Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! i drew a little something for this fic on my twt: guavacado3
Ochako balances a Styrofoam container on the canopy of the sago palm as she turns her key into the front door. She retrieves the carton before it can slide off the leaves and steps inside to find a second pair of shoes next to Katsuki's.
He's at the oven, pulling out a sweet potato with his bare hands. Even though he's been detonating his palms since he was four, the sight of him holding a burnt yam makes her wince.
She watches his torso twist around when she drops her helmet on the floor to signal her arrival. The second their eyes meet, he turns his back on her.
All she can see is the tight line of his back and steam fogging the microwave window as he peels the sweet potato. She suffers through a moment of indignation before curling her lip. Ochako marches up to him, ready to ask what his problem is, before noticing an infant on the granite countertop.
Sanjirou swings his feet over the drawer as he stares back at her.
The sight stops her in her tracks. She blinks a couple of times, seemingly lost in her own home, and then peers down to see his father curled up into a ball, fast asleep on the porcelain tile.
A frown scrunches her face up as she tries to make sense of her environment. She looks over to Katsuki for clarification but only sees her favorite apron wrapped around his waist as he's still got his back turned on her.
The confusion bubbles into something irritable when she throws her hands up in the air and cries out. "Why are you playing house with Kirishima?"
Her volume startles the baby and stirs his father, but it makes Katsuki finally address her.
"Pipe down," he hisses, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder. "And go take your shoes off. I just swept the floors."
She's about to remind him that her shoes are built into this suit, so she can't remove them without undressing, jackass.
"Wub," Sanjirou interrupts, saliva dripping down his chin and to the Ground Zero bib hooked around his neck. The bib was gifted to him last summer by a teenage fan who'd pledged to have all twelve of his kids. Katsuki wears it sometimes when he eats her out.
"Sorry," he tells him and brings the cooled yam onto the tray of his makeshift highchair.
She then watches him retrieve one of the heavy-duty spoons she keeps from their late-night frozen yogurt dates. He used to call her ghetto when she'd reuse them, but he isn't saying anything now.
With her favorite neon orange spoon, he mashes a bit up and blows on the puree to cool it down more before bringing it to the baby's awaiting mouth.
Sanjirou smacks his lips around the mush before letting it dribble out of his mouth. His reaction is slow but clear to her.
"Too hot?" he asks him, blowing on another piece.
"I don't think he likes sweet potato." Ochako says.
"Well, too bad," he grunts, looking only at the baby. She watches San frown and turn his head away when Katsuki tries to feed him another spoonful. "Because sweet potato has a ton of vitamin A and calcium and beta-carotene, so he's gonna suck it up. Isn't that right, San?"
San purses his lips together and shakes his head.
"I don't think that matters to him if it tastes bad."
He scoffs as he retracts the spoon. "You would know, wouldn't you? Miss Mother Material."
Her throat tightens up. She stares down at San's highchair and the snub sears her even further when she gets a better look of Katsuki's handiwork. The bamboo cheeseboard they never use has been propped up by two coffee table books to create a functional feeding table.
Ochako swallows down the impulse to apologize and walks over to retrieve her Styrofoam container.
"Maybe he wants something else," she suggests, opening the lid to reveal the takeout crepe she bought to reconcile with him. She knows he doesn't like crepes, but it's the thought that counts, plus she has an excuse to eat it so it won't go to waste.
Ochako plucks the spoon out of Katsuki's fist and selects a banana slice with nutella drizzled on it. As she scrapes the fruit into an edible mush, she's tempted to eat it but wills herself to feed the child instead.
Sanjirou's reluctant when she attempts to feed him. It takes a couple tries before he opens his mouth. She beams when his face brightens as the chocolate touches his tongue.
San's smile is contagious. Out of her peripheral, she catches Katsuki return it for a brief second before he goes back to scowling.
"That's bad for him."
"How?" she asks. "Banana's got potassium and… other good stuff."
"I meant all that sugar." he says, taking the spoon back out of her hand and wiping off the nutella stripes on the bananas before macerating them for San.
