Your palm meets your face as you close the bedroom door to your son’s room, groaning lowly as you walk to the kitchen and sit at the bar, head resting against the cool counter.
So tired and exhausted from today, your head remains where it is as he drops his bag and takes off his boots with ease by the back door. His expression instantly becomes weary when you don’t greet him with the usual smile or a hug, spotting you in the kitchen with your head on the bar. With muted steps he comes up behind you and rests a hand upon the center of your back. He doesn’t ask, he knows you’ll tell him in due time, and until you’re ready he is showing rare patience.
“Do you have any idea what your son said at school today?” You finally mumble in an exhausted whisper.
Both of his brows rise as he nibbles his lip. You’ve been trying to get him to watch his language around the little boy a lot lately but he could only hold back so much. “What?”
Raising your head, your narrowed gaze meets his red. “One kid was saying how their dad had a gun to protect their house and family, another said their father had learned martial arts… See where I’m going with this?”
“I’m a Pro Hero, we don’t need any of that crap—” Realization fills his face as a wide grin lifts his lips. “Holy shit, did he say what I think he did?!”
The tip of your finger jabs his chest as you get up in his face. “Yes, Katsuki Bakugo, your son shouted at the top of his lungs that his dad IS THE DAMN GUN! He ran around the playground at recess chanting it! I had to sit in the principal’s office for forty minutes then had to attend a school board meeting for three hours explaining your Pro Hero status, how our home is perfectly safe for our son—don’t you dare fucking laugh, Katsuki, or I swear—!”
The rest of your rant is cutoff by him covering your mouth with the palm of his hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he presses you against the counter. “Now, what was that new rule you made up? Anytime a curse word passes over someone’s lips in this house there’s a punishment?” He leans forward and whispers lowly, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.
“Let go of Mama, old man!”
A laugh slips up your throat when the Pro Hero husband of yours suddenly drops to a knee thanks to the small figure who had magically appeared in the kitchen who delivered a well-practiced heel kick to the back of Katsuki’s knee to make him lose balance. Your arms cross as you watch with a smirk as man gives chase to the small boy who now runs with the air filling with small explosions that wouldn’t hurt a fly but would only add to their little game.
