It's NOT A PHASE DAD

It was going to happen sooner or later, really.

Izuku was small, and at a glance looked about as dangerous as a puppy. He left the train station with a bounce in his step and walked through one of the seediest part of town as if he was walking on a blaze of sunshine. He stuck out, and even if he had walked that way every day of summer break people still stopped to glare when he walked by like he had personally offended in some way.

He was entirely unconcerned with the dangers that lay around him. After all, Tomura was scarier than anyone else he'd seen and villains who had seen him following the older boy (really man now but Izuku was unused to thinking of him as such) around avoided him like the plague ever after.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Everyone just assumed it would be later.

A villain on the run, one from the depths of the city had made her way to the nondescript shopping district. She was trying to lose her tail by dodging between buildings but the hero was rapidly gaining on her and she was running out of options. She couldn't outrun that stupid wolf, but maybe there was another way out! As The Great Plastice ran she spied someone walking across the street ahead, head down and in an oversized middle school uniform.

She snatched a plastic soda bottle off a public rubbish bin and the hero behind her yelled, "watch it, kid!" just as she threw it.

Izuku looked up in time to see something flying at him before it conked him right between the eyes and he staggered back with a surprised yelp. But the bottle didn't remain solid. It melted as soon as it made contact with his skin and slid down his face like syrup, blinding and choking him as it dripped down his chin.

As soon as the villain was upon him the plastic consolidated around his throat into a tight collar that she jammed her fingers into, making him gasp for air as his own hands flew to scratch at it. "Back off or the kid gets it!" The villain said. She made a fist pointed at the side if his head as her plastic bracelet warped and twisted, forming into a sharp point level with Izuku's eyeball. He froze then, and the color drained out of his face. He tried to say something but all that came out was a throttled gasp and he looked out at the hero before him, begging with his stare.

"Let him go!" The hero demanded as she stopped dead too. She was black, Izuku noticed. Very black. And her edges were blurry. Fur? The werewolf heroine, then. Howl? Was that her name? Izuku tried to think more than that but Plastice tightened her grip and the world went hot and red.

He scratched at his throat, vaguely aware that the two were yelling at each other as he struggled for sweet air. He had to get out, he had to-

Black was started to splotch across his vision now too, and every movement sent a hot flash of pain searing through him. He HAD to-!

With everything he had in him, the plastic started to crack. It was silent, a spiderweb that raced across the front of his collar until with a twist of his head his neck was free and lurching away from Plastice. Her plastic knife left a deep scratch across his left temple, reaching from the corner of his eye to his hairline and he let out a strangled gasp at the burst of pain. He fought for air as he fell forward, his chest finally lightening but just as soon as it had come it was gone. His next gasp made an even greater agony spear through him. He was sucking at empty air, trying to inhale in an airless vacuum and it felt like the void was trying to yank his lungs back out of his mouth.

When a hand finally caught Izuku he crumpled, his knees giving out as his spine turned to jelly. He was sobbing freely, tears and blood streaming down his feet as he sucked in air and thrashed about blindly. "Midoriya, hey!" A voice said through the fog. Izuku lashed at it, at the arm holding him up but his hand passed right through it and he was held firm. "Damnit, Midoriya would you - hey! Stop thrashing! Mid-Izuku!" Izuku stopped in the middle of trying to kick the man's legs as if cold water had been dumped on his head. His lungs were still burning and he was still crying but his mind had been hauled out of the oxygen deprived haze by the familiarity of the name.

He knew where he was. He knew who he was holding and his grip went from trying to shove the arm off him to clinging desperately. Izuku knew if he turned and looked down the street he would see the villain and the hero fighting but he couldn't move an inch. He didn't want to see how the fight played out for once. "I'm sorry," he managed to say in a thin, wavering voice.

"It's fine. Come on," Kurogiri said as he picked Izuku up.

Izuku had never been carried by anyone but his mom before, but he was hardly about to protest. If anything he clung tightly to Kurogiri who was staying relatively solid for once. It was comforting in a way. Even if it was just because Izuku was too shaken to walk being held made his thundering heart start to slow and he started to breathe along with Kurogiri's steady and even breath.

He was reluctant to let go when he was finally set down. When had they gotten to the bar anyway? But he let his arms slide free if Kurogiri's neck when the man straightened up. Izuku was surprised to see that he was seated on the counter behind the bar, beside the sink but the reason became clear as Kurogiri wetted a washrag and pressed it to his cheek.

