Archive of Our Own

Believe it or not, compromise was a longstanding staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s life. Certainly, there were things that she would never renege on, like striving to be the number one hero, or that Bronze Age All Might was criminally underrated, or that Izuku was not allowed to leave in the morning without giving her a kiss goodbye.

She’d learned from a young age that she simply couldn’t have it all. The first major decision in her life concerned her transition, and the possibility of having biological children in the future. Her parents supported her completely, and she understood the pros and cons of the two paths she could take, but it still weighed heavily on her. Ultimately, she’d chosen not to subject herself to any part of a male puberty, and while she never regretted the decision, the door to creating a life would forever be closed to her.

The matter of her schooling came next. While the Bakugous were more than comfortable, her mother was strict, and she was expected to attend the worst middle school in the entire district to prove she was serious about going to UA. From a young age, Katsuki had been as adamant about being a hero as she was about being a girl. She’d argued about being sent to Aldera, sick of being in the same class as Deku since preschool. Her father had once considered a hero career, so she knew the profession wasn’t the issue.

It was just a lesson, a way to discipline her, because her mother was running out of ways to keep her under control when hitting her didn’t work. Katsuki knew she wasn’t a bad kid, she didn’t sneak out or break rules or have sex, so why was the hag always so hard on her?

She didn’t get the answer until she was seventeen, busted up with an arm that was barely held together and a heart that by all accounts shouldn’t have still been beating. Keeping that arm had been another compromise: doctors were certain that it would never be the same, but she refused to amputate in favor of a prosthetic, even if the rehab would be grueling. After all, her quirk came from her palms.

Her mom had held her, had cried in front of her for the first time in her entire life.

“I’ve been—I wanted to prepare you,” she’d mumbled, kissing her daughter’s hair and pushing it off her forehead. “This world will chew you up and spit you out when you’re a beautiful girl. But you deserve to hear all the praise I withheld just to motivate you to reach higher. I need you to know that I’m so fucking proud of you, I always have been. You’ll always be my baby in my eyes. I thought that I needed to be tough to help you to be strong—I was too harsh sometimes. I understood that as soon as I—when you—”

Her father rubbed her mother’s back as she hiccuped through uncontrollable sobs. She sniffed hard, determined to finish. Katsuki was a little zooted on morphine, and halfway convinced she was making this up to make herself feel better, but she listened as her mother continued. Hearing that she was proud of her…

It was the first time she’d ever said that. The nicest thing she’d ever said to Katsuki.

“I never took my eyes off you,” Mitsuki whispered, “Not for one second. I saw everything. I want you to know that you don’t need to be strong anymore, baby. You’re already more than strong enough. I’m going to be here for you, I’m going to love and support you better. Better than my mother was with me. I promise.”

“You’re… proud of me?” Katsuki asked, reaching out to hold her mother’s hand with her good arm. It was warm, smooth, and probably real.

“I am, Tsuki,” she said, squeezing Katsuki’s hand hard in hers. “I’ve always been proud of you. I’ll say it more often, until you’re sick of hearing it.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Katsuki murmured. “I got a pretty big ego.”

When the three of them laughed together for the first time she could recall in a long while, she felt like there would be something to look forward to.

Starting in middle school, nothing about her life had gone the way she’d thought it would. She hadn’t been the only student from her middle school to ever get into U.A., hadn’t been Class President or first in rank, hadn’t even beat Izuku in her first hero exercise with All Might. Failed her license exam, got kidnapped, became the reason All Might had to use the last of his embers. All that she could move past, because despite the battles lost, she’d won the war. All Might’s fate had been a fixed point, but she and Izuku had bent it together.

Just as she was looking forward to competing for the rest of their lives, Izuku would soon be quirkless again.

Her final two years of schooling had given her plenty of downtime to work out a plan, to budget. Katsuki went ahead and had bottom surgery during the break between second and third year, since she was already pretty much out of commission. It wouldn’t interfere with her rehab, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the surgeon had prioritized her on the waitlist.

She’d thought about FFS too, more than a little tired of always being called a “tomboy”. When she’d tried to bring it up casually with her friends—as a sort of soft launch to yet another surgery and recovery while they were still in school—Izuku had utterly foiled the plan by calling her pretty for the first time since they were six years old. No way was she touching her face after that.

With a plan in place by the time their final year was over, Katsuki went straight to working her ass off after graduation. Hell, she did pretty much everything but show ass to get enough money together for a super suit. Mei and Melissa had worked at a steep discount, and she’d poured everything into the project knowing that it would pay dividends later. Between the patents she’d have a share in and the capabilities of the AI system, Katsuki would be set for life when it was a success. Maybe that was a gamble, but she would have the rest of her life to recover financially should she lose the bet.

If it weren’t for the investments from her classmates, it wouldn’t have gotten off the ground so quickly. More money had been needed ahead of time to bankroll the project, but the expenses had decreased as time went on and the employees working on the project were onboarded and retained at Mei’s company, Lightly Labs. Katsuki had a decent shareholding that was making her a pretty penny by the time All Might presented Izuku with the suit.

