Chapter Text
“No.”
“Oh come on, Kacchan-“
“Absolutely not.”
“But-“
“Not even if All Might was on his deathbed, Deku.” Katsuki hissed out, storming past the green-haired hero that cornered him on his way out of the office.
The blond was determined to get out as soon as possible as pass out on his bed. He’d never admit it aloud to anyone, but working at Gunhead’s agency was kicking his ass a little bit. Three months into the new job, he was aching all over and desperate to start his one day off this week as quickly as possible to catch up on even a wink of sleep.
At 21-years-old, Katsuki and the rest of Class A’s golden graduates had made quite a name for themselves, with everyone dispersed in agencies across Japan, all of them mostly based in Tokyo. Save maybe Frog Girl, who was doing some sort of stuff on one of the islands to be closer to water, last he heard. He and Deku, seemingly unable to get a fucking break from each other, both started at Endeavour’s agency, along with Todoroki, right after graduation. For different reasons, all three of them left to Hawks’ agency after a year – but found themselves lacking the kind of action big city agencies provided.
Which is how they both ended up at Gunhead’s new Tokyo agency, with Baked Baklava on a year abroad in the US. To be fair to Gunhead, he did warn Katsuki that working at a smaller agency was going to mean more paperwork (they couldn’t outsource as much as mid as big corporations), longer hours, and a much lower starting salary than he was used to. But hey, who was he to turn down a challenge? Especially from an agency that was quickly rising up the ranks. Plus, it couldn’t be all bad – after all, it’s where Shitty Hair and Racoon Eyes had spent the past year, and they were loving it.
And of course, Deku was right there, the desk across his, on his first day on the job. Just his fucking luck. He really should have known better than thinking he can escape the brat, who was hot on his tail as he stomped towards the subway station, mask on and black hood of his jumper up.
“Oh come on, Kacchan,” Deku chirped encouragingly as he fell into a step next to him, “Kota-kun asked for you specifically!”
Katsuki raised a blond eyebrow at this, but didn’t look back at Deku.
The latter, not even remotely discouraged by Katsuki's silence, continues talking.
“He’s a great kid,” he pressed on, “and I think he’s learning a lot from this mentorship scheme. I’d hate to have to pause it for a month and lose all the progress we made!”
“I told you I’m not doing it.”
“Oh come on!”
“I said no.”
“Please! I want Kota-kun to be able to go talk to someone while I’m away.”
“Not my fault you’re ditching him,” Katsuki growled in response.
Deku rolled his eyes.
“You know I’m not ditching him Kacchan,” he scolded, “I’m going to join Asui in Naoshima for some training.”
Naoshima, Katsuki thought, lightbulb going off in his head, that’s where Frog Girl went.
“Tch. What the hell’s there to do in Naoshima? Gonna beat up some pensioners trying to go to galleries?” the blond scoffed.
“It’s a great, isolated enough place for some training. Asui’s been there for the past six months and says it’s been great for her quirk development,” Deku explains, taking his subway pass out as both men approach the station. Katsuki does the same thing.
“Sounds like you just want a vacation to me,” the blond dismisses, walking on through the barriers, Deku right beside him.
“You can think whatever you want,” Deku shrugs, “I don’t really care as long as you drop in and check in on Kota-kun. Plus, it’s only once or twice a week.”
Katsuki pauses and the shitty nerd mirrors him, coming to sudden stop in front the train announcement board beside him.
“The brat asked for me specifically,” Bakugou clarifies, eyeing the board instead of Deku, who’s nodding his head excitedly next to him.
“Yes! He did! And I was so glad, because I think you could teach him a lot.” He replies, eyes crinkling with a smile.
Katsuki winces. He’s not so sure.
“Whatever. I’ll check in on him or whatever,” He replies. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of work.”
Deku’s already waving away his concern.
“Oh of course, don’t worry about that! I’ve already asked Ochako to drop in on days you can’t!”
“Round Face?” He asks, turning to him suddenly.
