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Izuku might be the worst dad in the universe.
Not only that, he might be the worst parent in the universe, but he’s trying his best. He knows that. He’s just–. Sometimes he forgets things. Not the important stuff like Eri’s asthma medication or that spiders make her cry, but sometimes, sometimes seemingly unimportant events that are actually huge milestone moments in a child’s life occasionally slip his mind.
Like Eri’s class tea party tomorrow.
God, how could he forget? She’s been talking about it nonstop for the last month, and that’s where the worst dad of the year part comes in because Eri rarely gets excited about anything.
Ms. Todoroki sent home invitations with their report cards for their class tea party, and it said the kids could dress up in costumes, eat sweets, and spend the day watching Disney movies, and the invitation asked the parents to make something their kids could bring with them to share with the class. Eri was over the moon, and Izuku thought it was great, and then Izuku forgot that he is one of those parents.
He’s barely been at this a year.
He left grad school for this.
He’s still just a kid himself.
And he would have completely forgotten if Eri didn’t insist on wearing her princess crown while she brushed her teeth for bed tonight because Shimano Mahoro said princesses are supposed to practice before greeting their royal subjects.
Izuku tried to play along because he thought it was just a game of make believe between Eri and one of her classmates (oh my gosh, she’s finally making friends!), but then she informed him with a mouthful of bubble gum toothpaste that since she was going to be a princess at school tomorrow, she was practicing tonight.
He could have heard the record scratch in his mind from a mile away.
And it was already bedtime! What was he supposed to do?
He couldn’t tell her that he forgot. The best case scenario would be that Izuku is raising the most mature six year old in Musutafu, and that she wouldn’t be upset about it, but the worst case scenario, the one where Eri comes out of this thinking Izuku doesn’t think she’s important, well, that can never happen.
So Izuku put Eri to bed like everything’s fine, and as her dad now, it’s his job to make sure it is.
He can do this.
Tomorrow Eri is going to get to go to her class tea party, she’s going to have a great time, and she’s going to finally make friends with some of her classmates, and she’s going to smile so much the sun will be out of a job.
First thing’s first.
The costume.
Fuyumi said in her letter that the kids could dress up in any costume they wanted, and Izuku is pretty sure Eri wanted to be the yellow Power Ranger a few weeks ago, but now she wants to wear a princess crown, and great news, when Izuku was awarded custody, Ochako and Momo gifted Eri a bunch of toys, including a big sparkly purple chest of costumes that she wears more often than she does her own clothes.
She’s happy, and Izuku doesn’t see why she can’t watch Eijirou’s Magical Zoo on Saturday mornings while dressed up like a tiger.
So either way, the costume is covered. All he has to do is give it a quick wash in case there are any forgotten juice stains, and Eri’s outfit will be ready to go.
But that’s not why he’s panicking.
It’s the other part of the notice. The one where he’s supposed to send Eri to school with something for the class to eat.
It’s literally his worst nightmare.
Izuku can cook… kind of. He feeds Eri three nutritional meals a day, and he takes pride in that, but the first time Eri was ever comfortable enough to call him daddy was when she informed him that her chicken tenders tasted like craft paper.
He’s learning, okay?
He kind of went from sitting down to eat instant ramen is too much effort to a full time responsible adult overnight.
But if Eri wants something sweet that isn’t just apple slices, he lets the professionals handle it.
And he would have if he remembered the tea party at any other point during the week that wasn’t literally the night before.
He can’t go out and buy something because he would never leave Eri here by herself even if she is asleep, and he could never get any of his friends to come over and watch her on such short notice.
They would. He knows they would.
But this is his responsibility, and he needs to take care of it. He decided he was going to be her dad forever, and that means he’s gotta step up and take care of business even when it’s hard.
So he stops himself. He takes a deep breath. And he goes to the refrigerator to pour himself a nice soothing glass of orange juice because he does not keep alcohol in their apartment.
