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Chapter Text

Izuku looked up as Shoto walked through the door. He looked tired, shuffling toward the couches and dropping his bag before slumping into one of the squishy armchairs, head tilted back. He’d just come back from his work study patrol, and it had been one hell of a patrol.

He was swarmed a moment later. 

“Dude, that fight was crazy! Did you ever find out what his quirk was?” Sero asked, dropping into the seat next to him.

The fight had been televised. Shoto hadn’t been looking for a villain—one had just happened to be robbing a corner store as he passed by. He went to apprehend the guy, but the villain had been way more well-prepared than he’d anticipated. 

“No,” Shoto mumbled. Mina had perched on the arm of the couch, and Ochako was sitting across from him. He batted Kaminari’s hand away as he attempted to poke potential injury spots. The villain had gotten some strong hits in. “Couldn’t get him to talk at all. Don’t even know his name,” he admitted. 

It had taken Shoto nearly an hour to detain the villain—not strong enough to warrant an additional hero’s assistance, but slippery and clever enough to keep dodging and evading his efforts. Half the class had watched with rapt attention as the villain threw out smoke bombs and tear gas canisters in his attempt to evade capture. 

“How the hell did he manage to break through your ice?” Sero asked. “We totally thought you had him, then the ice shattered and he was running again!”

“Some sort of sonic pulse device,” Shoto replied. “Hatsume’s support agency is looking at it now. I think it’s triggered by temperature, since there are five different ice heroes on that patrol route. The guy seemed too low-level for it to have an inertia sensor or something. Those are expensive.”

“He got some solid hits in,” Izuku said. “You okay? That last punch seemed like it got you good.”

“Winded me, that’s for sure,” Shoto agreed. Momo appeared then, placing a teacup in his hands. He shot her a grateful smile. “He was a lot more trouble than he was worth. He emptied the cash register and stole the electronics off the counter—like the phone chargers and stuff. I went overboard, a lot of the merchandise got destroyed during the fight. He was smart enough to use a quirk-proof bag for the money, at least.”

He sounded exhausted. “Have you eaten yet?” Izuku asked. He grimaced when Shoto shook his head. “Kacchan’s planning to start dinner in about ten minutes, if you want to wait.”

Shoto shook his head. “I’m going to head to bed soon. I’m tired, and the villain punched me in the gut so hard that I think eating would make me sick.”

Izuku frowned, concerned. “Did you go to medical?”

Shoto nodded. “They said nothing was permanently wrong. I just feel a little sick.”

“Well,” Izuku hedged, biting his lip. “Let me know if you need anything, I guess.”

“Seconded,” Sero said, ruffling his hair. “You deserve it, badass.”

“You think you’ll be better by tomorrow? I don’t want you to push yourself,” Izuku said, trying very hard not to laugh at the blush on Shoto’s face. Shoto had been slowly developing a crush on Sero for months now, he just hadn’t realized it yet. Izuku might be hopeless, but at least he was aware of his crush on Kacchan.

“What’s tomorrow?” Shoto asked, head cocked in confusion.

“Kacchan and I are training joint moves tomorrow and were gonna ask you to join us. But if you’re not up for it, we can do it another time,” he explained. Shoto pursed his lips, pondering.

“What time?”

“Ten.”

He pondered harder, slowly sipping his tea. “I should be fine by then. Maybe just a little bruised. I’ll be there.”

Izuku smiled. “Great! Don’t push yourself too hard, though.”

“Well, I’m not you, so I should be fine,” he replied dryly. Izuku’s jaw dropped in offense. He’d gotten more and more sarcastic over the three years that Izuku had known him—occasionally surprising them all with his sick burns.

“Hey!”

“He’s got a point, Mido,” Mina laughed. Ochako was laughing so hard that she had to use Mina to hold herself up, the traitor. “You’re basically a crash test dummy, you don’t have much room to talk.”

He scowled. “Mean. You’re all mean.”

“Call it constructive criticism,” Ochako wheezed, still snickering. Meanwhile, Shoto sipped his tea with a tiny smile. Izuku frowned when he shifted and flinched, good-natured ribbing forgotten. He knew he’d gotten medical clearance, but it still sucked to have internal bruising. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he prodded. Shoto gave a jerky nod that did little to quell his concerns. He drained the rest of his tea and reluctantly extracted himself from the couch, grimacing as he straightened. Not exactly reassuring.

“It’s sore, but I’ll be fine. You’ve hit me harder than he did,” Shoto said. Not the most reassuring, but definitely a fair point. “I’m going to bed now, rest should take care of it.”

“If you’re sure,” Izuku replied. Shoto smiled at him—a little pained—before he left. Izuku stared after him. 

“Gotta trust him to know what’s good for him, dude,” Sero said, nudging him. “Just like we do with you.”

Izuku smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. That gut punch just looked brutal,” he said. “But if he thinks it’s fine and he got cleared—”

“Yeah,” Sero agreed. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Katsuki woke up the next morning tired as shit. Deku had wrangled him into some bullshit argument about whether Wash could beat Thirteen in a fight, which had led to watching hours of fucking battle and rescue footage, just so that Katsuki could prove that the walking Rinse Cycle had no fucking chance against a human Black Hole. 