"Hold it there," he commanded. Izuku lifted a trembling hand and sank his fingers into the wet fabric. Kurogiri leaned back against the counter so his back was to the bar at large and he glowered at Izuku. Izuku winced and looked down the bar, relieved to see Sensei's laptop was closed. "Even for a first fight that was pathetic. That's going to scar, and frankly I think that's a good thing," Kurogiri said flatly, "you know if I hadn't warped you she would have done a lot worse than that. She was a second away from slitting your throat, boy." Izuku chewed on his lip and it seemed that the bartender finally noticed his uniform. "Are you skipping school again!?"

"No," Izuku wheezed. He had managed to get his crying under control but he was still shaking like a leaf. His voice sounded rough and harsh to his own ears and Izuku coughed a few times before he spoke again. "N-no, I had to wear this for my ID photo a-and I didn't have time to go home and change." With his free hand Izuku began to rub at his throat, trying to sooth the raw feeling.

Kurogiri looked down at him with a posture that made Izuku wonder if Kurogiri thought he was actually Izuku's mother. But, at long last, he nodded curtly then began to move about his bar. He hoisted a bottle of fancy imported whiskey off the shelf and poured out a miniscule portion out into a glass. "Here," he said as he held out to glass.

"Wh-what?"

"Here. You want to drink this."

Obediently, Izuku took the glass with his free hand and looked down into it. The smell alone made his eyes water and he pulled a face. "But, um, Kurogiri? I'm thirteen." A stupid argument to use against a man who's every action tended to be illegal in some capacity. Kurogiri just shrugged.

"Time flies."

"A-and I start school tomorrow."

"Then you really want to drink that."

Izuku frowned at Kurogiri, then looked down at the glass. This seemed like a bad idea but . . . he had seen movies where people would drink so cuts didn't hurt anymore – right before they stitched themselves up. Oh god, was Kurogiri planning to stitch up his face himself!? Without being told again Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and downed it in one go.

It wasn't even a full mouthful but it still made the inside of Izuku's face feel like it was steaming. He gagged and gave Kurogiri a look of utter betrayal. Kurogiri ignored it as he plucked the bloodied rag from Izuku's face and brushed away the boy's hair before he pressed on a cool, sticky bandage to the side of his face. The feeling of medicated gel against his face made Izuku's skin crawl and dully he thought Tomura really needed to get on finding a healer for their party. "Will it really scar?"

"Yes, probably. Don't worry, it will be faint. You're probably going to be the only one who can see it by the end of the year." Somehow, that didn't really comfort Izuku. Slowly he raised his hand and touched the cloth covering the cut before he slowly pressed his fingers in and down. It hurt when he did that, and Izuku knew he had just broken the scab trying to form. A scar huh?

"Hey Kurogiri?"

"What now?"

"I . . . I used my quirk. To get free I mean. D-do you think Sensei is going to be mad at me?"

"No." Kurogiri left Izuku sitting on the back counter and Izuku himself still felt no desire to move. He would get up when Tomura showed up. Kurogiri picked the laptop off the bar counter and set it on Izuku's lap. "You ought to tell him, of course, but he won't be bad. The ban is just for using it outside here recklessly." To keep anyone from wondering how a quirkless boy could suddenly break and reform things. So no one who knew about Sensei's powers would get wind of it. "In battle using it is fine, even if you were completely useless back there. When you stop with the hero shit you will be permitted to use it whenever you choose, Midoriya."

"It's not a shit," Izuku said defensively.

"Mm," Kurogiri said as he returned to his work. It was clear from his tone that he didn't believe Izuku and after a pause Izuku looked down at the laptop on his legs. He was going to be a hero. Being connected with villains didn't make him a bad person. Especially not when Tomura was his best friend, Sensei had gifted him his quirk, and Kurogiri had saved him only minutes earlier. He had no reason to believe they were anything but good people, even if they weren't always following the law. Good people could be villains too! And just because they were his friends that didn't make him a villain too.

Did it?

"Hey, Kurogiri?"

"What?"

"D-do . . . do you think you could keep calling me Izuku?"

XXX

"What'd I say about smoking around me!?" Bakugou snarled as he smacked the pack out of his lacky's hand.

"Hey!"

"Shut up! You want that shit on my fucking record? If I get caught around that I'll fucking kill you. Just cut it out and be like Deku," Bakugou spat and Deku blinked at the finger suddenly pointed in his face.

"Yeesh dude, calm down," the other boy said, holding his hands palm-out as his fingers stretched, "I'll just go to the roof." He meekly knelt and picked up the bright red and skittered away before Bakugou could get it in his head to blow the pack up. Izuku closed the notebook he had been scrawling in and he slipped it under his arm.

