They decide that splitting Hisami's time 50-50 isn't working—at least not for Hisami. They make an effort to do things together, as a family. It's a freaky thing to say aloud but the act of going grocery shopping together, or spending time in each other's apartments again isn't weird at all. It feels normal and easy and Hisami hasn't pushed for more sleepovers. Katsuki wakes up every morning half-expecting to see Deku and Hisami waiting for him in his living room, like the life he lives in his dreams is starting to bleed into real life.

That isn't to say things aren't awkward with Deku. He's been trying to pluck up the courage to apologize, but it isn't something he wants to do in front of Hisami. Katsuki has so much more to apologize for than one bad night, and putting it off any longer is starting to eat away at him. What's worse is Deku acts like nothing ever happened, and Katsuki wonders what's going on behind the scenes. Deku tries so hard not to let anyone see him sweat—it's something they have in common—but Deku was never this good at it when they were kids.

He doesn't realize how intently he's staring at him until they lock eyes. Deku seems startled.

"Everything okay? You look a little… tense."

"I'm surprised you can tell. What with the get up I'm wearing."

His publicist has managed to keep Hisami out of the press, and Katsuki is keen on keeping it that way. Whenever they're out in public, he dons large sunglasses and a nondescript baseball cap, the brim low over his eyes. He doesn't know how well it works—his fans usually know better than to crowd him when he's out—but he hasn't seen any large flashing cameras around.

"Are you nervous about someone seeing us? I'll admit, I am, too."

Katsuki hums noncommittally. He is worried about that, but that wasn't really on his mind at the moment. There aren't many people out, anyway. It's warming up sooner than expected, but there's still a good blanket of snow on the ground. Hisami is rolling around in the snow again. His coat is so puffy he looks like a giant blueberry, and Katsuki wonders if he'll be able to get back up on his feet on his own. There are other kids doing similar activities, but Hisami is content on his own. That worries Katsuki. How many times had Katsuki chosen to be on his own when he was that age, preferring not to associate with extras? He decides not to bring it up.

"We should get going. Don't want to be late for lunch."

"Right," Deku says, and for the first time in days, he shows how nervous he is. He blows out a sigh, breath fogging in the cold air.

"It's just my dad, Midoriya. There's nothing to be worried about." Katsuki almost puts a hand on his shoulder, as if to be reassuring. He comes to his senses in the nick of time, and shoves his traitorous hands in his pockets. Unnecessary touching isn't part of Katsuki's MO, and he doesn't plan on changing that anytime soon. His new penchant for touching Deku is almost as off-putting as referring to him as Midoriya.

"I know, it's just… I don't know."

"Spit it out, nerd. I'm listening," he says, and it's almost soft. More unnecessary reassurance. Deku looks at him with wide eyes and parted, incredulous lips, like the idea that Katsuki is willing to listen to him is so shocking he can't be bothered to play it cool. Guilt festers again because something so simple shouldn't pull such a response from Deku.

"It's just hard, I guess. Facing up to my mistakes. Just because your dad is nicer about it doesn't mean he doesn't hate me for what I did to all of you."

Katsuki grimaces and shoves his face into his scarf. Facing up to his mistakes, he thinks, rolling the words around in his head. As far as he's concerned, Deku's owned up to his mistakes, and repented more than a few times over. Katsuki's the only one here who hasn't.

"No one hates you. It's just a shock, and everyone is going to get over it in time," Katsuki says, feeling unusually protective of—and mainly responsible for—Deku's feelings. Deku is careful to keep his eyes on Hisami, like he can't bear looking at Katsuki right now. It makes it easier to speak. "I mean, look at what we have. Hisami is everything to me. And do you know how long my mom's been bitching at me to give her a grandkid? Everything is going to be fine."

"Thanks, Kacchan." Deku gives him a sad smile before he pulls himself together. "I think Hisami is stuck on the ground. I'll go get him. We shouldn't make your dad wait."

Katsuki looks in Hisami's direction to find him face down and flailing in the snow. He's not crying yet, but he imagines he's only about a minute away from yelling for help. Katsuki laughs harder than he should at the sight of Deku picking up their little blueberry and setting him upright. Deku seems to be laughing, too. Hopefully, they'll all still be smiling after lunch.

—

"Ojiisan! I almost died in the snow!" Hisami yells from clear across the restaurant, dramatic as ever. He whips off his giant, down jacket and thrusts it at Kacchan with all the force his little body can muster. As soon as the coat is secure, he takes off to the table Masaru has claimed. Izuku is slower to head over there. He almost completely stops, nerves getting the best of him, when Kacchan puts a large hand on the small of his back. To say that he squealed at the touch is the understatement of the century. The hand disappears in an instant, and Izuku finds himself regretting his outburst. Kacchan looks mortified, his cheeks a flustered red. Izuku immediately feels guilty.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Kacchan stuffs his hands in his pockets and clears his throat.

