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Bakugou stood outside the door of the teacher’s lounge, staring at the paper in his hands. There wasn’t a backup plan if he didn’t get approval. His mother had told him that she wouldn’t allow him to come home without it. “I don’t want you getting in any more trouble by just leaving if you can’t get approval. It’ll be alright, Katsuki, we’ll figure it out,” she’d told him on the phone Thursday night.
Now, it was Friday morning, about an hour before homeroom even started. He knew Aizawa would be up. The man looked like a walking case of insomnia. He’d rather ask before class than after anyway. If he asked after, there’d be a bigger chance one of his idiotic classmates would do something to piss Aizawa off, which would lower Bakugou’s chances of getting approval. Taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the faculty lounge doors. It opened and Bakugou found All Might staring back at him.
“Bakugou? What are you doing here so early?” he asked, stepping aside and ushering the boy in. Bakugou took a brief look around the room and saw Aizawa sitting with Present Mic near the coffee station. He walked past All Might and toward the table.
“Need to talk to Eraser,” he shot over his shoulder. All Might just nodded, shutting the door.
“Mr. Aizawa,” Bakugou greeted in a monotone voice. Aizawa looked up at him and sighed.
“What happened?” he asked, getting to his feet. Present Mic also stood, picking up his coffee mug.
“I’ve got some grading to do.” He grabbed Aizawa’s shoulder in parting and sauntered off to his desk.
“I need approval to leave campus for Saturday and Sunday,” Bakugou said, refusing to meet Aizawa’s eye. He shoved the form toward his teacher. Aizawa took it and set it down on the table.
“You know I need to know where you’re going and your reason for leaving,” he said, crossing his arms. This wasn’t the first time they’d been through this procedure. If anything, Bakugou went back home the most out of anyone in his class. Usually, though, the blonde got permission weeks in advance. Bakugou glared at the floor in response. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths.
“Bakugou,” Aizawa said gently. “Is everything alright?” The boy nodded in response, finally raising his head to show off an intense scowl.
“My dad’s having surgery. Some surgeon buddy of his is doing it. He got put on a waitlist and someone cancelled for Saturday so he’s taking the spot.” Bakugou refused to meet Aizawa’s eyes as he spoke. Aizawa uncrossed his arms and slipped his hands into his pockets.
“I’m sorry, Bakugou. This must be a very difficult time. You have permission to leave for the weekend. What time can we expect you back on Sunday?” Aizawa pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He gestured to the other chair. Bakugou sat.
“Around nine at night,” the blonde muttered. Aizawa nodded and pulled a pen out of his pocket. As he filled out the form, he could feel Bakugou watching him.
“He’s not dying or anything. My dad. It’s just carpal tunnel surgery. My mom isn’t going to be in town so he needs someone around the house,” Bakugou mumbled, almost embarrassed.
“I hope his surgery goes smoothly,” Aizawa responded, standing. Bakugou followed suit.
“Thanks,” Bakugou grunted. He quickly turned around and made his way out of the lounge. Aizawa watched the boy go, his head down, hands shoved into his pockets stomping away. Yagi came and stood next to him.
“Is Bakugou alright?” The worry was apparent in his voice.
“He’s fine,” Aizawa said, looking at his coworker. “He just needed permission to go home this weekend.” Yagi nodded.
“I hope everything is alright,” he said.
“I’m sure it will be,” Aizawa answered.
“Why’re you packing?” Kirishima had let himself into Bakugou’s room again. As much as he wanted to hate how the redhead constantly demolished any boundary Bakugou set between them, he couldn’t find it in him. It was almost endearing. That, and Bakugou never had a friend like this before.
“I told you to stop barging in here like that,” he said, not looking up from folding his clothes. Kirishima flopped down on his back on the bed, hands behind his head.
“Oh, come on. My lack of personal space is quirky and adorable,” he said, flashing a blinding grin Bakugou’s way. Seriously, what toothpaste did he use?
