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Katsuki turned the radio off, pulling boredly at his seatbelt. 

“I can’t believe you’re dragging me to your gross appointment.”

His mother huffed and flicked the radio back on, some tinny rendition of an 80s song filtering through the fucked up car speakers. 

“It’s not gross, Katsuki. It’s just the gynecologist.”

“Gross,” Katsuki insisted, turning his head to look out the window instead of fighting over the song again. Being grounded wasn’t in his plans for today.  

“Normal,” Mitsuki responded. “But if it’s so gross I can just drop you off back at home and you can walk your ass to soccer practice, hm?”

Katsuki let his head bump against the glass. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t fucking go.”

“Watch your language, brat,” she shot back distractedly, pulling into a parking spot in front of a row of brick wall buildings that all looked the same, home to a million different kinds of stupid doctors. “C’mon.”

Katsuki slammed the door shut behind himself with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you watch your language, huh?”

“Because I’m the fucking adult,” she said, walking past two separate dermatologist’s offices and a physical therapy building before striding through the right door. 

That same stupid 80s song was playing softly over the speakers. 

“Oh yeah? Well I’m a fucking teenager.”

“Barely,” she scoffed, accepting a clipboard and pen from the woman behind the front desk. 

Katsuki stomped past her and slumped into a plush green chair in the corner of the room. 

His mother sat beside him. 

“I’m fourteen and a half,” he reminded her. “I’m basically in high school already.”

Mitsuki didn’t look up from whatever the fuck she was scribbling on her clipboard of boring forms. “Funny, I seem to remember you wearing a middle school uniform this morning.”

Katsuki slumped lower in his seat. “Yeah well maybe your fucking memory is going, you old hag.”

His mother laughed. “You wish.”

“Hag,” Katsuki warned. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t realize that red-haired kid on your team asked you on a date.”

Katsuki frowned, glad he’d let his hair grow out enough to cover the red tips of his ears. “He wasn’t clear!”

Mitsuki snorted, still scribbling. “And then you-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“You won him a fish at the fair-”

“He was blowing his whole stupid budget on that game!”

“-and then when he tried to hug you-”

“He smelled like fish water!”

“-you punched him!”

Katsuki groaned, as uncaring as his mother was of the few other patrons in the small waiting room that were sending them odd looks. “I still can’t believe you blackmailed Deku for that story,” he huffed. “That stupid little stalker.”

His mother handed Katsuki her clipboard while she dug around in her purse for something. “Kid folded like a lawn chair.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, idly scanning over his mother’s answers. “You haven’t even bought me that All Might figure, jerk.”

His mother chuckled and uncapped a tube of vanilla chapstick. “It was for the greater good.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “The greater evil. I hope your lips get so dry they fall off.”

His mother clapped her lips together, tucking the tube back away next to the caramel chapstick Katsuki used, and started searching for her wallet next. “That the best you could come up with, kid?”

“Whatever,” Katsuki muttered, turning his attention back to the clipboard in his hands. “Your information’s fuckin’ wrong, by the way.”

“I’ve told you a million times Katsuki, I am not part of the demon race and, even if I was, you would be too.”

The tall door next to the front desk clicked open, revealing a doctor in a long white coat with a lime green mohawk. 

Katsuki begrudgingly respected her off the bat.

“Bakugou?” she asked. 

His mother shoved a card into Katsuki’s hands as she stood up. “Write down the insurance numbers, will you?”

“What?” Katsuki said, halfway standing up. “What the fuck do I do with this?”

“You can follow us, dear,” the doctor said kindly, losing three hundred of her cool points in the process. “I like your orange cleats.”

Katsuki immediately reinstated her cool points, preening under the compliment. 

“Ugh, don’t get him started,” Katsuki’s mother said. 

“You just can’t understand the appeal of neon because you’re old,” Katsuki told her, only somewhat nervous to cross the threshold of the waiting room into the gaping maw of whatever the hell gynecologist offices looked like. 

Katsuki expertly turned his gaze away from the posters on the wall by copying down his mother’s insurance numbers in the right section of her form. 

“You’re not 5’6,” he pointed out as they were shown into a private room.

The doctor snickered and Katsuki looked up to shoot a smug grin his mother’s way. Then he caught sight of a diorama of…something, with detachable inner parts and he immediately turned back to the clipboard in his sweaty hands, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs by the wall. 

Katsuki was 90% sure it was the part babies came out of. 

“I am when I’m wearing heels,” she shot back, climbing to the edge of the paper-covered cot in the middle of the room, “and I’m always wearing heels. Stop reading my private information, brat.”

“You literally just gave me your insurance card.” 

“Time to give it back and go wait in the hall.”

Katsuki thought of the posters littering the hallway, mouth twisting. “I remember where the waiting room is.” Then he scratched out 5’6 and wrote 5’4. “Also, you checked the wrong fucking box.”

“Katsuki-”

“You’re not infertile. Obviously,” he tacked on, gesturing at himself. Then he shuddered. 

The waiting room was seriously calling his name. 

“You’re not?” the doctor asked suddenly, pausing with only one blue glove pulled over her manicured hands (also neon green), and Katsuki wouldn’t have thought anything of it if not for the way his mother unconsciously gnawed on her bottom lip. 

Something that Katsuki refused to call concern settled in his gut like a rock. “Are you fucking sick?” he demanded, hating the way his voice cracked over the words. “What the hell?”

His mother visibly swallowed. “I’m not sick, honey.”

Katsuki squeezed the clipboard in his hands, glancing over to the doctor for confirmation and instead finding the expression of someone realizing they fucked up. 

“Are you dying?” Katsuki asked next, uncertainty causing him to bite at his own lips as he waited for a denial.

“I’ll…give you two a minute,” the doctor said, quickly sweeping out of the room. 

“What the fuck?” Katsuki said again. 

