After the impromptu snowball fight, Katsuki heads home with soaked socks and an excitable toddler in tow. Deku is pissed at him, that much is clear. It's out of the ordinary, to say the least, but it's kind of refreshing. The playing field feels leveled, somehow. Snooping through Deku's phone—which he didn't do—is hardly as bad as using Katsuki to father a child without his consent, but it seems to confirm that they're both capable of being sneaky, secretive bastards to each other if it means getting their way.
Katsuki's not sure what Deku's actually upset about—the invasion of privacy, or for ruining his chances with Enzo. Probably both, but Deku's spluttering, aborted sentences as he lobbed snowballs at his head keeps replaying in his mind.
He was so—I could've—
It's not hard to fill in the blanks. He was so hot, beautiful, perfect? Deku could've… could've what? Slept with him? Dated him? Used him to get over whatever feelings Deku admitted to harboring towards Katsuki?
He actually liked me, and—
And what? Deku liked him too? He remembers the way Deku looked when he said it. Like he lost something huge, something special he doesn't get to have often. And Katsuki ruined that for him. He should feel worse about it than he does. Mostly, he feels an ugly, burning jealousy at the thought of Deku spending his time with anyone that isn't him or Hisami—anyone that lives outside of the titles of family or friend. He can only imagine how much more complicated their situation would be if Deku added a boyfriend to the mix, or god forbid, a potential step-dad. Hisami doesn't need another dad. Two is plenty, and three is a crowd.
Is that what Deku wants? Some cute guy to shack up with whenever Hisami is at his place? Is he really that desperate for affection?
Yes, Katsuki thinks, no doubt in his mind. People don't grow up the way Deku did and manage to have healthy, easy relationships.
Ah, there's the guilt.
—
It comes as no surprise that Deku doesn't reach out to him in the following days. Katsuki sends him texts to test the waters—simple things about Hisami's stuff. Favorite notebooks, action figures, the missing match to his favorite pair of socks. All the replies are timely and curt. It's different than when Deku was intentionally avoiding him, but it still sucks the same.
"Oi, Bubba, wanna help me with something?"
Hisami looks up from his coloring book, eyes sharp.
"I love helping!"
"Good. Hold this up for me. We're gonna send it to Deku." Katsuki hands him a piece of paper, ripped from Hisami's notebook and written on with an orange crayon in Katsuki's handwriting.
"What's it say, Papa?" Hisami squints at the lettering—too advanced for his fledgling reading comprehension.
"Uh, it's a secret coded message, Bub. For Papa's eyes only."
It says Kacchan is a dumbass—his way of apologizing without actually apologizing. Hisami pouts.
"But we're supposed to practice reading!"
"We will! Later, I promise. Now, hold that and smile, okay?" Katsuki positions his phone, ready to snap a picture once Hisami stops pouting.
—
Izuku breathes slowly, hands pressed into the corners of his orange yoga mat as he folds into downward dog. He feels the pull in his hamstrings as he settles into the pose, and the soothing voice on the yoga app on his phone tells him to hold the pose for ten seconds. About halfway through, his phone pings with a text notification. He ignores it, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. It's probably another text from Kacchan. He knows what he's doing. He knows that Izuku is still mad, so he's doing his best to annoy him with silly questions, trying to needle him into speaking to him again. For someone so familiar with his own anger—his own need to be left alone to process and calm down—he's pretty oblivious to that need in other people. Izuku lets out a harsh breath, no longer feeling calm. The feeling intensifies when he gets another notification.
He drops his pose, sitting on the mat to grab his phone. He's annoyed, but he's not dumb enough to ignore two texts. What if it's an emergency? He swipes the notification, and finds that it's not an emergency. It's a picture.
Hisami beams at the camera, holding a piece of paper ripped from his notebook. Izuku squints at the handwriting—it's obviously not Hisami's.
"Kacchan is a dumbass, huh?" Izuku can't help the small smile quirking his lips, the short laugh that escapes him. Below the photo is a dropped pin. Kacchan has shared their location indefinitely.
Izuku thumbs a reply.
Izuku: When I told you we needed to start him on reading and writing this isn't what I had in mind.
Kacchan: Hah! I told him it was a coded message.
Izuku: Looks more like a coded apology. Thanks Kacchan.