"WHAT?" Bakugou snarled as he turned on him, bristling furiously.

"I didn't say anything." Deku drew up his knees and frowned. "You've just never said anyone should be like me before." His lips twitched slightly at the corners, as if he was trying not to laugh, not that there was any joke Bakugou could see. He glared furiously down at Deku, one hand already beginning to smoke with his building anger.

"Don't be fucking flattered, nerd," Bakugou spat. Deku flinched and drew himself closer inward as he turned his head so he wasn't looking directly at him. "You're just the sorriest sack a' shit I know."

"Y-you think I make you l-look good by comparison?"

"You'd make a slug look good by comparison." Deku's backtalk was getting annoying but he was still the easiest of Bakugou's crowd to cow. Deku ducked his head and a tremor ran through his shoulders. "Come on fuckhead, your mom invited me over for dinner and I'm starving."

Deku made a little 'peep' sort of noise – like he had just forgotten that Bakugou's mom had left town. They were both children of single mothers and their mothers were high school friends so it wasn't even uncommon for Bakugou to come over to his apartment for meals. Why did Deku always act stunned when it happened? It fucking pissed him off. "So . . . get off your fucking ass? Now?" Bakugou jabbed at Deku's leg roughly with one foot and he shot out of his desk. He was holding his 'hero notebook' so close it was like he thought he could fuse it to his chest and he yanked his backpack off his desk hanger.

"Uh, Kacchan, I a-actually have t-to go to my club today so, um, w-why don't you just go ahead?"

Bakugou put his hand down hard on Deku's shoulder, clamping down tightly as his fingers smoldered. Deku stopped dead and flinched, meekly peaking up at his face with his stupid terrified eyes. "Your fanboy club of one can save it til you're alone in your room," Bakugou snapped, "you're walking home with me; whether I have to beat your bitch ass or not is up to you." Deku flinched as a small explosion singed the side of his neck. Meekly he nodded and Bakugou slapped his cheek 'fondly' a few times before he gave Deku a shove. "Get going, nerd."

Deku gave him a look Bakugou didn't really recognize but he still muttered, "okay – just let me-" Deku pulled out his cell phone and his fingers darted around the screen a mile a second. Bakugou saw 'sorry sensei, I can't get away from kacchan. please apologize to shigaraki for me? i'll be by later' and he wrinkled his face. Weird message even for a weird kid.

"Stop dallying!" Bakugou snapped bust as Deku hit send, "hurry the fuck up!" He just about frog marched Deku out of the classroom and through the school, keeping his eyes trained on the back of the smaller boy's neck.

Bakugou wasn't entirely sure when it happened, when Deku had receded so much into himself. When he had stopped trying to make friends to hang out with his imaginary club with his imaginary friends instead. It must have happened slowly, when Bakugou wasn't looking. The change made a strange feeling settle in the pit of Bakugou's stomach whenever he saw Deku absorbed in his phone.

Deku was a worthless looser, someone who would always be beneath him but Bakugou sometimes wondered when Deku had become so pitiful.

XXX

"Please excuse m-oh," Izuku stopped himself as soon as he got a good look inside. He kept his hand on the door handle for a moment before he sighed and stepped in fully, closing out the winter chill. "What did you do?"

"DON'T," Shigaraki wheeled on him, "do not fucking start with me!" He slammed the open palm of his hand down in the table as he let out a shrill wail. Izuku lifted his free hand palm out in a complacent gesture and stayed with his back to the door as dust fell across his shoes. Without knowing what the cause of the tantrum was Izuku was more likely to upset Shigaraki than calm him down – although his silence seemed to make Shigaraki visibly bristle.

"I'm going to talk to Sensei!" Shigaraki snarled as he turned on his heel. He swiped the closed laptop off the table and stalked to the back room. "And don't bother me!" He bellowed right before the door slammed so hard it made the bottles behind the counter rattle.

Izuku watched after him, tense for a few seconds as Shigaraki's footsteps faded before his shoulders slumped and he sighed miserably. He had been looking forward to today. "Good morning Kurogiri," Izuku greeted as he set his box on one of the un-dusted tables. "What was that about?"

"He doesn't like one of the new recruits," Kurogiri said with a note of irritation. It was one of his, then.

Izuku knelt down as the wood-dust reformed, pressing back together until it was a table lying on its side which Izuku quickly righted. "You're getting better at that," Kurogiri observed but Izuku shook his head. He had only managed to get patches of resin on the surface of the table, most of it had been carelessly left inside and when he tested it one of the legs was a little too short so it had a noticeable wobble.