Katsuki scowls – surely if Round Face was down for it, there was no need for him? Even if he was miraculously the kid’s first choice, there’s nothing Pink Cheeks wouldn’t do for Shitty Deku. It seemed like an easy solution. It was borderline pathetic, honestly, Katsuki thought. They were both obsessed with each other. Heck, the only person Deku was more feral for was probably Half-and-Half Bastard. The blond stared him down suspiciously.
Deku’s eyes, suddenly filled with questions, widen for a moment, before he regains his composure.
“Uhm. Yeah, Ochako. Is that a problem?” He asks, hands crossed defensively.
“Calm down, Deku,” Katsuki scoffs, “I haven’t got any beef with your girlfriend. Just surprised she’s not the brat’s first choice.”
She’d be perfect too, he thinks, at talking with – Christ, how old was the brat? Probably anywhere between eight to eighteen years old, Katsuki reasons. Either way, he’d been paired up with Uravity on missions, and when it came to saving kids and getting them out of dangerous situations, she was a seasoned pro. He hated delegating responsibility, but happily left her in charge of all that crap.
Deku blinks.
“Oh…well, Ochako can teach him a lot,” Deku says carefully. He smiles a little, his eyes shining with wonder. “I mean, she’s amazing! So talented at rescue and combat and stealth,” he gushes, “But that’s not the kind of stuff Kota-kun needs support on. I think you can help him a lot.”
Deku then slowly tilts his head in question.
“Is that what people think?” He wonders aloud at Katsuki, “That she’s my girlfriend?”
The young man, puzzled, turns his body slightly towards Deku, ruby eyes narrowed.
“You saying she’s not?”
“No, not at all,” Deku answers, laughing slightly, “she’s one of my best friends but we, well, we both like other people.”
“Icy Hot,” Bakugou easily replies, to which Deku colours bright red immediately, shoving his hands in his pockets to get a mask out.
“Oh my god Kacchan shut up,” he squeaks out, embarrassed, putting the mask over his mouth, “not in public!”
The young man rolls his crimson eyes, and adjusts his bag over his shoulder.
“Whatever Deku,” he pans, “We’re done here. Text me the brat’s schedule. You better be worth a fight when I see you in a month.”
Deku rambled some parting words and a pitchy chorus of “thank you Kacchan!” as the young man retreated towards his train, briefly registering that Deku said Round Face wasn’t dating him, which was a little of a surprise, and that she liked someone else. As quickly as the thought came, it disappeared when he plugged his earphones in to listen to music.
X
“Eijirooooooooo! Kacchan’s home!” Denki yells out into the kitchen area, from where he was sprawled on the couch, studying something on his phone.
Bakugou felt a headache coming on and let out a tired sigh. He briefly considered whether the money he was saving by renting a shared flat with Pikachu and Shitty Hair was really worth it, slinging his backpack off and removing his shoes. He could barely tolerate his – he winced – best friends, on a good day, but when they both had they day off they were downright insufferable. All energetic and happy and full of life. It made him want to Howitzer Impact the whole fucking apartment building.
“Shut up, Pikachu,” he groans out, but there was no fight in it. He was so fucking tired.
“Alright, Bakubro! We’ve been waiting for you buddy!” Eijiro sounded excitedly, bouncing out from the kitchen area, in an apron (one of this cheesy American numbers that said “Kiss the Chef”), wooden spoon in hand. He’s hit with a wall of aroma – and has to admit the food smells pretty tasty. If he wasn’t ready to literally drop dead, he’d probably have a plate.
“I made chicken curry!” He beams. “Ashido and Kyoka just got off shift and wanna come over for dinner - hey, where are you going?!” Eijiro yelped, following the blond’s retreating figure towards his bedroom door at the end of the hallway.
“To bed,” Katsuki hisses in reply, “I don’t care who’s coming over.”
“Not cool, Katsuki,” Eijiro replies, voice stern, echoing down the not so long hallway.