“Yeah well, don’t blame me if next time you barge in you see something you don’t want to. What if I was naked?” Why was that the example his brain settled on? Kirishima shot him a weird look.
“Do you often hang out in your room naked?” he teased. Bakugou felt his face heating up. He kept his head down, folding his last pair of sweats.
“You wouldn’t know because I keep my door closed. I have a life outside of you, you know.” He punctuated the sentence by throwing the pants into his bag. He flopped onto the bed next to his friend, arms folded over his chest.
“You know who I bet does walk around naked? Todoroki.” Bakugou choked on his saliva. He sat up, coughing his lungs out. Kirishima sat up with him.
“You good, bro?” Bakugou nodded, still coughing. He took some deep breaths, and the coughs subsided.
“Why the fuck would you say that?” he yelled, punching Kirishima’s arm. The other boy just laughed. “I don’t want to think about Half N’ Half’s dick,” he said, punching again as Kirishima continued to laugh.
“Sorry,” Kirishima said. He did not sound sorry.
“Why would you even think that?” Bakugou asked, laying back down. Kirishima shrugged, still sitting up.
“He just gives me those vibes. Like, it’s a lack of caring that he’s naked. I think he’d be the type to be like, ‘we all have a body, I don’t understand the big deal,’” he responded, looking down at the blonde.
“We are not talking about this anymore.” Bakugou rubbed his eyes. It was late and he had to leave at ten tomorrow.
“Okay, fine,” Kirishima smiled. “What’s with the packing then? I thought your parents didn’t need your help this week.” Usually going home for Bakugou was never just going home. It was going home to help with a show or going home to try something on so his parents got a feel for what it looked like. Of course, this always doubled as family time. Bakugou and his mother never quite figured out how to sit in silence with each other. To avoid an explosion on either end, they always kept busy when he returned. She offered to pay him for his work, but he never accepted. They were his parents. He didn’t want to take their money. His mother, though, was never someone who was good at expressing herself through words. She recently told him she’d been saving what she would have paid him in a bank account he would be able to access when he was twenty five.
“It’s nothing,” Bakugou muttered, staring at the ceiling. They sat in silence for a minute, until he felt Kirishima poking his side. “What?” he snapped. Kirishima just kept poking.
“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Bakugou must’ve been getting soft. Those puppy dog eyes never would have worked on him last year. He sighed and grabbed Kirishima’s hand, stopping it from poking him again.
“My dad’s having carpal tunnel surgery. The old lady’s going to be out of town, so he needs some help around the house. It’s nothing.”
“Oh.” Kirishima looked a bit confused.
“What?” Bakugou asked, sitting back up.
“What’s carpal tunnel again? Is that the wrist thing?” Bakugou nodded.
“Yeah. It’s some nerve compression thing. They’re going to do both wrists in one go. His poor sewing technique finally caught up to him.” Kirishima chuckled at the comment.
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” He playfully shoved Bakugou’s shoulder. The blonde shoved him back.
“Fuck off, it’s true. My mom’s been telling him for years.” Kirishima shoved his shoulder again.
“Oh, so it’s ‘mom’ now? Not ‘the hag’ or ‘the old lady’ or ‘the woman I used to live down the hall from?’” Bakugou shoved him in response, trying to hold back nervous laughter.
“Shut up, shithead,” he smiled. Kirishima stopped pushing him and smiled.
“You get a little giggly when it’s past your bedtime, you know that?” Bakugou wasn’t able to hold back his laughter this time.
“Shut up! I do not get giggly,” he said through what could only be described as giggles. Kirishima stood up from the bed, and started towards the door. Bakugou stood up, following him. As Kirishima started out the door, he noticed the blonde following him out. They’d play this game sometimes. When Kirishima barged into Bakugou’s room, Bakugou would follow Kirishima into his room just to bother him. It was almost like owning an asshole cat. He placed his hand on Bakugou’s chest as they left the door frame.