Sanjirou's gilded gaze is fixed on his dinner. He follows the trail of Katsuki's hand and keeps his mouth open in anticipation.
She watches him giggle as Katsuki spoons another dollop into his smiling mouth. Katsuki presses his lips together so a laugh doesn't escape.
She gets why Katsuki likes the kid. He's calm and cute and above all quiet.
"Anyway, do you mind?" he grumbles, still bristled over the fact that San prefers her food over his. "We were kinda having a guys' night."
San swallows and grins again, showing all four of the crowns in his gums. Mina mentioned wanting to wean him ever since he started teething but was worried about it being too early. If San ends up inheriting his dad's teeth, Ochako wouldn't hold it against her.
"Guys' night?" she echoes, glancing down at the collapsed man by her feet and his unspeaking son before them. "But he's a ladies' man. Right, San?"
San doesn't respond verbally but appears socially engaged as he reaches out for her. Something about his outstretched arms beckons her closer.
Of all the babies she'd held last night, San was her favorite. He didn't have Nana's fretfulness or Ryou's clinginess or Nagi's stickiness. He was placid and clean and sweet. She wants to hold onto him and never let go.
Katsuki steps in when he notices her approaching.
"Get away from him," he snaps, elbowing her away. "You're covered in germs. I don't want the kid getting sick."
Ochako's earliest memories were on the floor of the construction site. Her parents would bring her along because they couldn't afford any sort of daycare or babysitter.
She remembers swirling her tiny fingertip to doodle on the sawdust and using broken tiles as building blocks, and—when she was older— hosting tea parties for the workers and serving them slurry water. She was raised in filth and her health wasn't compromised at all.
"It'll strengthen his immune system." she insists, trying to push through.
Katsuki grabs onto her wrist. "I told you not to touch him."
"But he's reaching out for me," she says, luring him with a grin.
San laughs again and even if he looks just like his dad, she knows this is Mina's son. This is the same smile she received when she'd told Mina about her first kiss with Katsuki during one of their confidential confessions after curfew.
"Go take a shower." Katsuki says, cutting her reminiscence short. She only complies because it's in the baby's best interest.
Ochako takes one look back to wave at San and pauses to study his flossy black curls, and golden gaze, and drooly grin, and she thinks maybe an infant doesn't look too terrible in their kitchen.
She steps in the shower and lets the hot water melt some of the guilt off her shoulders. Shampoos, conditions, detangles her hair, and tries not to think of Tsu or her postpartum alopecia as she cleans out her comb. The lavender bar soap does a good job of soothing the whole day's collection of tension. She stays under the warm spray until the rest of her stress rolls away with the herbal lather.
Ochako turns the water off and reaches for a folded towel on the shelf. When she's dry enough, she wraps her hair up with the damp towel and puts on her sleep shorts from that morning. One of Katsuki's cotton tees is slung over the rack but it smells clean enough to wear to bed, so she puts it on.
When she walks out of the bathroom, she sees Katsuki standing with his back to her again. His silence isn't as hostile this time, so she stands beside him.
They don't say anything for a minute, just watch San sleep on their bed. His tiny body's being flanked by two pillows to ensure he doesn't roll off. He looks even more absurdly beautiful when he's asleep, like an actual angel.
San starts kicking in his sleep. Katsuki's whole body tenses up and his stare goes from appreciative to alert. Ochako glances at the wool socks on San's feet and says, "Maybe you should take his socks off."
"No."
"What if he's hot?"
"Well, what if he's cold?" he sneers without taking his eyes off San.
She looks up at him. Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest but makes no other motion to regard her.
"Let's ask him," she jokes, making the slightest move towards the infant. Then there's a warm palm grabbing her still wet shoulder, keeping her from moving any closer to the bed.
"Don't you dare."
She tilts her head back with a little huff. His devotion is… touching…smothering… throttling. "What are you, his surrogate mom or something?"
"No, I'm his uncle." he replies bitterly, "That's all I'm ever gonna be since I'll never get a baby."
