Chapter Text
Izuku ran down the street, phone still clutched in his hands; he could see the smoke rising from between the taller buildings that flanked the little preschool on the corner, and the smell of the burning sent a surge of adrenaline through him, telling him to run faster.
He’d rushed into scenes like this thousands of times before. It was his job. He had to. But he’d never felt like this, never felt the fear racing through him like ice in his veins, like flames licking at his heels. It felt unearthly, like he’d slipped outside of his body and was just watching himself run towards the daycare.
Teachers and kids were running across to the other side of the street, bystanders were watching, and several heroes were rushing in and out, rescuing the children from the burning building as fast as they could.
“Haru-chan! Haru-chan, where are you?” Izuku yelled, looking at the faces of the toddlers standing idly about, crying and watching. None of them stared back with those familiar, wide green eyes.
“Daddy!” a little voice cried from behind him. Izuku spun around, vision spinning, until at last his eyes landed on two tiny, outstretched arms, reaching for him.
“Haru-chan!” Izuku rushed towards him, those emerald eyes full of tears, soot in his blonde tufts of hair. But then he realized who was holding him. A foot away, Izuku froze, everything coming back into focus, his consciousness coming back down, centering within the moment itself.
It was Kacchan.
Well, no. It was pro-hero Ground Zero, holding Haruko, looking down at the boy, then back up at Izuku, then down again.
Izuku shook himself out of his hesitation; who cared if Katsuki was here, Haruko was safe! That was all that mattered.
“Oh, Haru-chan, Daddy’s here! It’s okay!” he said, reaching out and scooping the little two-year old out of Katsuki’s hands.
“Daddy…” Haruko sobbed, leaning heavy on his father’s chest and coughing a little. “I’m all hurty.”
“Oh, I know. I’m so sorry sweety. Here, let’s move away from the smoke so you can breathe some fresh air, okay?” he said, patting the boy’s back. He looked up at Katsuki, then, who had lingered, and put on a more neutral face. “Thank you.”
“Ah. Are you…” Katsuki trailed off, looking bewildered, when something was said through his earpiece that Izuku couldn’t hear, and just like that he went back to looking serious.
“Right. Shit. Coming,” he responded, blasting off back towards the burning building.
Izuku moved back to the sidewalk, bouncing Haruko a little to comfort him.
“Oh, good. That’s all the kids,” one of the teachers said, seeing them.
“Is there anyone else still inside?” Izuku asked, looking up. He knew he wasn’t going to report on this, but still, he couldn’t help himself.
“Yes, one of the staff. She was in the basement, getting something. I hope they get to her in time,” said the teacher.
“Oh, gosh. This is so awful,” Izuku lamented, staring out at the smokey scene. Several heroes worked in coordination to put it out and get to the last victim. The teacher next to him didn’t respond, she had to tend to the huddle of crying, scared children, but it was just as well; Izuku was absorbed with watching the heroes work. Just as the building was collapsing, Katsuki blasted out with the unconscious woman draped over his shoulder, looking supremely heroic, as always.
The ambulances arrived soon after, and he handed her gently to the paramedics while the fire was finally put out behind him. The building was half gone, the other half blackened by ash, but everyone was alive, so the heroes shook each other’s hands for a job well done.
A paramedic came over, next, asking if any of the kids had inhaled too much smoke, and Izuku shifted his focus back on Haruko.
“Ah, yes. He’s coughing. Should I be concerned?” Izuku asked.
“Are you the father?” the paramedic asked, no doubt noticing he wasn’t wearing one of the teacher’s aprons.
“Well, yes. I live just down the block and I was going to come pick him up shortly, when I saw the smoke, so…” Izuku shrugged.
“Right, well, let me have a look at him.”
Izuku handed Haruko over, and the parametric looked at his eyes and mouth, listening to him cough, then handed him back.
