Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

They get the keys to their house the second week of June.

Their house.

The house that they OWN.

It’s a little insane but so cool. They head over with a few things as soon as they finish signing all the papers – not that they’re moving in just yet or anything, but Izuku figures they can at least start slowly transporting stuff over now while they’re still baby free.

He thinks it’s a good idea, anyway. Until he catches Kacchan standing in the middle of the room they’ve decided is going to be the nursery, looking more overwhelmed than excited or anything else.

Izuku carefully sets the oversized box he was carrying against one of the walls before stepping further inside. “Hey… You alright?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says faintly. He looks around briefly, gives a small shake of his head, and then repeats more firmly, “Yeah. It’s just…really empty.”

Well…obviously. They’ve only had the keys for about an hour.

“It won’t feel that way once we get all our stuff here,” Izuku says. He sidles up next to Katsuki, slipping an arm around his waist so that he can palm the side of his stomach. “We’ll fill it up fast.”

“Sure, except right now it’s empty.” One of Kacchan’s hands twitches by his side. The other he rests on top of Izuku’s arm, clamping down, fingers digging into his skin a bit. “We’re bringing a kid here in a month and nothing’s gonna be fucking ready.”

“Technically, we’re bringing her to the apartment,” Izuku says lightly, and Katsuki immediately scowls at him, leaning slightly away as if he’s making sure Izuku can take in the entirety of his grumpy countenance. “Kacchan, it’ll be fine.”

“Moving takes time. It’s a goddamn hassle and we’ll have to unpack and I’ll barely be able to help and we’re going to have a screaming baby interrupting us every two seconds.” Katsuki sucks in a breath and his grip on Izuku’s arm tightens. “Fuck, we’re gonna be living out of boxes for months. Years. Nothing’s in place or organized, this was a fuckin’ stupid idea–”

“Hey, hey,” Izuku interrupts in a soothing tone. “It’s not just us. We’ll have help, right? My mom’s taking time off work. And your dad said he’d take care of the nursery! So that’ll probably be the FIRST room done.”

Kacchan’s eyes dart from one corner of the room to the other again. “She has so many clothes already. Where the hell is everything going to go?”

“In the furniture we picked out.” Izuku gives him a brief squeeze and then goes about trying to free himself from Kacchan’s iron claws. “Speaking of, your dad’s coming up with the tools. I don’t know if he’s going to need them, but–”

“Tools?” Katsuki swings a questioning look his way. “For what?”

Izuku blinks. “Um…” He gestures back over near the doorway where he left the box housing the baby crib. “He said he’d put it together for us.”

“We brought the crib?!” Katsuki nearly screeches, and Izuku winces, rubbing at his ear. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep at the apartment, Deku??”

“…In the bassinet your mom bought. We can put it in our room.” Izuku’s brows draw down. “I swear you were there for that conversation.”

Katsuki throws his hands up with another scowl. “I don’t even remember you grabbing that box, you think I remember some random-ass conversation we had fuck knows when?”

Fuck knows when, AKA a week ago.

But Izuku sure doesn’t say that.

“Your parents went and got it while we were picking up the keys,” is what he goes with instead. “I don’t think it would’ve fit in our car.”

Katsuki opens his mouth, pauses, and then unceremoniously lets his arms flop back down. “Oh.”

“You sure you’re alright, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, peering at him. “Are the, um…the crampy things bad today?”

“Crampy– The fuck?” Katsuki squints right back for a second before his expression smooths out. “Oh, the fake contractions bullshit? Nah.”

“Maybe you should sit down anyway,” Izuku says, nearly under his breath, but of course Kacchan hears him regardless and scrunches his whole face up, going full stink-eye on him.

Luckily, Izuku is saved from his wrath by the arrival of Katsuki’s dad.

“Hey, kids!” Masaru says, entering the room in his usual jovial way. “This place is great, you really grabbed a good one.” He claps a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, but they already greeted each other downstairs so he quickly moves on to Katsuki and tugs him in for a hug that’s half-heartedly returned in a manner befitting a teenage boy: petulant frown, one-shoulder lean into the embrace, and all. Izuku will give him the benefit of the doubt this time, though – he thinks Kacchan probably keeps his belly twisted out of the way on purpose, because there’s still something about being super pregnant around his dad that makes him a tad awkward.

Whatever the reason for his tepid response, Masaru takes it in stride. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, so he just chortles a bit before pressing a kiss against Katsuki’s temple. “This is it, huh?” he asks, after Katsuki huffs and swats him away. “Can’t wait to get started. Did you look at any of the color samples I sent you?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbles. “Got everything picked out.”

“Great! Izuku, can you help me with this?” Masaru reaches for the crib box and Izuku scrambles to grab the other side, helping move it to the center of the room for easier access. Even though he totally could’ve just one-armed it by himself. “I’ll pick up the paint and everything this afternoon so we can get started. That way it’s all done before the rest of the baby’s furniture is delivered.”

“You’re doing the crib now?” Katsuki asks, watching as Masaru kneels on the floor and starts tearing into the box.

“We can cover it so paint doesn’t get on it. No time like the present, right?”

“I guess…”

Masaru glances up at Katsuki. “Feeling alright, Kat?” he asks, and Kacchan promptly scowls at nothing and everything.

“Oh my god, I’m fine,” he says, exasperated, and Masaru shares a quick look with Izuku before shrugging.

“You sound pretty crabby.”

“I’m not crabby!”

“Okay,” Masaru says easily. He’s already pulling all the pieces of the crib out of the box and setting things aside in some kind of order that Izuku can’t decipher, without even having looked at the instructions yet. “You want to help me put this together?”

“No,” Katsuki replies, but he leans up against the closest wall and uses it for support as he slides down to the ground. “You don’t need my help, old man.”

“No, but I think it’ll make you feel better.”

Kacchan’s brow pinches inwards. “I just said–”

“I know. But you’re just like your mother.” Masaru smiles over at him, completely unaffected by the growling snarl he’s immediately hit with. “She was really restless towards the end. Kept messing with your room, even though we had it ready to go months in advance. Suddenly nothing was good enough, nothing looked right, everything needed to be shifted two feet to the left.” He laughs softly as he reminisces, and Izuku watches as Katsuki’s face slowly calms. “She had me rearrange all the furniture three times, only for it to end up exactly the way we originally had it.”

“Every time you compare me to the hag, I die a little,” Katsuki says flatly. “And every time you imply we act the same while fuckin’ pregnant, I die a LOT.”

Masaru makes an utterly unconcerned, amused little sound. “You do, though.”

“Fuck off. At least you had furniture to rearrange!”

“Yours is being delivered in a few days.” Masaru looks around and, finding Izuku still standing there, points at one of the pieces of the frame. “Can you grab that one? That’s the first piece we need.”

Izuku does as requested and then joins the other two on the floor, holding the frame in place while Masaru attaches some other piece to it. “Kacchan’s just feeling anxious because he thinks we don’t have anything ready.”

“Because I’m freakin’ right and we don’t have anything ready,” Katsuki mutters. He tips his head back to rest against the wall, and then something in his expression shifts slightly. Izuku watches him carefully, recognizing the signs that he’s become familiar with over the past week or so of Kacchan experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. The small twist of his mouth, the way his eyes narrow just a bit. The hand that he braces atop his baby bump.

He says it doesn’t hurt or anything, just feels kind of weird, but Izuku’s been on high alert anyway ever since Katsuki first told him what happened at U.A. Even though he’s been assured by both Kacchan and Doctor Tajima that this is normal and expected and definitely not anything to be worried about.

They’re just so close to the end now. Izuku can’t help feeling jittery about literally everything that signals they’re edging ever so slightly toward that finish line.

“You’ve been organizing her clothes for weeks and if we buy any more diapers, we won’t be able to walk from one end of the living room to the other,” he says gently, teasing, and Katsuki glowers at him. “If you’re restless, we could go unload the car?”

“Tch, I’m not going up and down those stairs a hundred times.” Katsuki swipes a finger along the floor and examines the nonexistent dust he thinks he picked up. “I might clean something.”

Izuku sighs. “Alright. Whatever makes you happy, Kacchan.”

“Or everything.”

“…Maybe don’t exhaust yourself, though.”

Katsuki kicks a foot out to nudge at one of the many pieces of the crib. “Gonna help my dad finish this first,” he says, and Izuku nods even though he’s pretty sure that really Katsuki just means he’s going to continue unhelpfully sitting there.

Which isn’t a problem, obviously.

Masaru’s always been a soothing presence for Kacchan, even when he pretends he isn’t.

“Where is ma, anyway?” Katsuki asks.

“Outside,” says Masaru. “With Inko. They’re talking to your friend’s mom.”

