Kacchan seems off-kilter, but Izuku's not sure he should comment on it. He's probably just nervous about telling Hisami the truth. Izuku would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit nervous as well. Hisami is, if anything, wildly unpredictable, but Izuku is used to that. Parenthood has taught him to roll with the punches, to ride out the tantrums, to come to terms with the fact that very little ever goes as planned. Kacchan will have to learn that, too, and no amount of theoretical planning can prepare him for that.
Izuku does his best to focus on cooking breakfast, but he can feel Kacchan's eyes pressing into him. Every time he dares to glance his way, Kacchan's eyes dart to the countertop almost guiltily. He could swear Kacchan is flustered, for some reason.
"Everything okay?"
"M'fine," he snaps—which almost certainly means he's not fine.
"You nervous about telling him?"
"A bit. What if he doesn't care?"
"He will. Worst case scenario, we just go on as we have been until he gets used to the idea of it. Kids are resilient."
Kacchan groans, his head in his hands, and Izuku slides a plate of pancakes in his direction.
"It'll be alright, Kacchan," he says, and he pats him on the shoulder on his way out of the room. He recoils like he's been burned, and Izuku mutters a quick, stunned, "Sorry."
He can't fathom what's got him so on edge, but he doesn't want to pry, so he goes to his room to wake Hisami for breakfast.
Mornings are always quiet with Hisami. It's when he's at his calmest. He blinks slowly at his pancakes, his curls a tangled mess.
"Should we tell him now?" Kacchan whispers, staring at their son with guarded, but hopeful eyes.
"Best to do it when he's docile," Izuku says, only half-joking. "Want me to do the talking?"
He nods, looking more nervous than he's ever seen him. The great, dauntless Bakugo Katsuki, rattled by a three year old. Amazing.
"Hey, Button. Before we eat Kacchan and I have something to tell you."
"Before pancakes?" He whines, only half as outraged as usual due to his drowsiness.
"Yes, before. Remember how my Quirk works?" Izuku figures he should start there, and slowly lead him to the answer. Let him figure it out before being told. Hisami nods.
"Makes babies."
"Exactly. And I made you with it, but it takes two people."
"Get to the point, Papa. I'm hungry." Hisami rolls his eyes, and Kacchan guffaws from behind Izuku. He glares at him, but Hisami giggles, obviously pleased to have made Kacchan laugh.
"Fine. What I'm trying to say is, you have two Papas. Kacchan is your Papa, too."
Hisami sits for a second, considering it, and everyone holds their breath in anticipation. His tired eyes land on Kacchan, and he speaks.
"Okay." He pats the seat next to him, and Izuku swears Kacchan almost trips over himself in an attempt to get his ass in that chair as quickly as possible. "Will you cut my pancakes, Papa?"
Izuku almost answers, purely on instinct, but Kacchan beats him to it, sounding like he just took a punch to the solar plexus, he's so choked up.
"Y-Yeah, Bub. I got you." He's absolutely beaming, and almost certainly crying, Izuku looks away to let him have a moment.
Breakfast passes quietly, but Hisami is more awake with every syrupy bite of his pancakes. By the time he finishes, his mouth and hands are a sticky mess. Kacchan shares a look with him across the table. He's looking very pleased with himself, still high on the wonder of receiving an official dad title.
"Divide and conquer?"
"I'll get the dishes, and you get the gremlin."
They nod, and get to it. It's nice to have someone to divide and conquer with, a small comfort after years of being a single parent. Izuku is still scrubbing half-dried syrup of the plates when Hisami emerges, no longer sticky and dressed in an outfit Kacchan bought him a few weeks ago: cute, army green joggers and a Ground Zero shirt. Even his socks were Ground Zero themed.
Hisami goes straight to one of his notebooks and starts scribbling. Kacchan sidles up to him.
"I think that went well," he says absently, using a tea towel to help with the drying.
"It went great." He smiles, happy that Kacchan is happy. And then, Hisami pipes up from across the room.
"Papa, are you going to live with us now?"
"Spoke too soon," Izuku mutters. He knew the questions would come eventually, once Hisami had more time to think about the ramifications of Kacchan's new title.
"Uh, no. I have my own place, but you can stay with me sometimes," Kacchan says lightly, eyeing Izuku for help. Izuku just gives him an encouraging nod. He's going to have to learn to do this without him. Kacchan wants his own time, his own life with Hisami, and as much as it scares Izuku to give up so much of his own time with Hisami, he knows it's going to have to happen—he knows Kacchan doesn't want to spend any more time with Izuku than strictly necessary. Even if it hurts, just a bit, to think about it.