Katsuki pauses outside his door, sighing. He hated when this happened. It wasn’t a regular occurrence, but every now and then Shitty Hair would whip out his disappointed tone, and eye Bakugou with that disbelieving, sincere look that had him feeling like he’d murdered a classroom of children.
“Ashido and Kyoka have both met up with you when they’ve been exhausted after shifts themselves,” he scolds, eyes serious, “all because they wanted to catch up with you.”
I didn’t ask them to do that, he thinks.
Katsuki goes to open his mouth, but Eijiro’s hand is out to silence him.
“I’m not done,” he continues, “before you say anything, I know you didn’t ask them to do that. That’s the point, they’re your friends. They make sacrifices for you. That’s what friends do.”
Katsuki growls in response, annoyed that he’s been caught.
“Fine,” he spits out in response, “Just let me nap. I’ll be up in an hour.”
With a slam of the door, he hears Eijiro’s gleeful cheers, the red-haired man’s mood completely shifted.
He rolls his eyes. It was honestly almost too easy. Setting an alarm to wake up at eight, Katsuki falls asleep before his head even reaches the pillow.
X
“Katsuki? Did you hear me?” A voice calls out.
He blinks, looking around at his surroundings. He’s at his childhood home, which is weird because he could’ve sworn his parents sold that place, and everything is coated in a sort of warm, sunny glow. He’d probably question everything a little more if he didn’t feel so at peace.
He’s used to his voice constantly humming with white noise and adrenaline hissing through his veins, but right now Katsuki’s sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen, where he remembers doing his homework as his mom and dad made dinner, and he feels a beautiful, quiet stillness within him. He relaxes into the chair, letting the feeling simmer gently within him. It’s like some sort of brain massage. He sighs in bliss, eyes closing.
“Katsuki?” The voice repeats.
Hang on a second, he knows that voice.
He whips around, and Round Face is leaning against the door, looking at him with concern. She looks like herself, but she’s also basked in that weird ethereal glow, which makes her eyes seem shinier. More golden, almost.
He frowns, eyebrows furrowing.
“Round Face?” He asks.
What’s she doing here?
She laughs, her voice easy and melodic.
“Round Face?” She returns with a toothy grin. “You haven’t called me that in years!” She looks up, bringing a finger to her lips in thought. Were her lips always that pink?
“Although I think I prefer it to Cheeks, honestly.” She concludes.
Katsuki snorts. Cheeks? What a great nickname for her. He’ll have to use that one.
“Anyways, did you hear what I said?” Round Face continues, hands crossed. “Can you pick Kota up from kindergarten? I have a shift.”
Katsuki twists his face in confusion. Wait a minute. Kota? Kindergarten? He knew the brat was young, but surely he was out of kindergarten now.
“Kota?” He asks in confusion, “Isn’t that brat in school by now?”
Round Face laughs again. The sound disorients him.
“Not Izumi,” she says, rolling her eyes, “our son Kota, Katsuki.”
“Our what now?!”
“Our son,” she presses, brown eyes suddenly glowing with confusion, as she steps towards him. “Katsuki, are you OK?”
“I don’t have a son with you!” He yells out, standing up and trying to find a way of this kitchen, but she’s blocking the door. “You’re an imposter!”
“Katsuki!”
“I don’t! We don’t have a son together!” He yelps, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
“Katsuki!”
“No! Stay back!” He warns, his back hitting some kitchen cupboards, “I don’t know where you got that son from, but it wasn’t me!”
“Fuck’s sake.” She mutters.
And Katsuki pauses. What? Since when did Round Face swear?
All of the sudden, there’s a splash of cold water on his face, and he’s in the warm confines of his dark room, lit only by the buzz of his phone, blaring up next to him.
Pikachu is holding it to his face, disabling the noisy alarm.
“Your alarm went off but I don’t think you heard it, so I came to wake you up,” he explains, holding up a glass of water in explanation, mouth quirking up in a smirk, “sounds like you were having quite the dream bro!”
