mozaiko
Summary: A mosaic of Bakugou Katsuki's life and his relationship with Midoriya Izuku throughout the years, as told by his loved ones.
Chapter Seven: Kid
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Izuku arrives home after a long day of hero work, intending to hop in the shower and relax in front of the television. He is waylaid by Katsuki, who is in the midst of screaming his head off into his phone in the middle of their living room. When Katsuki spies him coming through the door, he lowers his voice somewhat, but his intensity persists.
“Oh, you do,” he asks the person on the other end of the line. “Because what I don’t understand is how the fuck you fuckers can be so fucking incompetent that you make such a huge fuck-up like this!”
Toeing off his shoes, Izuku pities whosoever has earned Katsuki’s ire. Just yesterday, he had to run interference between Katsuki and their new interns from Yuuei, who had invoked his fury by failing to address each other by their hero names while on patrol. The kids had been practically inconsolable by the time Katsuki was through with them, revived only by a nod of approval from the man when they finished their shifts without any more mistakes.
“Yeah, you better have your lawyer on it! And while they’re at it, tell ’em that they’re gonna be hearing from me!” With an angry flourish, he hangs up and throws his phone at the couch before hunching over and loosing a guttural scream.
Hesitantly, Izuku approaches him. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?” When he receives no response, he adds, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. And if it’s not, we can face it together.” For whatever reason, this elicits a turbulent laugh from Katsuki. His concern grows as his boyfriend continues to laugh far longer than is his wont. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” Cautiously, he sets a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Do we need a lawyer?”
This question seems to snap Katsuki out of his hysterical stupor. Straightening, he wipes his hands down his face. “Yeah. Do we know any?”
Izuku wrings his hands as he thinks. “There’s Toshinori’s estate lawyer.” Last year, they had to help Toshinori set up a trust as part of his estate, and they met with his lawyer no less than half a dozen times. “I think her name was Murai? I can ask him for her number.”
Turning toward their home office, Katsuki murmurs, “I think I have it around here somewhere.”
Apprehensive, Izuku follows him. “Kacchan, why do we need a lawyer?”
Marching up to their desk, Katsuki begins rummaging around in it. He extracts a slip of paper from one of the drawers, stalks out of the room, grabs his phone, and dials out. After a moment, he says, “Yeah, is this Murai Tanaka’s office?” He waits for a response before continuing, “This is Bakugou Katsuki. I need an appointment with her. Now. When is she available?” He goes quiet again. He glances over at Izuku, who feels inexplicably as though Katsuki is staring into his soul. “That works. Thanks.” He hangs up, sliding his phone into his pocket and moving his hands to cover his face again.
Anxiously, Izuku asks, “What’s going on?” He wonders if there is something he has done that has now come home to roost. He panics, trying to think of what it could be. He got thrown into a bus by a villain last week. Has their liability insurance determined that their agency was at fault? He took a magazine with Katsuki’s face on it from a convenience store yesterday. He offered to pay for it, but the clerk insisted he have it free of cost. Had the store owner learned about it and decided to report him for theft?
Katsuki heads off his train of thought, run off the tracks. “Chill out. You’re not in trouble.” His frown worsens, and he looks away. “I am. Or, well, that’s up to you.”
Turning skeptical, Izuku questions, “Why? What did you do?”
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