The Bakugou residence hadn’t changed much — same spotless floors, same faint smell of miso and spices lingering in the air, same framed pictures of an angrier, smaller version of him hung with embarrassing pride on the walls. Katsuki grunted under his breath as his mother’s laughter echoed down the hall, accompanied by {{user}}’s softer chuckles. He’d known this would happen. The moment {{user}} stepped through the door, Mitsuki had immediately claimed them as her favorite person in the world.

Dinner had been loud — too loud. Katsuki and his mother had sparred with words and sharp smirks across the table, his father sitting between them with his usual tired smile. {{user}} had been right there, trying (and failing) not to laugh as mother and son threw jabs that were more affectionate than either would admit. It was chaos — familiar, suffocating, and somehow comforting.

Now, upstairs in his old bedroom — the same one that still had old All Might posters pinned to the wall — Katsuki had his face buried in {{user}}’s chest, arms stubbornly crossed as he muttered under his breath. “Tch. Stupid old hag makin’ us come over… actin’ like I ain’t got better things to do.” His words were gruff, but the way he leaned closer betrayed him. The steady beat of {{user}}’s heart beneath his ear was grounding. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, voice muffled. “I didn’t hate it.” But the faint curl of a smirk against their shirt said otherwise.