His mother slipped off the cot to kneel in front of Katsuki’s seat. “I’m not dying. Nothing’s wrong,” she promised. 

“Then why-?”

“Take a deep breath, honey.”

“I-”

“Katsuki,” she said, the firmness in her tone kickstarting a full breath from his lungs. 

“I’m not a fucking baby,” he insisted weakly, feeling both petulant and further from panic than he was a moment ago. 

His mother swiped her thumbs in soothing circles over his knees. “I know.”

Katsuki watched her take a grounding breath of her own. 

“I know,” she said again. “You’re fourteen and a half. But you’ll always be my baby, Katsuki.”

Katsuki scoffed weakly, turning his gaze away from her to blink rapidly. She never added the half, even when he insisted at the top of his lungs. 

The stupid diorama stared back at him. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked. “What the fuck are you implying, hag? I look just like you.”

His mother squeezed his knees. “That’s ‘cause you’re mine, okay?”

Katsuki snapped his mouth shut, waiting. 

His mother blinked rapidly. 

“You’re mine, Katsuki. But I-”

Katsuki closed his eyes tightly.

“But I didn’t give birth to you, baby.” 

“Liar,” Katsuki choked out. 

“Oh,” his not-mother sighed sadly, rising to sit in the chair beside his own. She pulled Katsuki against herself, stroking his hair the way she always did when he was sick. “Honey.”

“You’re lying!”

“I-” she started again, cutting herself off with a sigh and pressing her cheek to Katsuki’s forehead. 

He could feel wetness on her cheek. 

His mother never cried. 

“It’s complicated, baby.”

Katsuki tried to swallow down the lump rising in his throat, clenching his fists. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. No way his mother- his fucking genderswapped double- was telling him he was adopted right now. He had soccer practice in two hours and dad was making gyoza for dinner. Like normal.  

His mother crying wasn’t normal. 

“Did- did you use a surrogate or something?”

Katsuki hated how small and warbled his voice came out. 

“Um-” His mother’s voice sounded much the same. “Sort of?” she said haltingly. “It’s…your birth mother is…she’s technically your grandmother. My mom.”

Katsuki blinked wetly, frozen for a half second before he wiggled out of his mother’s embrace to stare at her, aghast. 

“Dad fucked your mom?”

MItsuki’s eyes widened- the same shade of red Katsuki saw in the mirror each morning- before an ugly, snorting laugh escaped her mouth. 

“What?” she asked, trying and failing to keep her laughter at bay. “N-no of course not.”

Katsuki felt some of the color return to his face. 

“Oh.”

“Is that-” she continued to laugh, “is that what you thought being a surrogate means?”

Katsuki shoved her shoulder, falling prey to a few chuckles of his own. “No.”

Mitsuki wiped a few stray tears from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, you’re killing me Katsuki.”

“Then die,” he shot back, embarrassed and crossing his arms over his chest defensively even as his lips twitched against his will. How the fuck was he supposed to know that wasn’t how it worked? 

His mother grabbed Katsuki’s face and pressed a firm kiss to his temple, brushing a few strands of hair away from his eyes.

Katsuki let her, but not because it felt nice or anything. 

With her brow furrowed and teeth clenched like she was bracing herself for war, Katsuki’s sister said, “What do you want to know?” 

Katsuki glanced down at the clipboard still balanced precariously in his lap. 

Letting a long breath out through his nose, he said, “All of it.”

*

Katsuki didn’t say anything when his mom not-mom dropped him off for soccer practice an hour later, mind still swimming with everything she’d told him in that stupid little gynecologist office. All he wanted right now was to kick the ball straight at someone’s face. 

“Kacchan!” Deku hollered, jogging across the pitch with wide eyes. 

Perfect. 

“Are you okay? You look-”

“I’m fucking fine,” he snapped. “Warm up with me.”

“O-okay,” Deku agreed, following two paces behind Katsuki as he stalked over to the bench to grab a ball. 

Todoroki, the bastard, sat on the bench next to the ball cart idly swinging his legs. Fucker’s laces weren’t even tied.  

“Faking an injury again?” Katsuki sneered. “I can give you something real to fuckin’ cry about.”

Todoroki stopped swinging his legs (and Katsuki mentally scoffed at his stupid mismatched red and blue cleats) to level Katsuki with a bored look. 

“Unlike you, I was forced into this.”

“Well unlike you, I’m gonna win fucking nationals.”

Todoroki’s face twitched with mild confusion. “But we’re on the same team?”

“I hate you.”

“Noted.”

Deku fluttered awkwardly around the two of them, obviously wanting to intervene but unsure how.

Katsuki threw the ball at him. 

Deku caught it mostly with his stomach, the breath knocked out of him, and he curled slightly over himself in pain. 

“Heads up,” Katsuki said blandly. 

Deku made a mournful little noise. “You can’t say heads up after you hit someone, Kacchan.”

Kacchan shrugged and grabbed up the ball from Deku’s limp grip, jogging over to a clear section of the pitch. He ignored Kirishima’s overly enthusiastic waving. 

“You comin’ or what?” he called, only to turn his head and find Deku had mostly kept pace with him. 

“I’m coming,” he assured, one hand over what would surely become a faint bruise on his stomach, “and I’m sorry for trying to check on your emotional state, Kacchan. Please don’t kill me for it.”

Katsuki dropped the ball and pinned it beneath his foot. 

“You don’t sound very apologetic. Goalie practice.”

Deku huffed and walked back a few paces, his hands spread wide, white gloves already velcroed in place. “Sorry, did you want a gift basket apology instead?”

“Tch,” Katsuki said, narrowing his eyes and kicking the ball far to Deku’s left. 

Deku dove and barely caught it with his fingertips, landing with a thump on the grass.

“We haven’t even decided what marks either end of the goal,” Deku complained as he stood up, wiping grass from his shirt with the ball tucked protectively under his arm. 

