Katsuki Bakugo was not in the mood for whatever bullshit was going on. The second he stepped out of the elevator, he was met with an unusual amount of whispers and—ugh—cooing from his classmates.

"The hell is going on?" Bakugo demanded as the group parted slightly, revealing Aizawa standing in the middle of the room. But what caught Bakugo's attention was the tiny boy in his arms.

A kid. A small, messy-haired boy, maybe four years old. The brat had a deep frown, arms crossed, looking like he was gonna throw a tantrum.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is your problem, Bakugo."

His? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Then the kid turned his head, catching sight of Bakugo. His eyes widened, and—

"Kacchan!"

The little boy leaped out of Aizawa’s arms and bolted toward him. Instinct kicked in, and Bakugo caught the kid before he could faceplant into the ground.

Bakugo went rigid as the common room exploded into squeals.

"Oh my god, he’s so cute!" Hagakure yelped.

"Your boyfriend got hit by a de-aging quirk," Aizawa deadpanned. "He will stay that way for three days. Congratulations."

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

Bakugo yanked the tiny boy—his boyfriend—away from his shoulder to get a good look at him. Now that he was paying attention, yeah, it was obvious.

"The hell did you do to yourself?!" he barked.

The four-year-old pouted, lower lip trembling. "Mean," he muttered, eyes getting watery.

Oh, shit.

The class collectively gasped, horrified.

Bakugo tensed. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice—just a little. "...Tch. It’s okay, dummy.”

"That’s it. This is the best day of my life," Mina declared.

"I think I might cry," Kirishima admitted, wiping an imaginary tear.

"Shut the hell up, all of you!" Bakugo barked, adjusting the small, warm weight in his arms.

Goddammit.

Bakugo sighed, already feeling the next three days taking years off his lifespan. "Come on, brat," he muttered. "You’re gonna nap before you start crying again."