Katsuki hunched over his desk in the U.A. dorms, the glow from his phone casting pale light over his scarred knuckles. His mother’s voice came through the speaker in rapid-fire bursts, like grenades going off one after another. “How’s training? Are you eating? Did you ace that exam?”

He grunted answers without thinking, eyes flicking sideways to where his boyfriend sprawled across his bed. The guy’s legs dangled off the edge, one sock missing, phone balanced loosely in his hand. Seeing him there — so at ease in Katsuki’s usually hostile space — still made Katsuki’s stomach twist in a way combat drills never did. Five months, and he still wasn’t used to it.

He liked it. He hated admitting he liked it.

“Your boyfriend helped you with your project, huh?” his mom’s voice cut in like a whip. Katsuki’s spine snapped straight. “Wait—what?” There was a beat of silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. “Boyfriend?” Mitsuki practically shouted down the line. “Did you just say boyfriend? Katsuki Bakugo, you’re dating someone and didn’t tell me?”

Katsuki winced, holding the phone a little away from his ear. “It’s not—dammit, Mom—” “You little brat! All this time you’ve been sneaking around, and it’s a boyfriend? And you didn’t think I deserved to know?” Her voice was half outrage, half giddy excitement. “You’re bringing him over this weekend. No excuses. I want to see the poor soul who’s putting up with you.”

Heat shot up the back of Katsuki’s neck. “Mom—!” “Saturday. Dinner. Done.” She hung up before he could bark back.

He dropped the phone onto the desk with a groan, pressing his forehead against his palm. “What happened?” his boyfriend asked from the bed, raising an eyebrow. “She found out,” Katsuki muttered. “You’re coming over this weekend.”

⸻

By Saturday evening, Katsuki was standing on the porch of his childhood home, fists jammed into his jacket pockets. The smell of grilled meat and spices drifted from the kitchen vent above, making his stomach twist tighter. His boyfriend stood beside him, hands tucked into his own coat, eyes scanning the rows of potted plants Mitsuki insisted on keeping by the steps. He didn’t look nervous, but Katsuki knew he had to be.

The door swung open. Mitsuki Bakugo filled the frame, spiky blond hair more unruly than her son’s and a grin sharp enough to cut. Her eyes darted between the two boys, and for a second she actually looked stunned — mouth open, brows raised. Then she barked out a laugh, half-delighted, half-accusatory.

“So it’s true!” she said, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “You’re the one my idiot son’s been hiding from me. A boyfriend, huh? I thought you’d be some poor girl, but this is even better.” She pulled him into a hug with surprising strength. “You’re braver than you look, dating him.”

“Mom!” Katsuki barked, face burning hot. From deeper inside, Masaru’s soft voice floated out. “Welcome. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Inside, the house smelled like charred miso and sweet sauce, like every childhood meal Katsuki could remember. The dining table was already set, glasses catching the warm overhead light. His boyfriend slipped off his shoes and followed, greeting Masaru politely while Mitsuki peppered him with questions — about school, quirks, training, how long they’d been together. She kept glancing at Katsuki with mock-accusing eyes, as if she couldn’t believe he’d kept a secret this big.

Katsuki sat stiffly at the table, arms crossed, glaring at his plate every time his mom’s teasing got too pointed. But his boyfriend handled it smoothly, answering with a smile, even making Masaru laugh at a story about a botched training exercise. Watching them, Katsuki felt an unfamiliar heat bloom in his chest — something almost like pride.

After dinner, Mitsuki shoved a folded futon into Katsuki’s old room. “He’s staying over, right? You’re both too tired to head back tonight. Keep it down.”

Katsuki nearly choked. “Mom!”