Kacchan: Still mad?
Izuku considers it. He's not mad, so much as mildly annoyed—vaguely hurt. Really, he has no right to complain about violations of privacy to Kacchan after what he did. He just doesn't understand why. He wonders if it really was just about Hisami's safety, some parental instinct that mixed with his heroic principles in an odd way. Izuku briefly imagines Kacchan in all his hero regalia blasting off at the drop of a hat if Hisami called him. The thought, along with the apology that isn't quite an apology, tempers his leftover annoyance. He texts back.
Izuku: You can stay for dinner when you drop Hisami off tomorrow.
Kacchan: Thanks nerd.
Izuku locks his phone and lays back on his mat. He sighs, and wonders why he can't stop smiling. Why Kacchan has such an effect on him by doing so little. Well, he knows why, but he'd like to know why he can't put these useless feelings away.
—
"Hi, Papa! I missed you," Hisami says sweetly, attaching himself to Izuku's leg, hugging him tightly. He's getting so big, and the realization sends him reeling for a moment. He runs his fingers through his curls.
"I missed you too, Button. Did you have fun?"
"Yeah! Papa and I practiced reading, and Cheeto knocked over a vase, and Papa got all red and angry. It was so funny."
Izuku chuckles, delighted. He kneels down to fully hug his son and press a kiss to his forehead. As usual, it's about all the cuddling he can take, so he wiggles away and announces that he has to say hello to all his plushies before excusing himself to his room. Kacchan stands by the door, his shoes still on, looking almost sheepish, but annoyed by it.
"You can come in, Kacchan. I won't throw anything at you." He smiles tentatively, already falling back into the familiar game of working to placate, if not please, Kacchan.
"Right. Here," he grumbles, proffering a crumpled paper pag in his direction before toeing off his shoes in the genkan. Izuku takes the bag, curious.
"Gift giving? That's not like you."
"Yeah, well neither is being a sneak and a liar, so just take it. Don't be difficult."
Izuku peeks in the bag, and finds a large bottle of red wine. An expensive one, at that. Izuku whistles at it.
"Pretty fancy. This stuff isn't cheap."
"Lemillion gave it to me when I made the top five. Obviously, I don't give a shit about wine, or celebrating fifth place, so I figured you could take it off my hands."
"What!" Izuku all but screeches, clenching the bottle with fervor. Kacchan seems put off by the outburst.
"Lemillion—"
"No, I heard you! This is like… basically merch! I can't drink this. Oh, my god. I need to put it in a museum, or something." He abandons Kacchan to place the bottle of wine on a high shelf, where it will remain for the rest of his days. A collectors item.
"You're so weird. Stupid Deku," Kacchan mutters, sounding almost fond. Izuku ignores the fluttering in his stomach.
"Yeah, yeah. Stupid Deku. I'm a nerd and a loser and I'm totally hopeless." Izuku shrugs. He's heard it all before. It hardly stings anymore. Izuku may be all those things, but he's also accomplished, independently wealthy, and a kickass parent.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay. What's for dinner?"
"Whatever I can find in your meager pantry." Kacchan smirks, and Izuku feels it in his gut—a distinct clench in his lower abdomen that he refuses to think on too much.
"Can I help?"
"Yep. By getting the fuck out. Can't have you burning my dinner. Go kiss all the plushies or whatever it is you two do when I'm not here." Kacchan dismisses him with another smirk before turning to rifle through the kitchen with practiced familiarity. Izuku wanders off to help Hisami greet his action figures.
—
Dinner goes by just as it always does. Hisami in high spirits because they're all together, and seeing him happy makes Izuku happy. It makes talking to Kacchan easier. Hisami is the best buffer to have between them—he keeps them on their best behavior. It all comes crashing down at bedtime.
"Alright, Button. Say goodnight."
"Can Papa sleep over? And we can have pancakes in the morning."
"No, he's got to go home. He has work tomorrow."
"He can go to work from here! I want him to stay." Hisami's voice goes up an octave, and Izuku knows he's about to start screaming, crying, or both. "Papa, don't you want to stay with me?"
Hisami's watery eyes lock on Kacchan. The inevitable tantrum is fast approaching, and Izuku can only hope Kacchan has the wherewithal to defuse it. The stricken look on Kacchan's face doesn't give him any comfort.