Of course, the old man had blabbed about her role. She wasn’t looking for brownie points, but Izuku unfortunately felt a disproportionate amount of gratitude toward her, more than she deserved. While she hadn’t been making up for how things once were between them, she did think that Izuku more than earned the dream he’d had since they were kids.

Giving that back was just the right thing to do, for the guy who saved the world.

Izuku wasn’t going to be able to chase after her like she’d hoped, but the suit was an excellent compromise. It was the best, in fact. She’d ensured that.

Katsuki had hoped he’d agree to join her agency, but Izuku seemed happy teaching. He’d spent years not knowing there was a suit, trying to build a life that he could be content with, so she didn’t begrudge him that, even though it stung.

It hurt a lot less when he confessed his feelings to her at the summit of her favorite hike.

“You bastard,” she said, trying to berate him through happy tears. “Asking me out when we’re alone in the wilderness is fucking creepy.”

“Oh,” he said, looking somewhat stunned. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Uh, well. It’s—I mean—it’s okay if you say no?”

“Hell no!” Katsuki yelled, and then she’d promptly jumped his bones.

That was one year ago, and her relationship with Izuku had been almost everything she’d hoped for ever since.

Almost, because when she’d dreamed about it, she’d imagined that they wouldn’t be the only people who knew.

Their parents, All Might, their closest friends, no one knew. At first it was kind of exciting. Katsuki could finally see things from a new perspective, and it was obvious in hindsight that their circle were all at the end of their rope with the will they/won’t they she and Izuku had between them for years now. They’d played into it a little, snickering privately amongst themselves once they were alone at the groans mixed with strained congratulations received upon announcing they’d decided to buy a house together platonically.

Izuku finally became her part-time hero partner platonically. They attended other people’s weddings together platonically. They went on vacations together platonically.

It got old pretty quickly. They couldn’t be intimate in public, so their options were limited at celebrations. The same restrictions applied to vacations, to casual dinners with their friends. She hated lying to her parents, somehow hated lying to the pro heroes that doted on her even more. But Izuku seemed fine. The boy who’d let slip every damn secret that held the fate of the world at risk kept his lips zipped tight about the nature of their relationship.

Maybe she should have been flattered at her importance. Mostly, she just felt like something more unsavory than being All Might’s heir. Like something finally worth hiding, because it didn’t make Izuku look good.

And of course, of course she knew that wasn’t the case. Izuku loved her, he worshiped the ground she walked on, and he didn’t do it for anyone’s approval but hers. If nothing else, she knew for a fact that the things he did for her, said to her, were not performative.

But she kind of wished someone else knew. Katsuki wanted to show off, she wanted everyone to know that Izuku was wrapped around her little finger. That he lived and breathed for her.

Well, she was no stranger to compromise. And in this case, Izuku’s fears and trauma heavily outweighed her wants. There was no denying that she’d been used against him in the past, that even when their relationship was antagonistic, Izuku had been compelled to endanger himself on her behalf.

What would he do now that their relationship was stronger than ever, now that they knew each other inside and out? Now that their love had only grown and grown in the time they’d been together, nurtured into something precious and beautiful that was rooted in a lifetime of seeing one another at their best and worst.

It was a frightening thought.

Like the past users of One for All before him, Izuku was wary of romantic entanglement, of relationships that could be used against him. So for now, no one knew. For now, although there was no clear endpoint to the charade.

Katsuki hadn’t planned for today to be the day. It went down like this:

Disguised by shades and a ballcap, her tall, muscular figure was pretty easy to pick out among the shorter, mostly elderly population at the grocery store she’d swung into on the way home. She tried not to go to the ones closest to their residence, in case unwanted attention found or followed her. The store chosen for this shopping trip was simply the one closest to an event she’d just departed.

From the moment she entered the snack aisle, she knew she’d been made by the highschooler wearing a ‘大・爆・殺・神 ダイナマイト’ hoodie over his uniform.

“No way,” he whispered, looking around covertly. “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

Well, he was certainly off to a good start using her full hero name. She raised a finger to her lips and winked.

“This is so wild,” he said, “I was at the conference earlier!”

She’d been a speaker on a panel at an LGBTQ youth conference for high schoolers, hosted by a local university for the surrounding schools. Squinting, she eyed him a little closer, her dashing meet-and-greet smile softening as she took in a white, pink, and blue pin on his school backpack.

“Oh yeah? What did you think?”

“You’re my favorite hero,” he said. “I really—it was really nice seeing a bunch of heroes talk about stuff like that, that I can relate to. You see, I don’t have a quirk that’s suited for hero work. But, um—it’s kind of a crazy coincidence that you said this today, but my hope is that one day I can use my quirk to help people who have issues with fertility, like you mentioned!”