Kyouka and Kaminari got everything for their house finalized today, too. And unlike Izuku and Katsuki, they’re actually for real moving in throughout the next couple of weeks. They only have their apartment until the end of the month, so time is a bit more limited for them.

As if he’s been summoned by Izuku’s stray thoughts, a door slams somewhere downstairs and Kaminari’s voice comes echoing up through the empty halls.

“HELLOOOO, NEIGHBORS!” he yells, stomping around as he looks for them, and Izuku can’t help grinning because it feels like a preview of how the rest of their lives are going to go. “WHERE YOU GUYS AT?”

He can tell Katsuki must be thinking the same thing, because his head drops forward as he groans.

“Up here!” Izuku calls back.

There’s a soft sound of sneakers squeaking against the new floors, followed by Kaminari thundering up the stairs, and then he unceremoniously comes sliding around the doorjamb – baby in his arms and all.

Which instantly perks Kacchan up.

“Hi!” Kaminari cheerfully greets them, before doing a double take at Kacchan’s dad. “Ah – sorry, Bakugou-san. Didn’t know you were here.”

“You’re fine,” Masaru says. He shoots him a smile overtop the parts of the crib he’s constructed. “Come on in, join us.”

“Denki,” Katsuki blurts out abruptly. Kaminari glances over and snorts when he sees Katsuki’s outstretched arms. “Gimme that.”

“Give you that,” Kaminari repeats in a good-natured way, looking amused. “How about: may I have the honor of holding your darling princess, please??”

Despite his comments, though, he easily passes Kanami off to Katsuki’s grabby hands, grinning as Katsuki immediately tucks her up against his chest and smooths a palm over her back.

Masaru watches in some mix of fondness and awe, and Izuku has to wonder if it’s the first time he’s ever witnessed his son holding an infant. It probably is, right? It’s not like Kacchan ever babysat in his younger years.

“She’s beautiful,” Masaru says, and Kaminari beams. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks! We made her from scratch.”

Katsuki scrunches his nose up at him. “The fuck kinda stupid-ass thing…”

“Just telling it like it is.” Kaminari throws his arms out wide. “Anyway – how are we feeling, homeowners?!”

“Kacchan’s freaking out because he wants to nest but he can’t,” Izuku says bluntly, and Katsuki’s face abruptly flushes red.

“Oi, what the hell?!”

“Ahh.” Kaminari gives a knowing nod as he glances around the mostly empty room. “Yeah, we picked a terrible time to do this. Oops.”

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” Masaru says. “You’ll be glad you have this place once you’re all moved in and settled.”

“It’s getting to that point that’s the problem,” Kacchan grumbles. Kanami squirms against him and he adjusts her so she’s comfortably nestled in the crook of his arm.

He already makes it look so easy. Izuku still has a tendency to hold Kana-chan like she’s a piece of glass that might shatter at the slightest upset, but Katsuki’s been hanging out at Kaminari’s so often the past couple of weeks that he seems to have figured out at least the basics in how to do this whole thing. He looks comfortable, which is maybe the most impressive part.

Izuku’s happy for that, because it wasn’t that long ago that Kacchan was more panicked than anything about the prospect of becoming new parents. So he’s glad that being around Kanami has given him some peace of mind. Allowed him to practice a little, get used to it.

Except that now Izuku’s the one who feels like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

And that’s okay – he knows he’ll learn fast once baby girl arrives.

But he’s been working so hard to be Kacchan’s support throughout this whole journey that it feels a little weird to be in the final stretch and suddenly have things shift. The fact that holding Kana-chan now calms Katsuki down instead of freaking him out is wild.

“Oh, you got the four-in-one?” Kaminari asks suddenly, squatting down to examine the furniture box and all the pieces strewn about. “Nice! Is this the one that has the changing table on the side?”

“Nah,” Katsuki murmurs. His eyes are on Kanami as he rocks her a bit. “We ordered a dresser that has one on top.”

Kaminari grins. “Copied us, huh?”

“You’re kind of the unintentional guinea pigs here,” Izuku says with a soft chuckle, and Kaminari waves him off with a flap of his hand.

“No, no, I get it,” he says loftily. “Put us on that pedestal! Definitely been all smooth sailing on this side of the tracks, of course you want to recreate that experience.”

“That’s what I do when I come over.” Katsuki glances up at him and lets one eyebrow lift. “Judge every parenting decision you make and immediately come up with a way to do it better.”

“See, I don’t even think you’re joking about that.”

“Yeah, because I’m not.”

“He’s such a kidder,” Kaminari directs at Kacchan’s dad, who just snorts lightly in response. “You raised a huge comedian over here.”

“We realized he needed a good sense of humor to balance out all that sass,” Masaru says, playing along. He shoots Kaminari a look over the top of his glasses. “You can see how well that turned out, though.”

Katsuki flashes both of them the middle finger with his free hand. “Sass this, assholes.”

“Yeah, no, sass definitely won that battle,” Kaminari says dryly. Katsuki makes a face at him and Kaminari mirrors it in an exaggerated way, which quickly has Izuku erupting in a snickering fit because they both look ridiculous. “Oh, hey,” Kaminari speaks again after a moment, goofy expression clearing. “How’d your last week of work go? You’re done now, right?”

“Just at the agency,” Katsuki says. “It was fine. Uneventful.” He huffs out a breath. “Not like I was doing much there anyway.”

Kaminari blinks. “Wait, you’re still teaching?”

“He insisted,” Izuku mutters. “Said he’d be too bored otherwise.”

“I’m staying on at U.A. until the doctors cut me open.” Kanami starts fussing a little, not that Izuku blames her. He doesn’t particularly like hearing it worded that way, either. The whole idea makes him feel a little queasy, but he’s pretty sure that’s more because it’s Kacchan and less anything to do with the actual procedure. “Two days a week ain’t shit,” Katsuki continues, as he gives Kana-chan a few gentle bounces. “Doubt it’ll be an issue.”

Kaminari straightens into a more alert position, watching the pair of them closely in case he needs to intervene. “Well, hey, it’s good to stay moving, I guess.”

“As long as you don’t try to do too much,” Masaru adds.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, they won’t let me,” he grumbles. “Think I accomplished the impossible and scared the shit out of Aizawa over nothing. So he’s got everyone on high alert.”

“Hasegawa’s already asked about you,” Izuku says. “Do you talk outside of work?”

“Eh. She has my number.” Katsuki throws a quick look over to the far side of the room, then swivels his head around to frown at the doorway next. “Actually, I brought that bag she gave us. Did I leave it downstairs?”

“The – oh, the gift bag?” Izuku jumps to his feet. “I’ll go check!”

He finds the bag downstairs on one of the counters in the kitchen, and then promptly gets waylaid by all four moms before he can make it back upstairs. They pester him with a hundred questions that Izuku is sure are not important at the moment – aside from Kyouka, who simply wants to know where Kaminari disappeared to with their child, and that’s a totally fair thing to want to know.

By the time he makes it back to the others, the crib looks like it’s more than halfway assembled and Kaminari has taken over assisting Kacchan’s dad with holding pieces in place to be attached. Izuku drops ungracefully to the floor at Kacchan’s side, more excited than the situation probably calls for and with the gift bag slightly crumpled in his grasp.

“Here!” he says, thrusting it out, and Katsuki’s eyebrows arch a bit.

“The hell, what took you? Did I put it somewhere weird or something?” he asks, which wouldn’t actually be all that strange at this point. Izuku found the TV remote control in their refrigerator a few days ago, and there was one day last week where Kacchan tried to start dinner, forgot about it entirely when Izuku came home with takeout, and then the next day they found the tray of chicken thighs still uncooked in the oven because he – thankfully – had never turned it on to begin with.

“No, I got dragged into another conversation. It was just in the kitchen.” Izuku glances over at Kaminari. “Kyouka’s looking for you, by the way.”

“Ah, shit. We’re supposed to be doing stuff at the house.” Kaminari groans a little and pushes himself up to stand. “I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even started. Do you want to watch her for a bit?” he asks Katsuki, whose eyes widen slightly.

“Uh–”

“Cool, thanks!” Kaminari blurts out quickly, grinning big and wide and throwing him a pair of double thumbs up before he all but sprints out of the room.

“Fuck, wait,” Katsuki tries, but it’s too late. Kaminari is long gone. Katsuki scowls and looks down at the baby, but she seems content enough even without either of her parents nearby. She’s busy making all sorts of sounds, coos and sighs and the occasional grunt. Izuku smiles in fond amusement – she’s a noisy little thing lately. “Dammit, when the hell did I agree to babysit?”

“When you demanded to hold her, I think,” Izuku says.

“That wasn’t a free pass for the rest of the day,” Katsuki complains, but honestly, Izuku doesn’t know why he’s even trying to put up this façade. He’s got one of Kana-chan’s little hands curled around his finger and he clearly wasn’t about to pass her off for someone else to hold anytime soon.

