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Katsuki paced up and down the dimly lit hallway outside of the familiar apartment. He remembers so much of his life here. He remembers the dinner he had last week, and the time his quirk manifested in the living room leaving a hole in Izuku’s favourite blanket. He remembers muddy feet on the tile racing to go wash off. He remembers his first illegal drink on a weekend home from school. He remembers being terrified when Izuku popped one of his blisters with a needle from Inko’s sewing kit.
And this? Well, he’s going to remember this too.
Shaking his shoulders out, trying and failing to remove any nerves, he steeled himself. Arm raised, back straight, and shoulders squared, he knocked.
Inko Midoriya opened the door with a smile that only widened when she looked up to see Katsuki. He could swear her crows feet were deeper than they were last week. Where had all the time gone. Why did he let himself miss so much?
“Katsuki!” she started, “Baby, I just saw you last week. Is something wrong? Is my Izuku here with you?”
The way she poked her head through the doorway and began looking up and down the hall was endearing, really. Katsuki let out a small chuckle at the sight.
“No no, auntie. There’s no need to worry. I promise you everything is alright, but would you mind if I came in for a moment? I wanted to talk about something.”
Inko nodded enthusiastically, and ushered Katsuki inside. She went through the usual spiel. Asked if he wants tea (he does), said she knows just how he likes it (‘it’s the same way you’ve had it since you were 4’), and brought the tea to him at the kitchen table. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Katsuki decided that he can’t just stall this conversation forever.
“Auntie, I—,” he began, words suddenly beginning to feel foreign on his tongue.
If he was going to do this, he was going to do this the right way.
“Katsuki? Are you alright, love?” Inko asked him, her small hands reaching across the table to him.
Taking in a shaky breath, he nodded placed both of his hands in hers.
He thought about all of the memories he had growing up in this very apartment. He thought of himself from birth until he was 7. He thought of all of the memories in this kitchen alone, and he thought of the last time he was in this kitchen before eventually returning 10 years later.
And he’s going to remember the way he feels in the Midoriya kitchen right now, at 26.
“Do you remember- shit, sorry. Sorry I don’t mean to curse in front of you.”
Inko smiled and shook her head, “It’s nothing I haven’t heard from you before baby. Just gather your thoughts and say what you want to say. You can’t go wrong if you speak from your heart.”
He had a feeling she knew why he was here from the moment he knocked on the door. Curse her, and all of her motherly intuition.
He took a deep breath once more.
“The last time I was here. Not last week but… When it was the time before I stopped coming around. When I was 7 and I could barely see over the counter. We were making katsudon for Izuku’s birthday. Do you remember that?”
Katsuki watched as Inko’s face softened, as if the memory was playing in her head as he spoke.
“Oh how could I ever forget the way you couldn’t even see what I was doing on the countertop yet you stood there bossing me around? Over a dish you hadn’t even cooked! In my own kitchen no less!” She laughed before continuing, “You barely knew how to use the microwave Katsuki, but you were telling me step by step how to make the katsudon. You stood there like a little dictator with your wooden spoon. Except your only demand was, and I quote, ‘it needs to be perfect, because it’s for Izuku.’”
Katsuki felt his face flush, and he looked down towards the table in minor embarrassment.
“Yeah,” a dry laugh, “yeah that’s the time I’m talking about. I just can’t stop thinking about something that happened that day.”
The day in question was one that came to stick out like a sore thumb in Katsuki’s rolodex of memories. He had referred to Inko as ‘auntie’ for most of his life. He started calling her auntie a few weeks after that day. School had started for the year, and he had unusual control over his quirk for a 7 year old. Unfortunately, Izuku’s determination and recklessness had put the fear of God in him. The katsudon for Izuku’s birthday dinner was the last nice thing he would do for the other boy for the rest of their childhood. And the day he made that katsudon was also the last day he called Inko ‘mom.’
So here he was, sitting in front of the woman who could read him better than anyone, save for her own son. He was in front of the woman who changed his life in so many ways. The biggest way being giving birth to his boyfriend. The boy who would hopefully be his fiancé by the end of the week.
He just wanted to ask Inko first, and he wanted to do it right.
“That day was… Well let me put it this way,” he began, squeezing Inko’s hands gently.
“Mom, I want you to know I’m sorry.”
His voice warbled through the delivery, tears welling in his eyes, and beginning to overflow. What was it about getting older that just made you cry at everything?
“Katsuki, you just called me—” Inko started. One look at her eyes would show they too were filling up with tears.
The sight of Inko beginning to cry only made Katsuki cry more. He was certain he was about to ugly cry his way through asking Inko’s permission to marry her son.
“Please. Please just let me get through this.” He choked out.
Inko nodded and squeezed Katsuki’s hands in response. Her thumbs started to lightly stroke the back of his hands.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m sorry for the way I treated Izuku. I didn’t think about it until I did and I just—. I think about it every day now. I love him more than anything, and I love you so damn much. I know that I’ve apologized a hundred times before but I can’t stop. I especially can’t say what I want to without apologizing again. I was h-horrible.”
The slight hiccup was the straw that broke the camel's back. The dam broke. Katsuki was sitting there at the Midoriya kitchen table full on sobbing. He pulled his hands out of Inko’s to cover his face. He was embarrassed to be crying like this, especially during an apology meant to lead into such a happy topic.
Suddenly he felt the chair he was sitting in be pulled out a bit, and angled to the side. Next came two arms wrapped tightly around him, and a head on his. He doesn’t know if he can remember the last time she held him like this. He probably entered the apartment on Izuku’s back, 5 years old and crying over a tiny scrape on his knee.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry I ever stopped calling you mom. I can’t imagine how that felt for you. You’ve never been anything but a second mom to me. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Katsuki rambled through his tears.
Fuck, he derailed this so badly. He was entirely off mark.
Inko just shushed him, rubbing her hands up and down his back, and humming a familiar tune. She was humming the theme to All Might’s TV show.He may not have been able to recall the last time she held him like this, but he did remember her always soothing him with a slightly off-key hum of the show's tune. Whether he was upset, or having trouble sleeping, she would always hum that song to him.
“You don’t have to worry about not calling me mom, Katsuki. You didn’t show it like most kids, but growing up was hard for you too. Being away from Izuku because you were afraid for him was hard on you. I always saw it. Thanks to your parents, I still managed to “mom” you from afar. Of course I missed hearing you say it, but you don’t owe me an apology for something I was never mad at you for.”
The gentle, whispered tone of her voice allowed him to calm down enough to pull back and look at her.
No time like the present.
Except, he didn’t get to ask. Inko spoke the moment their eyes met.
“Of course you can ask Izuku to marry you. I could never see him marrying anybody but you, Katsuki.”
That sentence caused his brain to completely boot back to life, all tears forgotten.
“How the hell did you know what I was about to ask? I didn’t even get into anything about it yet!”
Inko threw her head back in a gleeful laugh, “Your pants! They’re too skinny to not show the ring box in your pocket. You gave yourself away the moment I opened the door.”
Groaning, and turning to drop his head onto the table, he once again cursed her motherly intuition. No wonder Izuku was so damn perceptive. His mom managed to pick out the shape of a ring box in his pocket during a 12 second interaction.
“So,” she started, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Izuku is going to love it no matter what, but are you going to show me the ring?”