The panelists had been asked to share a regret they had in their journey to being openly queer. She’d found it easy enough to voice hers. It had been crushing—even when she was still just a child herself—to know that she would never be a mother. While it was still a sore point, she knew she wasn’t the only woman in the world with that issue. That was what made it more bearable.

“There are plenty of people waiting in the wings for a miracle in that department,” she said. Hell, she counted herself among them. “Heroes make people’s dreams into reality. If you can help people with that some day—well, I’m pretty damn sure that would make you their hero.”

He flushed, and with trembling hands he rummaged in his backpack, producing a crocheted Dynamight plushie. It didn’t look like any of her official merch—

“I m-made this for you,” he said. There was something oddly… guilty in his expression. “Um, I meant to give it to you at the conference, but I—I didn’t want to overstep.”

She took it from him, chalking up the guilt to his earlier inability to interface with his favorite hero, probably because of shyness.

“I hope you get to have what you want. I mean, you totally deserve to have everything you want.” He blushed, averting his gaze and becoming momentarily mesmerized by her breasts before blushing even deeper and staring at the floor.

“That’s… thanks,” she said. Maybe it was time to start making excuses to leave, because it was clear that this kid had some kind of crush on her in addition to the hero worship.

“I have to ask, uh—you don’t have to say anything if I’m out of line. But I really have to ask.” He paused, seemingly waiting for permission. She checked her phone, pretending to care about the time diplayed.

“Sure, kid. I have time for one question.” Normally she didn’t give a shit about fucking off as soon as she wanted, but he seemed like a good kid, and she hated to disappoint a real fan (even if he might be a little perv).

“Are the rumors that you’re dating another pro hero true?” he asked, the question bursting out of him.

Something about the kid’s demeanor had totally disarmed her. Maybe because his fanboying and fluster reminded her of someone else. It wouldn’t hurt to give a little hint, would it? To let a hardcore fan know that she was happily taken by someone?

“If I were,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially. She’d imagined this moment a million times over, when she finally spilled the beans in a charming, coquettish way. Of course, she’d imagined confiding in the other girls of Class 1-A, not in a pimpled teen fan she’d run into at the grocery store. All well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Her friends were way more likely to spread her secret enough to get back to Izuku than this twerp.

“If I were,” she started over, whispering now, “I wouldn't settle for any man less than number two.”

His eyes widened in realization. As per the last ranking, in which she’d snagged the number one spot for herself, Izuku was currently number two.

“I knew it!” he gasped, immediately covering his mouth and looking around. Katsuki wasn’t worried; he hadn’t been that loud, and no one knew what he was referring to anyways. “I knew it. This is the best day of my life… Um, can I hug you?”

“Make it quick, I need to get home.” He squeezed her middle so briefly she didn’t even have a moment to attempt a half-hearted hug in return.

“Thank you,” he said, beginning to bow profusely. “Thank you so much. I had another gift I wanted to give you after hearing you at the conference today, but I think it will be even better if I wait, now that I know you and Deku—erm, I promise I’ll keep that a secret until you make it official! I feel so honored.”

Once again, he bowed repeatedly, and she put her hands on his shoulders to interrupt. It was so… nice. Talking to someone that knew. It really could have been any stranger off the street, and she still would have taken pleasure in their knowledge that she and Izuku were more than friends. Something about the earnestness of this fan had made her want to give him something in return, but her delight in telling might have far exceeded his elation at knowing.

“Do your best,” she said. He went red all over, matching the acne on his face. Puberty was brutal.

“I will! I will! And, uh—don’t ever settle! I know that one day you’ll get everything you want!”

“Of course I will,” she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with a cocky stare. “I always plan on winning.”

“So cool,” he whispered, covering his face and mouth with both hands. Just like that, he turned abruptly and fled. Sweet kid.

She put the plush on an upper shelf of her closet and closed the door. It wasn’t usually her style to hold on to gifts from fans—her home would end up overrun—but given the handmade nature and the interaction she’d had, it seemed fitting to keep it for a little while at least. There were a few messages from her public relations manager letting her know that a clip from her panel had gone viral, but that the overwhelming reaction was positive.

The rest were… pretty perverted

Well, if nothing else it seemed that the conversation—while full of incorrect assumptions—was at least devoid of malicious transphobia. She’d take the wins where she could.

The front door opened, and Izuku called, “I’m home!”

“Welcome home,” she replied, setting her phone to the side. “How were the kids?”

“Just an average day,” he said. “They showed me that you’re trending.”

“I didn’t say anything that groundbreaking,” Katsuki groused, rolling her eyes.

“It’s different coming from you, number one,” Izuku said, strolling past her on the way to the bedroom to change so he could give her a kiss. “People pay attention. They get curious, they want to educate themselves.”

She tried to muffle a laugh with her hand. “Pfft. Izuku. I think the kids only showed you the school-appropriate takes.”

His brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Remember what was trending after my newest ad space?”

His jaw noticeably clenched, and while that was unbelievably hot, the pissy mood it had put him in for days had not been.