"S'fine. Everything is going to be fine. Chill out, alright?"

"Right." Izuku takes a deep breath, and forges on—without Kacchan's hand on his back, unfortunately.

"Hey, old man. And, for the record, he didn't almost die. Midoriya and I are better parents than that," Kacchan says, throwing himself into a chair across from Hisami, who's taken the seat next to Masaru. Izuku can only muster a nervous smile and a slight bow of his head in Masaru's direction before he sits next to Kacchan.

Masaru chokes on his water when Kacchan's words sink in.

"Midoriya?" He coughs, forcing the word out like he's never heard of it before.

"That's his name," Kacchan says easily, crossing his arms. His posture screams I dare you to ask about it. Masaru is either oblivious (unlikely) or he's too nosy for his own good (stupid, but more likely).

"What happened to D—?"

"Language!" Hisami shouts, his tiny hand slapping the table top for emphasis. "We don't say that word because it's mean and it makes Papa cry. Shame on you, Ojiisan."

Izuku puts his head in his hands. They've literally been at the table for a minute, and this lunch is already in shambles. The embarrassment is almost worse than the nerves he was previously courting like he was going to marry it someday. As always, Masaru takes this information in stride.

"Oh. My apologies."

That's it. That's all he says before steering the conversation to something mundane. The weather, of all things, is the topic of conversation until a waitress comes by to take their orders. From there, the topic is anything Hisami feels the need to talk about. After an hour spent talking about the contents of his notebooks, the Quirk he thinks he's going to get for his birthday, and the quality of his newest Frostfire action figure, he decides he's ready to leave, but not without a potty break.

"I'll take him," Kacchan says, already half-way to standing. Hisami crawls off his own chair and holds Kacchan's hand while they head for the bathroom. Which means, he's alone with Masaru.

"So, no more Deku, huh? Must be nice to finally leave that name behind," Masaru says, the picture of calm. Izuku, on the other hand, is sweating like he's in the middle of a July heatwave.

"Ah, I guess. It's a bit weird, actually."

"What happened?"

"Um, Hisami picked up on the fact that it isn't the nicest name." Izuku is fidgeting like there's no tomorrow, but Masaru looks unbothered, his smile unwavering. He feels like he's in a police interrogation.

"Did Katsuki apologize?"

Izuku has to think for a moment, playing back the last few days in his mind. He thinks back to that night—the night Kacchan hugged him—and finds that there was never a direct apology. That doesn't bother him so much, though.

"You know him. He never says he's sorry, but he shows it." Izuku shrugs.

"Well, I'm not like my son, or my wife. I'm sorry, Izuku. What Mitsuki did was unfair, and uncalled for, and I want you to know that, while I don't love what you did, or the fact that I didn't know I had a grandson for so long, I don't harbor any ill will against you."

For the first time since he sat down for lunch, Izuku is able to fully look in Masaru's eyes. He doesn't see any hint of a lie. He's always been a kind, genuine man. Izuku allows himself to smile.

"Oh. I appreciate that. Thank you."

"I don't think I've ever seen Katsuki so happy, and we both know it has everything to do with you and Hisami coming into his life. I'm glad you two are on better terms."

Izuku's smile falters, just a bit. He can't say he agrees with his assessment. Izuku has little to do with Kacchan's happiness. It's all for Hisami, and that's okay. He thinks it's enough that someday, he might be able to call Kacchan a friend again.

"Thank you for lunch, Bakugo-san."

"Just call me Masaru. There's no need to be that formal. We're family, now, after all."

He smiles again, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. Izuku remembers wishing he had a dad like Masaru, once upon a time. He'll never have that, but at least Hisami will have him as a grandfather.

Before they can speak anymore, Hisami comes rocketing out of the bathroom, hellbent on getting to Kacchan's house.

"I haven't seen Cheeto in forever!"

They say their goodbyes, and head across town to Katsuki's apartment.

—

Deku doesn't look like he plans on staying for very long, claiming he has some work to do back at his place. Katsuki calls his bluff. If he doesn't get this apology out soon, he's liable to go nuclear. It has to be tonight.

"You should stay. I'm making katsudon for dinner."

"I'm sure you've had enough of me, Kacchan. It's technically your day, and I don't want to intrude on it more than I have already."