"It isn't what I was going for," Izuku admitted glumly, "you might just want to buy a new one. Sorry." He picked up his box and slipped carefully through the tables and chairs, many of which had been repaired by him at one point or another – and even cruder than the one that he had just fixed. The villain alliance, frankly, wasn't big on interior décor. Well, Kurogiri was but he was the odd man out.

Kurogiri nodded at the box as Izuku set it on the table and asked, "what's that?"

"I asked mom to help make manju with me for 'study group'!" Izuku said happily. He flipped open the lid and proudly showed off his hard work. It was clear which had been made by his mother, she had lovingly made hers in the shape of bunnies, and which had been made by him - his had crude smilie faces on them. "Also I have to be home by four today, and I mean it this time. I'm going to make Mom a bento for tomorrow."

"Whatever," Kurogiri said. Without asking permission he picked up one of the bunny manju and took a bite out of it. He made no comment on the taste but he didn't spit it out so Izuku took it to mean they were acceptable. "Shigaraki will be a while, what are you planning on doing?"

"Study group," Izuku said. He sat his backpack on the counter before he sat down himself. He pulled out a fat stack of practice exams and a thicker answer book which he handed to Kurogiri. He pulled out a small box of fresh pens – he couldn't run out of ink midway through – and started separating the quizzes he had printed off. He had been planning to do at least one today but he might as well see how much he could get done.

"Entrance exams?"

"Practice entrance exams," Izuku said, "I want to know how I measure up now so I can work on my weak points." Judging by his current marks he had a lot of weak points. He laid out his first test and slid the rest to the other side of his backpack where he couldn't get a clean view of them. "I only have two years – it's practically already here!"

Kurogiri grumbled something but he stuck the book under the counter. He was one of the few who thought Izuku should actually get an education; actually he was the only one aside from Izuku's mother and that meant that he often got stuck with helping Izuku do his homework. It also made Izuku feel less guilty about lying to his mother about his 'after school club' and 'Sunday study group' if he actually got work done.

XXX

Sensei (2)

Izuku if you would please be so kin

D as to collect Shigaraki?

Really, when he got a text was the only time Izuku thought about how old Sensei actually was. He was worse at it than his mom! For a man so immaculate at everything he ever did, Izuku privately found it hilarious that he had never figured out how texting formatting worked. His own fingers flickered across his screen, texting back in a matter of seconds.

yes sensei

"Hey Kurogiri? I've only got halfway through this one but can you grade it?" Kurogiri grunted without looking up. He was scribbling all over the fifth test Izuku had finished while he gnawed on one of the smilie face manju.

"Seventy four out of two hundred on this one," Kurogiri said as Izuku stuck his phone in his pocket, "you'll be lucky to graduate middle school with this." Izuku smiled sheepishly, biting back another disappointed groan as he followed after Shigaraki.

The door led to a staircase that went down, down, down. The air grew to a stagnant temperature with each creaky step and Izuku wrinkled his nose at the smell. That was unusual, usually the only time the bar every actually smelled like alcohol was when there was a meeting, and it mixed unpleasantly with the natural basement mildew. There was no way Shigaraki had started drinking, was there?

Ah, no. Izuku furrowed his brow at the glass dust that was strewn across the floor. Hopefully none of them contained anything particularly expensive, Izuku couldn't restore that. Not without getting grit and dust mixed with the booze. Izuku stopped on the bottom step and squinted in the weak basement light, although it was hard not to notice Shigaraki sitting in the corner. He was in full on sulk mode, open laptop beside him. He wasn't looking at him but Izuku was sure that Shigaraki was keenly aware of his arrival.

"Hi Shigaraki," Izuku said.

Shigaraki said nothing.

Izuku crossed the room, wary of the glass dust in his path; that didn't seem like a great thing to inhale. He sat down across from Shigaraki, thoroughly uncomfortable on the hard ground. He was going to have to run home to get over all this sitting, yeesh!

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck off." That was a no.

Izuku scooted forward a little. He leaned forward and cocked his head as he tried to peek between the fingers of Shigaraki's father. "Wanna come back upstairs?"

"Fuck. Off."

Defiantly a no.

With a sigh Izuku scrambled off the floor and tromped back up the stairs. Without looking at Kurogiri he grabbed one of his smilie face manju before he turned and scampered back down, letting the heavy door shut under its own weight. In a matter of seconds he was back in front of Shigaraki and he nervously sat the sweet on his knee.