He opens the refrigerator door and sees the block of butter staring back at him, and it’s a lightbulb moment. He might not be able to leave and go buy something, but he does have ingredients. Flour to bread the pork cutlets, eggs for, well, eggs, sugar, milk, and most importantly, apples.
Anything can be made, and he’s pretty good at following instructions, usually. He can just bake something himself.
And he thinks that until he gets all of the ingredients laid out in front him, and it starts to look like his kitchen cabinets exploded.
He can do this.
All he has to do is follow the instructions and–.
The first tear drops.
Izuku blinks quickly and wipes his face, smearing flour over his own wet cheeks, and he’s not sure if what he has is all purpose or self rising because he didn’t know there was a difference, but the recipe says he needs cake flour, and he didn’t know they made flour out of cake, and he can’t read the label because he keeps his flour in the porcelain flour pot his mom gave him, and now he’s sure his Eri’s Special Princess Cookies are going to explode on impact.
And room temperature eggs? What if his apartment is warmer than it’s supposed to be? And how do you separate the whites from the yolks because the last three he tried broke in his fingers, and now he has a big bowl of scrambled eggs he isn’t sure he’s supposed to bake with.
And what if his butter isn’t cold enough? How cold is butter supposed to be?
Why can’t everything be the temperature they are in the cabinets?
Izuku can’t do this.
He can’t do this.
He can’t bake cookies, and now Eri’s going to wake up to find out that Izuku is the worst dad ever because he forgot, and now she’s going to have to go to school empty handed, and all the other kids are going to make fun of her just like they made fun of–.
Izuku’s face twists as the tears finally come rushing in at full force, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.
Oh god, Eri’s going to hear him. Eri’s going to hear him crying, and get upset, and she’s going to think it’s her fault, and how is Izuku supposed to do anything right if he can’t even stop crying?
He has to get out of here. Just five minutes until he can calm himself down, and then he can make this work. He can.
He doesn’t go far.
He doesn’t go far at all.
Izuku steps out of his apartment, wheezing softly with every breath, and he carefully closes his door and sits down.
Right there on his welcome mat.
Izuku draws his knees to his chest, wraps his arms around his legs, and he cries, and he cries, and cries, and cries because no one’s around to hear him.
He can’t bother a soul, and no one can see how bad of a job he’s doing.
Izuku cries a little harder.
“Jesus Christ, what the– the fuck are you doing?”
Izuku jumps at the sound of a voice and looks up to see the door across from his ajar with a rather angry looking blonde sticking his head out from it.
Uh oh.
Izuku sniffles and wipes his face. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“You tryna wake the dead out here? Some of us’re tryna sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
His neighbor looks down at him and scowls.
“You good?”
“I’m fine,” he says, tucking his face in his arms.
Izuku, you idiot.
He steps out in his pajamas, barefoot and just out of bed, and Izuku couldn’t be more sorry. He crouches down in front of him and squints. “The fuck are you crying for.”
“I’m not crying,” he sniffles again.
“Bullshit.”
The most intense red eyes he’s ever seen drill into him like two ruby daggers, and every single one of this guy’s features are sharp as glass, and Izuku might be double embarrassed about this whole situation now that he’s looking at him this close.
Oh no, he’s pretty, and I made him get out of bed.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says. “I was trying to keep my kid from hearing me.”
“Your kid?”
Izuku cries harder, and it’s a wonder he hasn’t flooded the place yet. “My daughter is gonna find out what a bad dad she got stuck with, and it’s all my fault because I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
And his neighbor doesn’t comfort him, doesn’t pat his arm or give him a hug, or tell him he’s doing a great job or anything else he wouldn’t know. He just crouches there, and Izuku cries, and it’s humiliating.
“It just you?”
Izuku nods and whimpers into his own arms.
“The fuck did you do that’s so bad then?”
“I forgot about her tea party,” Izuku wails, and after not getting a response, he peeks up to see him scowling at him.
“You’re crying this hard over some kid’s tea party.”
“It’s an important tea party.”
