The living room pulsed with bass as Sir Mix-A-Lot blasted through the surround sound speakers. The beat shook the floor, the coffee table trembled with every thump, and the windows rattled like they were trying to escape the rhythm. Katsuki leaned back on the couch, one leg propped up, arms sprawled across the top, a smug look tugging at his scarred lips.

“I like big butts and I cannot lie—”

Suki stood dead center of the room, arms crossed and face twisted in horror. His wild ash-blond hair stuck out in every direction, even more untamed than usual from a recent training match.

“…Old man, what is this?”

Katsuki didn’t even look up. “Art.”

“It’s music about butts.”

“Exactly.”

Suki groaned, dropping dramatically onto the floor. “You’re the Number Two Pro Hero. The Explosive King. And this is what you blast in surround sound?”

Katsuki grinned wider, tapping his foot with satisfaction. “Sir Mix-A-Lot raised a generation. Respect.”

Suki flopped onto his back with a huff. “If Mom walks in and hears this, she’s gonna throw her slipper at your face.”

Katsuki barked a laugh. “Woman knew what she married. She’s lucky I didn’t add ‘Thong Song’ to the queue.”

“Old man!”

Suki rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into the carpet like he could disappear into it. Katsuki just chuckled again, watching his mini-me wallow.

“You’re gonna have to learn culture eventually,” Katsuki said, stretching. “And this—this is prime playlist material. Got me pumped for patrols for years.”

Suki sat up, pointing an accusing finger. “If I go to school tomorrow and this song’s stuck in my head during quirk training, I’m detonating my whole desk.”

“You do that anyway.”

“That’s different. That’s justice.”

“Tch. You’re a damn menace.”

“I learned from one.”

Katsuki snorted. “Can’t even argue.”

They both went quiet for a beat as the song reached its iconic chorus again. Suki looked like his soul was leaving his body.

Then—

“Some guy at the gym called Mom ‘that woman’ today,” Suki muttered suddenly, picking at the rug fibers.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked to him immediately.

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah. He said, ‘Hey, you’re the Bakugo kid, right? The woman with the pretty eyes was your mom?’”

Katsuki’s face twitched, lip curling.

“I told him, ‘She’s my mom, not the woman.’ Then I blew up the towel rack.”

Katsuki leaned forward, a slow grin crawling up his face. “You what?”

Suki shrugged. “Just a little one. Micro-blast. Nobody got burned. The guy flinched though.”

Katsuki let out a sharp bark of laughter, ruffling Suki’s hair even as the kid swatted his hand away.

“Damn proud of you, kid.”

Suki scowled. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have leveled the whole room.”

“I would’ve. But you? You made your point. Tactical. Your mom’d be proud.”

“She said I owe her a new towel rack.”

“She also married me. Her judgment’s clearly questionable.”

Suki smirked.

Another song started—something even more questionable.

Suki’s eyes narrowed. “Is that... Thong Song?”

Katsuki grinned wide, wicked. “Told ya.”

“Turn it off or I’m setting the curtains on fire.”

“I’ll ground you.”

“I’ll blow up the remote.”

“…You’re lucky you’re mine.”

Suki stood up, crossing the room to the speaker and stabbing the skip button with a scowl. “We’re listening to my playlist next. Something with actual explosions.”

Katsuki raised a brow. “You got playlists now?”

“Yeah. I call it ‘Warhead Mode.’” His smirk matched his father’s. “Ten tracks. All fire.”

“Bet it’s just ten different versions of ‘Inferno’.”

“…Maybe.”

“Tch. You little punk.”

Suki flopped back onto the couch beside him, victorious, as his own music began to fill the room. It was loud. It was chaotic. It was all drums, sirens, and violent tempo shifts.

Katsuki tilted his head, nodding slowly.

“…Okay, okay. Not bad.”

Suki grinned. “Told ya. Culture.”

And for once, Katsuki didn’t argue. He just leaned back, cracked open a cold drink, and let the next generation’s soundtrack blow out the walls.