“You’re really good with her,” Masaru says.

Katsuki grumbles under his breath a bit and goes pink across the bridge of his nose. “I just…got used to holding her, is all.”

Izuku shakes the bag to draw Kacchan’s attention back. “Do you want to open this or can I?”

“You can,” Katsuki says. “I threw some of my stuff on top, just toss it aside.”

After a quick check with Masaru to make sure he doesn’t need any additional help with the crib at the moment, Izuku eagerly dives into the gift bag. He first pulls out several small, stuffed, round…things – “Penguins,” Kacchan grumpily tells him – and carefully sets them on the floor. There’s a decent amount, and he can guess from the colors that they’re meant to represent some of their friends.

“You made these?” he asks, turning a half-pink one over in his hands. The body is an intricate swirl of teal and purple, which, if Kacchan crocheted it himself, is actually pretty impressive as far as Izuku is concerned.

Katsuki snorts, though. “If it looks like it required any skill at all, it’s one of Hasegawa’s.” He points at a couple dual-colored penguins that have a solid head and body. “The black and white one is me, that’s Sero. Navy and red is Edgeshot, blue and yellow is Denim Head, green is Frogger. There’s a half-finished Todoroki somewhere, but I tried doing three colors on that one and it was looking fucking stupid last time I was working on it.”

Aside from those, there are several others that look perfect and cutely detailed. A red and black one for Kirishima, yellow with black lightning bolts for Kaminari, purple and black and pink for Kyouka. A few have little beads for eyes, but it looks like Hasegawa probably switched to stitching the eyes on halfway through when it became apparent that these might eventually end up in the hands of a toddler.

“I didn’t know you can knit,” Masaru says, as Izuku continues to unearth more little penguin friends. “Is this why you suggested a penguin theme for the nursery?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says gruffly, looking a tad embarrassed. He pauses for a beat, then adds: “It’s crochet, actually.”

“Oh.” Masaru blinks. “My apologies, then.”

“Work was boring, okay??” The tips of Katsuki’s ears go red. “I’m not built for desk work shit. Hasegawa got me started on all that and it was a good way to pass the time–”

“Whoa, hey,” Masaru interrupts, holding up a hand. “Does it look like I’m in any way judging you?”

“…No.”

“So take a breath.” The look Kacchan’s dad gives him is exasperated, but still full of warmth. “You always did like to keep your hands busy. I’m not surprised you found a new hobby to keep you occupied.”

“It was a temporary hobby,” Katsuki grumbles, before nudging at the gift bag again. “Keep going.”

There are still four more stuffed penguins in the bag. Three of them slightly larger than the rest, and one even smaller.

Izuku’s not surprised that one of them is crocheted in All Might’s colors. Red, blue, yellow, white – all represented in thick stripes banded around the penguin’s body. The last two big ones are equally expected after seeing the rest, but easily Izuku’s favorite. One black and burnt orange with hints of forest green, the other dark teal and black with red highlights.

The final penguin, the one that’s the tiniest of the lot, is a swirling mix of yellow and green. Katsuki makes a soft sound when Izuku pulls it out of the bag, and he glances up to find the other man staring at it, wide-eyed.

“That one’s new,” Kacchan says, sounding a bit choked. “That sneaky bitch.”

“Language,” Masaru chides.

Izuku cups the baby penguin in his hands. “It’s so cute!” he says in awe. “Kacchan, look, it’s our whole little family.”

Katsuki makes another strained kind of noise. “Yep. See that.” He drags the heel of his hand across one eye and mutters stubbornly, “I’m not crying, shut up.”

Masaru reaches around the crib to pat his shoulder as Izuku chuckles under his breath and continues pawing through the bag.

Hasegawa did way too much.

Beneath all the crocheted animals are several beanies in a variety of colors. Two that again match their hero branding and an additional two in pink. They’re different sizes, Izuku notices, which is super thoughtful considering the baby’s due in July when they likely won’t be very necessary.

After that is a baby blanket patterned with varying shades of teal and orange zigzagging the length of it. And below that is yet another crocheted blanket, bigger this time, that’s made up of angled stripes in soft pink, blue, and yellow pastels.

“Oh my god, she’s insane,” Katsuki hisses, dragging the large blanket over. “No wonder she didn’t want us opening this in front of her, she knew I’d lose my fucking shit.”

“It’s all incredibly thoughtful,” Masaru says. “She really did all that herself?”

“She crochets on her lunch break.” With his free hand, Katsuki piles the blanket up until it forms a little nest and then gently rests Kanami on top of it. “I’ve seen her work, I know she’s fast, but god.”

“Everything is so soft,” Izuku murmurs. He runs his fingers over the teal and orange blanket. “These are really beautiful.”

“It’s too much!” Katsuki insists as he continues fussing with Kanami until he’s apparently decided she’s adequately protected within her new blanket walls. “She’s crazy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to thank her when I see her tomorrow.”

“That’s it, right?”

Izuku peeks into the bag. “Ah, no. Looks like one more thing.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Katsuki mutters. “Fine, what is it?”

The final item is wrapped in red tissue paper, so it’s not until Izuku rips into it that they catch a glimpse of what’s hiding within.

Both Izuku and Katsuki promptly gasp in unison.

Masaru just sighs a little.

It’s an All Might plushie – crocheted like everything else, a little floppy, and clearly decked out in his Golden Age uniform. All the details are there, from the design of his costume to the bunny-eared yellow hair pieces sticking out from his head. There’s a wide grin stitched across his face, and Izuku is absolutely, immediately obsessed.

“Oh my god!” he cries, clutching at the doll like he’s six years old instead of twenty-one. “Oh wow, this is so cool! Kacchan, look!”

“I would, but you’re fuckin’ hogging it.” Katsuki leans forward as much as his rounded stomach will allow, trying to swipe it from him. “Let me see!”

“Look, look!” Izuku says again. He thrusts it into Kacchan’s hands. “It’s amazing – like having our own unique All Might merch!”

Katsuki quickly examines the plushie from all sides and angles. His eyes are bright as he takes it in, excitement etched across his features. “I’m really gonna kill her. How’d she do this?”

“I wonder if she found a pattern for it or just made it up herself?” Izuku bows his head near Kacchan’s, eagerly looking it over, as well. “It’s so great.”

“You realize it’s probably intended for the baby,” Masaru says dryly, and both Izuku and Kacchan freeze. “Right?”

Katsuki clears his throat. “Well. Yeah.”

“If she likes All Might,” Izuku starts to say, but Kacchan cuts him off with a forceful: “Oh, she’s going to like All Might.”

“Piece of advice,” Masaru speaks up again. “Don’t pin your hopes on her liking any of the same things you do. It’s possible she might, but it’s also very likely she’s going to develop entirely different interests. And it’s fine if she does.”

Izuku can feel the pouting frown tugging at his mouth, which has got to be stupidest thing ever for his face to be doing right now, but Masaru’s growing amusement tells him that Kacchan’s probably making the same expression he is.

Because they’re both stupid, honestly.

“Hey, none of your parents were that into heroes when you two came along,” Masaru reminds them. “If I’d tried to force an interest on Katsuki, then he’d probably be some kind of world-famous fashion model right now. But he didn’t care about any of that, so here we are.”

Katsuki huffs and grumbles something under his breath, while Izuku becomes momentarily distracted by the idea of Kacchan being a model.

Like, they’ve each done their fair share of billboard photoshoots for hero advertisements and Izuku can barely handle that. Kacchan’s sculpted muscles and intense gaze smoldering down at the public in all his three-story tall glory is bad enough when he’s just in his hero gear. Izuku can’t imagine seeing him plastered everywhere in open button-downs and boxer briefs or something. He might actually die.

“She’ll probably get drool and slobber all over this thing,” Katsuki says, still eyeing the All Might plush. “Guess that’s what washing machines are for.”

“Are we seriously sad about not being able to claim an All Might doll as ours because it’s technically going to belong to our daughter?” Izuku asks.

Katsuki snorts. “Yeah, kinda.” He shakes the plushie at Izuku. “Look at it!”

“I know,” Izuku says mournfully. He closes his eyes. “I can’t look at it, actually. I’ll want to take it home. Put it away!”

“This IS home, I guess.” Katsuki checks on Kanami briefly, but she’s unbothered by their dramatics as she snoozes away in her blanket nest. So he leaves her be and uses the wall for support as he struggles up to his feet.

Kacchan’s dad is just about done with the crib. He’s finishing up tightening the last bolts on the mattress support when Katsuki lumbers over to check out his progress.

“Look, Kat,” Masaru says. He points along the railing. “You can lower the mattress as she gets bigger, see? That’s what all these different holes are for.”

“It looks great!” Izuku gushes from where he’s still on the floor, scooted up next to Kana-chan so he can keep an eye on her. “Thank you so much for doing that for us.”