And then the metaphorical plug gets pulled, and the rest spills out, because for some reason, even though everyone in his life who actually matters already knows, he needs this person to understand why Eri having a good day tomorrow is the only thing in the world that matters to him.
Because Izuku signed up for this.
Eri’s health, wellbeing, and happiness are all his responsibility, and yes, he is crying over a tea party, but it’s a very important tea party.
“Ahhh fuck,” he says, raking his fingers through a headful of blonde spikes.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says. “I just needed five minutes.”
“You done cryin’ then?”
Izuku nods, completely drained but calm, and his neighbor stands up with a groan.
“Alright. What kinda shit is the kid supposed to bring with her?”
“Something her class can eat,” he says. “I was gonna make cookies, but I don’t know how to do that.”
“You just put shit in a bowl and mix it together,” he frowns down at him.
Izuku sniffles with a pained smile. “I couldn’t separate the eggs.”
“What are you separating eggs for? The fuck kinda cookies are you making?”
“I don’t know, I googled princess cookies, and that was the first thing that came up.”
His neighbor frowns. “Princess cookies? Jesus Christ. Get up.”
“What?” Izuku’s eyes widen.
“I said get up, nerd,” he says. “You got any weird shit in your apartment, go put it up now. I gotta go grab my shit.”
Izuku looks up at him confused. “What?”
“You wanna send your kid to school with cookies tomorrow or not,” he says. “Get goin’.”
His neighbor disappears back into his apartment, and Izuku scrambles up to his feet. He’s not sure what’s happening, but if there’s any chance that some kind of light is about to shine on him, he’s going to chase it. That’s, like, his whole life motto, and that’s the kind of outlook he wants Eri to have too.
Now if his neighbor has just abandoned him, that’s going to hurt a little, but the good news is, he’s all cried out, and a hot guy just yelled at him, which he doesn’t want to address what that did to him, but, well, it certainly did do.
Izuku goes back inside his home and sees with horror that every inch of his apartment is covered in toys.
Oh god, I really am making a mess of things.
He quietly zooms around collecting every doll and lego he can find, and it’s a wonder he and Eri can manage to live here like this. He’s really going to have to come up with some kind of daddy-daughter-chore-schedule this weekend. They’ll do it together. It’ll be fun.
Izuku’s door opens, and he turns around to see his neighbor slipping in with a grocery bag over his shoulder and his hair pushed back with a headband.
He nods at him, and Izuku realizes he’s trying not to wake Eri, and that makes him want to cry more, because he’s actually here to help. He goes into the kitchen, and Izuku puts the pile of toys in his arms in the toy box and follows him.
“Sorry for the mess,” Izuku says, but he seems too busy scowling at Izuku’s workspace to notice.
“Your oven preheated?”
“My what?”
He turns to him and raises an eyebrow. “You need to warm your oven before you bake anything so it bakes right.”
“Oh,” he says quickly and hurries to his stove. “I forgot that step.”
He swears under his breath. “Look,–.”
“Midoriya,” he says quietly. “Midoriya Izuku.”
“Alright, look, Izuku. I’m gonna show you how to do this once, and don’t get pissy and tell me you know how to do shit because you don’t, and I don’t wanna be here until 3 in the fucking morning.”
“Yes sir,” he says before flushing at himself. “I mean, that’s fine! I really don’t know how to do anything!”
“Good,” he nods before turning around to wash his hands. “You know how your stove works, right?”
“Yeah,” he blinks.
“Okay. Melt half’a that stick of butter, and then you’re gonna stir in the sugar I brought, and you’re not gonna burn it. Got it?”
“Yes s– yes,” Izuku chirps and gets to work, heart pounding with adrenaline. Oh my gosh, I’m a sous chef.
He can melt butter. He can melt butter without burning it, and he can stir the brown sugar in.
“What’s brown sugar?”
His neighbor turns around and furrows his brow at him. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I’m kind of afraid to do that.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s got molasses in it.”
“Molasses,” he says curiously. “Wow.”
“Don’t burn it,” he says, and it sounds like a threat. Izuku definitely takes it as one.
