. I wonder if it's alright…that I get to be home when— ”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Katsuki reminds him sharply. Katsuki understands what it feels like, he’s a Pro too but just—fucking Deku and his martyr complex. One of these days, Katsuki swears, it’s gonna get him killed. The thought of it makes Katsuki’s chest feel tight. “They might need you but we need you too so let the extras take care of it for one fucking night!”
Deku arms freeze around him for a moment before relaxing. He huffs out a breath against his neck. “Got it, I got it,” he says and Katsuki would like to believe that, he really would. There’s a pause in which Katsuki finally makes some genuine progress on his dish washing before Deku starts mumbling again. “ ‘M really glad,” he says, voice heavy with sleep. “That Katsuro got his quirk. You’ll have lots to teach him.”
Katsuki grunts again.
“...You’re being awfully quiet, Kacchan.”
Katsuki puts down the plate. There’s a fuckton he could say. So many things, starting from Katsuro’s now-healed hand injuries, to the Ai problem, to the heaviness that’s been sitting inside him all day.
(He could say sorry too. Again and again and again. But Izuku would just brush him off and that just feels worse.)
“...It’s nothing,” he says. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, it’s just something stupid. Tell you about it later.”
And some of it Katsuki will tell him, when Deku’s less tired and worn-out. But probably not all of it. It doesn’t come easy to him, being open and vulnerable, even after all these years together. He can’t just come out and say shit like Deku can.
“Okay, Kacchan,” his husband says quietly, understanding as ever and Katsuki’s struck by the realization that even if he only says half of it, Izuku will probably understand the rest anyway. God what did Katsuki ever do to deserve him.
Katsuki doesn't bother picking the dish back up from the soapy water, just relaxes back into Deku’s hold and closes his eyes for a moment. Deku, warm and solid behind him, presses his face against Katsuki’s neck. For a moment, they just stay there, quietly enjoying each other’s presence. Then the oven chimes.
“Ah, shit,” he mutters. Shrugging off Deku’s arms, he puts on the oven mitts from the countertop and drops to his knees. Behind him, Deku makes a curious sound.
“Cupcakes?” he asks, quirking his head. “We had pudding for dessert, didn’t we?”
“Don’t you dare touch one!” Katsuki snaps, setting them down carefully. Then he does the same for the second tray inside the oven. They all look good, fluffy and brown, and they smell even better. Katsuki’s too damn tired to frost them now but cupcakes without frosting are just sad muffins. So he’ll have to do them in the morning.
“Kacchan, you made two trays full.”
“They’re not for you!”
“Literally twenty-four cupcakes—”
“I swear to God, shitty Deku—”
“Are they for Katsuro, then?”
“...Sorta,” Katsuki admits, deflating at Deku’s genuinely curious look. “...He wants to give some to Ai. Apparently, he scared her with his quirk and now he wants to make it up to her.” He presses a finger to one of the cupcakes, judging if they’re cold enough to put in the fridge.
Deku’s face softens, going all understanding and fond. “Ahhhh,” he says. “I mean, the explosion quirk has to have made an impression right? I remember the first time you got your quirk, I thought it was so cool—”
Katsuki picks up the trays, shoves them into the fridge one after the other and slams the door shut. He feels queasy at the reminder of their childhood and frankly, he doesn’t care for that shit at all right now. He’d had enough of it for today. Katsuki’s good at compartmentalizing like that.
“Yeah, yeah, and it was love at first sight and you started your nerd diaries on me or whatever. I get it,” he says and hooks his fingers through Deku’s belt loops. “Now come to bed, nerd. I’ve gotta wake up in the morning and frost that shit so we gotta make this quick.”
Deku obligingly follows him with a bemused look on his face. Once they’re inside the bedroom, Katsuki slams Deku up against the door and proceeds to stick his hands up his shirt and his tongue in his mouth. Deku responds in kind, groaning into his mouth, hands on Katsuki’s hips.