Masaru smiles at him. “Of course. Can’t wait to get started on the rest of the room.”

“I don’t even think I had a crib when I was born.” Izuku starts gathering up all the little crocheted penguins, holding them out for Katsuki to take. He places them in the crib one by one, crowding them around the All Might plushie that’s also found a new home there, and Izuku tries not to look too disgustingly smitten by his actions. “Mom said she did the co-sleeping thing with me until I was, like, at least two.”

“That checks out,” Katsuki says, as he places the last penguin. Izuku offers him the teal and orange blanket next, and he carefully folds it before hanging it over the railing of the crib. “The hag wouldn’t dare.”

“She kept you by the bed for the first few months,” Masaru points out. “Honestly, I think I was the one who suggested finally putting you in your own room.” He rubs thoughtfully at his chin as he remembers. “You were the fussiest sleeper, it was easier to stay with you in shifts so we could each get some decent rest.”

Izuku arches his eyebrows at Kacchan. “Great, that’s reassuring.”

“Tch, whatever.” Katsuki scowls, folding his arms across his chest and looking a bit pink. “I probably wasn’t that bad. Anyway, maybe she’ll take after you!”

That last word is barely out of his mouth before Kacchan clearly hears himself and stumbles to a halt, eyes narrowing to a scrunched squint as deep regret flashes across his face.

Izuku just lets out a snorting laugh.

“Sure, because I wasn’t a total crybaby or anything, right?”

“I forgot,” Katsuki says, utterly deadpan, and that just makes Izuku laugh even more loudly.

They’re piling the remainder of the box and other packaging together to take to the trash when Mitsuki and Inko seem to decide they’ve all been left to their own devices for long enough. Izuku’s normally not one to comment on the decibel level that only seems to be attainable by moms on a rampage, but he has to admit there might be some truth to Kacchan’s constant complaining about his mother being a banshee – Mitsuki is definitely skilled in a way that few others probably ever will be.

“KATSUKI!” she screams up the stairs, startling all of them – including Kanami, who jerks awake in Izuku’s arms. “IZUKU! INKO AND I UNLOADED ALL THE SHIT FROM YOUR CAR SINCE YOU COULDN’T BE BOTHERED TO DO IT YOURSELVES. YOU’RE WELCOME!”

Katsuki curses as Kanami’s little face twists up into the beginning of a wailing cry. “Fucking seriously?” he grouses, glaring over at the doorway. “We’ve got the baby up here, ma!”

There’s a brief pause before Mitsuki shouts, “SO WHY ARE YOU YELLING?”

“I’m yelling because YOU’RE yelling!”

“YOU’RE THE ONES WITH THE BABY.”

“YEAH, AND NOW YOU’VE WOKEN HER UP!”

“WHATEVER. WE’RE TAKING KAMINARI-SAN TO GET COFFEE.”

“Oh my god, JUST FUCKING GO.”

“This brings back memories,” Masaru says lightly, while Izuku frantically shushes Kanami and tries to calm her down.

“Kacchan,” he hisses. “That’s so unnecessary, just go downstairs and talk to her!”

Katsuki makes a face, his lower lip jutting out. “She could’ve come up here.”

“You made Kana-chan cry!”

“Yeah, well.” Kacchan has the decency to look a bit sheepish at that. He palms the back of his neck. “At least we can give this one back.”

“KACCHAN.”

“I’m just saying!”

* * *

Katsuki’s busy rotting on the couch in a pair of gym shorts and nothing else when Sero calls him.

It’s Monday, so he doesn’t have anywhere to be. And it’s fucking humid out – he can feel the early summer heat seeping in through the apartment walls even with the air conditioning chugging away. It’s barely helping at this point, to be honest, but it’s doing its damn best.

Katsuki, meanwhile, is completely fucking over life. He feels like a beached whale and looks like a hot fucking mess. Belly hanging low over his shorts, headband pushed back against his bangs. The pressure against his pelvis these days is insane in the weirdest way. Like, he can actually physically tell his kid’s position has shifted. She’s dropped lower in useless preparation to make her escape (out of an impossible exit – no thank you, absolutely fucking not), but on the bright side, that means he at least feels like he can actually sort of breathe again now that she’s not fighting for living space behind his goddamn lungs or some shit.

Still. It’s uncomfortable and it’s making him cranky, and the Braxton Hicks contractions sure don’t fucking help.

Usually, they’re just kind of annoying. If even that. Once he knew what to expect and the experience in general was no longer a surprise, they really weren’t much of a problem at all.

Katsuki doesn’t know if he’s just having an off day or if it’s some combination of all of the above, but there’s something about the way his belly occasionally goes tight today that’s extra pissing him off.

There’s an array of snacks on the coffee table in front of him. Mostly veggies, because he’s trying to be fucking normal about his pregnancy eating habits for once, but also a bag of roasted chicken wing flavor potato chips.

Because he can.

Because he’s pregnant, okay, fuck off!

He’s really not expecting his phone to ring considering it’s the middle of the work day.

He expects even less to see Sero’s name flash across the screen, because it’s a WORK DAY and he’s supposed to be out hero-ing and shit, and also Sero almost never calls him.

Which is why it’s immediately concerning. He’s only calling if he’s got something important to tell him and – shit.

Katsuki’s heart leaps into his throat as he scrambles to answer the phone.

“Midoriya’s okay,” is the first thing out of Sero’s mouth, almost before Katsuki can even say anything. Like he knows that just hearing the phone ring might be enough to send Katsuki into a panic spiral. “He’s fine, minor injuries, just some scrapes and bruises.”

And that’s a relief to hear, sure, but it’s not as reassuring as it should be.

Because it means something else happened.

Katsuki inhales slowly, trying to keep himself calm. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “Okay, and everyone else?”

It’s really strange being so disconnected from his usual profession. Even months into purposely taking himself fully out of the game, it’s jarring to find out shit’s gone down secondhand and not through his comms or because he was actually there.

He knows stepping back was the right move.

But it also sucks hearing about everything after the fact.

“We’re all fine. Awase might have a broken arm, they took him for X-rays. That’s it, though.”

If it wasn’t any of them, then–

Katsuki takes another deep breath and releases it in a forceful exhale. “What happened?”

Sero hesitates for a moment, but he knows better than to keep Katsuki waiting.

“We lost some civilians.”

Fuck.

Katsuki grimaces as Sero continues, “Two of them, a mom and her daughter. It was just…really bad timing, we couldn’t get to them and – shit, man.” He puffs out a rough sounding sigh. “Midoriya didn’t want me to tell you. He said it wasn’t worth stressing you out or anything, but…you know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki murmurs. Deku always takes these kinds of incidents almost personally. Like he thinks he should be able to be literally everywhere all at the same time. It’s something Katsuki’s still trying to work on with him.

“I figured you’re better off knowing. Because he’s gonna show up later trying to act like he’s okay and you know he’s not.”

“He’s an idiot like that.”

Too determined to be Katsuki’s rock right now. And he has been. For months now he’s been the one single thing getting Katsuki through this entire shitshow. His warmth and confidence and pure excitement about their future family is what gave Katsuki the courage to decide he could do this at all, and he’s been relying on that steadfast support throughout all the ups and downs of the crazy journey he’s been on.

They’re normally a lot more balanced in how they prop each other up. There’s an equal give and take between them, each drawing from the deep well of strength in the other when they need help or comfort or care. And maybe they’ve just been lucky that there haven’t been a ton of huge villain incidents in the last few months – or none that have been casualty events, anyway. They’ve been able to scrape by with Katsuki being mostly out of the picture. Deku’s been able to scrape by. He’s been flying solo while still making it home every night to attend to Katsuki’s needs.

Katsuki doesn’t think he’s been some kind of selfish leech sucking Deku dry ever since their firecracker made herself known, but he’s definitely self-aware enough to realize he’s been sort of hyperfocused on his own shit. But for Deku to think he’s better off NOT knowing about something? For Deku to be more concerned about protecting Katsuki’s state of mind than his own, for him to set aside his own need for any kind of comfort rather than put some of that weight on Katsuki?

Oh hell no.

Katsuki’s not playing that game.

If Deku needs him, then he’s damn well going to be there.

“Hey,” Katsuki says suddenly. “Are you good, Sero?”

“Eh…you know.” Katsuki can practically hear his shrug down the line. There’s a shaky tremor to his voice. “Mostly. But also not really.”

“How much longer ‘til you guys can clock out?”

“We’ve gotta debrief still, and then you know we’ll have meetings all day tomorrow about it.” Sero sighs again. “But today – couple hours, I guess?”

“Just gotta get through it,” Katsuki says in a gruff rumble, about as gently as he can manage. “Fuckin’ sucks, sorry I wasn’t out there with you.”