“Go to bed, bud. I’m sure you’re leaving in the morning and it’s already later than you normally stay up.” Bakugou glared at him for a second.
“Fine,” he grumbled. He made his way to his room.
“Don’t mope, dude. We’ll be here when you get back,” Kirishima teased.
“Just don’t die without me. Find someone else to cook on Sunday.”
“Will do!” The door shut and Kirishima was alone in the hallway.
The surgery itself was quick. They were in and out in about two hours. The minute they walked back in the house, Bakugou started pulling food out of the fridge.
“You don’t have to cook. I was actually going to just send you for takeout,” Masaru chuckled. He walked up next to his son, who was still rummaging around the fridge.
“You just had surgery. You should have something homemade,” Katsuki grumbled. Masaru nudged his son with his elbow.
“Katsuki,” he said gently. The boy stopped and looked at him, arms crossed, expectant. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But really, I’m fine! You can make something for dinner. For now, let’s get something from one of those American fast food places your mother hates.” Katsuki looked at his father in bewilderment.
“That’s what you want? You just had wrist surgery and you want a Big Mac?” Masaru stared deeply into his son’s eyes.
“Desperately.” The answer garnered a small exhale out of Katsuki's nose, which Masaru took as a success.
“Fine,” Katsuki relented and began putting food back in the fridge. “But you’re coming with me! I’m not going to leave you here alone. The old lady will be on my ass if something happens to you.” Masaru poked Katsuki with his elbow.
“Don’t call your mother an old lady. She loves you very much.” Katsuki sighed as he shut the fridge.
“I know, dad.”
“Good. Now let’s get some food your mother would crucify me for having.”
When they returned home, they flopped down on the couch with their bag of Mitsuki-Unapproved food and turned on the local news. Both their Big Macs were quickly devoured and soon Katsuki was picking at the nuggets his father insisted on. As much as Katsuki protested (“We don’t need Big Macs and a ten piece nugget!” “Quiet! You’ll thank me later.”), his father knew the boy was never too old for nuggets.
“So how’s school going?” Masaru tried to ask nonchalantly. It didn’t work. Katsuki shot him a glare from the other side of the couch.
“Fine,” Katsuki snapped. Masaru nudged his son with his foot.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m your father. I care.” Masaru tried to catch his son’s eye, but Katsuki stared resolutely at the television. The weather was supposed to be nice the next few days. Riveting.
“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. My idiots of classmates are fine,” he huffed. Masaru nodded.
“How’s Kirishima?” Katsuki’s glance shot over to his father. He was blushing a bit. Well, that certainly got his attention.
“He’s good. Tutoring’s going well. He got a seventy five on his last English test,” Katsuki said evenly, turning his attention back to the news.
“Good for him,” Masaru responded, still looking at his son. As the days went by, he looked more and more like his mother, much to Katsuki’s denial. They sat in silence for a few minutes, still watching the news. Every time Katsuki came home, they played the same game. Masaru would ask about school, he’d get a clipped immediate response, and after a few minutes of silence, his son would open up a little more. Last time, he was able to get his son to tell him about an outing he and his friends went on to some local shops. Mitsuki always tried to ask about Katsuki’s life at school, but the boy had been more closed off to his mother in recent years. Masaru attributed it to the two being too similar.
“I’m cooking on Sundays now.” Just like always, Katsuki opened up. “Not this Sunday, obviously. But I started to cook for everyone on Sundays.” Katsuki’s eyes still wouldn’t leave the television screen.
“What have you made?” Masaru asked, making sure to keep his tone even. If he seemed too interested, it would turn Katsuki away.
“Simple stuff. Curry udon, miso salmon, some different curries. Stuff that’s easy to make for a big group,” Katsuki grumbled.
“I found a new curry recipe you might like. Remind me to have you copy it before you leave.” Katsuki grunted in confirmation. They sat in silence for a few more minutes. It wasn’t much, but it was nice to know something about his son’s life.
