rubatosis | s. todoroki

epilogue

"And how is your wife?" the reporter asked, an eager smile spreading on her face.

Everybody loves this topic, everybody loves those heroes. And despite the dual-haired man knowing it was none of their business, he knew what came with being a hero—a slight invasion of privacy.

Sometimes he wishes he's an underground hero like his former sensei. He knows if he voiced this to his wife, he will be underground alright.

"Very pregnant," he says swiftly before continuing his way home.

Home. He smiles to himself. He finally has a place to call home.

A year after they graduated, he and his then-girlfriend had bought a place of their own in a very isolated area, filled with trees and they happily invited their friends to live near them. And they did. And the best two years were lived out from then.

"I'm home," he announces, tossing his keys on the table and going on a search for his wife.

First place being searched is the kitchen which he finds empty with pots housing some sizzling…stuff. He doesn't really know anything past rice.

He climbs the stairs, unable to stop his grin from appearing when he catches sight of their wedding pictures.

It had been a small thing with only their close friends and family. Hell, the reception was a bar they frequent often enough for the staff to memorise them. Nevertheless, she had looked so beautiful in a simple white dress that reached her knees. Her hair, that she refused to grow out and he stopped trying to convince her to, was braided back to show her face. Courtesy of a close friend, the light make up wonderfully accentuated all her best features and he remembered how calm and at peace he felt when she reached the altar.

The bedroom door is ajar and he slips in only to find his beautiful wife laying lethargically on the bed. She's panting and her half-lidded eyes snap to his figure.

"Before you kiss me or hug me," she starts when she sees him nearing the bed, "you should know that I almost clogged the toilet with all my vomit."

He wrinkles his nose but embraces her anyway. He doesn't mind her sweat as long as she doesn't mind his. Apparently and—after years of being together—expectedly, she does because she pushes him back and tells him that he needs to shower.

"Join me?" he asks, only half-joking only to find her giving him a blank look and getting up probably to go check on whatever she's cooking.

"I don't need another baby in me."

"That's not how it works."

"Oh so now you know how it works?" She gives her a familiar perverted smile and he can only shake his head at her words. She may have always been the most comfortable one talking about this but he has grown used to it.

He walks into the bathroom and the first thing he sees is candles lining the giant bathtub neatly. Evidently, they're scented and a mix of lavender and roses flood his senses. Not that he's complaining. The tub is filled to the brim and he can see bubbles threatening to push off some candles.

"Yeah, I'll join you."

And when he hears clothes hit the floor, he smiles again. Because he loves how his life turned out.

THE END