Kirishima on the other hand, voice robbed the second he heard it, merely watches from the doorway… His stance shifting awkwardly as he watches.

Whatever he wanted to say to get his attention long left him, now replaced with growing layers of concern. Bakugou’s gaze remains firmly set on the floor, as if focusing both on some pointless crack in the tile and somewhere a million miles beyond it.

The kids are making a racket outside. The open window amplifying their screaming and squealing laughter. The smell of beef and potatoes is fills up the kitchen. Soon they’ll be pushing each other inside as to whether or not it’s done yet.

It’s cloudy. A downright ugly day. And yet something about being back here, spending these last few days in his childhood home, has had him feeling hot. As if the walls were trapping heat. As if there’s never enough air.

Masaru should be outside with them. Though, honestly, he shouldn’t be moving around much at all… But when it comes to his grandkids it’s always ‘who cares, I still have energy in me.’

Kirishima remains quiet. His hardened hands sweep up the bigger pieces, dumping them in an old plastic bowl. Bakugou follows along with a folded paper towel, smushing it inside.

Eventually though, after what seems like forever, the blond does look up at him as if just now made aware of his presence. “M’ sorry.”

Even at this age, Kirishima looks good with his red hair. His roots are coming in- but they look nice, is what Bakugou thinks, leaning in to run his hand through his husband’s hair. Kirishima lets him. “Sorry for what?”

“For spacing out.” “Mm,” He hums. He closes his eyes at Bakugou massaging in little circles on his head, much to the blond’s amusement. “I think that was a bit more than just spacing out.” “Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”

Kirishima pulls his hand away, looking to make direct (yet uncomfortably tense) eye contact. “Look, I found it endearing how concerned you were over her, but if you’re going to be all distant and… and well,” making hand motions to the floor and bowl. “Like a danger to yours-“

“A danger to myself..?!” He laughs, turning away to shut the stove off. “Fuck off with your dramatics, seriously.” “/I/ should be the one saying that.” And at this, Bakugou only raises a brow at him annoyed.

“All Mirei did was apply to a school.” “Without telling us.” “Katsuki,” Exasperated. “I don’t understand your deal. /We/ went to UA.” “Not the issue.” “Then what is?!” “How can you still not..” Pulling down on his face, “You know what, forget it.” “No! Stop with this for-“

And as if right on time… The younger of the two kids - Tatsuya - rushes in, caked in dirt and grass stains; stumbling over himself in a fit of giggles for Katsuki to pick him up. He’s quick to whine that he’s starving, and so Kirishima turns to Bakugou with a deep breath.

“I’m not gonna ‘forget’ this.” He says, prying their son off the blonde’s leg, “You’re her dad Katsuki.” And something about the way he says it, as if pleading, gnaws at something deep inside him. “Just talk to her.”

He says this as if it were so easy. As if he can just pull her aside after a near two weeks of tense glares and short handed remarks.

And so she comes in, calling for Kirishima who gives her a big toothed smile, only for her to freeze in her tracks when seeing Bakugou alongside him… Quickly turning around with an annoyed huff.

Teenagers..

“Do you not fucking see that..?!” He gawks, “‘Just talk to her’” Rolling his eyes. “Kats,” he sighs, settling Tatsuya down on the floor. “I know that with your dad and Mirei at this age…“

“Ei.” He cuts in, opening the cabinet. Masaru still organizes the bowls by color as Mitsuki once did. “Don’t fucking start.” Sounding a bit more raw than he intended to. He swallows after a second, “I’ll talk to her.”

Kirishima furrows his brows at him, as if unconvinced. So Bakugou just repeats himself with an, “I will! /Fuck/, just, give me a bit.” Shoving the bowls into Kirishima’s hands before barking at him to help his old fart of a dad set up the table.

“Okay okay, geez, you’ll eat with us though… Right?” “She’ll just act all pissy and leave if I do. Want her to eat at least before working up an attitude.” Kirishima opens his mouth before shutting himself up again, relenting.

Bakugou groans. He hates when he does that shit. “/What?”/ “You won’t support her..?” “Kinda stupid question is that?” He asks, “We’re here already aren’t we?”

•••

Even if he decided to eat with them, he doesn’t think he could stomach anything.

So he waits. And waits… Until the house falls quiet when eventually slipping out of the room. It’s dark. Bakugou steps out into the hallway with small, quiet steps. Watching the kitchen, small streams of light stretch across the floor as a lone shadow crosses through them.

Masaru, to Bakugou’s surprise, is still awake. He’s fiddling with his newest little toy. It’s one of these 3D wooden puzzles that you have to mess around with to find the solution.

Bakugou has always found these stupid. To no one’s surprise. But they entertained him; plus, when they were younger, the kids seemed to like them enough to grant him and Kirishima a few hours of peace.

Bakugou sits on a chair next to his father’s, watching him turn and twist a piece that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. “Where’s Ei?” Masaru doesn’t look up, eyes fixed as his fingers feel for any crevice that would give. “Left to train somewhere with Mirei and Tatsu.”

“Train? It’s late, for Tatsu especially!” “Well, she’s training for UA right? Plus he just wants to feel included…” Settling the unfinished puzzle down. “You did the same.” “/Sure./” He raises a brow. “You sound like you have a problem with it.”

“I don’t-“ he sighs. “Look, whatever Ei told you, he’s exaggerating,” Forcing a tight grin. “I’m ecstatic.” “Mm.” “Elated.” “Of course.” Silence.