"Oi, Bub! You care if Papa stays for dinner?" Katsuki shouldn't be using Hisami against Deku like this, but he's a tad desperate.

Hisami's head pops up in the doorway of his bedroom, an uncomfortable looking Cheeto tucked under his chin.

"Stay, Papa!"

"I guess it's settled then," Katsuki says, smirking in Deku's direction. He's still standing in the genkan. Deku rolls his eyes, and starts to take off his shoes.

"Evil, Kacchan," he says ruefully, a reluctant smiling curling his lips.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make it worth your while. Here," he starts, moving around the kitchen island to unearth yet another dusty bottle of expensive wine. There's no way he's telling him which hero this one came from. Katsuki plans to get moderately sloshed—he'll need the liquid courage, and Deku is more malleable when he drinks. It's a win-win.

He wastes no time popping the cork and pouring a glass for Deku before pouring himself a glass of whiskey to sip on while he prepares dinner. Deku knows by now to steer clear of the kitchen while he's cooking, so he slips away to color with Hisami.

—

Katsuki will never admit it to anyone, but he likes cooking for Deku—for his family. He finds that spending all this time together is softening him. It's like exposure therapy. The more time they spend together, the easier it becomes—the more he enjoys it.

By now, they're pros at seamlessly getting Hisami to bed. In record time, he falls asleep, Cheeto purring against his back. He won't lie and say it's easy to speak to Deku when Hisami isn't between them to keep them at their best. The air is awkward and silent. Katsuki pours another glass of whiskey, drinking this one just a bit faster. He tops off Deku's wine, and opens the curtain that obscures the door to the balcony.

"You have a balcony?"

"Yeah, come outside with me." Katsuki clicks the deadbolt pointedly, and Deku gives him an incredulous look.

"It's freezing out."

"There are heat lamps, and I really need to talk to you. I'd rather not wake up Hisami."

"Is something wrong?" It's so easy to see how worried Deku is. His big, stupid eyes are too expressive.

"Yes, and no. Just come outside, nerd."

Deku doesn't look reassured at all, but he still dutifully follows Katsuki outside. It reminds him of when they were kids, and he could always count on Deku to be right behind him. It was friendship in its purest form, and Katsuki claimed he didn't want it.

"Are you going to, like, toss me over the edge, or something? You're freaking me out." Deku smiles at him, but it's riddled with nerves. Katsuki takes a big, burning sip from his glass, and just blurts it out.

"I owe you an apology."

"For what?" He asks. He has the audacity to look utterly shocked. It only makes this harder.

"For last week. For other shit, too, obviously, but…" Katsuki looks away, heaves a sigh, fidgets a bit. This is the worst. "He fucking called you Deku."

"I know. It shocked me, too. He said you two had a talk about it, though."

Katsuki feels sick thinking of the stricken look on Deku's face after it happened. He's spent the week reflecting on that tingly, prideful feeling he gets when Hisami acts like him. That feeling has somewhat soured for him. Hisami is angry with a side of sweet, cheerful with a heaping helping of sarcasm. He thought he rode the line between those two personality traits well, but Katsuki's ugly, unholy temper is hiding somewhere behind that baby face, and it terrifies him to no end.

"Listen, I don't—I don't want our kid to treat people… to treat you the way I did when I was younger."

"Kacchan, one bad tantrum doesn't make him a bad kid."

Katsuki is immediately on fire with the idea that Deku thinks of their childhood in such terms—that Katsuki was a bad kid. He almost forgets the apology entirely, he's so thrown by what he says. He's speechless for a moment, electing to sip from his glass again.

"And you weren't a bad kid either. Misguided and angry, maybe. But never bad," Deku says, proving, once again, that he's far too forgiving.

"I was a fucking bully. Don't even try to lie and say I wasn't."

"You aren't anymore. You've changed, and that's what matters. Don't think I haven't seen all the anti-bullying campaigns you've been in over the years."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about everything I did to you—have been for awhile." Katsuki finally chokes out the words, and it burns just as much coming out of his mouth as the whiskey does going down.

"I'm sorry, too."

"Shut up." Katsuki can't help it—he rolls his eyes.

"I mean it. I'm just as much to blame for our bad history. I always pushed you too far when you wanted to be left alone. I always thought well, at least he's talking to me—looking at me. It was selfish." Deku looks so damn sad when he says it that Katsuki can't look at him anymore. "I just missed having a friend."

