Chapter Text
This had been a terrible idea from the very beginning.
Shōto kept repeating the thought to himself as he stared at the third pregnancy test he’d taken that day, the sixth one that week.
Two lines.
Two lines.
Two lines.
…
Lined up neatly across the bathroom sink, every single one showed the exact same result; two lines.
It didn’t matter how many times he counted them or in what order he looked at them. And God knows, he’d been staring at them for over an hour now, waiting for a mistake—or rather, praying for one. Clinging to the absurd hope that if he looked long enough, a third line would somehow appear and erase every fear tightening around his chest. A third line that would put the world back the way it was supposed to be.
His little ritual had started as nothing more than reassurance. Or more, accurately, as an attempt to prove himself wrong about the suspicion that had followed him around for the past month. Instead, it had only made facing reality that much harder.
The inevitable consequence of a series of stupid decisions. Pleasurable ones, addictive even, but still stupid.
But he was a hero, a professional hero, he couldn’t afford the luxury of running away from reality.
Heroes didn’t look away from difficult truths.
and even if they did, what made them heroes was finding the courage to face them anyway.
So, after spending an entire week trying to gather that courage, Shōto reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out his phone.
The first thing waiting for him it was his browser history, incognito mode, obviously, as a precaution.
A precaution that would’ve been much more useful a month ago. But better late than ever, he reminded himself like a mantra as he read through it.
False positive pregnancy test
Chances of a false negative pregnancy test
When should I take a pregnancy test?
Home remedies to induce a period
can stress delay your period?
can anxiety cause nausea?
why does coffee suddenly taste bad
can overtraining suddenly delay your period
The longer he stared at it, the less it resembled a search history and the more it became a carefully curated museum of his own personal humiliation, one he built by himself.
Enough.
Determined to rip the bandage off as quickly as possible, he closed the tab —though not before giving it one last glance—and opened his messaging app instead.
His thumb hovered over one particular conversation.
Bakugō Katsuki
Probably the only person alive capable of making him abandon every shred of common sense.
The owner of embarrassingly vivid fantasies he’d spent years burying beneath layers of self-control, all throughout high school and well after graduation. Until, of course, one impulsive decision had reduced all that effort to nothing.
And now he was paying the price for giving in to the feelings he’d hidden better than anyone.
With nothing left to lose—except one of the most meaningful friendships he’d ever managed to build for himself, and whatever remained of his dignity— perhaps he ought to start planning a funeral.
preferably his own.
The thought crossed his mind as he finally resigned himself to typing out a message. One that wouldn’t merely summarize the situation.
It would confirm his worst fear.
…
He deleted it.
…
Again.
…
And Again.
Over and over, his thumbs hovering uselessly above the keyboard.
What was he even suppose to say?
How was he supposed to condense an entire month’s worth of dread into a few lines of text?
No matter how much thought he put into the message sitting in the palm of his hand, nothing felt right. Or even acceptable.
Surely there had to be a combination of words that wouldn’t send recipient running for the hills. If such a thing even existed.
Hi.
…
Hi? And then what?
I need to talk to you.
Too serious.
Come over to my apartment.
Too vague.
Perhaps…
Maybe all three?
Hi.
Could you come by my apartment during your next break?
There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.
No unnecessary details.
Perfect.
He felt far more satisfied with those three sentences that he would ever willingly admit.
With one task finally completed, Shōto slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Now all that remained was preparing himself for what came next.
-
”Kacchan, on your right!”
An opening, that was all he needed.
Without a second thought, an explosion erupted from the palm of his hand, cutting the cornered villain off before he could finish whatever pathetic threat he’d been trying to spit out.
The only thing Katsuki registered was the familiar scent of burnt gunpowder as he slammed the bastard into the pavement and restrained him.
“If you’re gonna threaten me, at least make it believable”, he scoffed, tightening the restraints around the villain’s wrist.
