Chapter Text
Katsuki couldn’t believe his fate. Like, what the fuck? He had not signed up for this when he’d gone into this job. He’d envisioned himself kicking serious asses, taking names and being badass.
He hadn’t signed up for this.
Hell, he wasn’t paid enough to handle this.
This was so freaking obviously in shitty Deku’s ballpark. It was painfully something dumbass Deku would do, with a big ass gleaming smile and a cute wave, the fucker.
But no, when the world needed the greatest hero Deku, savior of Japan and AllMight’s basically adopted son - the bloody bastard was on sick leave. Sniffling in his limited edition silver age handkerchief back home.
Not being on patrol with Bakugou. Not taking care of the task that so obviously had ‘adorable shithead’ written all over it.
From somewhere behind his back Katsuki heard the distinct noise of a photo being taken.
Great. It was going to get on some Blue Sky or other Mastodon trending page before he made it home.
Fuck his luck.
Fuck this stupid situation.
Fuck Deku for getting a cold.
There were more noises from behind him, where the sidewalk wrapped around the public park he was in. He distinctly heard people calling his name and babbling about what he was doing as if they were live commentators. It was fucking annoying, especially when a bunch of idiots started to cheer him on, as if he needed encouragement.
Damn them all. And damn the stupid brat who had flagged him. Damn her big green eyes that reminded him of the bloody snotty nerd back home, all teary and trusting as she’d reached for him to ask for his help.
And doubly damn the young woman who was either a babysitter or mother of the brat, standing nearby with the kid and holding up her phone, probably live streaming this to her social page shit as he went. He couldn’t even swear and growl at her, his PR team - and the nerd - would give him shit if he stomped on the weed of his public image they were trying to keep alive by any means possible.
A part of him thought they - and especially the nerd - would think this situation amusing and most beneficial to his public image. He’d rather handle a live bomb about to blow. At least with that he would have known what to do. Scratch that, he knew what to do in this situation, he just hated it all with a passion.
Gods, he hated his life.
He hated that it was his birthday and his partner was sick at home.
He hated that the bastard cat with orange fur and wild yellow eyes glared at him from the branch it was huddled on while he was climbing up to haul its ass down to the anxious brat who dared to yell encouragingly to it.
“Stay put Mr.Muffins, Great Explosion Murderer God is on his way to save you.”
The cat hissed at him and shifted backwards, hunkering down and laying its ears flat, its gaze promising pro hero Dynamight a battle for the ages.
The peanut gallery on the sidewalk had the balls to snicker.
Fuck his life.