“They have no respect!” he called, heading into the bedroom to get undressed. “I’ve never seen people talk about All Might like that! You’re the number one hero!”

“Lucky you,” she drawled. She had seen the internet do vile things to that old man’s nonexistent cervix.

Louder, she replied, “You’re just jealous!”

“How could I not be!” Izuku emerged in more comfortable housewear, scooping her up off the couch momentarily as he sat down, swapping himself into place as a substitute for the cushion she’d been lounging on. “I don’t want anyone imagining Kacchan’s boobs.”

“Well, only you get to actually see them,” she said, bringing his hand up to cup her breast. That ought to calm him down. “Or touch them. It doesn't help that they think I’m single.”

There was a strange double standard in hero popularity among straight couples that had played out time and again. After Grand and Turtleneck announced their engagement, he’d moved up a few places in the ranking as expected, given his capture rates. While he was now sitting comfortably at 20, his girlfriend—who had been in the 90s—plummeted so rapidly she’d been temporarily removed from the charts (with her permission).

She was certain that was why Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady had never officially disclosed their relationship. He’d likely see no change within the top five, while her sex appeal to male fans would nosedive along with her rank. Sexual availability was a deciding factor for the vast majority of fans who were men, while fans who were women were perfectly capable of imagining their favourites in whatever scenarios they pleased, regardless of their actual relationship statuses.

Katsuki liked to think her fans were a little more dedicated than Mt. Lady’s, given that the other pro was heavily reliant on her attractiveness to begin with. It was part of her brand. While Katsuki’s ranking probably wouldn’t take as huge a hit because of the difference in their fanbases, she didn’t really give a damn if it did. Izuku was the only reason they weren’t public, the ranking was inconsequential to her.

The bottom line was: as a “single” hero, fans considered her more sexually available to them. They could more easily maintain fantasies of a potential romantic connection with her. They could project onto her, and there was no other man ‘sullying’ her for them to be jealous of. A parasocial fan felt a sense of ownership over her and her body in exchange for the attention they invested in her. Dating another man would mean their investment was worthless.

Izuku sighed, squeezing her chest gently. He knew as well as she did that women had a far worse time of it being reduced to nothing more than sex objects when compared to men in the hero industry.

“You know what would help?” she teased, running the pad of her index finger along his bottom lip. It took him no time at all to catch her meaning. Izuku let go of Katsuki’s tit to catch her hand, his expression serious.

“We can’t.” All the playfulness of the moment vanished.

“I know,” she sulked. “It’s just… I wish—”

“I know.”

“Don’t interrupt me! And you ruined the mood.”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he said, pressing her palm to his lips. “It’s just… still a struggle for me. Even though it would mean a lot to you. This isn’t what you want, and I wish I could give that to you, but I have to do what I think will keep you safe. Eventually… maybe.”

This wasn’t like when he’d run off on his own to try and fight All For One on a diet of adrenaline and no rest. Katsuki had in fact been targeted for being close to him, and he still struggled with night terrors and post-traumatic stress from her near-death experience. It wasn’t as often as when they were still in school, of course. But when it was bad, he was almost inconsolable. The panic and fear he felt was real, and it was terrifying.

She still couldn’t help wishing that things were different.

“I just… I love you so much,” he said. It felt so heavy.

“Not as much as I love you,” she replied, like always. It was no use dwelling on this, since it wasn't something that would change any time soon. Bringing it up still seemed to make him so uncomfortable every time she tried to broach the subject. “You want to open things for me while I make dinner?”

“Those jars don’t stand a chance!”

A few more uneventful days passed, and tonight she was making dinner alone. Izuku had gone to an after-school event at a nearby high school and was due to return home soon, no doubt with a pile of gifts he’d spend hours deliberating over before she had to put her foot down about what needed to go.

The front door opened, and she smiled. Izuku was fumbling, probably carrying too many things, so she went to go help him.

“Welcome home,” she said, pausing when she caught sight of him. In his grasp was a crocheted Deku plush, not unlike the one she’d been gifted a few days ago. She wondered if that was what the kid meant when he’d said he had another gift to give. Perhaps he’d been trying to narrow down which pro she was dating all along, in order to give them a matching set? She didn’t think much of it. After all, it would have been much easier for the kid to have sought Izuku at a scheduled appearance like the one he’d just attended than for them to have run into one another by chance.

Izuku’s grip on the round little torso was so firm it was like he wanted the head to pop off. He had nothing else with him aside from the case where his suit was stored. Carefully, he placed it in the biometrically locked front closet armory (a girl never knew when she might need to wear Strafe Panzer out on the town).

“I met a fan today,” he said. Katsuki had never heard him speak those words in that tone before. There was none of the eagerness, the cheer. She suspected there was no adorable anecdote following either. He didn’t continue, just stood there with that white-knuckled grip.

Oh, fuck.

“How did it go?” she asked, since he’d made no move to put on his slippers and the silence was killing her. He didn’t answer. Izuku always did that when he was hoping she’d keep talking. And damn it, she was really feeling the pressure to keep talking.