No immediate fit. That was good.

Izuku sat down in front of him again, cross legged and leaning his weight on one arm. He was one of exactly three people capable of handling the young man's tantrums, and in particular Izuku had become skilled at handling the aftermath. It didn't even occur to Izuku anymore that the man seated before him could even pose a threat to him anymore so unshakable was his faith.

Izuku shuffled a little before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up one of the monster fighting apps he had downloaded. Shigaraki would talk or move when he was ready but not a moment before that and Izuku could sit in stoicism or he could keep himself entertained.

It tended to take a while for Shigaraki to calm down, and Izuku was happy to sit around for as long as he was needed. Even if he was home late it would be okay so long as he was always there for Shigaraki.

XXX

"Hey Kacchan?"

"The fuck do you want?" Bakugou snarled, glaring with one eye without actually peeling himself off the tatami floor. The humidity had him practically glued to the ground, even without the stupid springtime flu Deku had given him.

He could hear Inko shuffling around the kitchen, but he doubted she could hear them over the roar of the fan in the window so he could curse to his hearts content. He didn't know why but whenever Deku's mom had a look of shock or disappointment on her chubby face he felt incredibly guilty. Stupid sickly sweet ady and her stupid natural ability to guilt trip the shit out of him.

"Do . . . do you think that if someone knows a villain that makes them a villain too?" Deku had managed to sit up so the fan was blasting air directly onto his face, so he didn't see Bakugou's head snap up with a look of utter incredulity across his face. The fuck kind of question was that?

"The fuck kind of question is that?"

"I-it's for Mr. Mori's essay. I just want a second opinion." They had an essay? Shit, Bakugou had completely forgotten about that. Whatever, it wasn't like Deku was actually writing it at the moment and Bakugou had always been able to get top grades of the class with minimal effort. "So what do you think?"

"I think that's a vague ass question."

"Oh. Um. Like . . . i-if someone was . . . friends with a villain?"

Bakugou screwed up his face. What the hell was Izuku going on about? "Well in that situation do they know their 'friend' is a villain?"

"Yeah."

"And is their friend in fucking prison? Like where villains belong?"

"N-no?"

With a loud groan Bakugou sat up, peeling his back from the floor. He stank. His face was drippy and he was not in the mood for dealing with whatever was going on in Deku's head. "So. Lemme get this straight. In this situation you're buddy buddy with a villain who's just freely doing his villain bullshit? YEAH that would fucking make you a villain. What are you an idiot!?"

"I didn't mean me!" Deku protested and Bakugou rolled his eyes before he flopped over again. Yeah, Deku sure was an idiot.

"I was being theoretical, numbskull. Your only friends are imaginary. Look, if you're helping a villain that makes you a villain too."

"So would helping a hero make you a hero?"

"Shut the fuck up Deku."

Deku sat still and silent for a while, not looking away from the fan but when Bakugou glanced at him there was a strange rigidness to his posture. And his hands were curled up so tight his knuckles were turning white. Eventually Deku sniffled loudly and sneezed before he said, "okay well what if I . . . I mean that person never actually committed a crime?"

Bakugou groaned loudly and threw up his arms. "Oh my fucking god, Deku! Not ratting out a villain IS a crime!"

"B-but-"

"A villain's a villain, shit for brains. Doesn't matter if a villain ain't worth shit or not! They're the same. Anyway, you wanna be a hero and you don't get that? God, you'd be hopeless even with a quirk!" What the fuck was wrong with Deku!? Why was he acting so weird? They weren't THAT sick, unless Deku had suddenly developed a fever. Ugh, he would have to ask Inko for the thermometer again.

But all Deku said was a faint, "oh." It was only then that Deku looked over his shoulder to meet Kacchan's eye. His face looked weary, and sad at the same time. But he was smiling faintly too. There was something else in his green eyes, though. Something that made Kacchan shudder despite himself. What the hell? Why did Deku look so . . . haunted?

Not for the first time Bakugou found his gaze drawn to the faint red-brown scar brushing from Deku's left eye to somewhere against his hairline. He had been weirdly thoughtful since the start of the school year. Weirdly thoughtful, weirdly antisocial, and weirdly obsessed with villains. It was fucking weird as fuck.

"Hey Kacchan?" Deku asked.

"What?" Snapped Kacchan.

"Do you think all villains are evil?"

Bakugou blinked a couple times before he groaned and let his head thump against the floor again. "I'm going to sleep, wake me up when your mom's finished dinner."