Izuku woke the day after Christmas with an emotional hangover—anxious, tired, and wholly ready to sleep for another eight hours. He should've known better than to believe it would be anything other than a lesson in utter humiliation, and the dressing down of a lifetime. The worst thing of all was that he had no real defense. She was absolutely right, but there's a time and a place for things like that. Within earshot of an impressionable, hapless child would never be the place, and she should've known better. Still, somehow, Mitsuki's antics served to bring him and Katsuki closer together.
He remembers the utter shock he experienced when his intense brooding session in the backyard was interrupted. He half-expected his mom to come out and scold him for the way he spoke to Mitsuki, but it was Kacchan.
"She left. Come back inside. It's fucking freezing out here."
Izuku stared up at Kacchan, completely taken aback. He didn't expect him to come out here, to take his side. Kacchan liked to fight with his mother because they were so similar, but Izuku knew, in the moment, that he was taken by surprise—probably completely cowed by the truth of her outburst. The simple action of coming to check on him felt like solidarity in some minute way. Izuku, stewing in his misery, bitterly reflected on how something so minimal could mean so much to him. Izuku spent most of his childhood reading into the things Kacchan did or didn't do, good or bad, searching desperately for morsels of care that weren't actually there. This felt different.
"Hisami?"
"Passed out. I don't think he heard anything."
"That's good. Kacchan, I'm—"
"Don't you dare apologize. This isn't your fault. My old hag's just being stubborn."
Kacchan's words rang a bit false, but Izuku appreciated the attempt at comfort.
"So much for a perfect holiday," Izuku said, his voice as weak as he felt. Kacchan sat beside him on the porch, heaving a sigh.
"My dad wants to apologize. He'd like to go out to lunch. Just the boys, he said."
"You think that's a good idea?"
"Couldn't hurt. Dad's the only one who can convince my mom not to be an asshole. He's good like that."
Izuku, against his better judgement, let out a watery laugh. He hates how easy it is to believe Kacchan, to allow himself to be set at ease by a reluctant, sharp smile. He feels lighter just by his proximity.
"Is my mom mad?"
"Not at you. My parents left before I came back down, but I think your mom reamed her out. She's aggressively washing dishes now—muttering, just like you."
Hisami bursts into his bedroom, far too awake for the early hour, and cuts Izuku's reminiscence short.
"Papa! There's snow outside! Can we play?"
"The sun is barely up, Button," he says, with about as much enthusiasm as he could muster if his son had asked to go dumpster diving. Hisami wiggles up onto the bed and flops over Izuku's prone form.
"Well, I called Papa and he said he's on his way!"
Izuku was immediately awake—no morning cup of coffee necessary.
"What?"
Hisami giggles, and pulls Izuku's cell phone out of the tummy pocket on his onesie. He immediately regrets leaving his phone on the coffee table. He unlocks it and thumbs through his recent calls. Indeed, there's a call to Kacchan from roughly thirty minutes ago.
"How'd you know my password?"
"Papa showed me! He said it's important to know how to call for help. For emergencies."
"How did he know my password?" Izuku mutters, wondering what Kacchan might've found in the password protected depths of his phone, or when he could've poked around in it. He doesn't expect Hisami to answer him, but he does.
"0502! He said that means my birthday. So, can we play in the snow now?"
"Let's wait for Kacchan. And for the daylight." He pulls Hisami to him, and he knows he doesn't actually want to be up and about yet because he lets it happen, kicking his legs under the covers and fitting himself against Izuku. Eventually, they both fall back to sleep.
—
"Care to explain how our son called you at the crack of dawn this morning?" Deku asks, folding his arms across his chest the moment Hisami runs off. He grew tired of making a snowman about ten minutes into the whole endeavor, but he made it clear he expected the snowman to be built before he puttered away to fresher snow. He's only a few feet away, making snow angels.
Katsuki hates the cold—hates snow even more—but he can't imagine spending the day any other way. He's careful not to look guilty under Deku's scrutiny. He carefully packs more snow onto the second level of their half-built snowman before answering.
"Technology Quirk?" Katsuki knows it's a shit lie. He knows Deku doesn't believe him in the slightest, but he's got to defend himself somehow.
"You know he already incriminated you. Why do you know my phone password, Kacchan?"
"It was either Hisami's birthday, or All Might's. You're predictable, Deku."
"And why are you thinking about my phone password at all?"
"Afraid I saw something I shouldn't?"
Katsuki spares a glance at Deku as he packs more snow into the snowman. He was already pink from the cold, but now his exposed skin is a hot, embarrassed red. Sinful, Katsuki thinks, before he mentally slaps himself, and reminds himself not to let his dreams bleed into his daily life.
"I'm entitled to my privacy, Kacchan. As are you."
Katsuki valiantly fights an eye roll because he knows he's in the wrong, and the twinge of anger stems purely from his annoyance at being caught.
"I may have… gone a bit overboard in my parental protectiveness in the early days. Shared your location with me while you were in the bathroom."
"Kacchan!" Deku splutters. He has the audacity to throw a packed chunk of snow directly at Katsuki's head, but he dodges in the last second. "What the fuck?"
Deku seems to think for a moment, and then, with startling speed, he pulls another chunk of snow off their snowman and beams him with it. Katsuki catches it in the face, and feels the heat of his embarrassment and rage melt the snow that much faster.
"Oi!"
"Is that how you found me during my date with Enzo?"
Sometimes, Katsuki hates how smart Deku is. He sighs, but before he can say anything, he's pelted with another snowball.
"How dare you?"
Another snowball. He bats it away, ready this time.
"Deku, chill out."
"No! Why would you do that?" Another snowball. It hits Katsuki's chest. "What do you gain from butting into my personal life?"
"I—" Another snowball. This one smacks directly into his open mouth, and Katsuki can't abide by it anymore. "Quit it!"
He bends to build up his own snowballs, to retaliate even though he's got no right to.
"No! Kacchan, he was so—I could've—!"
Katsuki pegs him in the chest with his own snowball, but he doesn't say anything. He just needed to physically defend himself. Deku throws the entirely of the second level of the snowman at Katsuki, and it's so big he actually grunts when he catches it against his chest, like when he throws medicine balls with his trainer. Luckily, it doesn't break, and he sets it back on the base of the snowman.
"He said he didn't like kids, anyway! What's it matter?" Katsuki bellows, thoroughly done with taking Deku's shit.
"It was my business, Kacchan! I was going to tell him in my own time! He actually liked me, and—"
Out of nowhere, a snowball collides with Katsuki's back. Both of their attentions caught, they stare back at Hisami.
"Snowball fight!" He squeals, packing more snow in his gloved hands and lobbing it in Katsuki's direction. They both stare, practically dumbstruck, at their son, almost completely forgotten in their hasty argument. Hisami giggles, and bends on uncoordinated limbs to make another ball of packed, powdery snow.