Sero huffs out a humorless laugh. “That would’ve been a sight.”

“Oi, I don’t mean me now.” Katsuki scowls. “Like – last year me.”

“I know, I know,” Sero says, but at least he sounds somewhat amused now. “Listen, dude, I gotta run. Don’t worry, Shouto already knows. He’s waiting for me, I won’t be by myself or anything.”

“Gross,” Katsuki snarks on purpose, and this time Sero snickers. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Yep. Fingers crossed Midoriya doesn’t kill me for it.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t. See ya.”

“Later, Bakugou.”

Katsuki hangs up and makes an effort to pull himself together, but it’s more difficult than it should be.

Look, he’s kept himself busy on purpose. There’s a reason he’s still doing two days a week at U.A. Why he’s done his best to stick to his modified workout schedule, why he’s barged in on Kyouka at home so much, why he’s tried to stay active. He doesn’t DO the couch potato thing very often and never has. He’s usually not good at sitting still for too long and he wasn’t about to let being pregnant become some kind of all-encompassing excuse to do jack shit.

But he is not feeling it today.

It happens sometimes. Despite trying so hard to stick to certain routines, Katsuki’s also had to learn to be gentler with himself. His body’s been going through a fuckton of bullshit and some days it knocks him all sorts of off balance and that’s OKAY. It’s okay if he takes a break. It’s probably even good for him if he does.

That reality is sometimes still a harsh slap to the face, though – when he wants to do something but simply can’t.

This moment right now feels like it’s trying to be a simply can’t situation, but Katsuki forces himself. Powers through it. Cleans up his lazy slug day mess and pulls out the ingredients to start dinner. He’s still hit with the occasional cramping in his lower belly, maybe a bit more intense than usual, but it’s fine.

He can keep his shit together for Deku.

A few hours pass before Deku comes trudging in through the front door. He looks worn down, paler than he should be and without his usual spark, but he still dredges up a smile for Katsuki when he comes around the corner from the kitchen to greet him.

“Hey, Kacchan,” he says tiredly, dropping his bag at his feet and haphazardly kicking off his shoes. “That’s, uh… That’s a look.”

Katsuki never bothered finding a shirt. His skin’s weirdly sensitive today, so he just threw on an apron to cover his baby bump and, honestly, even that’s almost too much. He’s still got his hair pushed off his forehead, a pair of chopsticks in his hand – he’s sure he’s giving off some kind of domestic housewife vibe, but he doesn’t fucking care.

(The apron’s an old gift from Kirishima, one that has the words Cooking With Dynamite! plastered across the chest – yes, dynamite, not Dynamight, it’s not a brand deal – and a bomb with a lit fuse underneath that rests right on the curve of his stomach. Which is fucking dumb, you’d think it would just have a stick of dynamite on it or something. But it reminds him of the stupid pictures Deku found online of people who painted bombs on their super pregnant bellies for one photo and then paired it with a second image taken later where they were holding a newborn while comically singed and smoking.

Deku had looked kind of hopeful when he showed those to Katsuki, but he shot that shit down fast. And then felt like a dick after, but no. Just no.)

“I’m cooking,” Katsuki says, completely needlessly, but Deku’s eyes go wide and he tips his nose up to sniff at the air. Cautiously, Katsuki notes. Fuckin’ rude. “Oi, knock it off! I didn’t add anything weird, dammit.”

“And you didn’t burn anything down?”

“I left the burner on one time–”

“I’m kidding, Kacchan.” Deku reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek before brushing past to head toward the kitchen. “You’re usually the better cook between the two of us. Trust me, I’m always as shocked as you are whenever things go sideways.”

“Hey, the spicy peanut butter ramen was a real recipe, you ass. I didn’t even make that one up.”

“You say that, but it smelled pretty suspicious.”

Katsuki harrumphs and moves to check on the rice while Deku leans up against the doorjamb, a small frown tugging at his mouth. Everything else is already done and the scent alone probably makes it obvious what he decided to go with tonight.

“Did you make…katsudon?” Deku asks, and Katsuki shoots him a sharp grin over his shoulder.

“Yep.”

“But you haven’t had pork in months.”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ eating this.” Katsuki waves his chopsticks at the steamer. “Vegetables and rice for me.”

Deku just stares at him, brow slightly furrowed now like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

And then all at once, he groans.

“Who told you?”

“Sero,” Katsuki says easily, as he starts serving up heaping portions of food. “Since apparently you weren’t going to.”

“He should’ve minded his own business,” Deku mutters, voice tight, and Katsuki snorts.

“I’ve been saying. He’s a sleeper busybody, can’t keep his nose out of anything.” He triple checks the stove, the burners, the rice cooker, fucking every appliance they have to make sure nothing’s still turned on or doing shit it shouldn’t be, then carries both of their plates out to the living room.

It takes Deku a minute to follow him, but that’s okay. Katsuki has a feeling he’s trying to firm up his unbothered appearance – a useless endeavor, honestly.

Katsuki knows him. He can see right through that nonsense.

“I didn’t want to…” Deku trails off. A myriad of emotions flash across his pinched face. “I’m okay, Kacchan.”

“Mm.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Katsuki waves at the spot on the couch next to him. “You gonna sit down or what?”

Another moment passes, but eventually Deku’s expression crumples. He drops onto the sofa and bends forward into Katsuki, face seeking out the curve of his neck and fingers clutching at his stupid apron. Katsuki hears the shuddering exhale that escapes him and quickly wraps one arm around his shoulders, his other hand burying itself in thick, green curls.

“Sorry,” Deku gasps out wetly, trembling against him. “I’m sorry, Kacchan, I didn’t want to – I didn’t – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Katsuki murmurs in a gravelly rumble. He pulls Deku in closer until the man’s forced to draw his legs up onto the couch, curling into himself and tucked safely against Katsuki’s side. “And don’t think you have to keep things from me.”

“I don’t! I just–” A frustrated sound tears out of his throat. “It shouldn’t have even happened, I should’ve been able to – to do something, I should’ve BEEN there–”

“You can’t be everywhere,” Katsuki says softly, and Izuku groans.

“But I could’ve been there. If I’d – if I’d been paying better attention, I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve saved them!”

“Izuku…”

Katsuki doesn’t tell him it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t say there’s nothing he could’ve done, doesn’t try to brush it off. Empty platitudes never help and it’s not like Katsuki has all the details anyway.

But he can hold Deku close. Rub a hand soothingly up and down his back and let him mourn, even as the nerd tries to clench his teeth against whatever tears are attempting to burst out of him.

“I didn’t want to put this on you,” Deku mumbles. He shifts slightly, turning his head so that he’s more just resting against Katsuki’s shoulder, then drags the heel of his hand across his damp cheek. “You have enough going on.”

“I don’t have shit going on, are you kidding?” Katsuki scowls. “Ask me what I did today.”

“…What’d you do today?”

“Made a perfect imprint of my ass on one of these couch cushions.” Deku glances down and then behind him like he’s trying to find it, and Katsuki gives one of his curls a sharp tug. “Don’t bother, it’s gone now. You sat on it, it’s ruined.”

“Ah, damn. Unfortunate.”

“Izuku.”

“Hm?”

“I’m never gonna be so overwhelmed with my own shit that I can’t make room for you, too.”

“…I know,” Deku whispers. “Just – I feel like I’m supposed to be supporting you right now.”

“Dumbass.” Katsuki combs his hand through Deku’s hair before giving a lock another tug. “That doesn’t mean I can’t support you back. It’s not one or the other. I get to take care of you, too.”

He feels Deku nod against him. Hears him sniff before releasing another shaky sigh. “Today really sucked, Kacchan.”

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki says. “You wanna tell me what happened, or…?”

“No.” Deku swipes his hand over his eyes again. “Not right now. She, um.” He swallows. “The daughter. She was only seven.”

It’s always the fucking worst when it’s a kid.

“Okay,” Katsuki murmurs. He stretches a leg out, trying to hook it beneath the coffee table with little success. “Come on, you need to eat. Blackwhip that shit over here.”

Deku snorts out a small huff of a laugh and does as told, sending out some Blackwhip tendrils to pick up the plates so that neither of them has to pull away from the other to do it themselves.

“Food, then bath and bed,” Katsuki says decisively. He watches to make sure Deku takes a bite before shoveling some rice into his own mouth. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

“You just want an excuse to use your fancy shampoo on me,” Deku says, tone dry.

Katsuki ignores that completely accurate accusation.

“We can do face masks, too.”

“Kacchan.”

“You need one! Or your eyes will be all puffy tomorrow.”

“I’m not crying,” Deku says stubbornly.

Katsuki squints at him, but he’s not wrong. He’s all sniffly and his eyes are wet, but it looks like he hasn’t really let himself break yet. “You can.”