So now, he was groggy and cranky, but vindicated. He’d feel better once he kicked Deku and IcyHot’s asses though. Shoto had better be in fighting form, or he’d kick his peppermint ass. Deku had spent half a fucking hour muttering about how the idiot might not be up for training because he got his ass kicked, but Katsuki knew better. It would take more than a gut punch to bring that shithead down.

It would take a Howitzer. Maybe two. 

“Morning, Kacchan!” Deku chirped as soon as he stepped foot in the common room. Katsuki sneered, baring his teeth at the cheery greenette. “Did you not get enough sleep?”

“You kept me up till the asscrack of dawn analyzing fucking Wash. Of course I didn’t get enough sleep, asshole.” At least Deku had the good grace to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, Kacchan,” he chuckled. Katsuki rolled his eyes. He wasn’t actually upset, he could have gone to bed if he wanted to. He’d never admit it out loud, but he liked hanging out with Deku. It was comfortable and fun, even when they fought about stupid shit. “If you need to sleep more—”

“You’re not getting out of training, Deku,” he barked. “I dragged my ass out of bed—if I did that for nothing, I’ll literally kill you.”

He laughed, a soft little sound, and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. As soon as Shoto gets here, you can try to kick my ass.”

“The fuck do you mean try? ” he barked. “When have I not been able to kick your ass?”

“I won last time!”

“After I busted your arm and made a crater with your fucking body,” Katsuki shot back, grin sharp. “I still kicked your ass, loser.”

“I kicked yours back!”

“You’re the worst,” Katsuki huffed, stalking toward the kitchen. Deku followed him, ribbing him as he made them both a pre-workout shake, and set another aside for IcyHot. “Shut the fuck up, your yapping makes me wanna blow my ears up,” he barked.

“You’re just saying that because I’m right,” Deku grinned, wide and mischievous. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. Part of him was grateful that the nerd felt so comfortable with him. The other part wanted to slap his dumb green head off his shoulders.

“You’re the most annoying fuckhead on the goddamn planet. God, I can’t wait to use your body as a fucking baseball bat. Where the hell is IcyHot?” he snapped. He looked at the clock, scowling. The dickhead was half an hour late. There would be other idiots wasting space on the training grounds if he didn’t hurry the fuck up. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No need for that,” Deku laughed, already moving toward the kitchen door. “I’ll just go get him—hng!” he choked as Katsuki yanked him back by the hood of his sweater. “Hey!”

“I’ll get him. I’ll drag him out by his dumbass hair,” he snarled, stalking past the winded nerd toward the elevators. “Finish your fucking shake or I’ll kill you!” he bellowed over his shoulder.

“Okay Kacchan!” Deku wheezed. Fucking dork. He refused to feel affection for that little shit when he was being such a fucking troll. Besides, he had four floors to gather the appropriate amount of irritation in retribution for his lost training time.

He stomped out of the elevator on the fifth floor, stalking to IcyHot’s door with the rage of a thousand suns. How fucking dare he claim to be fine for training and then waste half an hour of his precious time. He banged on the door with both fists, palms sparking as he bellowed. “WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!” he hollered.

He fell silent a moment later when, instead of Shoto’s typical dry reply, he was faced with a high pitched wail of distress. It sounded like a fucking baby. Why was there a baby in Shoto’s room? Who would ever let that numbskull near a child without supervision?

His eyes widened as the wailing continued and he heated up his palms just enough to blow up the door handle. The wailing grew louder and more alarmed—terrified even. Katsuki stuck his head in the door. 

There, sitting on the bed, naked as the day he was born and terrified out of his tiny little toddler mind, was Shoto Todoroki. 

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

Katsuki whipped out his phone, eyes still fixed on the wailing toddler. It was a miracle that Hanta and SugarTits hadn’t woken up yet—the volume of Shoto’s cries nearly earsplitting. He dialed Deku’s number, pressing the phone to one ear and jamming his finger into the other to muffle the sound. 

“Changed your m—is that a baby? Kacchan, where are you?” Deku asked, going from teasing to alarmed in four seconds flat. 

“IcyHot’s room. Get here now.”

“Coming,” Izuku assured him. Katsuki could hear him moving, clumsy as always as he crashed into things in his haste. He heard the door to the stairwell open. “What’s going on?”

“He’s a baby. Hurry up.”

“Who’s a baby?”

“IcyHot, Deku. IcyHot’s a baby. A scared, crying baby.”

“What are you—” Deku appeared a moment later, skin still sparking. He’d used One For All to climb the stairs. Now, he stood in the doorway by Katsuki’s side, staring with wide eyes at the scene before him. “For the record,” he said quietly. “That’s a toddler. Not a baby.”

Katsuki shot him a nasty look. “The salient point is that he’s not a fucking teenager, Deku. Don’t fucking nitpick me in a crisis!”

Izuku slapped his arm. “Watch your language!”

“This is the perfect time for profanity, Half-n-half’s a fucking baby. ”

“Toddler,” Izuku sang, dodging Katsuki’s flying fist to inch into the room. Katsuki watched as he approached, slowly getting on his knees and scooting forward at the mini candy cane’s eye level. Shoto was alarmed anyway, scrambling back toward the headboard. But Deku had always had a way with kids. It was just a matter of time. “Shoto?” he called quietly. Shoto went quieter, blinking at Deku with wide, watery eyes as he sniffled. 