“What’s that?” Katsuki pointed at the miniature of her husband being wrung by the life-sized version of her husband, hoping it wasn’t also a smoking gun.

“A gift. Hand made.” He put his slippers on, but the false sense of relief was brief. “He mentioned he gave you one to match.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking away toward the kitchen. If she was lucky, something would catch on fire. “It’s in the closet. Maybe now that we have the set I’ll actually find somewhere to—”

“So you told him,” Izuku said, and when she turned back to face him, he was crying huge, fat tears. The soft plush was shaking as he now held it gently in both hands.

“Not directly,” she admitted, which was a pathetic excuse. “I’m sorry. If I thought the kid was going to blab, I would have told you. But it’s just one teenaged fan, and he seemed like a good kid.”

“Of course he’d seem that way!” Izuku said, throwing his hands in the air. He switched back to holding the Deku doll in one hand, tearing his hair out with the other as he mumbled, rapid-fire, “He could be anyone, anywhere. We only have our separate descriptions, which will most likely be the same since a variation in appearance would be an obvious tip-off that something suspicious is going on. We can run forensics on these—”

“Izuku,” she said, slowly approaching him as he began to pace. “I won’t stop you, but I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“It wouldn’t be necessary if you’d told me sooner!” He moved past her into the kitchen, rifled through a cabinet, and pulled out two plastic freezer storage bags. Chibi Deku was shoved in and sealed. “I could have kept an eye out. Would have been able to detain him today and make sure nothing else is going on. Instead I thought I was just getting a nice gift and a note! By the time I read it and found out he knew, the suspect was long gone!”

“Suspect?” Katsuki said. “Izuku, he’s just a highschooler—”

“We don’t know that!” The house felt quieter after he yelled. Lowering his voice, he continued, “I’m sorry. I’m—we don’t know that. I already contacted the police and asked La Brava for a favor. They’re going to try to get an ID and track the kid by tracing through surveillance footage but he could be anywhere in the country. It was a free, open event.”

“This is not worth the level of effort you’re asking for,” Katsuki said. “The kid didn’t do anything wrong, alright? And—maybe I should have told you afterwards so it wasn’t a shock—”

“Yeah, you should have,” he snapped. His tone went through her like a mutant freak to the chest. Tears sprang up before she knew it, far too late to even attempt holding them back. Izuku had only ever spoken to her like that once before, but never while they’d been together. She was awful for making him panic like this. Katsuki hadn’t felt like a complete fuck-up in some time now, but the way that Izuku was looking at her—betrayed and distraught—was making her feel so small.

When she said nothing, he placed his hands on the counter and hunched over. “The investigation is absolutely necessary. What if he was recording your conversation? What if that becomes blackmail, or leverage? That information could be sold, or it could fall into the wrong hands. Did you even think about that!? You don't understand how bad this is.”

The accusation stung, and old habits reared up in reaction. “I don't care!”

“You don’t care?” Izuku’s voice was quiet now, and she could barely make out his tears through her own. “You know how I feel about this.”

“But I don’t care if people know! I never have! It’s fucking killing me living like this. We’re heroes, but I have to lie all the time and pretend, like we’re covering up a crime!”

“Kacchan, I can’t lose you—”

“I feel like you’re ashamed of me!” Katsuki sobbed. “You haven't even told Auntie. I need more than this, Izuku.”

“So you told a stranger!?”

“Shut up and listen to me!” she screamed, more frustrated tears rising. “I’ve tried bringing this up before, and you know what happens every time? It gets shut down right away, and I never get to tell you how I feel. You tell me you can’t lose me, you say, ‘Maybe’ or ‘Eventually’. And that’s the end of it.”

“Then it’s your way or the highway?” he asked, throwing up his hands. “The whole world could find out because of this!”

“This isn’t an ultimatum!” Katsuki argued, “I want you to at least consider how we can start to move forward. I’m not living the rest of my life like this!”

“Well I guess you won’t have to if everyone knows,” Izuku said, accusatory. “How could you go behind my back like this?”

“I said I was sorry. And I am. I gave the kid a hint because I was sure no one would ever find out, and I shouldn’t have. But I didn’t fucking orchestrate this, if that’s what you’re implying.” Izuku deflated.

“I—I didn’t mean that, honey,” he said. “I’m just—I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” she said. “I tried so many times, but it’s like you don’t even want to think about it.”

“Because I don’t,” he said, laughing self-deprecatingly as he wiped the slowing stream of tears.

“We need to,” Katsuki insisted. “It’s making me really unhappy. When I try to connect with people, there’s this huge part of my life I have to hide. A part that I’m so proud of, that I want to share.”

“Well, you know how I feel about sharing,” he joked half-heartedly.

“Stupid nerd,” she said, rounding the counter to pull him into a hug. “We can start small. Our parents should know. It’s going to be okay if we tell them.”