“Ugh,” Katsuki groaned. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, well you’re upset and homicidal so-”

“Kick the ball back already!”

“Okay, okay!” Deku said. “Geez.”

Katsuki let the ball bounce carefully off of his chest before he started dribbling it. “The ends are the white line- obviously- and that pebble.”

Deku turned his head to the side, squinting at the ground. “What pebble?”

“That one,” Katsuki huffed. “Do you need your fucking vision checked, nerd? Stop stalling already!”

“Kacchan, that’s a beetle.”

“So?”

“So it moves! Let’s find a real pebble before we-”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes and shot the ball towards Deku, aiming for center body mass. 

It made direct contact with his crotch and Deku collapsed with a choked off wheeze, both hands held protectively over his dick. Sero, practicing somewhere behind Katsuki, winced loud enough for the sound to carry. 

Katsuki frowned. 

“Should have been fucking paying attention, Deku!”

Deku whined, still crumpled on the grass, and Katsuki stomped forward to nudge him with the tip of his cleat. 

“Get up,” Katsuki demanded. 

There were crocodile tears pooling in the corners of Deku’s eyes. “You already killed me,” he groaned. “What more do you want?”

“I want your ass to get up, De-”

“I need ice.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me!”

Deku pouted (though Katsuki was fairly certain he was trying to scowl) up at him, blinking his wet lashes like he was waiting for Katsuki to take pity on him. 

Fat fucking chance. 

“Do you feel better now, Kacchan?” he challenged. Disingenuously, by the sound of it. “Because that was low, even for you.”

“It wasn’t on fucking purpose!” Katsuki complained, mildly tempted to kick him in the dick again just for the hell of it but then he’d just writhe around on the ground for longer. 

Deku closed his eyes. “Take me to the locker room for ice.”

Katsuki gaped. “No way in hell, loser!”

“Dick shot rules,” Deku insisted. 

“We don’t have-”

“Actually,” Iida interrupted, tentatively walking into Katsuki’s line of sight, “we did instate some, um, below the belt rules after Sero hit Kaminari for the fourth time last week.”

Katsuki’s mouth curled up in disgust. “So I’m being punished for Soy Sauce Face’s shit ball control?”

Iida waved his arm down like a referee. “Sero has gotten much better at ball control! But yes.”

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, swearing underneath his breath, before looking up and scanning the pitch for their coach. 

Aizawa lay on the south end in his stupid yellow sleeping bag, a bag of jelly protein hanging out of his mouth and his open eyes staring boredly back at Katsuki. Which meant no, the dick shot rules were not made up and yes, Katsuki would be expected to follow them. 

Katsuki kicked his ball as hard as he could, carelessly lifting Deku over his shoulder like a sack of annoying potatoes, not bothering to see where the ball ended up. 

“I always thought hell would be less bouncy,” Deku quipped. 

“I’ll fuckin drop you and put your dead body on ice,” Katsuki deadpanned. “How’s that for your stupid dick rule?”

“Right,” Deku sighed. “Shutting up now.”

“Good.”

Katsuki didn’t mind the rule so much when Deku wasn’t trying to antagonize him or pry open Katsuki’s can of emotional worms with a crowbar, though, and by the time they reached the right building he didn’t even feel much like biting anyone’s head off. 

Kicking open the locker room door like a badass from an American spy movie served to lighten Katsuki’s sour mood even more, and so did dropping Deku unceremoniously on the tile. He was practically calm while he rifled through their drink cooler for ice cubes to toss into a baggie for Deku’s stupid dick.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” Deku murmured as he took the bag, sparing an extra moment to squeeze some warmth back into Katsuki’s cold fingertips.  

“Yeah whatever,” Katsuki said, allowing the small gesture. 

Deku grabbed an All Might themed towel from his bag and awkwardly placed the makeshift ice pack over his shorts, face red for the first time since the whole shitshow started. 

Katsuki flopped against the opposite wall, staring at the flickering, fluorescent light panel above them. 

Deku tapped his nails annoyingly on the ground.

“What’s the deal with your old man?” Katsuki suddenly demanded. 

“My- uh…” Deku started. Katsuki could hear him scratch at his hair. “He left? Like, before I was born. Never met him.”

Katsuki hummed. 

“Why?” Deku pressed. 

“You’ve internet stalked me before, right?” Katsuki asked, turning to face Deku head on. 

“What?” Deku spluttered, color returning to his cheeks. “I would- I wouldn’t do something like- that’s so weird of you to say, Kacchan. What- what makes you-”

“So yes,” Katsuki deduced. 

Deku’s expression remained indignant for a second before the line of his mouth firmed and he said, “I can neither confirm nor deny-”

“It was when Mina made that comment about there being shirtless pictures of me online, right?”

Deku’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide. “What?”

“Don’t even bother trying to lie to me, Deku, you’re bad at it.”

“I never-”

“There aren’t any, by the way,” Katsuki felt compelled to say. 

Deku’s expression landed somewhere between betrayed and poorly nonchalant. 

Katsuki felt oddly smug. 

In actuality, Mina had been making a stupid joke and she’d had no idea Deku was walking past her at the time but Katsuki did so he grinned and said, “It was actually an experiment to see if you’d look for them and you failed.” 

Deku turned his burning face away and crossed his arms. “You can’t fail an experiment, Kacchan.”

“Well you did, so you can.”

“Why’d you even wanna know if I’d look for them?” he shot back. “You know, allegedly.” 

Katsuki frowned, scoffing. “I didn’t.”

Deku shrugged. “And I didn’t look for them.”

“Why are you making it sound like I’m lying?”

“It’s just a weird experiment, Kacchan,” he said with forced carelessness, tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

“Whatever,” Katsuki dismissed uncomfortably. “I want you to internet stalk someone else.”

Deku slightly perked up at the request. “Who?”

