The door to the Bakugo residence slammed shut, rattling the frame like it was mad at the house. Katsuki didn’t even flinch, seated on the couch with a scowl buried deep between his brows as he scrolled through patrol reports on his phone. His hero uniform jacket was draped over the back of the couch, half-zipped, with sweat still clinging to his hair from the day’s work.

Suki stormed in, fists clenched, face red and scrunched up like a firecracker ready to go off.

Katsuki gave a lazy glance. “What now, Suki?”

“That damn extrasquad sidekick!” Suki growled, pacing like a mini storm cloud. “He said—he called Mom ‘the woman’! Said ‘the woman’s probably the only one who can deal with you’ like she’s just—just—some random person!”

Katsuki’s brows lifted. His lips twitched, not quite into a smirk, but close. “So?”

“So? So?! She’s my mom, not ‘the woman’! He doesn’t get to say that! Only you say that!”

Katsuki finally set his phone down, slouching into the couch like the King of Ground Zero himself, dragging a palm down his face. “He’s not wrong, y’know. She is the only one who can deal with you.”

“That’s not the point, old man!”

Katsuki snorted. “Don’t go callin’ me old man like you’re not still wet behind the ears.”

“I’m ten.”

“And you sound like a damn forty-year-old. Tch.” Katsuki leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. “Look, I call her ‘woman’ 'cause she is my woman. Been my pain in the ass since high school. That extra calls her that? He’s not me. He don’t get to.”

Suki’s frown deepened. “Exactly.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong, dumbass.”

The kid plopped down next to him, arms crossed so hard it looked like they might fuse to his chest. His hair was a mess of ash-blonde spikes, sticking up in every direction. The way he gritted his teeth? All Katsuki. Even the little twitch in his brow was perfect imitation.

“Next time I see him, I’m gonna blast him.”

“Like hell you are.”

Suki gave a defiant glare. “I could take him.”

Katsuki turned his head slowly, side-eyeing the kid. “You can barely take me in sparring. And that’s when I’m going easy on you.”

“I almost got your shoulder last time.”

“You also almost blasted a hole in the dojo floor.”

“That was an accident.”

“No such thing in a fight.” Katsuki’s voice dropped low, sharp. “Control it. You’ve got the firepower, yeah, but you screw around like that in a real battle and someone’s dead.”

Suki went quiet. His fists had loosened. That familiar look—shame and frustration—flickered in his eyes.

Katsuki reached over and flicked his forehead.

“Hey!”

“Pay attention. You’re strong, yeah, but strength’s useless if you let your emotions blow harder than your Quirk.”

Suki huffed but nodded. “...Okay.”

Katsuki watched him a moment longer. The way his son clenched and unclenched his fists. How he breathed through his nose. How that explosion of a temper was trying to cool. He really was just like him.

“Still,” Katsuki added, reclining again, “good instinct to be pissed. Don’t let some extra talk like that about your mom.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved him off. “Don’t get cocky.”

There was a short silence between them. The kind that felt heavy in a good way. Like home.

Then Suki muttered, quieter, “...Do you love her?”

Katsuki’s eyes opened. He didn’t sit up, just turned his head toward his son. “You askin’ me that ‘cause of what he said?”

Suki shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

Katsuki sighed, sitting up fully now, elbows on his knees. “Listen here, kid. I call her ‘woman’ ‘cause she is my woman. Has been since the day she started yelling back at me without flinching. That’s love, you get that?”

Suki blinked.

“Anyone can sweet talk. Anyone can throw ‘I love you’ around. But not everyone sticks with you when you’re a mess. Not everyone pushes back when you’re wrong. Not everyone holds you together when your arms are broken and your pride’s worse. She does all that. She’s your mom. And she’s my pain in the ass.” He smirked. “So yeah. I love her.”

Suki was quiet again.