Izuku hugged her back. “I’ll think about it. I promise. And I’m still going to track down that kid.”

“Waste of time and money,” she groused.

“Not if it’s for you,” he countered.

“It’s for your peace of mind. I’m fucking fine.”

“You will be when I have a background check done.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Get off me and get the fuck out of my kitchen. I’m starving.”

They ended up falling asleep on the couch after dinner, and at some point Izuku must have carried her to bed, because that was where she woke up when the doorbell rang. Thankfully, they were both off today. She’d slept in by her standards, judging by the light in the room. Crying always took it out of her.

“Izuku?”

“I’ll get it, honey.”

“I’m getting up anyways, I’ll make breakfast.”

Izuku put on a robe and slippers as she did the same, parting when she went to cook and he went to answer the bell. It always took a few moments before he opened the door, no doubt checking the camera and windows. Given his fear that their secret was out, she was prepared for elevated levels of paranoia.

Rather than opening the door, she suddenly heard him speaking on the phone.

“... package, wearing all black. You should get the footage soon. No, within the last three minutes. Thank you.”

She closed the fridge, heading to the front door where Izuku was hovering in the genkan, furiously messaging. “Izuku, care to fill me in?”

“I think that kid we ran into just dropped something off at our front door. He was wearing a mask, but the height and build seemed similar. I’m not taking any chances. A specialist is coming to inspect what was left behind, so don’t tamper with it. I want to do a sweep of the area, will you wait in the bedroom?”

“I’ll just go with you,” she huffed. “Might as well find the kid and put all those theories you’re inventing to rest.”

Katsuki opened the closet to get her hero suit out, frowning at the weird noise the hinges made. It came again as she reached for the hook her uniform was on. She paused, listening closer to the odd screeching warble.

No sooner had it clicked than she was pulling the front door open.

There, in a woven wicker basket, not-quite nestled into a blanket, was a screaming newborn baby. An extremely fresh, newborn baby. Her heart melted at its fat, red, skrunkled-up face.

“Kacchan!” Izuku seized her around the middle, spinning in a one-eighty like he was shielding her from an explosive.

“Fuck off!” she said, popping a blast in his face that frizzed his hair up. “It’s just a baby.”

Izuku peered over his shoulder at the crying infant, then lifted her with his forearms pressed against her stomach so she was pinned to his chest.

“Nope,” he said, walking swiftly towards the interior of their home. “Nuh-uh. We’re not taking the bait.”

“Put. Me. Down.”

“We should wait for the police.”

Katsuki was not in the habit of asking twice. She put her arms around the back of Izuku’s neck, tightened her core, and flung her legs up high into the air. As she slammed her feet back to the floor, she pulled Izuku over her shoulder and threw him onto his back.

“You’re being stupid,” she said, leaning over his prone body. “I’m the only explosive you need to be worried about.”

He dragged his hands down his face as she moved around him. She could still hear the thing screaming in the doorway. “You really want to leave a baby out there and make it someone else’s problem?”

“No—I just….” He sighed. She put a hand out and pulled him back to his feet. While she understood his first instinct to grab her, it was always a little annoying whenever her partner didn’t trust her to take the lead. Sometimes his nerd wires got crossed, and he forgot that they were both professional heroes in his haste to be a protector.

“Since when do we wait for the police, huh?” With that, she marched back to the front door, picked up the entire basket, and brought it to the dining room table. There was nothing underneath. Izuku closed the door behind her, peering around at the tiny screaming thing as he followed.

“I’ll update them,” he said, making a phone call and watching over her like a hawk. She rolled her eyes, ignoring the child for now and inspecting the basket for clues. There was a note tucked inside, which she set aside. Katsuki lifted the baby, cradling its head, and set it flat on the table while she quickly felt around the two small blankets and the inside of the basket for anything else.

Izuku finished his update, and she placed the child back into the basket, briefly examining it. No diaper, male, crowned in a dandelion-like soft shock of blond hair. No belly button… She was pretty sure a baby this small should actually still have an umbilical cord, even.

“That is weird…” Izuku said, startling her into realizing she’d been speaking her observations out loud.

“Can you bring me a t-shirt you don’t care about and some safety pins?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, bounding away into their bedroom. He brought her one that said ‘button-down’. After a quick internet search, she had it folded into something that would serve as a diaper, placing the baby atop it. The shirt was way too big, and she started over after cutting it in half with a pair of scissors, finally pinning the makeshift assembly into place.

If nothing else, the kid had lungs, still screaming its head off. At least now she could pick it up and try to soothe it without the risk of getting baby-junk on her. Cradling it to her chest, it took a big, gulping, hiccuping breath—and then settled down completely. Damn, this baby shit was easy.

“Works on me,” Izuku said, nodding in approval.

“That’s because you’re a crybaby, too,” Katsuki scoffed. “What does the note say?”

Izuku picked it up, and began to read:

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight and Deku.”

“It was my dream to meet you. Just by being yourselves, you saved me in a very bad time of my life. I think of this as a way to repay you.”