"Of course, I love staying with you, but Deku missed you… and it's your turn to spend a few days with him." Kacchan's voice is weak, tentative, and completely unlike him. What's worse, is he gave Hisami ammunition to work with.
God fucking damn it. He can't really blame Kacchan for it. Izuku's not even sure what he'd say if Hisami put him on the spot like that. Hisami winds himself up, tears falling, face reddening, and the screaming is sure to follow.
"You always leave, and it's no fair! Families are supposed to stay together!" There it is. The beginning of a full-blown, fully realized tantrum. Izuku tries to remain calm.
"Hisami, please." He's begging, but it's still firm. He tries to shoot Kacchan a look that says go home before it gets worse, but he only has eyes for Hisami. He kneels to get to his level, so he doesn't feel like he's looming over him. Hisami shoves him, upending his balance before he can settle himself. The shoving isn't out of the ordinary, but it doesn't usually end with Izuku falling on his ass.
Stay calm.
"No! I hate this! I hate you!"
He wonders, briefly, when Kacchan is going to step in and do something other than stand there gaping like a fish.
"I'm sorry you're upset, Button. Some families are like this. It doesn't mean we love you any less. Right, Kacchan?" He gives Kacchan a meaningful look, but before he can say anything Hisami explodes.
"Shut up! Stupid Deku! Deku Papa, you don't know anything. I hate you!"
Izuku's mouth falls open in complete shock. He feels like he's been sucker punched—sucker punched by his own kid. At least the outburst seems to rouse Kacchan.
"Deku," Kacchan says, wary of everything that's happening.
"He's just throwing a fit. It'll pass, Kacchan. Say goodnight."
"It won't! I'm right and you're wrong and I want both Papas all the time," Hisami wails, tiny hands fisting in his curls. His face is so red and wet from crying it's a wonder he can still speak. This happens sometimes, and it always manages to break Izuku's heart. He's practiced in the art of hiding it, though, so he remains firm.
"We can't always get what we want. I'm sorry, Hisami."
"Deku, I'll stay. Just let me stay," Kacchan says in a rush. Izuku is promptly pissed. He's not used to this—to be the harsh, uncompromising father to Kacchan's weak-willed one. The betrayal smarts.
Hisami starts to calm the second the words leave his mouth, and Kacchan doesn't even know he's been played. Hisami goes straight to him, burying his wet, splotchy face in his pant leg until he's cried himself out, muttering thank you and I love you, Papa. Kacchan runs his fingers through Hisami's hair. When he looks at Izuku, still flat on his ass on the floor, he at least has the decency to look guilty.
"Come on, Bub. Bedtime." He picks Hisami up and carries him off to the bedroom.
Izuku goes to follow them, but Hisami won't even let him in the room, he's so pissed at him, so Kacchan puts him to bed on his own. Izuku spends the whole time pacing through the apartment, working himself into his own little rage, stupid, little tears threatening to spill over.
—
"Bubba, that wasn't nice. You can't treat De—" He falters, catching on the name just in time. "You can't treat Papa like that."
"He was being mean. He wouldn't let you stay." He sniffles, rubbing his wet face. At least the world's worst tantrum has left Hisami exhausted.
"He wasn't being mean, and you shouldn't call him Deku. Or stupid."
"But you say it all the time."
Katsuki sighs because he can't exactly defend himself. What's he supposed to say? Yeah, I call him Deku because I used to bully him, and I never really kicked the habit.
"It's, uh, different when I say it."
"How?"
Katsuki's never regretting having such a smart, curious son in his life. He fights the urge to drag his hands down his face in frustration. He plays the I'm old and you're young card—a move his dad used to use that drove him up a wall. He feels like a traitor using it on his own kid, but he also feels like he probably owes his old man an apology. Raising a kid is no fucking joke.
"It's a grown up thing. Will you apologize to him in the morning?"
"I don't wanna." He pouts.
"You hurt his feelings, Bubba. You made Papa sad."
"I didn't mean to. I was just angry."
The admission is little more than a shrug-off, and all of a sudden Katsuki sees more of himself in his son than ever before. He remembers saying the same thing to himself every time he went too far with the things he said to Deku, or whenever he destroyed something with his Quirk in a fit of blinding rage. He never really had to answer to anyone for his actions, he paid the price by growing into a prideful shithead. His kid wasn't going to be like him.
