Being crushed in a car between two generations of Bakugou men was not the worst way to spend his day.
The moving van rumbled down the road, almost an hour's drive from the homes he and Kacchan had grown up in, towards the apartment building in the dead center of the bustling city. Neither Izuku nor Kacchan were unfamiliar with their streets – they'd had their share of scuffles in every other alleyway – but was a strange sensation to think that, starting now, they would be living there. Alone. No dorm atmosphere, no group of friends to lounge with on the weekends. No needing to sneak around.
The only thing that hadn't changed was Kacchan living right down the hall. Actually, they'd be living closer together now, than when they'd been on the second and fourth floor of the dorm. This particular building was affiliated with UA itself, and gave discounted living arrangements for newly graduated heroes. However, the building was so widely sought after, that a raffle was drawn throughout the graduating year students. This included the Hero, Support, and General Departments. Izuku knew he and Kacchan had gotten lucky.
Mr. Bakugou navigated the now congested city streets with a placid expression, the radio playing softly. He was unlike Kacchan in every way except, well, the shoulders. The arms. The body. Izuku only needed to look between the two men to see how big the other would eventually grow.
Izuku unconsciously swallowed hard and stared out the window with large eyes, suddenly hyper aware of how tiny his middle seat was, and how both Mr. Bakugou and Kacchan's hips were pressed against his own.
Okay, Izuku may have had a little crush on Kacchan's dad in middle school. And now was wildly, uncontrollably attracted to his son.
So, there was that.
Despite the enraged honking of horns and rumbling of engines that told the story of their congested city, Mr. Bakugou was relaxed as ever.
"Almost there, boys."
"It doesn't feel real," Izuku said quietly, casting a surreptitious glance Kacchan's way.
Kacchan didn't reply. With his temple pressed against the window, he gazed out at the busy shopping district with an inscrutable, bored look.
He took up so much space in the cabin of the truck, Izuku realized. How could Izuku compare the physical growth Kacchan was making towards resembling his father when, it dawned on him, they were almost the exact same size these days.
Kacchan's shoulders were wider, more powerful than a year ago, his back a thick mountain range of muscle and sinew. His legs were longer, his hands bigger, even his jaw wider with age. His profile, subdued and blank on this rare occasion, was that of a man.
When had that happened? When had Kacchan bounded so quickly ahead of Izuku once more? This wasn't something with which Izuku could catch up. When Izuku looked in the mirror, it was just himself. Freckles and all. Did he look the part of a hero yet? He wondered what Kacchan saw – in both himself and in Izuku.
Startling with a short jump as a large, hot hand gripped Izuku's wrist lightly, Izuku looked down and only then realized he'd been ripping off crescents of his fingernails – and, probably muttering under his breath. Izuku braved a look Kacchan's way again, only to see him still staring blandly out the window. Izuku's nerves stilled, as did his fingers, and he watched Kacchan's grip slip back to his own lap.
"Have you decided where you'll be working, Izuku?" Mr. Bakugou said.
"Oh." A flush rode up Izuku's neck as he breathed an uneasy laugh and drummed his fingertips upon his thigh. "Um. Not just yet. Nothing feels right, if that makes any sense."