And he does the rest, leaving Izuku to this one task, and any time Izuku peeks, he’s doing something else.
He’s doing a lot.
And he’s not even checking his phone every three seconds for a recipe either.
He just knows how to do this.
Who is this guy?
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Bakugou,” he says. “Your shit done, yet?”
“Yep. Anything else?”
“You can wash these bowls,” Bakugou says.
“You don’t need help?”
“Does it look like I need help,” he tuts with his back to him, and so he doesn’t see Izuku’s face burn a little too hot when he says it. Cocky.
So Izuku cleans up whatever Bakugou uses, and he doesn’t complain because there are cookies being made for Eri, and they’re not going to taste like tears and disappointment.
How is he ever supposed to thank him for this?
“Okay,” Bakugou breathes, and Izuku looks back to see him rolling the mixture up in plastic wrap. “This needs to chill out for a minute.”
“You made bread?”
Bakugou glares at him briefly like Izuku said something stupid before he puts it in the refrigerator. “I’m gonna cut it into cookies, dumbass.”
Izuku flushes and looks off. “Sorry.”
“Oi,” he says, and Izuku looks back at him. “I don’t know shit about being a dad or whatever, but if the worst shit you’ve ever done is not know how to bake some fuckin’ cookies, you’re probably not doing a bad job at it.”
Izuku’s eyes well up on the spot. “That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles and stuffs some of his ingredients back in the bag. “Just next time you’ve gotta do some more PTA bullshit, just knock or something. In the daytime.”
Izuku looks at him confused. “What?”
“I ain’t babysitting no brats for nobody, but I usually keep this shit around anyway.”
“Why?”
“‘My best friend is an idiot with a sweet tooth, mind your business.”
“No, I mean why would you help me? You don’t know me.”
“‘Cause maybe I don’t wanna wake up to your crybaby ass wailing outside of my bedroom again.”
“Daddy?”
They both look to see Eri standing outside of her room in her favorite Barbie nightgown with her tiger in her arms rubbing her eyes.
Izuku goes to her to make sure she’s okay, worried she might have had a nightmare, but Eri’s eyes are locked on Bakugou. She hides behind Izuku’s leg to peek at him, eyes wide but not as scared as she usually is around strangers.
“Eri, this is Mr. Bakugou,” he says. “He lives across from us.”
Bakugou walks up to them and crouches down for her too, and something about that is specifically embarrassing for him. “That Major Stripes?”
Eri nods, and Izuku blinks quickly in surprise. How does he know about Major Stripes?
Bakugou pulls out his phone and holds it up for her, and Eri gasps and looks up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. “Daddy, Mr. Bakugou knows Eijirou!”
“He does?!” Izuku asks, and she nods with a bright smile. Eijirou is her favorite.
Bakugou stands up with a satisfied smile and stretches his arms above his head. “Loser’s gonna cry when he hears about that.”
He really is a blessing.
It’s hard to make Eri go back to bed after that, but Mr. Bakugou lets Eri help with the cookies, and he’s admittedly much nicer to her than he was with Izuku, but not in that cutesy way most people are like she doesn’t have a brain. He just doesn’t swear at her.
And when they’re done baking, Izuku lets her have one (only one) because Mr. Bakugou says that Princess Cookies taste the best when they come out of the oven, and Bakugou leaves, and Izuku thinks he might have accidentally fallen in love with him.
Whoops.
And it takes some convincing, but he does manage to get Eri back into bed, even if it is way too late for her to not wake up cranky in the morning.
“Are you excited about going to school as a princess tomorrow?”
“I think I want to go as Major Stripes instead,” she informs him.
Izuku pales. “Major… Stripes?”
She nods excitedly and wiggles over her pillow, her stuffed Major Stripes tucked in next to her.
“Of course,” he says with a bright smile. “I don’t think Ms. Todoroki will say no to that.”
Too bad he didn’t wash that costume when he had the chance.
Oh well.
There’s still a few hours left before morning.
He’s got this.