“W-who are you?” Shoto asked, trying to sound firm but failing. His voice shook, and his body was still curled away from Deku protectively. “M-my dad is a h-hero. If y-you hurt me h-he’ll fight you.” He didn’t sound sure—sounding even more scared at the thought of needing to call on Endeavor, and something furious filled Katsuki’s chest. He leashed it, saving his anger for when it was useful. 

“Kacchan, call Aizawa,” he murmured. Katsuki pulled out his phone again, dialing as he watched Deku work his magic. “My name is Izuku,” he replied, smiling gently. “I’m your friend.”

“I don’t know you!” Shoto cried, pushing himself further against the headboard.

“You don’t now,” he agreed. “We’re both students at UA, training to be heroes. Yesterday you were in a fight, and you must have been hit by a quirk.”

Shoto sniffled. “What k-kind of quirk?” he asked quietly.

“Well normally, you’re seventeen,” he explained, calm and quiet. “How old are you right now?”

“F-four,” he stuttered. “But I’ll be five real soon.” Ah, so the scar was fresh, made sometime in the last few months.

“It looks like you were hit with a quirk that changed your age,” he said. “It’s nothing to worry about. But we should take you to see Recovery Girl to make sure you’re healthy. Would you be willing to come with me?”

“NO!” Shoto wailed, smacking Izuku’s outstretched hand. Katsuki flinched. 

“Bakugou?” Aizawa drawled into his ear. “What do you want?”

“IcyHot’s been involved in a quirk accident,” he replied, voice lowered. “He’s a toddler, sir.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Come again?”

“I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Shoto cried. 

“A toddler,” Katsuki repeated. “He doesn’t know who we are. He’s freaking the fuck out.” Aizawa cursed on the other end, grumbling as he started shuffling around. “Deku said he was hurt yesterday, but he thought he was okay to train today. He was like this when I came to wake him up.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he grumbled before hanging up. Pleasantries had never been Aizawa’s thing. He stood in the doorway, knowing that joining them in the room would only make Shoto freak out more. He was loud and brash—abrasive. 

“You don’t know me now, but look,” Deku said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through it fast before he found what he was looking for. “See? We eat lunch together every day. You’re one of my best friends.”

Todoroki peered at Deku’s phone, eyes going wide. “How do I know that’s really me?” he demanded, suspicious. Katsuki smirked.

“Smart kid,” he commented quietly. “You have your license on you, Deku?” 

“No, it’s in my room,” he replied. “We were just gonna go to the gym.”

Katsuki nodded, in the same boat. “You know where IcyHot keeps his?” he asked. Deku brightened, standing to cross the room to Shoto’s desk. He opened the second drawer and pulled out Shoto’s provisional license, offering it to the pint-sized peppermint. 

“See? You’re usually this old. You have your provisional license and everything!” Deku said cheerily as Shoto inspected the card. Katsuki could see some of the kid’s tension melt away, expression still suspicious but looking more willing to hear them out. 

They didn’t need to bother much longer, though. Aizawa showed up in record time, shuffling past Katsuki into the room and taking in the situation. Shoto saw him and brightened. “You’re a hero,” he declared, quiet but firm. “I seen you. At my house.”

Aizawa tilted his head, then nodded. “That’s right. I was working on a joint mission with your father.” He took his hero license out and showed it to Shoto. “Your father told you how to check if these are real, right?” 

Shoto nodded slowly—tilting the card back and forth. Then, as he seemed to accept that it was the real deal, he clutched it tighter, tearing up. “Where am I?” he sniffled. “Did dad give me away?”

Aizawa shook his head, kneeling beside Deku. “UA students live in dorms now. This is your room,” he explained. “Yesterday, you were doing your work study. Do you remember any of it?” he asked. Shoto’s lip trembled. 

“Wh—” he swallowed, looking down at his knees like he was ashamed to ask. “What’s a work study?” 

Deku replied, soft and kind. He was always soft and kind. “A work study is how students learn to be heroes. Heroes teach students how to fight villains and take care of people.”

Shoto shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he said quietly. 

Aizawa nodded. “That’s alright. Thank you for telling me. Shoto, we need to take you to Recovery Girl to make sure you aren’t injured. Then, we need to talk to the school principal—”

Shoto’s head snapped up in alarm, eyes wide and teary. “I can’t be a hero anymore?” he hiccuped.

“We just need to find out who did this to you, and how long it will last. You can still be a student here and you’ll still be a hero; but until you get older again, we need to figure out how to take care of you,” he explained.

The explanation came a little too late, since IcyHot was already crying at the thought of being kicked out of school. Thankfully, it seemed like he understood even though he was overwhelmed. “Okay,” he murmured. He sounded so small —not just because he was a fucking baby, but because he was terrified. He’d been in his fair share of scrapes with Shoto at his side, so it was strange to see him so timid.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Deku asked softly. After a moment of hesitation, Shoto nodded. Before Izuku scooped him up, he stood and crossed to Shoto’s dresser, pulling out a plain blue tee. “Can you put this on for me?” 

Katsuki watched as the heterochromatic baby wiggled into a shirt that was a million times too big for him. A shirt that fit him yesterday. Then, Izuku hoisted him up, settling Shoto at waist level so that he could cling to him like a candy-cane koala. Loathe as he was to admit it, it was cute. He wasn’t sure if it was Deku’s general sunshine-and-rainbows personality or if Shoto somehow remembered some tiny speck of how close they were, but he cuddled in close, tucking his tiny face into Deku’s shoulder. 