Katsuki gave Deku a slight once-over, lingering first on the earnest set to his face and then on the faint scar on his arm he’d gotten when they were four and Deku had gotten in between Katsuki and a particularly aggressive pomeranian. 

“My birth parents,” Katsuki admitted slowly. 

Deku’s eyes grew even wider. “But then-”

“Sister,” Katsuki supplied. 

Deku nodded slowly. “And she never-?”

“Found out sort of on accident.”

“And you’re-?”

“Fine,” Katsuki said. “Curious.”

Deku smiled faintly. “Internet challenged?”

Katsuki frowned. “I don’t waste my time on pointless shit,” he corrected. 

“Right,” Deku said, still smiling despite his pathetic attempts to bite it down. “So…what do you know already?”

Katsuki leaned back against the wall and returned his gaze to the flickering light. “My mom’s maiden name was Takahashi. Bakugou is from my dad, obviously.” Katsuki risked a glance at Deku’s overeager face and grimaced. “And gynecologist offices are evil.”

By the time the light flickered back off again, Katsuki decided would never let his mom not-mom drag him to one ever again. Not even if it meant he had to walk himself to soccer practice. 

Katsuki looked back down when he heard the ice pack clatter to the tile, warily analyzing Deku’s flushed face as he approached. 

Deku carefully offered Katsuki his hand, straddling the line between nervous and firm. “I can work with that,” he promised. 

Katsuki unconsciously pulled his lower lip into his mouth as he stared at Deku’s offered, unwavering hand. 

“I, um-” Deku said, pinching his eyes closed, “I have some experience with internet stalking, after all.”

Katsuki grinned meanly and took Deku’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “I fucking knew it.”

“Kacchan,” Deku complained, looking towards the ceiling to avoid eye contact. 

Katsuki kept hold of Deku’s hand for a second longer, warming his cold fingers. 

“Not that I needed you to confirm that, Deku. I know I’m hot shit.”

“Kacchan’s dog shit?” Deku asked with over exaggerated innocence, swiveling his wide eyed stare towards Katsuki. 

Katsuki mercilessly kicked the back of Deku’s knee to make him stumble. 

“Try that again, fucker.”

“Mercy,” Deku cried pitifully. 

Katsuki scoffed and kicked open the locker room door. “Not in this lifetime.”

*

“No, fuckface, I said her name was Aiko, A-I-K-O, not fucking Hado.” 

Deku’s hands paused over the keyboard before pointedly and aggressively backspacing. “Well then maybe don’t give me crucial information with your mouth full, Kacchan.” 

“Why the fuck did you ply me with snacks if you didn’t want me to eat, huh?” 

Bag of spicy chips in hand, Katsuki shifted the chair he’d borrowed from the kitchen table so that it jostled Izuku’s spinny office chair and sent him bumping awkwardly away from the Midoriya home computer. 

For the sixth time since he got there. 

Deku slammed his fist against the arm of the chair. “Because I have manners!” 

Katsuki popped another chip into his mouth and raised a single eyebrow. 

Deku flushed and scooted hurriedly back into position. 

“Whatever, you said her name’s Aiko Takahashi?”

“Obviously.”

“Yes, because the name of your grandma slash birth mom that I’ve never met or even heard of until yesterday is so obvious.” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “If I’d have known you were gonna be this pissy, I’d have made sure you ate before we started.” 

“I’m not hangry, Kacchan, that’s dumb.” 

“You’re dumb. Hangry ass Deku.” Katsuki tossed a chip at the side of his face and snickered at the frown it caused. “You can’t even look angry right. You look like a fucking bunny.” 

Deku’s eyes narrowed and he slowly turned to face Katsuki. “Are you saying that I’m cute? Because most people think bunnies are cute, Kacchan.”

Katsuki frowned and wrinkled his nose. “No.” Katsuki angrily crunched down on another chip. Belatedly and through a full mouth, he added, “I’m saying you’re lame.” 

Deku turned back to the computer. “Uh huh.” 

“I am!” 

“We don’t have time for your gay crisis Kacchan.”

Katsuki threw another chip at Deku’s face and noticed the way he bit down a smile, the stupid bastard. 

“I am not having a gay crisis,” he insisted, watching Deku scroll through pages of Aiko Takahashi’s on some social app Katsuki didn’t care to know the name of. “Besides,” he added, “if I was gonna have a gay crisis I’d probably have it when I realized I was on a date with a dude.” 

Deku let out an airy laugh. “Oh yeah, that was funny to watch.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes into menacing slits. “Funny?” 

Unbothered, Deku clicked to the second page of results. “Oh, but not when you tried to punch Kirishima-kun.”

“Liar, you laughed!” Katsuki exclaimed. 

Deku leaned closer to the screen to hide his growing blush. “No I didn’t.” 

“Yes you did,” Katsuki insisted. “I fucking heard you. That’s the only reason I realized you were stalking me.” 

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Deku protested. 

“Uh, what else do you call following me around all day, loser?” 

“I was concerned ” Deku tried to protest. “It was very out of character for you to say yes to Kirishima-kun’s date!”

“Why?” 

“Because you don’t like him like that,” Deku insisted simply. 

“And how would you know?” Katsuki shot back. 

Deku spared him an unimpressed glance. 

“Besides the punching,” Katsuki clarified with an eye roll. “How’d you know before, huh? Your story’s not holding up, Deku.” 

Deku shrugged lamely. “I just do.” 

“Oh yeah? Then prove it, fucker. Who do I like?” Katsuki challenged smugly. 

Except Deku didn’t fluster like Katsuki expected him to. He peeked at Katsuki from the corner of his eye and casually said, “Hmm. Me or nobody.”

Katsuki gaped and reared back in his seat to frown at Deku. “That’s real fuckin’ egotistical, dipshit.” He bit down on another chip. “And it’s nobody, by the way.” 

“I was just being honest.” 

Katsuki scoffed. “Hopeful, more like.” 