"I know. So, let's apologize and make it better, yeah? That's what you do when you hurt the people you love." The words are bitter on his tongue. He feels like a hypocrite. The dawning realization that he's a bad influence on Hisami burns in his gut.
"I don't want Papa to hurt. I'll say sorry."
"Good boy." He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He kisses Hisami's cheek, and heads for the door. "Goodnight, Bubba. Love you."
"Will you?" Hisami asks, sleepy eyes drooping. Katsuki's hand on the door falters.
"Hmm?"
"Will you say sorry to Papa, too?"
"Yeah, Bub. Of course." Katsuki doesn't know if it's a lie, or not. He slips out of the room with a heavy heart. This conversation was probably one of the hardest things he's ever done, and for the life of him all he wants to do is go to bed, but of course, Deku has other plans.
"You don't just give in when he acts like that!" Deku hisses the second he's within earshot, bed linens in hand for the couch. The fact that he's whispering does nothing to temper the venom in his tone.
"He was upset! I've never seen him like that, and it was my fault. What was I supposed to do?"
"You're setting a precedent we're not willing to commit to. Do you want to sleep on my couch for the rest of your life? You want to move in and be a couple? That's what he thinks he's getting when you cave like that." He's never seen Deku so angry, eyes wild, despite the tears.
"No, but—"
"But nothing! Tonight, it's staying the night. What'll it be next time?"
"He was crying. I've never—"
"Of course, he cries! He's got my tear ducts and your temper, idiot. Do you even realize you got played? God, your mom was right. He's Parent Trapping us."
"Calm down," he growls, his own fuse starting to catch in the wake of Deku's anger. He's too tired to deal with this—to deal with being in the wrong.
"You realize you made me the bad guy back there, right?" Deku's shiny eyes spill over. "You're supposed to have my back, and you caved at some crocodile tears."
"I... I've never dealt with that. I didn't know what to do."
"He wouldn't even let me in the room," Deku says, more to himself than to Katsuki. "H-he called me Deku."
Deku's voice wobbles dangerously and Katsuki's stomach twists with guilt. This is different from the snowball argument. This is the kind of anger that melts easily, only leaving misery. What must it be like to be called useless by your young son because he wants to be more like his shitty father?
"I didn't think about what staying the night might mean to him," Katsuki whispers, all the fight gone out of him. He really fucked up. He can tell Deku's trying not to blubber. All his fight seems to be gone, too.
"Just…" He sighs, and it's a heavy, broken thing. "Just don't do that again. I'm not used to Hisami having someone else to fall back on. This is going to sound selfish, but I'm always the favorite, the one he comes back to. He's never had a choice before."
And he chose me, Katsuki thinks, just a little angry under all the guilt. If they keep fighting each other to be Hisami's #1 Dad they'll never get anywhere. He has to take a second to really hear what Deku is saying, and work his way through it. He has to remind himself that Deku's issue isn't with Hisami loving Katsuki, it's with relinquishing responsibility and control he's only carried himself until very recently. It's a multifaceted jealousy that he's sure even Deku doesn't quite know how to describe, but Katsuki knows exactly what he means. He thought he was the only one that felt that way, like there's no room for him between Hisami and Deku.
Katsuki sighs, staring at Deku's misty, pathetic expression. Before he can think too hard about it, he grabs Deku's wrist and pulls him into a crushing, awkward hug.
"He still loves you, idiot. We're allowed to both be his favorites. I fucked up back there, and it won't happen again. I'm still learning," he mumbles, knowing Deku is close enough to hear him. "And… I won't call you Deku anymore."
Deku doesn't respond to him, but he can feel his shaky breaths, his trembling shoulders, his hands fisting the fabric of Katsuki's shirt while he pulls himself together.
"I don't suppose you'll offer me the bed again," he says, doing his damndest to lighten up the mood when it seems like Deku's got his shit together.
"No way, asshole. You're exiled to the couch."
If they weren't so preoccupied by their reluctant embrace—their awkward heart to heart—they might've noticed their son, peering sneakily around a corner, watching and smiling like he got exactly what he wanted.