The pain medication helped quite a bit. He still needed some help with some major things, like unbuttoning his shirt or opening his medication bottles, but he was in better shape than either of them had anticipated. After dinner, where his son refused to let him help with anything (“Put those hands away, old man!” “Who’re you calling old?”), they settled back on the couch, doing their own thing. Masaru turned on a baseball game on the television and Katsuki had some textbooks and notebooks splayed out on his side of the couch. They sat in peaceful silence.
Masaru cherished times like these. Thankfully, they seemed to be becoming more and more frequent. Even though Katsuki and Mitsuki could barely sit in the same room together without something to keep them busy, Masaru always found time to sit in silence with his son.
As upsetting as the situation around the dorm system had been, the aftermath had improved his and Mitsuki’s relationship with Katsuki drastically. He and Mitsuki often joked that they should have let Katsuki move out years ago. There were some major downsides though. Speaking of the downsides, there was another thing he had to cross off his list of “Things to ask my son when he’s home.”
“Katsuki,” he said gently, looking toward his son. “How have you been sleeping?” Katsuki’s head shot up. He glared at his father.
“Why?” he asked gravely. Masaru took a deep breath and turned towards his son more.
“Because I’m your father and I need to ask about these things.” His son never broke eye contact. He could almost hear the gears turning in Katsuki’s mind, trying to come up with the ‘correct’ answer. The answer that would save him the most trouble.
“I’m sleeping fine.” Guess he couldn’t come up with a better answer.
“Katsuki,” Masaru said calmly. “It’s okay to say if you’ve had any more nightmares.”
“I know!” Katsuki snapped, returning his focus on his homework. So they’d play the game again, huh? Fine. Masaru could handle it. This time it took Katsuki around ten minutes to answer. That was almost a new record.
“They’re not worse, okay?” Masaru turned to see his son staring at him. “They’re not really better, but they haven’t gotten worse.”
“Have you told any of your friends?” Masaru asked, sliding a little closer to his son. There was silence for a few more moments. Finally, Bakugou nodded.
“I told Kirishima. Well, more like he found out on his own. I woke him up a few nights in a row by screaming,” Katsuki chuckled. Masaru couldn’t help but laugh with him. Sure, he hated seeing what his son went through, and he hated knowing Katsuki was still suffering, but they earned the right to laugh. After almost a year of this new normal, Katsuki had earned some laughter. Katsuki would say his father earned it too, having to take the lead in calming him down. He got violent when woken up some times.
“Does it help? Knowing someone knows?” He slid a little closer to his son.
“Yeah,” Katsuki nodded, staring down at his homework. “He’ll sleep over some times. It feels better to have someone in the room when I go back to sleep.” Masaru nodded from his now much closer position on the couch.
“I’m glad,” Masaru smiled. “Though your mother will kill me when she finds out I found out you had a boy in your room before she did.” Katsuki’s face turned bright red.
“It’s not like that and you know it!” Masaru could barely hear him over his own laughter.
“For real!” Katsuki yelled. He was smiling a bit now, but his complexion was still that of a tomato. “Don’t tell mom! I know you report back to her. She’ll take it the wrong way and try to give me the sex talk with a bunch of fucking bananas or somehting next time I’m home.” That just made Masaru laugh even harder.
“Do we-” he choked between laughs. “Do we need to give you the sex talk with bananas or something?” He could feel the tears streaming down his face. With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki reached for a tissue from the box on the table and handed one to his father. Masaru nodded in thanks, dabbing up the tears.
“No,” Katsuki said once his father’s laughter had died down. “You do not need to give me the sex talk. I’m not having sex with Kirishima, or anyone for that matter, you nosey old man.” Bakugou returned his attention to his homework.
“I’m only kidding, Katsuki,” Masaru said gently. “What you do is your business. Just don’t get anyone pregnant.”
“Sure thing, dad,” Katsuki said, monotone.
“Of course, it’d be completely fine if you did like men.”
