Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya once read that you should never make any major decisions during the month of February—something about it being the most trying, most depressing month of the year. He’s not exactly certain it’s an accurate statement, would need to read up more on the psychology of February to verify, but still; it’s the thought that circles his mind as he gazes upon the dimly lit screen of his laptop, eyes scanning the Facebook profile displayed before him. Don’t make big decisions in February. Don’t make big decisions in February. Don’t make big decisions in February.
He sighs, closing out of the browser before he can think twice about it, then leans back against the headboard of his bed, head thunking lightly against the wood. It was for the best, probably. He had a lot on his plate anyway, between school and work and writing. He didn’t need another distraction.
Izuku closes his laptop, setting it on his nightstand before removing his round-framed glasses, rubbing at his eyes. He’d have to simmer on this idea of his for a while, carefully weigh the pros and cons, maybe draw up an elaborate chart or something. He’s been meaning to break in that new whiteboard he impulse-bought last week; this would be the perfect opportunity for it.
But it’d have to wait. Izuku’s shoulders slump, replacing his glasses on his nose and running a hand through his thick curls. He’s got places to be.
A quick shower later, and Izuku is on his way to Hero’s Diner—a local diner just a few blocks down from his place, famous (at least in this part of town) for its superhero-themed décor and menu. It’s a favourite of his, many of his most cherished memories happening within its pop-culture clad walls—like when his softball team celebrated their first (and only) Little League win, or when that newly-hired waitress accidentally spilled a whole tray of milkshakes on Kacchan (the other boy would probably kill him if he ever brought that up). But more than that, it’s the place he and his dad really bonded, late-night ice cream cravings turning into heartfelt midnight talks. He’d never felt closer to his dad than in those moments, never felt more seen, more loved.
Until his dad walked out on them, that is.
But hey, ten years later and Izuku isn’t even bitter at all.
Izuku pushes open the glass door to Hero’s, the cheerful ring of a bell announcing his arrival. He’s greeted immediately by the familiar waitress at the counter, her bright red lips pulled into a smile. “Hey, long time no see! Your mom’s already waiting for you. The usual table.”
“Thanks,” Izuku smiles back, ducking his head in gratitude before making his way towards the back of the diner. Sure enough, nestled in the worn-leather corner booth sits his mom, chin resting in her manicured hand as she laughs at something her companion— an ageing man with greying hair and crow’s feet edging his pale eyes—says. Ugh. Izuku forgot James was going to be here.
James Matsuda—his mom’s new husband, his new step-dad. Well, new isn’t the right term for it anymore, he supposes, the two having married in the summer before his senior year of high school—almost two years ago now, by his count. Still, it’s easy for Izuku to forget the man exists sometimes, considering how far away he lives and how often he misses family events for work—plus the small fact that Izuku wishes he didn’t exist, but that’s neither here nor there. And look, it’s not that James is a bad guy, it’s just that…well, maybe Izuku has some unresolved issues regarding paternal figures in his life. It happens.
But Izuku never says any of this out loud—to his family, at least. He’s not sure how many late-night shifts at the convenience store have been spent ranting about the situation to Katsuki. Those talks notwithstanding, Izuku has been nothing but supportive of his mom and James. He knows James makes her happy, knows they love each other, that they’re good for each other, and the last thing he’d ever want to do is ruin that. So like the mature adult he is, he bottles his ill feelings, burying them deep within his core so that he can treat the other man with perfect civility. Even if the very thought of the man makes him want to throw up.
Look, Izuku is actually a really nice guy, he swears. He doesn’t mean to think so rudely of James. It’s just that his inner voice is a bit of a jerk sometimes. It’s probably Katsuki’s fault. Maybe Izuku should’ve listened better when his mom warned him about bad influences. Oh well.
His mom looks up as Izuku approaches, her lips curving up into a grin as she rises to embrace him. “Izuku! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
Izuku wraps his arms around her, returning the (suffocatingly) tight hug. “Hey, mom.”
James also comes to stand by the pair, having awkwardly scooched along the seat to escape the booth. He extends a hand to Izuku when the embrace ends. “Izuku.”
Izuku quickly shakes the other man’s hand. “James.” James’ only saving grace is probably the fact that he’s never once insisted upon Izuku calling him “dad.” Izuku respects him for that.