“Later.” Deku lets Blackwhip hold his plate for him and slips an arm under Katsuki’s apron to curl around his stomach. “How she’s doing?”

“She’s fine. Everything else is shit.”

“Two weeks,” Deku says, and Katsuki feels his heart literally jolt in his chest.

“Yep,” he says faintly. “Two weeks.”

Two weeks.

Hah.

Yeah fucking right.

Since it was a garbage kind of day all around, Katsuki doesn’t make a fuss when Deku snuggles up too close to him in bed that night. He just kicks off the covers and lets it happen, because he has a weird sense that he’s not going to get that much sleep anyway. His hips are aching and the pressure in his stomach – below his stomach? Below his fucking lame-ass uterus, down somewhere in his pelvis, keeps waking him up every time he manages to drift off.

He feels alright the next morning, though. Lack of sleep aside. Being tired isn’t enough of a reason for him to try blowing off U.A., so he drags himself off to work and pushes through the day with as much enthusiasm as he can muster.

Which is basically none, but whatever.

A few of the other teachers notice. Tsuyu checks on him a couple times and he has to stop himself from biting her head off. Aizawa definitely gives him more than one wary look.

It’s like they all think he’s about to pop or something, which is dumb as hell. He’s not due until July, and besides, he’s pretty sure he’d know if his body was about to pull some shit.

At least, he assumes. Or hopes.

His confidence gets knocked down a peg once he’s home and digging some fruit out of the fridge to snack on, because what he thinks is the beginning of a Braxton Hicks contraction swiftly balloons into…more. It catches him off guard in its intensity, the way the cramping seems to throb in his gut until he actually has to grab onto the counter to steady himself. And it doesn’t stop – Katsuki didn’t think to time it or anything, but he’s pretty sure it’s past the minute mark by the time the feeling starts to fade away.

So that’s fucking great.

He frowns down at his stomach once it’s over, trying to decide if he should feel alarmed or continue hoping it was a fluke.

It’s not unusual, right? Braxton Hicks, early contractions, false alarms, all that shit happens leading up to the real thing. He’s fine! This is normal.

Roughly twenty minutes later, it happens again. Only this time, the cramping and the pressure squeezing inside of him builds up and up and up until it tips right over the edge into something that’s borderline painful.

Katsuki’s felt a lot of different types of pain in his life. He’s a pro hero, for fuck’s sake, he’s used to taking minor hits on the daily and shrugging off the injuries that want to linger. He’s been punched, kicked, shocked, burned, thrown into concrete, slammed into walls, literally fucking shish-kebabed in multiple places at once, and he’s always come out the other side stronger for it.

This feels different in a way he can’t even begin to explain. It hurts but it also kind of doesn’t. It’s a lot, edging into too much, only to slowly disappear again. There’s an aching in his lower back that pulses in time with the sharp discomfort that spreads throughout his abdomen, all of it bearing down on him and dragging the seconds out.

Rapid-fire information flashes through his brain. Research he’s done on his own, shit Doctor Tajima’s told him, things Deku has read, all about what he should be doing or paying attention to, how long he should wait before…before what? Before doing something, he guesses, but he doesn’t want to do anything because he’s not fucking ready for this to ACTUALLY be happening.

He should probably call Deku.

Except, again, he kind of doesn’t want to in case this is all nothing.

It’s probably nothing, so why should he bother Deku when he KNOWS today is already going to be tough for him?

…And yes, he’s absolutely aware of the irony there. That he’s avoiding putting any additional burden on Deku right now when just last night he was lecturing Deku for doing the same thing with him.

Fuck, ow, okay, that’s another wave of pain slicing through his belly. Even more intense than the last two rounds.

What’s that – four times now? In the last ninety minutes or so. They’re definitely spread out, which he thinks is the biggest clue that this isn’t actually anything yet.

Katsuki forces himself to breathe through it, eyes closed, hand braced against the wall for support. He’s been pacing restlessly around the apartment since the first – contraction or whatever. If that’s what it is. But it’s probably not.

Moving seems to help, though.

He should really call Deku.

Just give him a heads up, right?

…

Katsuki calls Kyouka instead.

“How do you know if you’re having real contractions?” he blurts out the second she picks up, cutting off whatever greeting she might’ve had.

It’s silent for a moment, until she goes: “What?”

“Contractions!” Katsuki repeats forcefully. He sounds a bit manic, can hear the way his voice slips up an octave, and shit. No, he’s not freaking out right now. He’s not doing that.

“Oh my god,” Kyouka says. “Are you – wait, are you in labor?”

“No.” Katsuki grimaces and rolls his shoulders, trying to stretch the tension out of his frame. One hand unconsciously kneads into his lower back. “It’s too early, I can’t be.”

“I mean…that doesn’t really matter. You’re, what, thirty-eight weeks? Thirty-seven?”

“Thirty-seven,” Katsuki grumbles. “And, like, two days.”

“Okay. So it could be a number of things at this point.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Kyouka laughs a little. “Listen, it all sucks. But you’ll be fine. If it’s time, then it’s time.”

“It can’t be time,” Katsuki insists again. “I can’t just fucking go into labor, Ears – there’s nowhere for her to go!”

“Oh, right.” Kyouka pauses. Katsuki can hear her fussing with her baby and murmuring something to someone else, before she speaks again. “Bakugou, is Midoriya with you?”

“He’s at work.”

“…Have you called him?”

“No. Didn’t wanna worry him.” He winces a bit. God, he’s a hypocrite. “He’s in meetings and shit, they – you know, they lost some civilians yesterday, so. They’ll be doing the investigation and stuff.”

“I heard about that,” Kyouka says softly. “Doesn’t mean you can’t call.”

“Can you just tell me if this bullshit is real or not?!”

“How could I possibly know that?? I’m not a doctor!” She sounds exasperated and not a little concerned, but that just makes the urge to be a stubborn asshole explode tenfold. Katsuki doesn’t need her concerned, he needs her to tell him he’s not about to have this fucking baby. “Are you timing whatever’s going on?”

“Sort of.” Katsuki puts one foot in front of the other until he’s back in the kitchen and can see the digital numbers blinking at him from the microwave. “They’re about every twenty minutes or so. And maybe a minute long.”

“Oh, you’ve got time. That really could be anything.”

“Kyouka!”

“Alright, alright. Look, I’m coming over.”

Embarrassment flashes through Katsuki, followed immediately by relief. And then more embarrassment because he’s relieved. Fucking hell.

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbles, but he catches the sound of a door closing and remembers that Kyouka can easily be as stubborn as he is sometimes.

And then his belly contracts again before he can continue arguing anyway.

“Ahh, fuck, that was faster than twenty minutes,” he says through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he rides it out. A low, aching pain radiates outward from somewhere deep within, and he can’t help the groan that squeaks out through his clenched jaw.

“Can you talk through it?”

“Nnnnnnn–”

“Bakugou? Hey, Bakugou.” Katsuki drops his phone on the counter and fumbles for the speaker button. “Katsuki.”

“I’m here,” he forces out, hands gripping whatever they can find. He sucks in a breath and puffs it back out, cheeks rounding with the motion. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“So you can talk.”

“Ye–eeaah.” He groans again. “Sort of.”

“It’s still going?”

“Nn…yeah. No. Hang on.” Katsuki heaves out another breath. “S’fading. Think that one’s done.”

“That was over a minute,” Kyouka says. “I’m getting in the car, I’ll be there in ten. CALL MIDORIYA.”

And then she hangs up. Presumably so Katsuki will actually fucking listen to her.

To be fair, he tries to. He gives up and punches the speed dial for Deku, but he’s not surprised when there’s no answer. Like he said, he knew Deku would be caught up in a bunch of bullshit today.

He tries again anyway. And then a third time, just for good measure.

Still no response, though.

Which is fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

Everything he knows about the labor process tells him that IF this is the real thing (it’s probably not), then he’s likely still got hours before things really get moving (which they won’t).

Deku will be home by then.

So he’s FINE.

Katsuki’s resumed pacing around the living room by the time Kyouka shows up and lets herself in. She doesn’t have Kanami with her, which is probably smart, but Katsuki still shoots her a pouty sort of frown anyway.

“Where’s the baby?”

“Denki’s mom has her.” Kyouka tosses her keys and bag onto the couch and walks right up to Katsuki, grabbing his arm. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t answer.”

She takes that in stride, sighing. “Alright. Anything else happen before I got here?”

Katsuki shakes his head. “Not yet.” He glowers down at his stomach. “I feel fuckin’ insane. There’s no way this is happening already.”

“It’s kind of hard to tell with you.” Kyouka takes a step back and eyes him up and down. “If you were anyone else, I’d say there’s no point even worrying about it until your contractions are a lot closer together. And that can take forever. But…”

Her brows draw down as she stares at his stomach and Katsuki’s impatience gets the better of him. “But?”