It was weird to see him vulnerable like this. Not that he never let himself be vulnerable. He regularly dumped his emotions on Katsuki out of the blue, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. But he was so small. In all the time that Katsuki had known him, he’d never really needed physical protection. Right now, he was so tiny. The kind of tiny that would cry at a stubbed toe or a skinned knee.

It made Katsuki feel out of place and nebulous like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself or how to help. Or if he should help at all.

In any case, he stood aside to let Aizawa and Deku file out, and followed behind them. Shoto peeked at him over Deku’s shoulder and, in a fit of impulse, he pulled a weird face and hoped it wasn’t scary. 

He felt gratified when the little shit giggled at him and then tucked his face back in Deku’s shoulder. Deku glanced back at him with a fond smile, and it felt like an award—proud of him for successfully entertaining a toddler, even if it was just for half a second. Normally, he’d bristle at the suggestion that he couldn’t but honestly, he was just glad that IcyHot wasn’t wailing anymore.

The situation may be wack, but they’d figure it out.

Chapter Text

Shoto was still clinging to him, sitting in his lap turned to the side so that he could hide his face if he got scared again. 

Recovery Girl had given him a clean bill of health, but they still had to figure out how the quirk worked. Ideally, the villain would be able to tell them—but Shoto had said that the villain was uncooperative. Besides, it was possible that the villain wasn’t even responsible for the quirk at all. Shoto had crashed into plenty of civilians during his fight, and one of them could be the culprit.

Katsuki sat next to him and explained the morning’s events to Nezu, who sat across from them sipping from a prim little teacup. The Principal listened intently, gaze flicking between Katsuki and the tiny hero as he pondered their words. 

“I will contact the commission to have enhanced interrogation approved so that we can resolve this,” he said slowly. “And if the villain isn’t who we’re looking for, I’ll have Todoroki’s agency go through incident reports filed by civilians. Hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of this soon.”

“That doesn’t really solve the current problem,” Aizawa drawled before sipping from his own teacup. 

Nezu nodded. “Indeed,” he replied. “It’s not exactly within our purview as an institution to care for children below high school age. I suppose a temporary arrangement will have to be made. Having him alone in a dorm seems like a misstep waiting to happen, so perhaps we should take him home until the quirk—”

“No.”

Deku didn’t even realize that he’d spoken until all eyes were on him. He flushed under their attention, but sat a little taller in his seat. 

“Do you object to Shoto staying with his father and siblings?” Nezu asked politely. 

“Damn right we fucking do,” Katsuki barked. 

“Language, Kacchan!”

“Bite me, Deku.”

“Boys,” Nezu interrupted before they could get any farther. Izuku gave him a sheepish smile, hugging Shoto a little closer. “Can you please explain?”

“Shoto’s home life was stressful, especially at this age,” Izuku replied slowly, a little worried about overstepping. “I think having him go home would only make him anxious and upset, especially since some of his siblings have moved out and his mom is away on business. ”

His mother, while no longer in the hospital, wasn’t living with the rest of the Todorokis, and the likelihood that she and Endeavor would communicate effectively enough to pacify Shoto was slim. Additionally, Touya was no longer living at home for obvious reasons, and it would probably raise questions that nobody would want to answer. 

“Surprise, your brother is a villain,” was probably not a conversation anybody wanted to have.

Aside from that, Shoto had been terrified of his father at this age—ever since his quirk presentation, he’d been pushed and strained beyond his tiny little limits and it had left scars. To this tiny version of Shoto, those scars were still fresh.

Nezu, thankfully, seemed to catch his meaning. Even moreso when Katsuki said: “Yeah, that, and the Grand Ol’ Shitbag would probably terrify the snot out of him,” with a sneer. Izuku kicked his ankle. Neither of them liked Endeavor as a human. They respected his ability, but knew how much damage he’d done in pursuit of the perfect successor. 

But still, there was a tactful way to do this and by the way Shoto was silently clenching and unclenching his tiny fist in Izuku’s shirt, that was not the tactful way to do it.

“Fuyumi and Natsuo don’t have a ton of time to spend with him, and Endeavor is, well…he’s Endeavor. He’s constantly working. I don’t think it would be the best idea to send him to an essentially empty house, sir.”

Nezu’s eyes flicked between them. “Then what do you propose?” he asked.

“We’ll take care of him,” Katsuki said. Izuku stiffened and glanced over at his companion, just to find him surprised with himself as well—eyes widening as he closed his mouth with an audible click. They locked eyes and after a few moments, the surprise and apprehension wore off. 

It wasn’t the worst idea. Sure, it would be a big responsibility, but it was better than Shoto going home to a home that terrified him. “I’m in,” he agreed a moment later. Honestly, anything would be better than sending this version of Shoto home to Endeavor. 

“There’s a possibility that something like this could last into the week,” Nezu replied. “I’m not sure that impeding your studies is for the best.”

“We can deal with that shit later,” Katsuki barked. 

Izuku agreed. “Let us deal with it for the weekend, and if we need to we can talk to his sister so that she can make arrangements at work and take care of him herself. But transformative quirks don’t usually last that long, right?”

