Work Text:
Bakugou finds him crying.
“Go away,” Shouto whines. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare at crying omegas?”
“Not staring,” Bakugou huffs. “Spoiled brat. Besides, you’re my omega. I get to stare at you all I want.”
He drops to his knees, and he tips Shouto’s chin up with a gloved hand, and Shouto almost forgets they’re in an agency bathroom at work, almost wants to lean in, almost wants—
“Do you think I should quit?” he blurts.
Bakugou saw the test. No use hiding from it. Two little lines. They should just get it over with.
Bakugou’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you want to quit?” he asks. “Is that what this is about?”
“I don’t know.” Shouto shrugs. “Shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what good omegas do?”
“Who gives a fuck what good omegas do, Shou?” Bakugou hisses. “I don’t want a fucking good omega. I want you.”
Shouto blinks. “You want me?”
That’s—
He could have guessed. Maybe. Bakugou doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, so. He didn’t have to help Shouto with his heat. He didn’t have to say I’ve got you baby all soft into the back of his neck, right where he could bite if he wanted Shouto like that. You know, if he wanted to keep him forever.
“Why wouldn’t I want you, huh?” Bakugou asks. He cups Shouto’s cheek. “You think I could do any better in this lifetime?”
“I don’t know.” Shouto sniffles. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t planning on getting me pregnant at the ripe old age of twenty-one.”
And the stupid pink test with the stupid pink packaging with stupid pink hearts on it (which, admittedly, under other circumstances Shouto might have found pretty cute), definitely says he’s pregnant.
Considering it’s the third one he took, Shouto’s pretty sure it’s now one of those cosmic truths he’s just going to have to accept.
“Would have been pretty shitty of me if I had been,” Bakugou admits. “Can’t say I’m mad, though.”
Shouto looks up. He sniffles some more, just in case. “You’re not mad?” he says. “About me being pregnant?” And then, because he can’t let the warmth spreading through him settle in quite yet, “It is yours, you know.”
“I know,” Bakugou says. “What do you take me for, huh, princess?”
Shouto’s nose scrunches. He considers it. “The father of my child?” he says. “If you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind,” Bakugou says. “I’d go out and get cake if I wasn’t worried about you punching me in the face.”
Miraculously, it startles a laugh out of Shouto. “I wouldn’t do that,” he protests. “I might knee you in the groin, though. You know, so it’s more appropriate. But I like your face. It’s handsome.”
“Handsome, huh?” Bakugou repeats. “So I’ve got a shot?”
“At what?”
“Well,” Bakugou says, helping Shouto stand up. “I just think our little brat here should see that mommy and daddy love each other. So we don’t traumatize it. I hear early childhood development is real important like that.”
“Mm,” says Shouto. “It is.”
He should know. He’s the one who dragged Bakugou to that workshop about dealing with children in crisis and non-crisis situations during hero work proceedings. He figured Bakugou hated it.
Apparently, though, he was paying attention.
He’s going to make a good dad.
And that just makes something low in Shouto’s belly swirl, and it’s not that far off from what he felt when Bakugou was busy helping him with his heat and touching him everywhere all careful with calloused hands and calling him nice things like he didn’t blush down to his neck the first time he said Shouto’s name, right before graduation.
“So,” he says. “I guess I gotta buy you dinner now, huh?”
“I mean,” Shouto says, mouth twitching. “I am carrying your child.”
Bakugou’s gloved hand presses against his flat stomach. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”
Shouto’s poor, traitorous heart goes thumpthumpthump inside his chest. “Um,” he says. “So you don’t think I should quit my job?”
Bakugou shrugs. “Only if you actually want to,” he says. “I don’t mind. I’ll treat mommy right.”
And he’s just joking, sure, but—
“Can you say that again?” Shouto asks, face pinkpinkpink.
Bakugou laughs. “What?” he asks. “Mommy? Mommy wants me to take care of him? Do you wanna move in together, Shou? Buy a house? Have a nice lawn and a white picket fence?”
“Nuh uh,” Shouto says. “Not a house. We shouldn’t get anything too big. I like apartments. They’re cozy. I like having neighbors nearby. We should just, you know, check acoustic insulation.”
“Why?” Bakugou asks, running his tongue over his canines. “You gonna be loud?”
Shouto flushes even worse. Bakugou is talking like they’re already mated. How does he do that? Back in high school, he turned beet red when Kaminari dared him to let Shouto sit in his lap, and now—
Now he’s so grown up.
And if he’s serious, then they really could get an apartment and a cat and raise a kid together.
And it doesn’t even sound bad, or anything.
Shouto sniffles again, can’t help it. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” he says. “I’m gonna get fat.”
“Yep,” Bakugou says. “Can’t wait. You can have all the homemade soba you want.”
Shouto blinks. “Who are you?” he asks. “And what have you done with Bakugou Katsuki?”
“C’mon,” Bakugou huffs. “I spoil you all the damn time.”
And—
And yeah, okay, that’s fair.
Even to the untrained eye, Bakugou does spoil him. Shouto isn’t clueless. He remembers Sero sighing and sliding Kaminari crisp 1000-yen bills across the table every time Bakugou would put his hands on Shouto’s waist just to get something off a shelf instead of letting him move out the way first. And, apparently, now the interns have some kind of betting pool going on?
Well, at least, you know.
If a single one of them was brave enough to suggest pregnancy, they’re bound to come out of it with some pretty decent earnings.
But the point is—
The point is Bakugou spoils him, yeah, but usually he likes making Shouto work for it a little beforehand.
Sometimes, he’ll be really mean, and he’ll lean in real close and say something like ask nicely, half ‘n half, c’mon, say please, like a good little omega, and then he pulls away just when Shouto’s starting to get all flushed and maybe purr a little, and he laughs, and it’s—
Well, it’s probably why Shouto’s pregnant right now, if they had to put in some actual detective work and track the original cause.
Although, the way he shushed Shouto when his heat hit right after a shift and said shh, I’ll take care of you, princess probably also had something substantial to do with it.
Shouto bites at the inside of his cheek. “Are you going to keep spoiling me?” he asks. “When I get fat?”
Bakugou steps even closer. “Damn right,” he says. “I’ll carry you places if you want, halfie.”
And Shouto’s traitorous, thumping, silly little heart whispers yeah, okay, alright, let’s do that, and then he’s actually nodding, and—
Out loud, he whispers, “Take care of me, alpha.”
That's when Bakugou kisses him.
It’s nice. It’s warm, and he’s broad and firm and Shouto kind of just. Melts into it. Into him. Because he’s going to, isn’t he?
He’s going to take care of Shouto, and their pup, and he’s going to do a really good job at it, because that’s what he always does. Because he’s good at everything that matters to him.
(And Shouto matters to him, doesn’t he?)
“Um,” Shouto says. “Does this mean you’ll hold my hand when we tell my dad? Because I am going to need to turn in a maternity leave form even if I don’t quit.”
In response, Bakugou just kisses him again.
Which—
Well, maybe Shouto can complain about it later. After Bakugou fulfils his end of the deal, and starts carrying Shouto places. Because that sounds nice.