Deku’s fingers paused over the mouse. His eyes stopped scanning the text on the screen but they didn’t dart to Katsuki. “Do you…want me to be hopeful about that?”

Katsuki crammed another chip into his mouth. 

Deku didn’t start scrolling again. 

“Kacchan?” he prompted, tilting his head.

“No you ugly rugrat,” Katsuki denied. “Keep going.” 

Deku lightly shook his head. “Well that’s a new one.” 

“Ugly rugrat, ugly rugrat, ugly rugrat,” Katsuki chanted. 

Deku’s hands closed into fists again and Katsuki grinned proudly at the appearance of annoyance on his brow. “Is that a spell to make me stop being an internet stalker? ‘Cause I feel like it’s starting to work.”

“Ugh,” Katsuki huffed. “You’re no fun.”

“Bullying is not supposed to be a fun pastime, Kacchan. Just so you know.”

“I’m not bullying you.”

“I feel bullied.”

“Then why the fuck’d you invite me to your house?”

Deku’s mouth twisted while he continued to browse results. 

“Yeah, you got nothing, you ugly rugrat.”

Deku sighed. “I think you should look up bullying in the dictionary, Kacchan.”

‘Well I think you should look up degradation kink in the-”

“Okay!” Deku exclaimed, red-faced and standing abruptly from the computer. “Your turn to scroll.”

“Heh, gotcha fucker.”

“You didn’t get anything,” Deku protested, stomping away and into the kitchen. “You’re just crude and- and ugly.”

Katsuki slid into Deku’s abandoned seat and spun himself in a circle, amused by the sight of Deku trying to maintain his frown while he drank from a juice box with All Might’s face printed on it. “Yeah, real convincing, Deku. You’ve completely shattered my ego.”

“I should shatter your face,” Deku murmured under his breath while he pulled out his phone and sat at the kitchen table a few feet away. 

“What was that?” Kacchan demanded, raising a mocking hand to his ear. 

“I said I should-” Deku suddenly gasped, face burning and eyes locked on his phone. “I do not have a- a-” 

Katsuki snorted. 

Deku dropped his phone like it was made of fire and pointed an accusing finger at Katsuki. “How do you even know what that is? You don’t know how to use the internet!”

Katsuki crossed his arms. “I know how to use fucking google,” he defended hotly. “Just not all that other pointless shit.”

Deku eyed him incredulously. “Kacchan you haven’t even noticed that I already pulled up your grandma’s page.”

“You what?” Katsuki exclaimed, spinning back towards the computer to find it filled not with a row of names but a blurry picture of a cruise ship. Katsuki clicked his tongue. “You’re so fucking full of it Deku.”

“Oh my god,” Deku mumbled, striding over to Katsuki and leaning over the back of the office chair to point at the caption underneath the photo. “That’s your grandma’s username because she posted this a month ago, Kacchan.”

So excited for a lovely cruise with my husband, it said. 

Katsuki squirmed at the sensation of Deku’s breath near his cheek. 

Deku leaned over further and covered the hand Katsuki had on the mouse with his own, scrolling down to the next picture. “This is her page, where she posts things and shares ideas with the world.”

“That’s just a fucking dog,” Katsuki huffed, unimpressed. 

“And that,” Deku said, pointing near the front door in the background, “is their house number. And we know they live in Shizuoka because their location’s tagged on the page. Now,” Deku said, tilting his head to make eye contact with Katsuki, who had been looking at Deku and not the computer screen for the last ten seconds already, “we switch to the map. Can you do that for me?”

“I’m not a child,” Katsuki snapped. 

Deku smiled. “Map then.”

Deku took his hand off of Katsuki’s and Katsuki reluctantly turned back to the computer and opened a new tab, the blinking cursor staring back at him. Mocking him. 

Deku's chin perched on top of Katsuki's head. “Are we waiting for something in particular, or…?”

Katsuki frowned. “For you to stop being so lame but that’s never gonna happen.” Slowly, he typed in the letters M-A-P and hit enter. 

Deku shifted above him and it felt suspiciously like silent laughter. 

Katsuki snapped his head up so he could glare at him, the motion causing Deku’s mouth to press gently against the crown of his head. 

“What?” Katsuki demanded harshly. 

“Nothing,” Deku said gently, the crinkled corners of his eyes betraying a smile Katsuki couldn’t see. Deku’s hand fell over Katsuki’s on the mouse again. “Now we just type in those numbers and…” he said, his reach practically caging Katsuki into the office chair, “three addresses popped up in Shizuoka so we’ll just check the satellite images and see which one matches!”

Katsuki let the hand not tangled beneath Deku’s rest limply against the desk. “You’re not normal.”

Deku laughed brightly against Katsuki’s temple. “You were just born with the soul of a grandpa, Kacchan.”

Katsuki pursed his lips together. “Better a grandpa than a fucking stalker. Can you print out the address or what?” 

Deku hummed. “Yeah, technically, but there’s a price.”

Katsuki shifted in the office chair to level Deku with a bland look. “It costs like a quarter to print things at the library, dweeb.”

Deku grinned. “And in this household it costs one round of virtual soccer.” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. 

“Or you could just print it yourself,” Deku offered pointedly, hanging off the back of the office chair and pressing his cheek into Katsuki’s hair. 

Katsuki roughly shoved the chair away from the desk, causing Deku to trip and fall into a heap on the floor. “Fine,” Katsuki snapped, stepping over Deku’s collapsed form to get to his bedroom. “But I get to be All Might.”

“Why do I always end up on the ground?” Deku complained mournfully. 

“Because you’re stupid and I hate you,” Katsuki said from Deku’s doorway. “Meet me at the train station at 10 Sunday morning.”

Deku offered Katsuki a thumbs up from his place on the floor. 

*

“Kacchan I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to go right.”

Katsuki pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “We’re going straight, Deku.”