“I’m thinking of calling my quirk ‘Stork’. After we first spoke, I realized that even though I can never be a pro hero, there’s nothing stopping me from using it to help people. I wanted to start with you.”

“I don’t want to say too much about how my quirk works, but for all intents and purposes: this is your baby. Its genetic makeup is random, like if you had made it yourselves the old fashioned way.”

“The baby’s birthday is today, and it was ‘born’,” Izuku mimed air quotes, “in the park around the corner from your home, where I am finishing writing this.”

“I want to say sorry to hero Deku. I put a tag into your suit jacket while we hugged so that I could find where you lived. I wish there was another way, but if my identity is found out, I won’t be able to help people. It would devastate me if you got in trouble for this, so I want this note to make it clear that there was no collusion, and neither of you asked me to do this. Thank you for being my heroes.”

Katsuki frowned, thinking through the information they’d been given. Izuku put the letter down and went to their bedroom. He came back with a small square of plastic and deposited it on the table next to the letter.

“It was that easy to find us,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily.

“It’s not hard to find where we live,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “We’re lucky the paparazzi don’t hound us. Guess saving the world still warrants a little respect.”

“What do we do?” Izuku said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands.

“I think we go to the hospital. Get genetic testing to prove it's ours, check for any disease markers. Have them give us a birth certificate. Actually, shit, can I send you to the store first? We’ll need a carrier, formula, diapers—” she paused as Izuku stared at her blankly. “You gonna write this down, or?”

“You don’t want to surrender it?” Izuku asked.

“Fuck no. Maybe I’ll never be able to carry our baby myself, but if what he said is true, this is the closest we’ll ever get. That’s why I want a test first, to see if he's bullshitting and just kidnapped someone else’s kid or something."

“What if it’s—”

“No hypotheticals,” she demanded. “Test first.”

Izuku called the local police department again with yet another update. They waited for officers to arrive and handed over the tag, the letter, and the basket as evidence. Each of them gave statements separately to different officers. Given the fact that this was a legal grey area until their relationship to the child was established, they were permitted to go to the hospital to get lab results.

They skipped a trip to the store, Katsuki swaddling the baby in a small blanket and giving it to Izuku to hold in the back seat while she drove. It stayed quiet in his arms as well.

They were quickly seen to and given a room, since the newborn’s health was in question. The doctor’s opinion was that the baby was perfectly fine (ignoring the child’s smooth tummy and lack of umbilical cord), and that if she had to guess, it was almost certainly less than a week old, if not merely days old. Aside from the newborn screening, the baby also was given a shot of Vitamin K, an antibiotic eye ointment, and the first dose of the Hepatitis B vaccine.

They had to wait longer for the lab results, but the infant was given a real diaper, and simple blue baby clothes. A nurse brought formula, and Katsuki was soon distracted with feeding it. Izuku watched with equal focus, furiously scrolling on his phone and reviewing burping techniques so he could take over when it was finished.

They’d learned how to hold a baby in school, how to evacuate one safely, but it was a long time ago. Those were emergency lessons, not intended for long term child care.

“Alright, I’ve looked over the results,” the doctor announced as she reentered the room, popping onto a stool with a clipboard. Katsuki didn’t remember what she’d introduced herself as—at least three different nurses had done a drive-by since. “Did he feed okay?”

“It was hungry,” Katsuki confirmed. The infant was currently resting its head over Izuku’s shoulder as he rubbed its back, a towel beneath to catch any spit-up.

“Urp,” it said, vomiting over Izuku’s shoulder.

“Nice,” Katsuki replied.

“Great work, dad,” she said. “And congratulations to both of you. We can confirm that, by all accounts, he is indeed your son.”

Reality settled in. They weren’t ready to be parents by any stretch of the imagination. Her knowledge of childcare was abysmal, Izuku’s was the same or worse. They’d have to hire help until they could make sure the agency was running smoothly in their absence, they needed supplies, they needed—

“I have the birth certificate drawn up,” she said. “If you’ve decided on a name, I can take it now. Or I can have someone come by again in a little bit.”

They needed to name it. Him. Their son.

Katsuki turned her head. Izuku appeared equally stunned.

“Uh, I think we need a minute,” he said.

“That’s fine. Someone will drop by to check on you in a little while” she said, leaving the three of them alone.

“This is crazy,” Katsuki said, reaching out to hold Izuku’s hand.

“I can hardly believe it. Should we—are we naming it?”

“You want to keep him too, right?” she asked.

“Of course! I mean, he’s your baby. Our baby,” Izuku corrected.

“Doesn’t look like you helped at all,” Katsuki joked, petting a finger over his head. She’d looked just like him in her baby pictures on the day she was born. Round and wrinkled, with hair like her mother’s.

“I think he has my chin,” Izuku said.

“Sure,” Katsuki said, eyeing the baby’s pudgy face. Whatever made him feel like he was contributing.

“Did you think of any names?” Izuku asked.