Nezu nodded. “That’s true. Likelihood is that it won’t even last until Monday. But the risk is still there.”

“We’re in the top three for most of our classes,” Katsuki argued. “Even if we did miss a day, we’re so far ahead of the other fucks, it’ll barely make a dent in our lead.”

“Language, Kacchan,” Izuku hissed.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, shithead,” he snapped. 

“If you want to convince me that you can take on this responsibility, you might want to convince me that you can work together at all,” Nezu suggested, leaning back in his seat with an amused smile.

Katsuki scowled at him and Izuku kicked him in the ankle again. “We work together all the goddamn time. Just because he’s a bossy little fuck doesn’t mean that our teamwork isn’t tight as hell and you know that, Rat.”

Despite the massive amount of mortifying disrespect, Izuku’s heart fluttered. It sounded like Kacchan was proud of their ability to work together, and sometimes it made him giddy to think about how far they’d come. 

He tightened his hold on Shoto to keep from saying anything, even as the toddler squirmed. It suddenly occurred to him that his crush on Kacchan might prove to be problematic if he were in close proximity with the blonde for who knows how long, especially if he were handling a kid with him. He’d suck it up and deal, obviously, but that didn’t change the fact that he was anxious.

“I suppose so,” Nezu agreed, benignly enjoying Kacchan’s irritation. “If you’re sure you’ll be able to take this on, I’ll allow it. But you’ll be responsible for regularly checking in with Aizawa and making sure his needs are met.”

“Yes sir,” Izuku agreed. He shifted Shoto around in his hold to look him in the eye. “What do you think? You wanna hang out with us for a couple days? I promise we’ll have a lot of fun,” he smiled. Shyly, Shoto nodded. Izuku felt his heart melt a little. Shoto was a really cute kid. 

Izuku looked up at Nezu expectantly, waiting on his decision. After a long, silent moment, the Rat God nodded. “Alright then. I’ll leave him in your care. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you find the responsibility more taxing than you anticipated.”

He felt Katsuki bristle beside him, so he lay a hand on his shoulder to still him. It made sense, after all. If it was too much for them, it would be in both theirs and Shoto’s best interest to come up with an alternate arrangement. “Yes, sir.”

Aizawa turned to them. “Do not, under any circumstances, leave him alone with Ashido and Kaminari. I don’t want to hear that he broke his arm in an acidic slip-n-slide.” Katsuki snorted and Izuku fought off his own surprised laugh with a quick nod. “Good. Let me know if you need any supplies to take care of him, and I’ll make sure that either I or one of the other staff members will deliver,” he droned.

As soon as they were given the all clear, he and Katsuki escaped into the hallway. “So how do you wanna do this?” Izuku asked as they moved back toward the dorm. 

Katsuki glanced at him. “Whad’you mean?” he grunted. 

“How do you want to split responsibilities? Or do you want to just do it all together?”

“Don’t give a shit,” he replied. Izuku scowled. “What? I don’t! We can just stick together and figure it out. We can go to Ponytail for clothes and figure out what else the little shit needs. I’ll cook so that you don’t poison him—”

“I’m not a bad cook!” Izuku protested. 

“You get distracted and burn shit every goddamn time,” Katsuki barked back. Izuku grimaced. Yeah, that was kinda true. 

“Fine,” he huffed. “You cook. Who’s he gonna sleep with?” he asked. Katsuki frowned.

“Trade off every night?” he asked. Izuku felt Shoto stiffen in his arms at that suggestion, clutching at him a little tighter. At Izuku’s silence, Katsuki looked over at him. “What?”

“Maybe…for the next few days we should bunk together?” he said, fully ready to be blown up. To his surprise, Katsuki stopped in his tracks to stare at him, eyebrows raised. “I mean that way we can switch off who takes care of stuff in the night, and we have a better chance of getting sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping in your room, nerd.”

Izuku frowned. “I actually think my room is the better option. Your favorite hero is All Might, right Shoto?” he asked, bouncing the toddler in his arms. Shoto brightened at the question, and he heard Katsuki’s groan—knowing he’d been defeated before the fight even started. 

“He’s really cool,” he answered quietly. Izuku looked over at Katsuki, triumphant 

“Fuckin’ fine,” he grumped, turning to keep stomping toward the dorm. “We’ll stay in your fucking All Might shrine. See if I give a shit.” 

“Is he mad?” Shoto asked, tugging on his shirt. “Did I make Kacchan mad?”

Izuku’s heart melted at the plaintive look on his face. “Of course not,” he promised, hugging him a little tighter. “Kacchan’s just like that. He sounds kinda mean sometimes, but he never means to. I’m guessing he’s mostly worried about you,” he explained. Shoto looked relieved.

“Okay,” he replied, leaning his little head on Izuku’s shoulder. “Thank you, Izuku.”

Izuku smiled at him, bright and reassuring. “Don’t worry about a thing, alright? We’ll take real good care of you.”

Ponytail looked shocked as shit. 

Not that he could blame her. Todoroki was a toddler. It was definitely a shocking situation.

“What happened?” she asked, leaning closer to him. Shoto turned in Deku’s arms to hide in his shoulder again. 

“We think it was his villain fight yesterday,” Deku explained. He looked down at Shoto. “This is Momo,” he said quietly. “She’s a really good friend of ours, and she knows all of your favorite tea flavors!”