“But-”

The red hand icon turned into the walking man and Katsuki began crossing the street. “First of all, you’re holding the map upside down,” he said, rolling his eyes at the sound of frantic rustling paper behind him, “and secondly, you’re not even reading it right.”

The sound of flapping paper met Katsuki’s ears and, without having to turn, he knew Deku had dragged the map away from his face to frown at Katsuki. 

“It’s hard to tell where we are!” he complained. “I mean, where are the little pictures to guide us?”

“Great,” Katsuki deadpanned, “if we’re ever caught in a matching emergency with a bunch of fucking preeschoolers, I’ll know who to call, jesus fucking christ.”

Deku jogged forward until he was keeping pace with Katsuki, the map shoved haphazardly into his All Might fanny pack. “Kacchan, I know you’re stressed but-”

“I’m not fucking stressed!”

“But it’s not like you…need them. Right? If it turns out they suck?”

“I don’t need anyone,” Katsuki snapped. 

“Exactly,” Deku agreed, waving his hands around. “Exactly! So…there’s no need to stress about this. We can just go meet them and see what’s up and then go home.”

“...Right,” Katsuki agreed, taking a moment to roll out his tense shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Stop fucking copying me Deku, it makes you look even more like a stalker.”

Deku grinned softly. “Obviously.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Katsuki demanded. 

Somehow, Deku’s smile turned even sappier. “Like what, Kacchan?”

Katsuki shot out a leg to trip him. “Now you’re just doing it on purpose,” he complained. 

Deku stumbled over his ankle but quickly righted himself, blinking hard and fast. Bastard probably thought he was fluttering his lashes or whatever that mushy shit was. “Doing what, honey pie?”

“No.”

Deku snickered at Katsuki’s expression but quickly busied himself with pulling the crumpled map out again. “Okay, okay. So where do we go from here?”

Katsuki paused to peer over his shoulder, quickly identifying the name of the quiet, sunny street they were currently strolling down. “Left at the next intersection and then it should be the third house down.”

Deku frowned at the map, tilting both his head and the paper. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and stepped closer, jabbing their approximate location with his finger. “We’re here,” he said, drawing an imaginary line to the red circle that marked their destination, “going there. Idiot.”

“Oh,” Izuku said, looking back up at the street and lighting up when he noticed the name written on the street sign. He pointed excitedly between the sign and the map. “Oh! You’re so smart, Kacchan!”

“Yeah. I am,” Katsuki said simply. 

Deku lightly shoved his shoulder. “So humble, too.”

Katsuki smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets and tilting his chin high. “The humblest, actually.” 

“They should give out awards for that.”

Katsuki hummed, deeply amused and determined not to admit it. 

“My old hag said they’re gonna suck, by the way.”

“Oh,” Deku said uncertainly. “That’s…not great.” They turned the corner and Deku blanched. “Remind me why we’re going again?”

Katsuki paused in front of the right house, peering up at the massive three-story structure. The dog from the internet yapped annoyingly at them through the fence. 

“To find out what they’re like,” Katsuki said, “and to show them the awesome kid they’re missing out on ‘cause they fucked over my mom and gave me up.”

Deku audibly swallowed. “Oh, okay,” he said. “So a totally normal reason.”

“Uh huh.”

“Why am I here?” he asked faintly. 

Katsuki licked his lips, ignoring the slight tremor in his hands, and turned to level Deku with his most confident expression. “Because this is the only chance I’ll ever give you to be my wingman.”

Deku stared back at Katsuki with wide, soul-piercing eyes, his nerves visibly melting away to make room for his trademark stubborn determination. “Okay!” Deku exclaimed, making a fist with his hand. “I’m Kacchan’s wingman!”

“Wingbaby,” Katsuki corrected as he began to walk up the front steps to reach the doorbell. 

“Wingbaby as in wingboyfriend!” Deku cheered. 

Katsuki made a face as he rang the doorbell, hating the way Deku’s familiar, awkward flirting made him feel more sure of himself. “Wingloser.” 

“Wing-”

The door creaked open, revealing a sharp looking woman in her mid-60s. “Look boys,” she said, “I don’t want anything that you’re selli-”

Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Katsuki, then narrowed slightly when she looked back towards Deku, who stiffened under her attention like she was a particularly strict drill sergeant. 

“I don’t remember having more than one,” she said simply. 

Katsuki could appreciate her no nonsense approach even if that was her sole redeeming quality so far. “We’re a package deal,” Katsuki said, crossing his arms. “So are you gonna let us in or what?”

Aiko Takahashi pursed her lips like she was tempted to say or what and slowly opened the door wider. “I was just about to put on tea…?”

Katsuki felt his mouth sharpen into faux politeness, “Katsuki. Obviously.”

“Yes,” she agreed tightly. 

“And I’m Izuku,” Deku supplied, raising his hand. 

Aiko didn’t bother gracing Deku with a response, caught in a tense staring contest of silent wills with Katsuki. And Katsuki never fucking lost. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, brushing past her into the wide foyer to hunt down some guest slippers, putting on his best Downtown Abbey voice since they seemed like rich fucks. “C’mon Deku, we’re having tea.”

“Right,” Deku said, sliding past Aiko while keeping as much distance between them as possible and practically gluing himself to Katsuki’s back as soon as he was inside. Quietly, he whispered, “Kacchan are you sure she won’t poison us?”

Katsuki elected not to say anything, following Aiko through the winding hallways of her home before she had a chance to ditch them and have some no name butler throw them out on their asses. 

“Kacchan?” Deku asked, trailing nervously on his heels. 

“Just sniff it before you drink,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth. 

Deku let out a high pitched laugh, bringing a hand to his forehead in dismay. “Oh god she’s gonna murder us,” he whispered. 

Katsuki frowned and discreetly swatted at him. “Stop being so dramatic,” he hissed under his breath. 

“But you said-”

“This is not peak wingman behavior.”