“Kaccha—mmph! Kacchan, wait!” he pants as Katsuki stats nipping at his jaw.
“Fucking what?” Katsuki growls. One week apart is really just too much, practically fucking agony.
“I just remembered! If they’re apology cupcakes for Ai-chan, you should do sunflowers on them! I think she mentioned that she loved them once.”
Katsuki stares, flabbergasted. “Deku,” he tells his dumbass husband. “Don’t ever say shit like that when you have your hands down my pants ever again.”
“Oh! R-right…”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, then he proceeds to drag Deku from the door and shove him onto the bed, straddling his hips. He’s just in the process of taking off his shirt when he pauses.
Sunflowers, huh?
Deku braces himself on an elbow, apparently noticing Katsuki’s hesitation.
“Kacchan?”
“Deku. What sort of flowers does your mother like?”
“Eh?”
Midoriya Inko got her gray hairs early in life, what with a child that had quickly progressed from chasing after dangerous hero encounters without a quirk to actively participating in them with a quirk that blew his arms out every time he used it. Not to mention the villain attacks. Really, it was a wonder she hadn’t had a heart attack during his high school years.
But somehow, they’d both survived it all. Then her son got married to Katsuki of all people, who’d worked quite hard to ‘earn’ her approval before proposing. The thought still amuses her sometimes. She’d had her reservations, certainly but Katsuki had a (unique, boisterous, explosive ) way with people. Before she knew what was happening, Inko had become a grandmother to two wonderful children.
Nowadays, Inko feels more relaxed than she ever has. When she sees Izuku on the TV, fighting villains, it’s not a crippling panic that grips her but a quiet sort of pride in her son who’s come so far. She loves watching his interviews, the way he and Katsuki present a united front for the heroes. She loves her grandchildren to bits, and okay maybe she spoils them a little too, taking them to and from their daycare, acting as a babysitter whenever the boys need it but so what?
Inko’s happy. Life is...going almost perfectly it seems.
There’s a trickle of anxiety working its way through her right now, of course. Lifetime habits don’t break that easily after all. Katsuro has his quirk right now and that’s wonderful but she can’t help worry. She’s never quite had to deal with a child’s quirk in the same vein as most parents do. And well...quirks could...well they were an integral part of someone’s identity. Who you are, what you could be—it could all change after a child's fourth birthday.
So that’s why she’s here now, having tea with Mitsuki after inviting her over. The conversation had dulled for a bit, drifting from the challenges of raising a child that could explode to general reminiscences about when their children and grandchildren were babies.
That’s when the doorbell rings.
“Expecting someone?” Mitsuki raises an eyebrow over her cup.
“Not really,” Inko murmurs in confusion, glancing a the door. Elementary school won’t be up for another two hours. Usually, she’s the one who picks up the children, although on Fridays, it’s Katsuki who drops them off, thanks to having longer break shifts then.
The bell rings again and Inko puts aside her confusion to answer the door. She is in no way prepared for the sight that greets her.
“Inko?” Mitsuki calls from behind her, when she happens to take just a little bit too long. “What is it—holy shit!”
There are daisies in front of her apartment door. Hundreds of daisies spilling from dozens of baskets, filling almost the width of the corridor. There’s also an extremely frazzled and weepy-looking delivery man tapping at a clipboard.
“From Ground Zero’s office, ma’am,” he says and hands Inko a card.
It’s plain and pink but inside is written in familiar handwriting. ‘Thank You,’ is all it says.
“How strange,” Inko says, feeling faint.
Mitsuki peers over her shoulder to look at the card. “Is that from Katsuki?” Inko nods her confirmation.
“I wonder what brought this on? That kid of mine always did go overboard with everything,” Mitsuki muses out loud. Then her eyes widen in realization. “Hey, wait a minute! What the hell? That little brat’s never even given me a Mother’s Day card!”