Nothing like crushing a villain’s ego before handing them over.
With that stupid situation finally dealt with, Katsuki slipped away to a quiet corner, safely out of nosy extras, and let the press conference to the police and the idiot Deku.
Ding!
Tch, I’ve got work to do. He rolled his aching shoulders.
Ding!
…
It can wait. He took another drink from his water bottle, deliberately ignoring the notification. There was only one person who used that ringtone.
Ding!
…
Oh for fucks sake. Clicking his tongue, Katsuki finally gave in and pulled out his phone.
Icyhot
Hi.
5:59 PM
Could you come by my apartment during your next break?
6:00 PM
There’s something I’d like to discuss with you
6:01 PM
…
What. the. hell?
6:10 PM
There wasn’t anything inherently strange about the message. Arguing was like breathing for him, Hell, if people wanted to pick a fight with him, they could take a damn number.
He could think of at least two things worth arguing about right now.
Like the damn reporter who’d cornered him the second he stepped into the press area with Deku, asking not-so-subtle questions about the latest rumors surrounding his love life.
“None of that has anything to do with my job.”, He snapped the answer before turning away, refusing to give her anything else.
Still, he couldn’t quite focus.
6:45 PM
Discuss what, exactly?
The question resurfaced as he worked through yet another stack of reports in his office. His pen moved as efficiently as ever, signature after signature, page after page. His concentration, however, had long since checked out.
The sooner I finish this, the sooner I can deal with whatever the hell this is.
Good enough, back to work.
7:26 PM
Tick.
One minute closer.
Tick.
The reports sat in perfectly organized piles across his desk, entirely ignored.
Their author had found something infinitely more productive to occupy his thoughts.
Tick.
“It’s probably about that stupid manga he’s been reading”, The little voice in the back of his head sounded far too confident. “Parasyte, wasn’t it?.”
One of Icyhot latest obsessions.
Well, one of them…
The other one involved considerably fewer manga panels…
And considerably more of the two of them ending up tangled in each other’s sheets whenever neither of them had patrol the next morning.
…
Katsuki immediately shoved that thought into the deepest corner of his mind.
Tick.
…
Oh, screw it.
His phone was already open to Shotō’s chat before he’d consciously decided to pick up.
On my way.
7:30 PM
7:45 PM
The wind buffeted his helmet as he rode through to the city at a comfortable pace.
His hero costume had been neatly locked away in his agency locker. Dynamight’s shift was over. Now there was only Katsuki Bakugō—and his problem.
Like the efficient man he was, he began sorting through every possible reason behind what Shotō had insisted on calling a discussion.
Family?
Predictable, sure.
But with the Todorokis, you never really knew. Especially, with the head of the family. Even retired, Endeavor somehow always managed to become everyone’s business. Still, he crossed that option off almost immediately.
Shotō would ask him to talk about something like that, not discuss it.
There was a difference, and by now Shotō definitely knew it.
Agency.
Probably the second most likely option.
Ever since he, Icyhot and that idiot Deku had founded their agency together, management had become an endless source of things to argue over.
Except..
Shotō never brought work home, not if he could help it. He guarded his free time almost religiously.
Another possibility crossed of the list.
“Their thing.”
Katsuki dismissed than one even faster.
What the hell was there to discuss? Nothing. You couldn’t have a discussion about something that doesn’t exist outside a pair of bedsheets.
Satisfied with that perfectly reasonable conclusion, he continued toward Shotō’s apartment.
Manga
Honestly? Probably the strongest contender. Shotō took his hobbies almost as seriously as he took hero work.
Yeah.
It’s definitely that, Katsuki told himself as he rounded another corner.
Because if it wasn’t…
…
No.
Across the city, Shōto checked his phone again. Like he’d done every few minutes since sending those messages.
Katsuki
On my way.
7:30 PM
Shotō let out one last slow breath, there was no turning back now. He repeated the thought to himself until he almost believed it.