“I don’t know!” Kyouka throws an arm out, gesturing at the entirety of his body. “Labor can progress really quickly sometimes, and what the hell happens if it does? Like you said – where does she go?”

That’s a really great question. And not one Katsuki particularly wants to think about.

He ends up just shrugging because trying to figure out an answer is honestly terrifying.

“I dunno,” he mutters unhelpfully. Kyouka lets out an exasperated sound and Katsuki ignores her in favor of poking at his stomach a bit, before suddenly twisting his hand outward and curling his fingers into fake claws. “Maybe she’ll just Alien out of me or something.”

“Oh my fucking god, Katsuki.”

“The hell do you want me to say? I don’t know.” Katsuki grimaces – shit, he feels another one coming on. What’s it been, about fifteen minutes again? “I feel like I’m fuckin’ dreaming or something.”

“Well, you’re not.” Kyouka gives him another onceover. “Should I take you to the hospital just in case? I mean.” She groans, rubbing between her brows. “Shit, I guess they can’t even check if you’re dilated.”

“Probably still a good idea,” Katsuki says, voice strained. He hunches forward, hands scrabbling for purchase and grabbing at the bottom of his shorts. “Hahhhh, fuck.”

Kyouka steps up close to him again and runs her palm soothingly along his spine. “The good news is that it gets so much worse,” she says dryly, and Katsuki hits her with an unimpressed, squinty glare.

“How is that – nngh – GOOD news?”

“Because, presumably, you won’t have to deal with it. So this might be as bad as it gets for you. Keep breathing.”

“I’m fucking breathing.”

After that wave of squeezing pressure passes, Kyouka helps Katsuki gather up a few things and orders him to get in her car. Katsuki keeps smoothing his hands over his belly, massaging here and there and trying to focus on literally anything else, but another contraction creeps up on him as they’re parking and that’s the one that finally breaks him.

It’s not even that it feels any different than the rest – it’s the same intense cramping feeling, wavering somewhere between an uncomfortably tight ache and actual pain that throbs down the inside of his thighs.

But the fact that they’re here, at the hospital… The very idea that he might walk in there right now and not come out until he’s birthed a whole child sends cold panic rushing down his spine.

“Kyouka,” he croaks, grip white-knuckled on the center console as he tries to keep his breaths steady. Tries not to fucking hyperventilate or worse. “Can you call my mom?”

* * *

Katsuki doesn’t know what kind of black magic witchcraft his mother invokes, but she somehow manages to get to the hospital from the suburbs in forty minutes flat.

They’ve just been brought to a private room to wait when she comes stalking through the door looking like some sort of holy terror, and it’s annoying as hell that Katsuki immediately finds himself feeling relieved. That’s the kind of lame-ass bullshit emotion he hasn’t had to deal with in her presence since the police returned him home after he was kidnapped back in his first year of high school.

Gross.

Still, he lets her wrap him up in a hug, his face going warm as he leans into her surprisingly comforting embrace.

“Hey, kid,” she says in a low tone, stroking a hand through his hair. “I hear you might be giving me a grandchild today.”

“Fuckin’ hope not,” Katsuki mutters. “Too soon.”

“Yeah, well, she might be as stubborn as you are. If she’s ready, she’s ready.” Mitsuki gives him another quick squeeze and then backs away. “Where’s Izuku?”

“Work. I sent him a few texts, though.”

“Did you try calling the office?” Mitsuki asks, and Katsuki’s gaze promptly slides to the side.

“No. I’m not out here trying to broadcast my business to everyone – I still don’t even know if this shit is real.”

“He was having contractions, but they were still pretty far apart,” Kyouka offers up. “About fifteen minutes in between, right?”

Katsuki nods. “Something like that.”

Embarrassingly, though, he hasn’t had one since the literal second they checked in at the front desk. It’s like they just decided to fuck off or fizzle out or something, which, like – is that even fucking normal?

What the hell, body.

Mitsuki reaches out to take one of Kyouka’s hands. “Thanks for keeping an eye on my demon spawn. You guys all moved in yet?”

“We should be after this week,” Kyouka says. “Glad I was at the apartment today, though.”

The two of them keep chatting as Katsuki sprawls out in one of the uncomfortable office chairs and settles in to wait. It’s not like they had an appointment, so he has no idea how long it might be before Doctor Tajima’s able to see them.

Then again, he’s a pregnant man who’s possibly going into labor – so maybe it’s not surprising that she shows up before even another ten minutes have passed.

“Oh, new faces,” she says upon entering the room. “Hi, everyone.”

“That’s my mom,” Katsuki says, gesturing toward Mitsuki before swinging his hand around to point at Kyouka next. “That’s the friend I panic called.”

They exchange greetings all around, with Mitsuki offering Doctor Tajima a deep bow of gratitude. Kyouka steps outside as Tajima has Katsuki hop up onto the examination table, and despite Katsuki trying to tell her that she’s welcome to head home, she insists on waiting for more information.

“If you’re really having the baby, I want to be the first to know!” she says, smirking a little. “Why do you think I volunteered to drive you over here?”

Once it’s just Katsuki and his mom in the room, Tajima asks him to run through everything that happened. What the contractions felt like, if they hurt, how long they lasted, how far apart they were. If he could still walk and talk while they were happening, and if anything felt wrong or off in any way.

That last one’s harder for him to judge.

“Fuckin’ everything felt wrong,” he says dryly, and Tajima just chuckles a bit.

“Right, I guess it would for you.” She marks down something in the tablet she’s using to take notes. “You said they’ve mostly stopped now?”

“Since we got here.” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Go figure.”

“It’s not unusual. Some people have contractions for days or weeks before their labor actually progresses.”

…Fucking what.

“Weeks?” Katsuki repeats, disbelief written all over his face.

“Mmhmm.” Tajima absently taps the stylus against her chin. “Normally we check for things like how dilated the person is before determining if they’re in active labor. And there’s always the general five-one-one rule.” She points at him. “You’re obviously a unique case. I know we hoped everything would stay calm right up until the date of your C-section, but it looks like you might not be that lucky.”

“He’d be safe to deliver now, wouldn’t he?” Mitsuki asks, and Tajima hums noncommittally.

“Let’s do an ultrasound and make sure everything’s still looking good. I’ll run a few other tests, too. Double check all your vitals and everything. I don’t want to make any rash decisions quite yet.” Tajima glances from Katsuki to Mitsuki. “Would you like your mom to stay in the room?”

Ugh.

Katsuki’s fucking twenty-two years old, why she’s asking him that? He doesn’t need his mother here supervising the whole dumb appointment.

“I don’t care,” he mutters, only to immediately follow that up with: “Yes. Fucking – whatever, it’s fine, she can stay.”

And because Doctor Tajima doesn’t know about the drama-filled theatrics of their combative relationship, she simply accepts that response at face value and then sweeps out of the room to retrieve an ultrasound machine.

Katsuki side-eyes his mom for a moment. “Don’t give me crap about this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mitsuki volleys back at him in a surprisingly level tone. She reaches out to smooth his bangs off his forehead, her palm cool against his skin. “I’m proud of you, actually.”

Okay, well that’s sure not what he was expecting to hear.

“What, why?” Katsuki asks, more baffled than he probably should be.

Mitsuki’s lips curve, one end tugging up into a small smile. “Because I know how fucking shitty this whole thing is.”

Katsuki snorts. A tired grin stretches across his face as he tips his head more intentionally into her hand. “I thought I was ready for it to be over,” he admits. “Now I’m out here losing my shit that it might be.”

“Being pregnant was definitely the weirdest experience of my life,” Mitsuki says.

“No kidding.”

“They don’t really warn you about that.”

“Because then no one would do it!”

“It’s worth it, though.” She leans in close, catching his gaze, his own carmine eyes mirrored back at him. “You were worth it, ya damn brat.”

Katsuki chokes on nothing, his throat clogging with stupid emotions that threaten to boil over and leak out through his eyes. He forces it down as best he can, but there’s only so much he can hide from his own mother. She doesn’t say another word, though.

Just smirks a little as she brushes a thumb beneath his eye and wipes away whatever dampness found its way there.

A sudden commotion out in the hallway draws their attention over to the door, just in time to see Deku throwing it open so he can explode into the room with absolutely zero chill. He looks like a fucking psychopath, hair sticking up every which way, eyes wide and wild, green lightning crackling down his body. He’s also still in his hero gear, so Katsuki’s sure his arrival involved negative amounts of subtlety.

For fuck’s sake.

(God, he’s so fucking happy to see him.)

“Kacchan!” Deku cries, dashing over to the examination table. “Kacchan, oh my god, are you okay?! Is the baby alright? Is everyone safe??”