“It seems very minor. He should get it out of his system in an hour or two, but if he doesn’t stop coughing by tonight, you should take him to your pediatrician.”
“Ah, thank you,” Izuku said.
“Hey, wait. I know where I recognise you, now. You’re that journalist, the one who gets all the up-close pictures of heroes. What’s uh… Midoriya! Yeah, I’ve seen you at a few other emergencies in the area! Geez, I didn’t know you were old enough to be married with kids. I guess you have a young face,” the paramedic laughed to himself, then gave him some sort of good-bye wave as he turned towards the rest of the kids.
“Y-yeah,” Izuku nodded, blushing. He hated it when that happened.
However, his attention was quickly diverted from the man’s comments, when, looking up, he caught Katsuki’s ruby gaze from across the street. He was staring at him intently, like a puzzle he couldn’t figure out, but was very, very close too.
Izuku gulped and looked away, but then he heard Katsuki walking over.
“Why Daddy look sad?” Haruko asked, his little hand coming up to pat Izuku’s chin.
“Daddy’s just sad about your daycare burning down. Are you sad, too, Haru-chan?” Izuku diverted.
“Mm. Too tired,” Haruko said, letting his head fall on Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku chuckled bittersweetly.
“Uh, hey,” Katsuki’s voice called his attention upward.
“Hello,” Izuku said, taking in Katsuki’s singed costume and ashy hair. He smelled like fire and smoke, but the pungent smell of his sweat was there, too, causing Izuku’s memory to rush back years and years. His face was a little different, though. A little more mature and a little more subdued, perhaps.
“It’s my first day working since I got back from abroad. I didn’t uh… well, I guess it’s kind of a funny coincidence that you… are… here…” he struggled out, then coughed, clearing his throat. “I mean, I’m sorry about the daycare burning down.”
“Well, I’m just glad everyone got out safe. Especially…” Izuku looked down. Ah, this is the first time Katsuki’s going to hear the name of his own son. How sad, he thought to himself. “Haruko.”
“Is he–”
“Haru-chan? Do you want to say thank you to Ground Zero?” Izuku interrupted him.
“Mm?” Haruko turned his head, his face lighting up a bit at the sight of the pro-hero behind him. “Thank you for say…saving me!” he said, in that exceedingly cute way toddlers talk.
“Aw, no problem, bud!” Katsuki smiled, patting the kid’s head. A flash of something went across his face as he touched Haruko’s hair, and Izuku bit his lip. It feels just like yours. I know. Fuck, I know.
“That’s what heros do, you know?” he said, pushing aside whatever emotion had just come onto him.
“I know. Daddy knows lots ‘bout heroes,” Haruko said. Izuku laughed, a little embarrassed.
“Oh? Is, uh, is this your dad?” Katsuki asked, pointing to Izuku.
“Mm-hm!” Haruko nodded.
Izuku rolled his eyes.
“You could’ve just asked, Kacchan.” Not that I wanted you to, but it still would’ve been better than grilling the kid about it.
“Hah, uh, sorry,” Katsuki looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I, uh, I heard you saying you only live about a block away? Could I… walk you home?”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” Izuku asked. Haruko went back to leaning on his chest, too tired to keep up with the adult’s conversation.
“Right, well, we’re all wrapped up here, so technically I should go back on patrol. Which means… I could walk a block with you,” Katsuki rationalized.
Izuku let out a huff of breath.
“Fine. We’re back this way.” He turned around, starting down the sidewalk back to his apartment building.
“I, um… I’ve been keeping up with your journalism work. You take… really impressive photos,” Katsuki said, eventually.
“Oh? Thanks. They’re what, uh… what pays the bills,” Izuku sighed, looking into some clothing store window. Was the display different today? Maybe. He never shopped there, anyways.
“This bakery looks really nice,” Katsuki noted, pointing to the next building.
“Hm? Yeah, I… I get my bread there, usually,” Izuku said.
“Oh, cool.”