A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. She didn't know how sulky he'd get over this. Ochako steps back to his side and joins him in San's vigilance for a few quiet moments.
"I didn't say no baby," she says in a small voice, mindful of keeping her volume down.
He refolds his arms and clenches his jaw. There's a tiny muscle beside his sideburn that flexes and relaxes. "Didn't have to."
Her toes curl into the grain of the carpet.
"Katsuki," she mumbles, clutching onto his nearest forearm. "I'm scared."
That fight was really about her fear. She feels terrible for taking all of her own worries out on him last night.
He doesn't say anything at first, just keeps watching the gentle sway of San's breathing.
"Of what?"
She buries her face in the crook of his elbow so he doesn't see her lip quiver as she thinks about all her friends suffering in silence. Thinks about what she's heard of but hasn't seen from Momo. How Toru and Kyouka are dealing with their pregnancies and the way Mina and Tsu are handling their babies. How different they are now that they're mothers, and the rest of their private pains they keep from her and everybody else. She thinks of the baby sleeping on her bed and knows that motherhood isn't without its compromises.
"I see all my friends struggling and I," she bites her lip, pausing to consider her words. "I just want it to be us right now."
Katsuki unfolds his arms and takes her hand. She keeps her eyes on the floor as he pulls her close.
"I wasn't gonna leave you with the kid all day, you dummy." he says into her damp hair. "Most of the time, my dad was my mom."
She can't think of a response at the moment, so she chooses to stand in silence and nuzzle herself further into the apron.
"So," he mutters, gingerly rubbing her ringless finger. "You don't want a baby?"
"I already have a baby," she says, wrapping her arms around him even tighter.
Katsuki's groan isn't entirely annoyed. She's skirts her lips over to the edge of the apron and presses a kiss onto his bare skin.
Maybe she does want his red-eyed, blonde-haired, bad-tempered children. She's never denied it. She just isn't ready for the responsibility that comes with having them. She doesn't think it's selfish to put them off for now.
"I do want kids," she murmurs into his rib, "Just not right this second."
He plants his chin on the crown of her head. She can feel him hum with her cheek pressed against his chest. "Tomorrow, then?"
She looks up at him.
"No." she smiles. "Not tomorrow."
He smiles back. "Day after?"
She peeks over at San. The idea of her coming home to him cooking their child dinner and having the house clean seems like a pipe dream, but so far Katsuki has made most of her dreams a living reality. "I don't know."
He nods to himself.
She fingers the lace trim of her apron. She hates to admit how much better he wears it. "By the way, you're definitely mother material." she whispers, cupping his stubbly chin down for a kiss.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhmm," she mumbles. "And father material, too."
She feels the front of his teeth when he grins against her lips.
"We'll see about that," he says and slips his hands under her shorts like the night before. Ochako lets out a tiny yelp when he hoists one of her legs over his hip.
"Katsuki," she whispers sternly, eyes cutting to the baby on their bed. "Not in front of San."
He takes a look over his shoulder and brings his lips to her neck. "C'mon, the kid sleeps like a rock, just like his daddy—"
In their fervor, they failed to realize said daddy had walked in. Since Katsuki is shameless, Ochako is tasked with feeling embarrassed for the both of them as she tries to pry his hands off her body.
"Don't mind me," Eijirou says, politely not looking anywhere but his child. "I'm just gonna take my son and go."
Katsuki looks over at them and says, "Goodnight, King."
"Goodnight, Bakugou."
"I wasn't talking to you."
With Sanjirou safely in his father's arms, he's free to pick her up and slam her on the bed. Ochako sprawls out on the mattress pleasantly. She's missed this. The bed. Their room. Him. There's a time and place for everything, and she thinks it's okay to take it step by gradual step.
Katsuki reaches back to untie the apron. "Hey," he calls before Eijirou walks out the door.
Eijirou adjusts his son's drowsy head over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
He takes the apron off, folds it neatly, and then tosses it behind him. Ochako just now realizes that he was only wearing his briefs under her apron. The cusp of his canine gleams when he smirks.
"You still got that condom?"