“Could just name him after my old man. Masaru is a good name,” Katsuki suggested. Izuku frowned. “What? You don’t like it?”

“I mean, I guess it’s not that weird to name a kid after their grandparent,” Izuku said. “I’d just have to get used to calling our kid your dad’s name.”

“Hm. Well, Ichiro is pretty basic.” The name described him well enough: firstborn son.

“We should really think about it,” Izuku said, gently shooting another suggestion down. “It should be meaningful.”

“Well I haven’t heard any of your ideas,” Katsuki grumbled. Izuku laid the baby down. No longer screaming, feeding, burping, or sleeping, he opened his eyes for the first time they’d seen.

“Oh. Why are they blue?” Katsuki asked, somewhat taken aback. He looked so much like her, she'd been expecting red. But that color wasn’t on either side of their families, as far as she knew.

“My eyes were blue when I was born!” Izuku exclaimed, peering closer at the child with a delighted smile.

“I hope they turn green,” Katsuki muttered. The color was unlike other blue eyes she’d seen, so maybe there was hope.

“What if we named him Yoichi?” Izuku whispered, still staring down at the baby’s face as a wide grin spread across his own.

Yoichi, the first holder of One for All. He’d been a light haired man with green eyes, so the resemblance would certainly be there if Izuku’s genes pulled through on the eyecolor. The meaning of the name was basically the same as the one Katsuki had thrown out there… She didn’t hate it.

“Same kanji?” she asked. Izuku nodded. They both knew exactly who they were referring to.

“Hi, Yoichi,” Katsuki said, scooting her chair over until her shoulder was pressed to Izuku’s.

“Hi, Yoichi,” Izuku repeated. Yoichi’s little fists reached into the air, and then his eyes closed again as he yawned and settled down.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Katsuki said.

“I’m… not sure how we keep this under wraps,” Izuku said, voice lowered as he watched their son fall asleep in his arms.

"We can’t,” she said. “Between the police, the nurses, the doctor, the front desk… They’re all professionals, but people talk.”

“It would be safer if we—”

“Izuku, I want to be really clear about this,” Katsuki began. “I’m not hiding this. You can either tell the world he’s yours, or I'll say it was immaculate conception. I'm not interested in raising a kid in isolation or in secret.”

He was silent for a moment. “Can we finish this conversation when we get home?”

Katsuki leaned back into her chair and tried to relax. She’d always hated having no clue what he was thinking, but she could wait a little while.

“Fine.”

They left the hospital with a small amount of baby supplies and a birth certificate. From there, the mission was to retrieve formula and bottles, powder, diapers, a carrier, a car seat, and a bassinet. Anything else could wait a day. Thankfully, money was no object.

Once home, Katsuki laid Yoichi on top of the blanket in the middle of their bed, so there was absolutely no way he’d manage to roll off while they efficiently and safely assembled the bassinet. Finally laying him down in it was a huge relief, and Katsuki practically collapsed onto the bed afterwards.

It was late afternoon. They’d hardly eaten anything aside from the emergency bars in her car and some food from the hospital vending machines. She was beat, but as good as a nap sounded, she really should get up and make something to eat.

“Kacchan?” Izuku knelt in front of her at the foot of the bed. She sat up, peering down at him.

“Hm?”

“We didn’t finish talking earlier,” he said, “but I’ve been thinking of a compromise.”

With both hands, he held up a little black box, opening it to reveal a ring.

“Are you fucking serious?” she blurted. Were there any other life changing events waiting to be sprung on her today?

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, undeterred. “Will you be my wife, and take our family public?”

“Why would I say no, you damn nerd?”

Katsuki slid off the edge of the bed into his arms, kissing him fiercely as she hugged around his neck. Izuku held her waist and pushed up off his knee until they were standing.

“Can I put it on?” he asked, breaking the kiss and showing her the metal band. It was delicate, silver in appearance. Katsuki favored metals in that color. As the stone refracted the soft light in the room, she saw it was a teal green.

“Sapphire,” he explained. “I didn’t want something that would get damaged easily, but I know you think diamonds are boring, so I—”

“It’s perfect,” she said, offering her left hand. “Izuku, when did you get this?”

“A week after I confessed,” he admitted. “I’ve been keeping it in my dresser.”

“Fucking sap,” she said, overwhelmed with emotion as he slid it onto her finger.

The fit was perfect, and as she brought it to her face to look closer, a dam burst. Every overwhelming emotion from their fight, finding out she was a mother, Izuku’s proposal—it all hit her like falling into the ocean from a mile in the air. An impact like concrete, and then she was tasting salt water as her tears bubbled free. Katsuki ducked her face and cried, pressing her forearm into her eyes to try and stem the tide.

Izuku held her, and she hid her face in his neck instead, clutching him back. His own tears were warm and wet on her shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Not as much as I love you.”

Compromise was a longstanding staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s life. But if Izuku wanted to spend the rest of their lives together—well, he had himself a deal.