A pause. They kept walking.
“Well, this is my building.” Izuku stopped.
“Oh, uh… see you around, maybe?” Katsuki said. He looked nervous, eyes flickering around, like he was trying to find some other reason to keep talking to him.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Bye-bye Mr. Zero!” Haruko said, almost unexpectedly. Katsuki and Izuku both looked down, startled, then laughed a little. Izuku turned to go into his building, and Katsuki held the door open for them.
“Bye, Kacchan.”
—
Katsuki stood over the stovetop, his dinner cooking in the pan in front of him. The sizzling was like a loud, ringing static in his ears, and as he stared at the little bubbles of oil between the vegetables, his vision became unfocused.
He was back at the graduation banquet, four years ago. He couldn’t help replaying it over and over.
Standing there, talking idly to Kirishima, when he caught a glimmer of green from the corner of his eye and turning, startled, to see Izuku interviewing some extra. He had a big camera strapped around his neck and a voice recorder held out to the person he was interviewing. Other students flocked over, none of them quite experienced enough yet to distrust the press, all eager to be interviewed.
He stirred the vegetables in the pan, not wanting them to burn. The smell of caramelized onions wafted into the air.
His parents had circled back over to him after talking to Izuku. Did you see that Izuku is here? His mother asked. He has an internship with a newspaper! How exciting, that he’s doing well for himself. His mother was always worried about him in middle school, you know. Never thought he would pick a reasonable career.
Katsuki chewed on his lip, that same juvenile nervousness from the banquet creeping over him again, just from remembering it.
He hadn’t planned on drinking, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to Izuku, so he got a glass of beer. He was quiet, unassuming about it, so no one bothered to check how drunk he was getting. He downed one, then another, until walking across the room to the green-haired nerd didn’t seem like such a big deal at all.
Katsuki turned off the heat and moved the pan off the burner. He was close to letting it burn, he realized, running a hand through his hair.
He was really caught up on this, wasn’t he?
But then he thought of the rest of the night, all those blurry memories of chatting him up, getting him to drink with him, watching those freckled cheeks get flushed and convincing himself Izuku was falling just as hard.
Time slipped through his fingers. He couldn’t remember how, but they’d stumbled up to one of the hotel rooms and landed, bouncing, on the bed. He kissed him, hard, mouths crashing together, inexperienced hands trailing down torsos. The last thing he could remember clearly, was the moment he slipped his hand down under Izuku’s waistband. Panic flashed across his face.
“Kacchan,” he’d said, voice strained.
“I know what you’ve got down there. What, you think I’d forget?” Katsuki had responded. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the only thing Izuku had been worried about, but it was enough to calm him in the moment. At least, Katsuki thought so, because the rest of the memory was gone – his drunken mind had ceased its ability to form memories beyond that exchange.
He never knew for sure if he’d really lost his virginity that night, but now? It was looking a lot more likely.
His phone rang in the other room, then, and Katsuki shook himself out of his thoughts.
He quickly put a cover on the food so it wouldn’t get cold, then went into the living room, where his phone was face up on the coffee table, bright screen displaying his mom’s name as it rung and vibrated, moving a few degrees to the right each time.
“Ugh,” he rolled his eyes, clicking the answer call button and flopping onto the couch.
“So, the brat finally picks up! You said you would call when you found out your schedule, but it’s been two days! Why I haven’t I heard from you yet?” his mother’s voice ridiculed him.
Katsuki sighed.
“Sorry. Been busy. You want to have dinner right? I think I can do Wednesday.”
“Don’t be so nonchalaunt with me! You’re in trouble for ignoring me, you brat!” she responded.
“Wednesday it is,” he said, rolling his eyes as he moved the phone away from his ear. She was yelling again, but he just hung up, and then slumped down further into the couch. He didn’t even feel bad, not like how he usually did. He had too much to think about. Too much he needed to know.
Fuck, he needed to know.