Deku took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay, yeah. I’m Kacchan’s wingman. Wingbaby. Wingboyf-”

“The sitting room’s just here,” Aiko said, gesturing to a gaudily decorated little room with a long dining table in the center.

Deku audibly yelped.

Both Katsuki and Aiko pretended he didn't.  

“Please sit while I inform the chef to prepare a second pot.”

Katsuki smiled thinly. “We’ll be here, mother dearest.”

Aiko barely held herself back from wrinkling her nose. “Of course, and-”

“You’ll fetch good ol’ Tanabi, too, won’t you?”

Aiko’s left eye twitched. “He’s taking his lunch in the study. I’m afraid-”

“Oh we don’t mind waiting, do we Deku?” Katsuki said, slumping sideways into the nearest available seat with his legs thrown over the armrest. 

Deku sat in the chair next to Katsuki. “No, we don’t.” Belatedly, he flicked over the swan shaped napkin in front of him. 

“...Right then,” Aiko said, her sharp tone just shy of insulting as she swept out of the room. 

When her footsteps disappeared from the corridor, Katsuki lolled his eyes to stare at Deku. “You’re a real fucking delinquent, you know that?”

Deku sniffed and turned his head away. “I’m risking death for you here, Kacchan. You could stand to be slightly more appreciative.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki dismissed, eyeing the array of polished silverware and centerpieces littering the table. “Bet she’ll freak if she comes back to find a leaning tower of fine china.”

Deku grinned. The one that he only ever wore when getting into mischief with Katsuki “You’re on.” 

Katsuki blinked away the afterimage of that smile as he reached for small silver plates and started stacking them against Deku’s like a rich man’s house of cards. 

“This is peak wingman behavior, huh Kacchan?” Deku needled. 

Katsuki bit back a smile of his own. “Whatever. It’s okay I guess.”

“It’s okay I guess,” Deku repeated in a poor affectation of Katsuki’s voice, carefully balancing a third plate on top of the two they’d leaned together. “God, you’re so full of it, Kacchan.” 

“Full of what, Deku?” Katsuki goaded. “Coolness? Strength? Intelligence? Please, enlighten me.”

Deku rolled his eyes, even as he smiled. “Full of bull-”

“What are you two doing?” Aiko screeched, a maid rushing forward to disassemble their badass tower, hastily placing two full pots of tea on the table. “Those are not toys, and I will not have them treated as such.” 

“Oh?” Katsuki pressed, leaning his elbows on the table. “You don’t like throwing things away like last season’s fake leather heels?”

Aiko’s face flushed a deep, offended red. 

With all the subtlety of a circus elephant, Deku leaned back in his chair to catch a glimpse of Aiko’s shoes and snorted indelicately, even though Katsuki knew he didn’t have a clue how to distinguish between fake leather and real.

And that? That was peak wingman behavior. 

Katsuki discreetly high-fived him under the table. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aiko insisted stiffly, coming to sit at the head of the table. 

Katsuki hummed. “No, I’m sure you don’t.”

With the plates returned to their proper places, the maid quickly poured tea for the three of them. 

Deku thanked her sincerely on both his and Katsuki’s account, Katsuki having been caught in another game of pointed eye contact with Aiko, and the stupid little gesture warmed Katsuki’s bitter heart more than he was expecting it to. 

Katsuki’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for something...else from the woman who gave birth to him, despite all of Mitsuki’s warnings.

He watched the silent maid pour his birth mother’s tea and Katsuki thought about that weird little diorama in the gynecologist's office that had looked on while he bickered with his real mother- the one that loved him enough to drag him with her to gross appointments and blackmailed his favorite stalker to know more about his life and kept caramel chapstick in her purse because Katsuki hated the vanilla one. 

Aiko didn’t acknowledge the maid. Not like Deku did.

Katsuki waited until she had raised the cup to her lips to say, “I suppose selling fake shoes is harder than selling children, though.”

Aiko coughed around her mouthful. 

“You know, what with the discriminant buyer nowadays,” Katsuki continued, taking an unbothered sip of his own tea. 

It tasted burnt. 

“No one wants fake leather but the good shit? The stuff worth having?” Katsuki shrugged. “Well, I guess that goes fast, huh?”

Aiko set her glass down with a resounding clang. “Oh for goodness sake,” she said. “I didn’t sell you, and-”

“Katsuki,” he interrupted. 

“What?” Aiko said, her face showing the barest hints of distaste. 

“My name,” Katsuki explained firmly. “Or can’t you bring yourself to say it?”

Aiko sighed. “I don’t know what Mitsuki’s told you, but-”

“He said his name is Katsuki,” Deku interjected, following up his declaration with a sip that was more awkward and slurping than Katsuki’s own, calculated behavior, but Katsuki figured he could let that slide for the sake of the pride rising in his chest. 

Aiko’s eyes narrowed. “This is a family affair, boy. You’d best mind your tongue.”

“Oh, am I family now?” Katsuki asked. 

“This is ridiculous,” Aiko tittered. “What is it you want? Hm? Because Tanabi and I won’t be swindled out of a cent, young man. Your adoption was all very legal, I assure you.” 

“Say my name,” Katsuki hissed, baring his teeth the slightest bit. 

Aiko smoothed the tablecloth under her hands while she looked down her nose at Katsuki. “I have tried to be pleasant with you-”

“My name.”

“But you have demonstrated an appalling lack of manners.”

“It’s Katsuki.”

“No doubt Mitsuki’s doing-”

“Stop ignoring me!”

“So I think it would be best if you leave.”

Katsuki slammed his hand against the table. “Why won’t you fucking acknowledge me!?”

Aiko grimaced thinly. “I think,” she said pointedly, rising from her seat, “that you have the wrong house.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened, fists clenched at his sides and anger constricting his throat. “The wrong-”

“It would be best if you left now,” she said coldly.