"But not Papa?"
"It'll be like when you stay with Obaasan, Button. It'll be fun," he says. Hisami grimaces, looking a bit conflicted, but he lets it go. And then, he blurts out the worst possible question.
"Do you love each other? Do you want to make more babies?"
Izuku drops a plate in the sink, and Kacchan chokes on his own saliva. Izuku does the only thing he can do: deflect.
"You're all we need, Button!" His nerves have him practically screeching. "Want some ice cream?" His voice breaks, like a pubescent teenager's, on the last word.
"It's not even lunch time, Papa," Hisami says, giving him a disapproving look. It's also November, and cold out, but Izuku would rather die than answer anymore of his son's questions. In the end, they end up baking cookies, and Kacchan makes his escape around noon. He's delighted when Hisami calls him Papa and kisses his cheek goodbye.
—
Katsuki paves the aisles of a big box store feeling as if he were lost at sea. He got separated from his mother in a place like this when he was about five years old, and he somehow felt more confident back then. He roams the aisles looking for toys Hisami might like, buying the same Frostfire-themed shampoo and bath soap he's seen at Deku's. He buys a toothbrush and sippy cups and a whole host of pajamas, socks, and underwear, a box spring and mattress and a cool, little chair he thought he might like to have.
He wants Hisami's transition into his apartment to go as smoothly as possible. He ordered a dresser and a bed frame last week, set to be delivered tomorrow. Deku offered to help him put it together, but Katsuki's been missing his alone time, and he's desperate to keep Deku as far away from his as possible.
The fucking dreams won't let up. Sometimes, they're more domestic—the three of them at the park, pushing Hisami on the swings, or snuggling on the couch—but some of them are downright filthy. And every time he wakes up, sweaty and flustered, the first thing that pops into his head are Hisami's questions: do you love each other? Do you want to make more babies? Katsuki would rather never sleep again than have another sexy dream about Deku, but they are persistent and pervasive, and he doesn't know how to make them stop.
Distance, he decides, is the best course of action. Still, they're set to take Hisami shopping for room decor on his next day off. The fact of the matter is that he'll never be able to cut himself off from Deku again, so he'll just have to grin and bear it. Honestly, before the dreams, he was fine spending time with Deku. He didn't hate it at all. It was starting to feel like they could be friends again, and now he can't even look at him without noticing the curve of thighs, or the freckle on his neck, just below his ear, that was just big enough to stand out from all the other ones. He spends a lot of time worshipping that singular freckle in his dreams.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, probably a picture from Deku, he sends them almost constantly nowadays. It buzzes three more times before he checks it. It's a shaky video—Hisami needs to work on his framing skills.
"Hi, Papa! I miss you, but I have little Papa!" He brandishes his Ground Zero action figure with the cutest fucking whoosh noise Katsuki's ever heard. He's sitting on Deku's lap, leaning on his chest, so he's fully in frame, and Katsuki can see that damn freckle again. He's also wearing glasses, looking more tired than he's ever seen him. He looks old.
The other text is clearly from Hisami—a god awful amount of heart emojis, explosions, and—puzzlingly—a dragon. And below it, a text from Deku: we're both heading to bed. He just wanted to say goodnight.
Katsuki doesn't know what's come over him, but he can't stop himself from texting.
Katsuki: I didn't know you wore glasses.
Deku: I'm full of surprises. Makes me look old right?
Katsuki: Old as fuck. At least 50.
Katsuki: rough day?
Deku: I DO NOT look 50!
Deku: Hisami threw a fit because he couldn't find "little papa." After two hours of screaming and frantic searching I found it in the dryer. Instead of a "Thanks papa I love you" I got a "papa would've found it quicker."
Deku: the joys of parenting.
Katsuki laughs aloud in the toy aisle. Deku can be funny.
Katsuki: get some sleep. Goodnight Deku.
Deku: ❤️
Deku: THAT WAS HISAMI
Deku: Goodnight from both of us
He's learned so much about Deku, however unwillingly, in a matter of months—barely even half a year. Deku wears glasses and looks good in a suit. Deku makes a fuckload of money and still lives in a shit apartment because he saves everything for his son's future. Deku has a freckle under his ear and a really sweet ass.
"Fuck," he mutters, his mind in the gutter again.