Katsuki grunts, breathing out in relief.
“Fucking weird dream,” he mutters, sitting up.
“I’ll bet,” Pikachu laughs, setting his phone down, “you kept saying that you don’t have a son. Sounded pretty scandalous to me, Kacchan.”
“Whatever,” he groans, “get out, Pikachu.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Denki responds, standing up, “Ashido and Kyoka just got here. Hanta managed to get off early too. So, come on out when you’re ready.”
Katsuki watches the blond walk away as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, feeling his head begin to buzz with noise again. The dream was freaky – but he misses the calm.
X
When Katsuki re-enters the living room. Ashido is mid-story, with an enraptured audience.
“And so she’s got the villain on his knees, literally begging for mercy,” she excitedly recounts, “and he’s all ‘please don’t kill me! please, I didn’t know what to do!’, which is kind of a dumb excuse for killing loads of people.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the coffee table at which the group is eating, everyone sprawled around different places on the floor, leaning against the couch and various furniture in the cramped room.
“Sounds like an asshole,” Kyoka chimes in, twirling her jack.
“Totally,” Ashido agrees, “and so then she – oh my god this was so badass – she was like ‘killing you would be all too easy’.”
She pauses for effect, catching the table’s attention with bated breath, and put on a huskier, deeper tone to continue the story.
“’I’m gonna watch you rot in jail!’” Ashido finishes, returning to her normal cheerful tenor. “And then she cuffed him!”
“Tch. Who’s this?” Katsuki asks, coming up to the table and plopping down next to Hanta, who jovially greets him with a half hug, which the blond half-heartedly shrugs off.
“Bakubabe!” Ashido squeals in greeting, on his other side, hand on his shoulder, “It’s been so long!”
“I saw you at work today,” he replies dully, as Eijiro passes him a plate of curry and a can of beer.
Kyoka nods a greeting a him across the table. He returns the gesture, thanking the gods that at least one his “friends” isn’t an overemotional moron with zero boundaries.
“Man, Ochako is totally badass,” Denki says, sipping his can of beer, “I wonder if she’d go out with me.”
Kyoka raises an eyebrow.
“Psh. Fat chance. There’s no way you could get a girl like her.” She replies, looking away.
“I can’t imagine her saying those things,” Hanta added, hand on his chin in thought, “she seems way too bubbly.”
“You’re telling me Round Face trash talked a villain?” Katsuki questions, opening his can of beer as the can hissed. He scoffed. He knew Pink Cheeks was tough as nails, but he’d never seen her give villains attitude. She was incredibly efficient, usually not really giving the bad guys any time to speak before trapping them with the weight of literally anything she fucking wanted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Oh yeah, she went totally Dark! Ochako,” Ashido replies conspirationally, hands on the table, before looking down and wincing slightly, “although I think she was especially pissed off at him because his MO.”
“What was it?” Denki asked, leaning back against a wall, hands on his head.
“It’s pretty sick,” Ashido admitted, face uneasy, “his quirk allowed him to erase people’s memories selectively. So, he’d target vulnerable people desperate for money who’d consent to the memory loss. He’d get them to carry out…weird jobs.” She shuddered. “Then, he’d erase their memories so they wouldn’t remember whatever traumatic job they had to carry out. Be it killing people, or stealing, or other sick things. I don’t really know the details – but Ochako read the whole file. Said it was pretty harrowing.”
“I’m sure he got what he deserved,” Katsuki spoke into the tense quiet, “Knowing Round Face.”
The fog of tension slowly lifted as the group nodded.
“I love being paired up with her,” Ashido agrees, “She’s such a goddamn powerhouse.”
Eijiro nods excitedly.
“Totally,” he adds, “you can see why Gunhead took her on first.”
“She’s a natural born leader,” Kyoka supplies easily, “It’s good that Gunhead saw that when the rest of the class didn’t.”