The lump in Katsuki's throat swells to three times it's size. He's choking on remorse. It's an ache he doesn't feel often, but he aches to go back. If he could, he'd rewrite their history. He thinks their lives could've been so much easier, possibly happier, if they just remained friends. He often thinks that he probably would've known about Hisami from the start if Deku wasn't so afraid of him. He hasn't been able to forget the terrified look in his eyes that first day he saw him with Hisami—a look that plainly asked what is he going to do to me? And he proved all of Deku's fear to be founded in truth. He likes to think he's been better, more understanding, lately, but those early days of losing his temper—the cutting things he said—hurt him now just as much as they hurt Deku.

"Well, we're friends now. Right?"

"I'd like that, and maybe you should just call me Izuku from now on. I'll call you Katsuki, too, so it's fair. Is that alright?"

Katsuki nods, even though the thought of saying his name makes him feel off. Midoriya is too formal, but Izuku is just… too much. He's only ever called Deku by his name in his dreams. Even for someone he's known his entire life, using his name is just far too intimate.

"Izuku," he says, testing it out. It feels caustic, but it also makes him feel warm—maybe that's the whisky, though.

"Katsuki," Deku says, seemingly doing the same thing.

"It's fucking weird."

If the way Deku sucks up his wine like a goddamn vacuum cleaner, he agrees. He coughs, and almost giggles before he speaks again.

"I know, but maybe this will be good. We've always been Kacchan and Deku, and that's never served us all that well. Now, we can put it in the past… and be ourselves."

"Katsuki and Izuku," Katsuki says. It still feels surreal, but he has to admit it seems to put them on equal footing. No childish nicknames, no past to contend with. A blank slate—a second chance.

He clears his throat, pushing away the welling of emotions and fondness their conversation brought on, and promptly changes the subject.

"Kirishima and Ashido are finally ready to introduce people to the baby. I'm going over there on Saturday. I was going to bring Hisami, so do you want to come?"

"I don't want to intrude. Tell them congratulations for me, though. Boy or girl?"

"Girl. Akane. Unfortunately, she looks exactly like Kirishima." Katsuki smiles. There's nothing better than teasing his best friend, whether he's there to hear it, or not.

"I'm sure she's cute as a button. Red hair?"

Katsuki snorts and shakes his head. He pulls his phone out to show Deku the pictures Ashido sent him. Big, red eyes and little tufts of curly, black hair.

"The idiot dyes his hair. I thought everyone knew that?"

"She's beautiful. I love it when they're that small. Have you ever held something that small?"

The pinch in his chest he gets whenever Deku talks about babies surfaces. It used to make him angry—so angry he couldn't even see straight. He's supremely jealous of Kirishima right now, of his ability to see his child grown from start to finish, to just be there. He used to feel so cheated out of the experience, but he's come to terms with the reality of their situation—and the fact that he probably wasn't ready for Hisami when he was born. Not the way Deku was. The thought still has his eyes burning.

"Cheeto was about that big when I found him in a bush on a rainy day. Dumb, ugly thing. I thought he was a rat, at first."

Deku snorts, almost spits his wine back into the long-stemmed glass in his hand.

"You told me he ran into your apartment!"

"He did. After I found him."

"After you swaddled him in your love."

"Oi! Shut it, nerd."

Deku laughs easily, and the sound tingles in his spine. He likes Deku like this. Carefree and smiling, bubbly after a glass of red.

"This is going to sound weird, but when you hold that baby, smell her head."

"The fuck? Alright, you're cut off." He goes to grab the empty glass from Deku, but he stops him with a palm flat against Katsuki's chest. It stops him short—feels like Deku stole his Quirk because his chest is burning up under his touch.

"I'm serious, Ka—Katsuki. New baby smell is probably the eighth wonder of the world. You… you should be able to experience it." Deku's eyes drop to his palm, still pressing into him, and his fingers curl, wilting with self-consciousness before his hand falls away completely, even though Katsuki's sure there's still a handprint seared into his skin under his shirt. There's a heavy, awkward silence left in the wake of the contact that neither of them really knows what to do with. So, of course, Deku decides to babble.

"Um, they smell like the color pink, or something. Like the way new and happy feels. Just… pink."

Katsuki almost smiles at the jumble of nonsense. Maybe it's the whiskey—it's softened all his edges. Maybe it's just Deku.

"The color pink, huh? I think Ashido will like that. She's pissed she doesn't have horns or funky eyes. Then again she's also barely lucid from the lack of sleep."

"I know they'd never ask me for help, but I'm happy to pass along a few tips if they ever need anything. I'd even offer to help you babysit if they need a night of normalcy."

"I'll let them know. Thanks… Izuku."

They stay out on the balcony for a while, soaking up each other's company. It's quiet, but it's nice. It really does feel like a clean start, and Katsuki refuses to squander Deku's kindness the second time around.