They all take seats in the booth, his mother now occupying the middle space between the two men. There’s a waitress by soon to take drink orders, and while they wait for her return, his mom and James make small talk with him, asking about his schooling, his work, what else he’s been up to. He doesn’t have a lot to share—it’s not like he’s ever been much of a wild child—but the two still act interested in the banality of his coursework and meagre hobbies.
But as their drinks arrive—Izuku ordering an extra creamy milkshake despite his lactose intolerance—the conversation soon drifts to the real reason they were meeting for lunch today: his mom and James had some major news to share. Izuku thinks he already knows what it is.
“So,” his mom begins, nails clicking against her glass as she taps her fingers, “James and I have been trying to figure out the best time to tell you this, but…well, we won’t be able to hide it for much longer, so we figured now is as good a time as any.”
Izuku takes a long slurp from his milkshake, waiting patiently for his mom to continue. He’s not sure why she’s stalling like this. It’s not like she’s never had this conversation before.
“Izuku,” she says needlessly, reaching over to clasp James’ hand in her own as she smiles, “I’m pregnant.”
Called it.
“Cool.” Izuku stirs up his shake, mixing the whipped cream into the rest.
“So you’re not upset? Because we would understand if you were.”
“Nope,” Izuku replies, popping the p sound to show just how unbothered he is by the situation. “I think it’s great that you’re having another kid. It’ll be cool to have a sibling.”
And it’s not entirely a lie—he really does think having a sibling would be cool. He just also wishes that sibling weren’t, you know, nineteen years younger than him.
Okay, maybe he’s not as unbothered by the situation as he claims he is.
It’s not that he’s mad about the situation. Deep down, he really is happy that his mom and James are taking this big step in their relationship. It’s just that, even deeper down, he can’t help but feel weird about the whole thing. Sure, people remarry and have kids all the time, but to do it when both partners are so advanced in age? When both already have children who have graduated high school? It’s weird. Really, if Izuku were planning to have kids—not that he is, mind you; he’s happily ace and single, thank you very much—then his kids would potentially have an aunt or uncle born within a decade of them. So no, it’s not a bad thing, it’s just weird.
He also may be having trouble coming to terms with the fact that the child would share DNA with James, but that’s more likely out of pettiness than anything else.
He explains as much to Katsuki later that night, when both boys are posted behind the front counter at Korner Konvenience. It’s especially dead tonight, as it usually is during the late hours on weekdays. Izuku idly spins on an old stool behind the counter, the joints creaking with every pass, while Katsuki leans against the countertop, bent over an open math textbook and scribbling away viciously on a sheet of graph paper. The position is probably really hard on his back, Izuku thinks, being all hunched over like that. Besides, the other boy constantly has to push his blond hair back from his eyes, the locks at the top of his head much longer than the rest, and it’s probably impeding his progress. Katsuki would be much better off if he pulled the other stool up to the counter to do his work.
But Izuku doesn’t point any of this out; he’d rather not have a textbook thrown at his head tonight.
“I mean, can you even imagine what their child might look like?” he says instead. “I mean, don’t get me wrong: my mother is gorgeous. But James. He’s just so…so…” Izuku waves his hand, searching for the right word. “Plain.”
“I don’t care,” Katsuki grinds out, gaze never wavering from his book.
Izuku carries on unperturbed. “I mean, what if they’re born with a receding hairline? What if they’re bald by middle school? Man, that poor kid’s in for a rough time.”
“Shut up.”
“Or like, what if James convinces my mom to name the kid something weird and modern, like Princess or Wellington? Or worse, what if they give them like a grown adult name, like Linda?”
“Seriously, just stop talking.”
“I don’t know, maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion. I mean, chances are it’s gonna be a completely normal kid. Maybe the situation isn’t weird, I’m just being weird about it.” He pauses in his spinning, vision swimming as he looks at Katsuki’s back. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think you should fuck off and let me do my work.”
“But I’m having a crisis!”
“Oh my god,” Katsuki groans, pencil pausing on paper as he tips his head back. “Why haven’t you been fired yet?”
“Because I’m a respectful and dependable employee who always provides quality service to our customers!”
“Why haven’t I quit yet?”
Izuku knows it’s rhetorical, but he answers anyway. “Because you need the money, and can’t be bothered to find a new job. Besides, you’d probably have trouble finding a new job with your personality as it is.”