He turned around, peering at her shyly. “You’re my friend?” he asked.

Katsuki watched as she fucking melted. “Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly. It was like watching a Disney princess with a woodland creature.

Deku finally got to the point, then—bringing Shoto a little closer to her so she could shake his little hand. “We were hoping you could make him a few outfits? He can’t just wear a gigantic t-shirt.”

“I can,” she agreed. She paused then, a little hesitant. “But shouldn’t you take him to Aizawa?”

“Already did,” Katsuki grunted. “We’re in charge of the rugrat for the weekend.” 

Her eyes widened, and Katuski narrowly avoided the urge to flip her off. “You’re taking care of him? Alone?” she asked. He resented the trepidation in her voice. 

“Yeah, and what the fuck about it?” he snapped. She gave him a pointed look and he bristled, ready to snap again, but Izuku lay a hand on his arm. 

“We are,” he replied simply. “It was the easiest solution for the school and the least stressful for Shoto. We’re just gonna take the weekend easy, so it should be pretty manageable.” His easy smile seemed to reassure her, but she still looked unsure.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” she asked, already lifting her shirt just enough to create the clothes they asked for. “I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

Katsuki took a deep breath. “If we need help we’ll ask,” he grunted. “But he’s a kid, not a fuckin’ grenade.”

She grimaced. “Kids are more stressful than grenades. I promise,” she replied, handing him the clothes. He took them, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Determined to prove her point, she leaned toward Shoto with a reassuring smile. “Are you potty-trained already, Shoto?”

Katsuki winced. He hadn’t even thought of that. By the look on Deku’s face, he hadn’t either. They both breathed a sigh of relief when he took up an indignant scowl. “I’m almost five,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I can go all by myself.”

She smiled at him. “That’s so impressive! I just wanted to make sure. Do you need a step-stool?” she asked. He blinked, then nodded. She gave them a pointed look. Katsuki flipped her off. “I’ll make you one,” she said, smug. 

“Eat shit, Ponytail.”

“You first, Katsuki,” she sang. “Is he going to stay in his room? You can’t leave him there alone, you know.” They both frowned at her this time. Did she think they were completely incompetent? 

“I know we don’t have it all figured out,” Izuku said. “But we’ve thought some of it through. We’re staying in my room for the weekend. We thought it would be fun for him.”

She nodded, smile turning apologetic. “Not a bad idea. I need to eat something before I can make a step stool—do you mind if I come by after dinner to do that?”

“I don’t care,” Katsuki grumbled. 

“Come by whenever,” Deku agreed. “We’re going to be hanging out and figuring out what he needs. Aizawa wants us to give him a list.” She looked more relaxed now, maybe realizing that Aizawa wouldn’t trust them with a fucking toddler if he thought they couldn’t handle it.  

He knew he wasn’t even-tempered or mellow. He knew he had a tendency to scare the shit out of at least half the kids he encountered in his hero work. But it was something he was working on and even if he was abrasive, at least he was responsible. That’s why he and Deku were doing this—Deku could do the sappy ‘good-with-kids’ shit, and Katsuki could do the practical ‘keep-the-kid-alive’ shit. 

Well, that, and there was also literally nobody else that he would tolerate working with. He’d probably kill his own friends if they were helping him with this. The chaotic energy alone would have driven him fucking nuts by now. Add a tiny, fragile IcyHot to that, and he would have ripped his hair out. It hadn’t even been a whole hour since he’d found him and he knew that if anyone else had been involved, he would have blown them up by now.

“Can you say thank you to Momo?” Deku asked Shoto, smiling softly. Shoto blushed.

“Thank you, Ms. Momo,” he said. Ponytail cooed, gently pinching his tiny cheeks. He blushed even harder and Deku chuckled.

“You’re very welcome, Shoto,” she replied. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, smiling small and hopeful. Katsuki hated that it was so endearing. He’d never be able to look at the Peppermint Pitstain the same, ever again. 

They turned to leave, but Katsuki had a thought—turning back. “Wait,” he called before Ponytail could close the door. She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll trade you a favor for that Ceylon tea you liked—the one that my parents brought back from Sri Lanka.”

Her eyes fucking gleamed. “What do you need?”

“Can you tell the rest of the class what happened, and tell them to leave us alone?”

“Unless we need them!” Deku interjected.

“Yeah, that. Like…don’t come barging in, wait for us to come to them. I don’t want the little shit to get overwhelmed, and you know every fuck in this class is overwhelming. Except you and Snow White.”

She blinked at him, then frowned. “Snow White?” she asked, head tilted.

“He means Koji,” Deku sighed, exasperated. Katsuki flipped him off too. Yaomomo had started laughing, either at their bullshit or the mental image of the Animal Whisperer skipping through the forest in a renaissance dress. 

“Sure,” she giggled. “I’ll let them know. It might be a good idea for you to ask Snow White if Shoto can play with some of his woodland creatures,” she suggested. 

“Good idea!” Izuku exclaimed, grinning bright. Katsuki looked away, grumbling. The whole point of that request was to not deal with the other fucks in their class, even if it was a pretty good idea. “Thanks again, Momo.”

They walked away for real this time, heading back down to the 2nd floor. “If that rabbit shits in your room, I’m not cleaning it up.”