“I know, dad.”
“Your mother and I will always support you.”
“I know, dad.” And that was the end of that.
Sunday came and went uneventfully. Masaru needed some help with a few things here and there. Mainly the same as the previous day: buttoning and unbuttoning clothes, opening medication bottles, cooking, messing with the thermostat, the usual. He was especially proud, though, that he’d been able to get his son to put on or remove his glasses just by saying “glasses.” Did he need the help? No. Was it a funny bit? Definitely.
He and Katsuki now sat, eating dinner. Katsuki had insisted on cooking something significantly more healthy than last night’s meal. Masaru was impressed that the entire dish was vegetarian. The tofu was amazing! He smiled, knowing he taught his son well.
“Is anyone at school vegetarian?” Masaru asked, taking another bite. Katsuki shrugged.
“Koda is. He’s been trying to go vegan for years, apparently. But he can’t get himself there yet.”
“Which one is Koda again?” Masaru asked.
“The one who can talk to animals.” Katsuki said before taking another bite.
“Ah, makes sense then,” Masaru chuckled. Katsuki smiled a bit, nodding. “Have you spoken to any of them this weekend?” Katsuki nodded, chewing his food.
“Kirishima’s been texting me,” he said after swallowing.
“Good, good.” They fell back into a comfortable silence for the rest of the meal.
Once dinner was over, Katsuki packed his bag and called a cab.
“Let me drive you! I’m fine!” Masaru had tried to persuade his son. Katsuki stood firm in his decision.
“The doctors said you should wait ten to fourteen days before driving. I’m calling a cab.” After Masaru had pouted for a few minutes, he finally got over it. They ran through a few last minute things as they waited.
“Did you copy that curry recipe? I left it on the table last night.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Let me know how it turns out.”
“I will. When does the old woman’s flight get in?”
“Around one this morning. Don’t call your mother an old woman.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around? I can call Aizawa.”
“No, you need to get back. Do you have everything?”
“Yeah.
“Did you double check?”
“Yes.”
“Triple check?”
“Fucking-yes. Yes, I have everything.” Thankfully, the cab pulled up before Katsuki lost it. Masaru held out his arms for a hug. Katsuki rolled his eyes, scowling.
“For your poor, old father, Katsuki. For your poor old father who just had surgery.” Katsuki grumbled something about Masaru being dramatic before giving his father a hug.
“Love you!” Masaru called as Katsuki climbed into the cab.
“Yeah, yeah love you too,” he heard the boy mutter. He threw up a hand in a final parting gesture, got in the cab, and disappeared into the night.
“Man, we missed you this weekend! We held a Mario Kart tournament and yours truly handed Kaminari’s ass to him! He was so mad cause Jirou was laughing at him,” Kirishima laughed as he filled Bakugou in on the past weekend’s events. He was leaning on the edge of the blonde’s desk as he spoke.
“Speaking of which,” Bakugou muttered. “Where is Sparky? And Bird Brain? And like five other people?” Kirishima smiled and shook his head.
“Oh man, did I forget to mention? They all got food poisoning from mixing a bunch of stuff from the fridge for dinner last night. It was bad, man. They were up all last night.” Bakugou slapped his hand to his forehead.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Those shitheads got food poisoning in the dumbest fucking way possible! I leave for two fucking days and everything goes to shit!” Bakugou yelled, enraged by his classmates’ idiocy. Kirishima laughed at his friend’s antics.
“Wow, Bakugou,” Kirishima said, patting his friend’s head. “Didn’t think you cared so much.” Bakugou shoved Kirishima’s hand off him.
“I don’t,” he spat. “What they did was a disgrace to good food. They deserve what they got.”
“That’s harsh, man.” Kirishima shook his head, still smiling.
“Whatever. Go back to your seat, class is starting.” He shooed Kirishima away from his desk. Kirishima shot him one last blinding smile and walked away. His classmates were idiots. He almost wished he stayed home one more day. Almost.