Behind him, Kyouka sheepishly pokes her head around the doorway. “Um. I tried Sero, but he wasn’t answering his phone either. So I sent Iida to get him.” She winces a bit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Deku tosses back at her, voice strangled and several octaves too high. “If I wasn’t here for this, I’d never forgive myself!”

“Okay, crazy, calm down,” Katsuki says, wrapping a hand around Deku’s wrist and shaking him a bit. On the other side of the table, Mitsuki’s just quietly laughing. “Put your damn Quirk away, I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t be at the hospital if you were fine,” Deku says, but he does go ahead and let One For All fade away. The lightning disappears and his hair settles into its normal curly floof of a mess around his head.

“It’s just a precaution.” Katsuki slips his hand down until he can curl his fingers around Deku’s. “I might’ve been, uh. Having some contractions and shit–”

“Contractions?!” Deku repeats, alarmed, and Katsuki sighs.

It’s Mitsuki who answers, though. “Izuku, hon, it’s normal.”

Katsuki can tell that Deku had absolutely no idea his mom was even there, because he startles into an upright position at the sound of her voice, back going ramrod straight as his cheeks flush a deep red.

“Ah – sorry! I didn’t see you!” he fumbles out, ducking his head bashfully. “Sorry, I just – Iida showed up at the agency so suddenly that I thought something happened–”

“Take a breath,” Mitsuki says gently, looking amused. She’s been weirdly gentle ever since she showed up, actually. Katsuki might find that strange as hell on any other day, but he doesn’t even care right now. If there was ever a time for them to be all disgustingly soft with each other, he guesses it would be now. “Look, Izuku. He’s fine, see? The doctor should be back any minute to run some tests.”

Deku sucks down a few rapid breaths, but eventually the tension starts to seep out of him. His shoulders lower from where they’d bunched up around his jaw. “Right,” he says, voice marginally calmer. “Right, good. Hey. Hi, Kacchan.”

“Hi, nerd,” Katsuki returns with half a grin.

“Are you having the baby?”

“Who the fuck knows.”

Deku pouts at him. “Kacchan.”

“Oh, did Midoriya decide to join us?” Doctor Tajima says as she pushes the door back open and wheels an ultrasound machine into the room. “Welcome to the Maybe Baby party.”

They get Deku up to speed, giving him a brief, less detailed rundown of all the shit Katsuki went through earlier that day. Then Tajima powers up the machine, spreads the usual goop all over Katsuki’s rounded stomach, and proceeds to examine him and the already troublesome kid he’s carrying from every possible angle she can manage. She’s extremely thorough, leaving not a single inch of his belly untouched, and after that she zips through a flurry of other quick tests, as well. Taking all sorts of measurements, getting different readings, checking Katsuki’s heartrate and blood pressure again.

It's a lot of information to gather, but she’s quick and efficient as she moves through everything. It’s not long before Katsuki’s tugging his shirt back down and letting Deku help him sit up so they can hear what she has to say.

“Well. I don’t believe the baby’s in any kind of distress,” she starts. “Honestly, everything looks good. She’s definitely moving into position – or, well. You know. That’s what she would be doing if there was an easy escape route.”

Ah, fuck, great, maybe Katsuki doesn’t want his mom here for this. Not if they’re going to be talking about nonviable birth canal bullshit. Eugh.

…Actually, he doesn’t really want Deku around for that either.

Doctor Tajima doesn’t linger on it, though. They’ve discussed it enough between the two of them, much to Katsuki’s eternal horror and mortification, but the general consensus is that there’s no feasible way he’d be able to force a natural birth situation here.

Not safely, anyway.

“I think you’re probably experiencing what we call prodromal labor,” Tajima continues. “Irregular contractions without a lot of measurable progress being made. It’s not uncommon, but like I said earlier, it can last for a few days or even weeks.”

“So…what’s the difference?” Deku asks. “How would he know if it turned into actual labor?”

“If the contractions become more consistent. More intense, more painful. Most important – they wouldn’t just stop.” She glances at Katsuki. “We’ve been over the five-one-one rule, right?”

“Contractions every five minutes,” he recites. “At least one minute each and it happens for at least one hour.”

Tajima smiles at him. “Good! See, that’d be super helpful if you were a biological woman.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. “In this case…I’m thinking it’s probably safer not to wait until it gets to that point, though.”

“You’re damn right,” Mitsuki says, brows pinched. “Absolutely not, that’s way too risky.”

“Mom,” Katsuki hisses, but Doctor Tajima shakes her head.

“No, she’s right. The last thing we want is for this to become a dangerous situation. So – you have some options.” Tajima pulls up the calendar on her tablet. “At the moment, we have your C-section scheduled for July 5th. That’s only two weeks away, but you’re thirty-seven weeks now. If you wanted to move that up, I don’t foresee it being an issue.”

“That’s not too soon for the baby?” Deku asks.

“She would likely be completely fine. Generally speaking, the more time they have in the womb, the better. But…” Tajima spreads her hands a little in a small shrug. “Plenty of people deliver early without complications.”

“She’s not ready to come out yet, though,” Katsuki says slowly. He stares at the ultrasound machine where a fuzzy black and white image is still frozen on the screen. The outline of their little girl, perfectly snug and content inside Katsuki. He’s still obsessed with the small point of her nose, and the way her hands are currently tucked up by her face is the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his life. “Right? You said she’s not in any distress, she’s still just…getting ready.”

“That’s right,” Tajima says. “That can always change at a rapid pace, but at this exact moment… In my professional opinion, I don’t think you’re showing any real signs of imminent labor.

“What are the other options, then?” Mitsuki asks.

“Mostly variations of waiting it out.” Doctor Tajima turns to Katsuki, meeting his gaze. “You could stay overnight for further observation if that would help give you some peace of mind. Or I’m comfortable releasing you to go home now – as long as you agree to give me daily updates on how you’re doing.”

“Sure, yeah.” Katsuki nods. “I could do that.”

“I’ll make sure you have my personal number.” She levels a hard look on him. “Use it. For anything. Consider me on call from now until that baby is safely delivered, okay?”

“Give it to Izuku, he’ll probably write you a novel every day,” Katsuki drawls, then snickers when Deku smacks the back of his hand against his arm.

“If you go home now, I’ll want you to come back in before the end of the week. Friday, maybe?” Tajima flicks through a few screens on her tablet. “Yeah, let’s say Friday. And then again next Tuesday, and one last time the Friday after that. That would bring us right up to your C-section the following week – assuming you make it that long.”

Katsuki grimaces. “All that’s necessary?”

“I want to make sure you’re closely monitored at this point,” Tajima says with a brusque nod. “In case things start progressing quickly. Or, like I said – we could do this today.” She glances from Katsuki to Deku to Mitsuki and then lands back on Katsuki again. “Your choice, Bakugou. They’re all options I’m okay with.”

His choice.

That’s nerve-wracking as shit.

“Today, wow,” Deku says nervously.

“We’re definitely not doing that,” Katsuki mutters, shifting uncomfortably.

Although…he’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of suffering contractions for the next fuck knows how many days either.

Actually, that sounds fucking awful.

Deku leans across the examination table, arms folded on top of it so he can nudge into Katsuki’s thigh. “I kinda thought you were ready for this to be over,” he says, peering up at him curiously. “You’re always so eager to hold Kana-chan.”

“Yeah, because I can give her back,” Katsuki grounds out, and Mitsuki snorts.

Deku’s right, though.

Katsuki IS ready for this to end. He’s ready to not be pregnant anymore, ready to hold his own kid for once.

And he’s definitely onboard with the idea of skipping right over any more cramping and aching and abrupt shocks of pain spearing through his abdomen.

But…

But.

There’s something…weirdly…

Sad?

Bittersweet.

About the thought of this being over.

This fucked up, confusing, beautiful, miserable, wonderful, insane experience he’s had.

The suddenness of it is jarring, too. And still kind of terrifying. That he could potentially meet her in a matter of hours is absolutely batshit crazy.

…And yet.

She’s not ready to leave him. His daughter. The baby he and Deku magically created together that he’s worked his fucking ass off to grow and nurture and take care of. His body is still providing her shelter, still providing her home, and Katsuki has no doubts that he’ll fucking know when she’s ready to meet the world.

No, fuck it, he’s seeing this through. He’ll deal with whatever torture the next few days or weeks bring him. He’s made it this far.

Katsuki can do this.

“I think I can make it another week,” he says, determined. Deku’s eyes grow wide as he watches him, full of the kind of love and admiration that always sends an eruption of squirming, flustered bullshit rampaging through Katsuki’s insides. “Let her cook some more. We’ll be fine.”

Doctor Tajima gives him a soft, knowing kind of grin. Like she somehow understands the complete rollercoaster of emotions he just ping-ponged through in the last five seconds.

“Alright,” she says warmly, and checks off the date on her calendar. “Then I’ll see you on Friday.”