Chapter Text

They made a pit-stop on the fourth floor to pick up Katsuki’s mattress—swapping places so that Deku could carry the mattress while Katsuki carried IcyHot. “Hey, little man,” he smirked. Shoto peered up at him, and Katsuki could tell he was intimidated. Understandable, but not desirable. “Wait till you see Deku’s room. It’s an All Might shrine,” he joked.

“And we can watch All Might movies all night,” Deku added, grinning. He was holding the mattress under his arm like it was a purse. He looked fucking ridiculous.

“Or the All Might Ultra anime,” Katsuki suggested. “There are lots of those, and I bet your dad is so boring that he doesn’t watch them.”

Shoto giggled in his arms, and it felt like he’d won a fucking award. “He doesn’t like All Might, but All Might’s so cool!”

“Hell yeah, he is,” Katsuki laughed, bouncing the toddler in his arms. Shoto squealed, gripping his arm a little tighter. “Wanna watch the part of the series where he fights evil aliens on the moon?” he asked.

Shoto’s eyes widened in awe. “On the moon? How did he get there?” 

“See for yourself, baby dork,” he chuckled. Deku was laughing with him, and his stomach squirmed—entirely too pleased with himself. Suck on that , Yaomomo. “It’s a kick-ass show.”

“Kick…ass?” Shoto asked, small and innocent. Deku glared at him over Shoto’s head, and he smirked back in reply.

“It means ‘super-awesome,’” he supplied. “You say that all the time, kid.”

“No you do not,” Izuku yelped.

Katsuki snickered—barely stepping out of the way of Deku’s pointed elbow-jab. “He’s right, you don’t. I’m kidding,” he said, grinning at Izuku’s exasperated huff and Shoto’s tiny giggle. It felt good that even now, Shoto felt comfortable enough with him to laugh.

Or maybe he was more lighthearted as a kid. 

Katsuki swapped with Deku when they got to the room—passing Shoto to the nerd and taking the mattress so that he could set up on the floor. As he got settled, Deku let Shoto pick a toy off the lowest shelf—the easily replaceable merch that he didn’t mind damaging. Katsuki smirked at him and, ever so subtly behind Shoto’s back, Deku flipped him off.

Once Shoto had the plush he wanted, Katsuki took over—getting him situated and comfortable on the bed while Deku fucked around with the TV, pulling out the entire boxed set of All Might Ultra, like a fucking dork. Who even used discs anymore? “I still can’t believe you have a disc player. Retro-ass nerd.”

“Vinyl sounds better than digital, and DVD looks better than datahost,” he replied firmly. Even from behind, Katsuki could tell he was rolling his eyes. 

“Sure it does,” he snickered.

He settled on his mattress, propping his back against the bed—waiting for the nerd to get his shit together. A moment later, Deku was crawling onto the bed next to Shoto, brushing Katsuki as he passed. There was a time when Deku was hyperaware of him—careful not to let himself into any part of his personal space radius. 

They’d grown together in every sense. It was sappy and stupid, but Katsuki thought about that a lot. How they’d been broken but with time and care they’d healed. Grown stronger, both individually and as a pair. 

Well, not a pair. But as friends. Partners. Whatever the fuck they were.

“You can sit up here if you want,” Izuku said, nudging Katsuki’s shoulder with his foot. “Just because your mattress is down there doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“At some point, one of you fucks will want food. If I’m down here I can get out easier,” he grumbled. He could practically hear Deku smiling at him, and it felt sticky and warm in his chest. Gross. Affectionate. “If you thank me for shit we already agreed on, I’m gonna rip your entire dick off and blast it into the sun.”

“Hm, sounds painful,” he replied, completely unconcerned. Katsuki wondered when his bark stopped being scary. Sometimes he missed it. “Is a little verbal appreciation worth all that effort and pain?”

Katsuki twisted to look at him, expression dry. “Yes.”

“Seems like more trouble than it’s worth,” he grinned, shrugging. “But alright. I won’t thank you, then.”

Without another word, the cheeky fucker pressed play and flicked the lights off—bathing them in the dull glow of the TV screen. Katsuki stared for a minute—unwillingly captivated by the way Deku’s eyes seemed to glitter in the dark.

He’d been doing that lately. Noticing dumb little things about Deku that didn’t fucking matter, but they grabbed his attention anyway. How had he never noticed that his eyes did that? Was he fucking blind? Damn. 

Obstinately, he turned away a moment later—fixing his eyes on the TV and trying his best to tune out the way Deku murmured explanations to their miniaturized friend. Shoto’s questions and comments were timid, but filled to the brim with curiosity. He seemed to have realized that he was in the presence of an honest-to-god All Might expert, and had decided to capitalize on that knowledge as much as possible.

All Might knowledge wasn’t really an acceptable trait in his household, after all. This was the most All Might themed information he’d gotten in one chunk, without the stain of dislike marring the words.

Katsuki didn’t mind. He’d watched this show a shit-ton of times, specifically because Deku had wanted to watch it. The nerd even used it as his background noise for studying. He knew it inside and out, so he wasn’t bothered by the soft whispering back and forth.

He was a little bothered when his prediction came true approximately two hours into their binge. He scowled when Shoto’s stomach grumbled—barely audible above the animated fight scene they were watching. He tilted his head back, meeting Shoto’s eyes. “Hungry kiddo?” he grumbled. At half-n-half’s nervous nod, he looked over at Deku. “Gonna make myself something too. You want any?”

