Katsuki had three rules about Halloween. One: no candy corn in his house. Two: no one touches his All Might limited edition pumpkin from 2009. Three: he does not dress up. Ever.

Then he married you. Had a daughter. And apparently all his rules meant jack shit.

It started when Hana came home from preschool last week, her little backpack bouncing as she ran straight to him. She'd planted herself in front of where he sat and declared with the confidence only a four-year-old could muster that she was going to be Elsa for Halloween. Not asking. Telling.

He'd said fine. Whatever. Elsa was cool, he guessed. Ice quirk parallels or something.

Then you'd smiled that smile. The one that meant he was screwed.

"If Hana's Elsa," you'd said sweetly, "then I'll be Anna." You'd paused, letting it sink in. "And you'll be Kristoff."

"The hell I will."

But here he was now, sprawled on the couch in brown leather and the most ridiculous orange tunic he'd ever seen, glaring at the ceiling while you pinned a stupid winter hat to his blonde hair. Actually pinned it because apparently his hair was too stubborn to let fabric rest naturally.

"Stop moving," you said, stabbing another pin through.

"Stop torturing me."

"You're being dramatic."

"I look like a fucking lumberjack knocked up a Thanksgiving turkey."

You snorted, adjusting the collar of your Anna dress. You looked good, annoyingly good, in that green and black thing with the cape. He'd never admit it out loud, but watching you twirl around the house earlier had made his chest do something stupid.

"The only reason," he grumbled, crossing his arms, "that I'm going to this idiotic Class A reunion is because Deku has my flash drive and I need it back."

"Sure," you said, smirking. "Nothing to do with wanting to see everyone."

"I see those extras every damn day at work."

"Mhm."

He hated that smirk. Hated that you could see right through him. Hated that you were right—he'd been looking forward to the party for weeks, even if he'd rather chew glass than admit it.

The sound of tiny feet thundering down the hallway made you both turn. Hana burst into the room in a cloud of blue sparkles and tulle, her Elsa dress shimmering under the lights. Her plastic tiara sat crooked on her head, and she'd somehow gotten glitter everywhere.

She threw her little arms up dramatically.

"Ice palace for one!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Ice palace for one!"

Katsuki felt his mouth twitch. He tried to stop it. He really tried. But the sight of his daughter belting out completely wrong lyrics with such conviction broke something in him.

The corner of his lips curved up into the smallest smile.

You caught it immediately. Your smirk widened into a full grin, and you leaned against the couch arm, arms crossed.

"What was that?" you teased. "Did the great Bakugo Katsuki just smile at a Frozen reference?"

"Shut up."

"He smiled."

"I didn't—"

"You smiled."

Hana ran over and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him off the couch with all her four-year-old strength. "Come on, Daddy! We're gonna be late! Uncle Deku's gonna eat all the good candy!"

That got him moving. He stood, scooping Hana up in one arm while she squealed with delight.

"Like hell Deku's getting the good stuff before me," he muttered.