“Tch. You guys didn’t.” Katsuki thinks. It takes him a second to realise he’s said it out loud. He wants to hit himself – stupid fucking sleep deprived brain. His mind flashes to his dream, Round Face’s eyes flashing gold and staring at him with this unbridled affection, and wants to throw up. He shoves a mouthful of curry (which admittedly is pretty nice) to stop himself from saying anything else stupid.
“Oooooh Kacchan,” Denki playfully taunts, “Didn’t realise it was like that.”
“Shut up Pikachu, it’s not.” He growls in response, eyes narrowing in irritation.
“I mean, it kinds of is,” Hanta teases, joining in, “What was it you said at that Sports Festival? Something about her not being fragile?”
“Oh my god he did!” Eijiro realises excitedly, pointing a finger at him, “That’s so manly, bro. You saw potential in Ochako when all of us overlooked her!” He clutches at his heart, and Katsuki is at least 99% sure that he’s about to start weeping.
“It’s just so beautiful,” he whispers out, “how you always knew.”
“I’m just not a sexist fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki seethes out, shovelling more food down his mouth, “nothing more to it.”
“I mean, I’m sure there’s a little more to it,” Kyoka smirks, “It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes.”
Katsuki scoffs, because as soon as she says it her indigo eyes shift to Denki, sat next to her, to gauge his reaction. Tch. She’s not as slick as she thinks.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Denki mutters in reply, looking up, as Hanta hums in agreement.
For a moment, Katsuki considers his dream again. He can’t say he’d ever considered whether Round Face was attractive. What did that really mean? She was strong as hell, and feisty. But in that dream, she was all soft and…well, there was no other word for it, pretty. The word felt foreign in his brain. Since when does he find people pretty? She hadn’t really lost any of her softness in becoming a hero, and still held the same sunny attitude that grated on his nerves every fucking morning. But she had a hardness to her that didn’t go un-noticed by him now. Her hair, now longer, was often braided to stay out of her way, he eyebrows deeply set in concentration as she manoeuvred and tested the limits of her quirk. She was like a warrior. But he supposed that didn’t mean she couldn’t be pretty.
“What do you think, Katsuki,” Denki asked, breaking the blond out of his trance.
“Huh?”
“If I asked Ochako out,” he probed, “d’you think she’d be up for it?”
Katsuki blinked. What the hell? He looked over at Kyoka briefly. She was twitching. He wanted to explode. Could Denki be any more of a fucking dumbass?
“How am I supposed to know, Pikachu?” He growled.
“You work with her!”
“So do these dumbasses!” He yelled, pointing at Ashido and Eijiro.
“They just said they don’t think she’d go out with me,” Denki replied, rolling his eyes, “while you were off daydreaming.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow in question.
“I don’t know man,” Eijiro supplied, “you just don’t seem like the kind of guy she’d be into.” He shrugged.
“Agreed,” Hanta pitched in, “You just don’t have that…aura.”
“You’re too much of a dumbass,” Kyoka mutters in agreement. Denki’s golden eyes flitted to her briefly, looking slightly…hurt?, before he shook his head.
“I’m gonna do it!” He said, determination in his voice. “And I don’t care what you guys think!”
“Get ready for rejection, babe,” Ashido said with a giggle, “I think she’s got her eye on someone else.” She finished with a wink at Eijiro, as he smirked in return.
It was suspicious, but Katsuki was too sleep deprived to continue entertaining the conversation.
The gaggle of idiots switched to talking about what Icy Hot’s year abroad in the US was looking like (not good, apparently), the latest gossip at Mirko’s agency where Kyoka and Denki worked, and Glasses’ rumoured break-up with Camie. Katsuki rolled his eyes at that – those two were both equally annoying, but that relationship was strong as hell. There was no way.
He didn’t realise he drifted off to sleep before Hanta gently stirred the blond awake, the guests saying their goodbyes. He grumbled a goodbye in return, and when he woke up the next morning, sunlight was gently brightening the room, there was a blanket thrown over him, and his phone glowed with a text from Deku, who’d sent him a detailed schedule of when to go see the brat.