“Sure!” Izuku grinned bright. Katsuki scowled at him.

“The fuck are you so happy for? It’s just dinner, asshole,” he huffed, climbing to his feet. He paused as he got a full look at them—softening at the sight of them huddled together under a heap of blankets. IcyHot had taken to Deku fast, and it was…cute. 

“It’s dinner that you made!” he cried excitedly. “I love your cooking. You know that, Kacchan. Of course I want dinner if you’re making it!”

He scowled, beating back the stupid, flattered preening he was tempted to indulge in. “You can cook too, you’re just fucking lazy and distracted. If you don’t wanna live on ramen and burnt bread, then don’t.”

Izuku pouted at him, but Katsuki ignored him—only acknowledging him by brushing his leg as he passed by—making his way out the door a moment later. He made his way down to the kitchen, bracing himself for whatever bullshit he’d have to deal with when he got into the common room. He knew the idiots would be in there, waiting to pounce.

He screwed on his most intimidating scowl as he entered, facing forward and refusing to even spare a glance at the fucking crowd amassed in front of the TV. As soon as he appeared, the movie paused and Mina had vaulted over the back of the couch to snare him.

“What’s going on? Is he really a baby?” she squealed, latching onto his arm with an alarmingly strong grip. He glared at her.

“He’s a toddler. And he’s fucking hungry. Let go.”

“Come oooonnn,” she whined. “We’ll behave, can we see him?”

“Tomorrow, fuckers,” he snapped, pushing her off. Gently, because technically speaking, she was his friend. “He’s overwhelmed as shit right now and has no fucking clue what’s going on. We’re taking it easy tonight.”

She went still, tilting her head as she considered him. Finally, a little smile curled the edge of her lips. “Okay, fine,” she pretended to pout. “But if you need anything, let me know, alright?” 

“How’s he doing?” Hanta called from the couch. Katsuki glanced over at him—noting how tense he looked, poised on the edge of his seat like he was ready to stand up and go at the drop of a hat. He looked worried.

“He’s fine, just…not used to us. He doesn’t remember anything, so he didn’t trust us. Freaked the fuck out when we found him,” he said. “But we got him to chill, and we’re gonna be taking care of him until he changes back.” He watched as Hanta relaxed back into the sofa. “Now if you fucks are done, I’m gonna make him some fucking food.”

“He still likes soba!” Hanta called as he stomped away.

“He’ll eat whatever the fuck I make for him!” he called back. “We might not even have the ingredients for it,” he muttered as a side—finally reaching the fridge and yanking it open. He sifted through whatever he could find, deciding he’d make a quick curry for himself and Deku. 

And luckily, there were ingredients for soba. Thank fucking god Shoto always ate the same shit, no matter how old he was. 

And thank fucking god Deku would eat whatever he made, whenever he made it. He wondered if they were okay upstairs—if Shoto was still calm and relaxed tucked into Deku’s side. He didn’t understand how the nerd was so good with kids, but it sure as fuck looked good on him. It was admirable as fuck.

Katsuki was always a little worried that his bark would be too loud for them. Especially someone like Shoto, who’d gone through so much shit at such a young age.

Half n’ Half was, to his chagrin, one of his best friends. For him, and with Deku’s help, he was willing to put in the extra effort to make him feel secure. He could do at least that much.

Momo helped him carry the food up, since she needed to make stuff for Kid Candy Cane anyway. They entered the room quietly, and Momo helped them get situated—making them a handy tray table on the fly.

She disappeared to make the step-stool for the bathroom, and Deku set about cutting Shoto’s noodles into manageable bites. Something he hadn’t even thought of. Deku was soft and patient and thoughtful. Nobody knew that better than he did, and yet it was always a surprise to see—softening his edges.

“Text me if you guys need anything else,” Momo said, interrupting Katsuki’s reverie. “I left some bath toys and stuff in the bathroom, too.”

That’s right. During one of their battle simulations, they’d been on an aircraft carrier and Shoto had calmly mentioned that his mom had bought him a bath toy like that once before she broke down and burned him. He’d said it so casually, but everyone around him had gone still. 

Deku tensed for a moment, then eased again—giving Shoto a sunny smile. Tiny Thermostat was much less coordinated than Teenage Thermostat, and Deku was making up the difference now—wiping his face every few bites and helping him hold his chopsticks in a firmer grip so that the broth wouldn’t splash.

“You’re good at this,” Katsuki observed, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud until Deku’s gaze snapped to him, eyes wide with surprise. He watched, fascinated, as his cheeks darkened and his gaze went glassy.

“Kacchan?”

“Taking care of kids? Like…that’s not your fuckin’ job. But you’re patient and nice and shit. He doesn’t know you but he’s comfortable and having the time of his fuckin’ life. You’re good at this, nerd.”

Izuku blushed harder, and he looked down at his hands. He was still holding the napkin he’d been using to wipe Shoto’s face. “Thanks, Kacchan,” he replied, all weird and bashful. “You’re good with them too, just in a different way. You’re fun, you know? You’re confident and cool and they look up to you.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments, loser.”

“Yeah,” Deku smiled helplessly. “Can’t really keep them in when you’re involved though.”