Izuku nearly falls off his stool, startled by the loud smack of Katsuki slapping his textbook shut with unnecessary force, the other boy quickly shoving his items into his backpack. “That’s it. I’m going to clean the washrooms.” He tosses his backpack back under the counter, then jabs a finger at Izuku, fixing him with a threatening glare. “Don’t you dare bother me unless it’s an emergency—and I mean a store burning down, gun to the head emergency, not you needing me to cover the front so you can run across the street and pet a dog.”
“But that was an emergency!”
Katsuki’s nostrils flare, and his mouth opens wide to scream a reply before he catches himself, jaws snapping shut with an audible click of his teeth. Eyes closed, he takes a deep breath, withdrawing his extended hand and running it through his tousled hair. Finally, his eyes reopen, still narrowed in a glare. But at least he only sounds mildly homicidal when he says, “Don’t bother me.”
With that, the other boy turns on his heel and sets off to his task. Good riddance too—Izuku absolutely did not want that job tonight.
Izuku sighs, rising from the stool to stand up at the counter. He’s feeling a bit better about the whole pregnant mom thing now thanks to his “conversation” with Katsuki. Honestly, the other boy had been more responsive than usual—even if those responses were just various iterations of shut up. Maybe he’s finally making progress with Katsuki. Maybe he just caught him in a good mood.
Katsuki “Kacchan” Bakugou—Izuku’s…something. Their relationship has been nothing short of complicated, lately. Well, for the past few years, really. He’s practically known the other boy his whole life, their moms being close friends. And while the two boys were practically inseparable for the majority of their childhood, their relationship quickly took a turn for the worse when Katsuki turned mean. Izuku still doesn’t know what had happened to cause such a shift in his friend; his mother blames puberty, but Izuku isn’t sure how many boys hit puberty at nine years old.
Still, things got really bad between the two in middle school, with a couple trips to the principal’s office thrown into the mix, and then finally high school hit and things…settled down, surprisingly. Maybe it was a maturity thing, maybe Katsuki found other pursuits to fuel his anger into, or maybe he finally found someone who could temper his, well, temper. Whatever the case, the two generally managed to avoid each other, and now, freshly graduated and attending university, the two have managed to perfect the air of feigned civility between them. They can play nice, but all the while something strained churns just beneath the surface, a certain tension underlying forced courtesies. They’re not quite friends, not quite enemies, but still share a bond deeper than simple acquaintanceship. They’re just…complicated.
Izuku wishes they could be friends. He misses being friends with Katsuki.
The alarm chimes at the opening of the door, pulling Izuku from his thoughts. He greets the customer—a grizzled trucker, by the looks of it—kindly, then takes to adjusting the various displays on the counter to make himself look busy while he waits for the man to finish his browsing. A few moments pass, and soon Izuku is ringing the man through and wishing him a good night as he leaves, before being left alone to his thoughts once again.
Man, Katsuki was really taking his time with the washrooms. They must’ve been really bad, and Katsuki’s always been something of a perfectionist…
Or maybe he’s in the breakroom, messing around on his phone. That’s probably a more accurate assumption.
Izuku leans his forearms against the counter, tapping away idly at the smooth tiled top. Despite his lack of advice-giving capabilities, Katsuki really was a good listener. Maybe it was his lack of advice-giving that made him a good listener. Sometimes, all Izuku needed was someone to talk to who wouldn’t try to solve all his problems. It was nice just being able to rant.
It wasn’t nice to be left alone at the front counter, but baby steps.
Still, he thinks back on their “conversation.” The more he considers the situation, the more he realizes that he’s the one making things weird. Age differences aside, there was nothing strange about two mature people in a relationship wanting to have a kid together. End of story. No, the real problem is the fact that Izuku is still dealing with…things—or rather, he’s been avoiding dealing with things—and now, faced with a brand-new chapter of his life, he’s being held back by his past. He hasn’t gotten closure, hasn’t gotten over those past traumas. If he’s going to move forward with his life and accept what is to come, he first needs to deal with what’s already happened.
That makes sense, right? He thinks it does.
And it’s that thought that brings him back to his laptop after returning home from his shift, screen displaying that Facebook profile once again. He takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves. He’s been running away from this for too long. It’s about time he’s learned to deal.
He enters an address into the maps app on his phone, tracing a route from his current location, judging the time, the distance. He saves the location.
February or not, Izuku is about to make a very big decision.