Katsuki froze, gripping the edge of his seat so tightly he was sure the wood would snap at any moment. “What the fuck?” he whispered faintly. 

Deku rose abruptly from his own seat, pointing a shaking finger at Aiko. “I-I think you’re an awful old witch,” he announced. “And Kacchan doesn’t need you in his life, anyways. You’re the one who’s missing out on him!” 

Aiko gasped. “I beg your pardon-”

“Then beg,” Deku said harshly, one hand landing on Katsuki’s shoulder. 

Aiko spluttered incoherently where she stood, shock coloring her features. Katsuki shoved his chair back and tipped over the stupid, swan-shaped napkin in front of him before stalking towards Aiko. 

She reared back against the doorway. “Don’t you-”

“The name’s Katsuki. Fucking. Bakugou,” he sneered. “And don’t you fucking forget it.”

With that, Katsuki strode out of the room with his middle fingers raised. Then he tilted his head back and shouted at the top of his lungs, “You’re a fucking bitch, too, Tanabi! Fucking coward! My old man’s worth twelve of you!”

“Twelve!” Deku echoed. 

Katsuki kicked off his house slippers haphazardly, quickly stepping back into his shoes while Deku stumbled out onto the front porch. Katsuki followed on his heels, slamming the stupidly ornate front door behind them. 

“Fuck them,” Katsuki spat. 

Deku nodded vigorously at his side. 

“She’s a bitch,” Katsuki croaked. 

“Total jerk,” Deku agreed. 

“And he’s a coward.”

“Complete coward.” 

“And I don’t fucking need ‘em!”

“Not at all,” Deku promised. 

Katsuki turned to face Deku’s supportive gaze. “Didn’t even fuckin’ want ‘em.”

Deku shook his head, firm on this point where Katsuki was still unsure. “Not at all,” he promised. “Kacchan only wants the best.”

“The best,” Katsuki echoed, nodding his head.

Deku’s sweaty, shaking palm reached for Katsuki’s own and Katsuki let him take it. “Kacchan already has the best.”

Katsuki released a harsh breath and squeezed Deku’s hand. “Yeah. I do.” Then he shook his hand free. “I don’t want your Deku germs though.”

Deku let out a startled laugh. “Kacchan. I don’t have cooties.”

“Yes you do,” Kacchan insisted. 

“What?” Deku said. “What are you even-?”

“You’re gonna infect me with your sappiness germs and then I’m gonna be all gross and nice and shit.” 

Deku blinked rapidly against a sudden influx of tears. “You think I’m nice?”

Katsuki groaned and batted away Deku’s second attempt at holding his hands. “I said you’re infected, didn’t you hear me, crybaby?”

Deku let out a tearful laugh, still grappling with Katsuki for rights to his hand. “Crybaby as in cry-boyfriend?” he asked. 

“Not on your life,” Katsuki denied hotly. 

“Kacchan, you’re blushing,” Deku pointed out. 

Katsuki slapped his hand away again. “Well, if it’s you or fucking nothing,” he muttered, “then I guess you’re not totally awful. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Deku asked hopefully. 

Katsuki licked his lips as he considered his options, allowing his fingers to be trapped between Izuku’s once more and finding that he didn’t totally hate the sensation. Nor the person attached to those fingers. 

“You know who I like, huh?” Katsuki asked breathlessly, a revelation both new and achingly familiar pressing against his breastbone. 

He felt both four years old and fourteen and a half, hearing nothing but the racing of his own heart as Deku stepped between himself and danger.  

The force of Deku’s searching, soul-piercing gaze was softened by the way he squeezed Katsuki’s sweaty hand in his own. 

Deku smiled knowingly and murmured, “Kacchan doesn’t like anybody.”

Katsuki squeezed Deku’s hand back. “Maybe…maybe next year, I’ll-”

“I’m not in any rush, Kacchan,” Deku murmured softly. 

“I promise,” Katsuki pressed. 

Deku let his head drop to rest carefully against Katsuki’s shoulder. “It’s, uhm…it’s a little embarrassing but…I’d wait as long as you needed, Kacchan,” he mumbled. 

Katsuki swallowed roughly, Deku’s messy hair pressed uncomfortably against his cheek.

“Well, I’m not a loser so I don’t break my promises, nerd.”

Deku sighed- either in relief or contentment- and his breath tickled Katsuki’s collarbone. 

Katsuki didn’t feel like punching him at all. 

“It’s- not that it fucking matters or anything but it’s you and me, okay?” Katsuki declared. 

Deku smiled broadly against Katsuki’s shoulder before raising his head, eyes shiny and wearing an echo of the overwhelm Katsuki felt. 

“It’s always been you and me, Kacchan.” Then Deku laughed. “I guess you can have your gay crisis now.”

Katsuki lightly shoved him away. “God, what are you? My secretary?”

“Actually,” Deku said, “I didn’t have this penned in for at least another two years.”

“Penned in?” Katsuki echoed incredulously. 

Deku’s laughter took on a nervous edge. “I, uh, I mean allegedly penned in. Of course.”

“Allegedly my ass, you stupid stalker. Is that what you’ve been writing in those fucking notebooks?”

“You noticed my notebooks?” Deku asked excitedly. 

“No,” Katsuki denied. “Obviously not.”

“Obviously,” Deku agreed happily. “Kacchan, can I hold your hand again?”

“Oh, I don’t know Deku, I don’t have that penned in for another five months.”

“Five minutes, you said?” Deku heaved out an over exaggerated sigh. “I guess I can wait that long. For you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki only scoffed. And when they were both back on the subway and the mental counter in Katsuki’s head hit zero, he allowed Deku to glomp onto his fingers again. It wasn’t so bad, actually. 

Maybe it wouldn’t take a year. 

After all, Deku’s alleged schedule was fucking shit so maybe Katsuki’s could do with some adjusting, too.