Part 1
It's late. Past 1 AM. Coni returns to the Old Penelope Bunker expecting Sunglo to be asleep in his bed, where she could crawl up next to him, easing any tension caused by her unanswered text. She planned on having him feeling so euphoric, he wouldn't even think to ask about Cecilia. But he's not in bed. She finds him in the sickly dim light of the kitchen waiting for her. He sits silently, no gadgets or bots to fidget with. Coni has never seen him appear so vacant.
Sunglo: I haven't heard from you all night.
Coni rushes through a flimsy excuse about his aunts being "really chatty," but Sunglo quickly redirects, immediately questioning Cecilia's whereabouts. Coni's eyes widen, realizing just how long she's left Erwin alone.
Coni: Oh mod, Erwin! [Takes off down the hall]
The screech of the chair against the stone floor echoes through the spacious halls of the bunker as Sunglo scrambles to his feet trying to get to her.
Sunglo: Coni, wait!
By the time he exits the kitchen, she's already beelining around the corner, her hurried footsteps quickly fading into the distance as he struggles to follow.
Coni reaches Erwin's door first, and of course it's locked, giving Sunglo time to catch up with her. He grabs her arm, firmly but gently, careful not to hurt her. He demands an explanation.
Coni: I... I borrowed Erwin's flannel. I promised him I'd return it tonight.
Sunglo: Okay, well he's asleep right now. I'm sure he'll be fine if you get it back to him in the morning. Will you just relax?
Coni: You saw him come home?
Sunglo: Yes, right after work.
Coni breathes a sigh of relief upon learning he's still safe.
Sunglo: [Still holding her wrist firmly] What's gotten into you? Where's Cecilia?
Coni jerks away and rubs her forehead.
Coni: It's a long story, okay? I need to shower.
Sunglo eyes her, puzzled, and she retreats back down the hall.
A momentary tussle ensues over the bathroom door. However, Sunglo, not wanting to hurt or frighten Coni, ultimately relents. He takes a step back, allowing Coni to slam the door shut.
Sunglo: [Voice strained and defeated] Concept, please tell me what's going on... Baby?
Coni locks the door behind her and lets the water wash over her, tears merging with the stream as she braces herself for the next phase of this ordeal.
Part 2 Here
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papa bakugo and the thought that he intently raises his kids in ways to be unlike him.
and when they're older, asking serious questions about parenting like: why did you make sure we were friends with everyone on the playground? why did you always have to step away when you were mad? how come you don't like us seeing videos of you when you were younger?
he tells them it's because he never wanted them to turn out like him—that leading by example has always been more effective, and he wasn't exactly the best example back then. still doesn't feel like he is now but he's trying (at least, that's what you say, and it must count for something).
and his kids are confused because what does he mean he isn't the best example? all they want is to be like him.
they want the same fire, the dedication he puts in day in and day out; how he only ever gives his best and never backs down. one of the greatest lessons they've learnt from their papa is that a promise is a promise and you deliver on it. no matter what.
they want the same balance he's achieved, making time for both work and his family but especially his family—how they've never once felt second in his life; how he's managed to show up to every game, every performance like the superdad he is. and even when he doesn't make it for the entire thing, you can bet he's rushing in, all soot-covered and polo unbuttoned with the base of his suit underneath.
(you never told your kids, but on katsuki's 14th father's day, you held him while he cried, tears of relief from his eyes. he was watching their surprise, a day-in-the-life reenactment video of pro-dad bakugo katsuki, starring the kids and you).
they want to love the way he loves them, the way he loves you—attentive and all-in because bakugo katsuki never half-asses anything. he adds personal touches to each plate of breakfast he cooks: bear pancakes for his little girl, egg done scrambled and another sunny-side up for his two boys. and you always insist on having what he's having because you don't want to add to the hassle, but he knows your signature morning drink and serves it right by the plate beside his, always yours.
you always tell him that having your kids turn out like him now is all you could ever want, and he always scoffs, tuts and laughs like it can't possibly be true. but maybe if your kids tell him now, that they want to be just like their papa, he'll believe it—all the good in him that everyone sees but he can't seem to.
you hope he doesn't see it as a bad thing—that his kids have grown and chosen to in the shape of him.
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