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Eijiro’s couch is even more uncomfortable than the last time Katsuki could recall.
The cushions are hard against his lower back.
Rigid.
Unforgiving.
Poking and prodding into him with a manner that only worsens Katuski’’s mood. Just as he thinks nothing can sour the atmosphere any further, there’s a familiar voice from the front door of the apartment. It floats towards him, making sure to strike Katsuki with harsh intensity.
“Oh. Hey, Kacchan…”
Katsuki wants to throw himself into oncoming traffic.
“Oi, ShittyHair. Care to explain why you forgot to mention Deku was coming?”
The sentence doesn’t leave Katuski’s lips like a question.
More like a hostile threat.
“What,” Eijiro acts with manufactured confusion as Izuku walks across the threshold. “I told you this morning that he’d be joining you.”
“Since when does it take one and a half men to babysit? Guess I wasn’t good enough for ya.”
Katuski lets the question linger in the thickening air. Izuku has stopped in the area that expands the front hallway into the living room. He stares at Katuski.
Silent.
Dead silent.
Not yet knowing the best way to proceed.
“I said ‘hi’, Kacchan.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you respond?”
“So, now you’re fucking worthy of me wasting my breath on you?”
Eijiro can sense the exponentially growing frustration between the two of them. He watches Katuski roll his eyes and turn his attention back to the television that has yet to be turned on. He notices how Izuku wants to speak, but decides to swallow the lump in his throat instead.
“Alright, I’ve had enough of both of you.”
Before Izuku has the chance, Eijiro already has two hands pressing into his lower back. He guides the still-shocked verdette to the couch, placing him right next to Katsuki.
“To hell with this.”
Katsuki barely manages to let the words slip off his tongue before Eijiro grips firmly into the muscle of his shoulder.
“Come on, Bakugo. You promised that you’d take over baby sitting duties tonight.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t part of the contract.”
Katsuki gives a side glance while referencing Izuku’s presence. Eijirio takes notice. He watches as Izuku nearly shrivels in on himself.
That is until he gives a firm, threatening clench around one of Katsuki’s biceps.
“That fucking hurts, you red-hair piece of shi–”
“You told me that you’d watch Eijirio Jr. while Mina and I go out tonight. Right?”
“Under the terms that I don’t have to call him that.”
Eijiro lets out an exhausted breath.
“Like I was saying, you promised the two of us that you’d watch him. RIGHT?”
Katsuki folds both arms aggressively across his chest before speaking with immense hesitation.
“That also implied that Deku wasn’t going to be here.”
“Bakugo.”
Eijiro’s voice is starting to become irritated. Katsuki can’t recall the last time his friend sounded even remotely upset with him, and it manages to get the point through his thick skull.
“Ever since the two of you separated, you’ve made our friend group a living hell. There’s a reason we stopped inviting either of you out anymore. It’s just… miserable.”
“Deku can be blamed for most of that.”
“Kacchan, can you please try and share some of the blame?”
“Oh, is THAT what you want me to do? Is that the same reason you decided to call it quits with us?”
Katsuki motions a hand between the two of them to get his point across. Izuku opens his mouth to speak, but Mina cuts him short. She brings a baby seat into view, a little boy bouncing with joy as he’s set down on the coffee table.
“There’s my little man!”
Eijiro vaults over the back of the couch, his legs nearly taking out Katsuki’s head in the process. He kneels in front of the table and brings a hand up to playfully pinch the baby’s cheek.
“Are you ready to spend a night with Uncle Midoriya and Uncle Bakugo?”
“Don’t make me sound like I’m some decrepit old fuck.”
Eijiro throws a glare in Katsuki’s direction while Mina smacks the back of her hand against his chest.
“Don’t you dare teach my kid to have your sailor mouth.” she hisses under her breath.
Eijiro flexes both arms across his chest, causing the skin of his forearms to harden. His son lets out a squeal of joy and attempts to mimic the pose.
“Are you going to behave for them tonight, little man?”
There’s another squeal that causes Katsuki to groan and plug his fingers into both ears. Eijiro rustles a hand in his son’s hair and stands up. He turns to Izuku, who’s grinning ear-to-ear from observing their interaction.
“As always, feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge. I fed him before you arrived. Oh, and please make sure he’s in bed at a decent time. Bakugo had him up a little too late last time.”
“So it’s my fault the little brat wanted to watch the All Might documentary?”
Eijiro completely ignores the comment.
“Oh, I almost forgot!”
Without warning, Eijiro retreats to a different room of the apartment. He comes back almost instantly with a small pile of boxes in hand. Setting them down on the table, he picks up a deck of cards from the top of the stack.
“We have plenty of games and toys that he likes to play with. He’s really been enjoying this one!”
Eijiro hands the stack to Izuku, causing Katsuki to grumble.
“The kid can’t fucking read. How the hell is he supposed to play?”
“Sure, we’ll definitely make sure to play it with him!” Izuku speaks like there’s nothing but empty air sitting adjacent to him.
Katsuki intentionally takes in a loud breath to fire something back, but Eijiro and Mina leave before he has the chance. Heated words die on his tongue.
He and Izuku are left alone in the silence of the apartment.
Spare for the occasional cooing sounds from the baby in front of them.
“I’ll go cook something for dinner, Kacchan.”
“Don’t burn anything like last time.”
Izuku ignores the comment and retreats to the kitchen.
They don’t speak to each other after that. Izuku cooks without a word. When he brings a bowl into the living room for Katsuki, he takes it without any word of thanks.
The two eat in silence.
Izuku takes a bite and tickles the bottom of Eijiro Jr’s feet. As the baby lets out joyful screams, Izuku steals a quick glance to the side. Katsuki is softly smiling in his direction, but that vanishes the second he realizes he’s being observed.
After they finish eating, Izuku tries to make Katuski watch a movie.
A television show.
The news.
Anything.
But Katsuki just sits in silence, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“If you don’t wanna watch something, you can just tell me, Kacchan.”
“I don’t.”
“See. Was that so hard?”
Katsuki lets a rumble echo in his throat. Eijiro Jr. screams out a round of playful squeals while clapping his hands.
“We can play a card game instead.”
Katsuki darts his eyes to the side. He watches as Izuku takes the deck that Eijiro had given them earlier, and he feels a sense of dread building in his stomach like a rock.
“Your dad says that you really like playing this one. Wanna give it a shot?”
“The brat can’t understand you, Deku.”
As if in protest of Katsuki’s remark, Eijiro Jr. begins clapping.
“Is that so, Kacchan?”
“Just read the fucking card.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
Katsuki twists his lips in disgust and stares daggers to the other side of the couch.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
Izuku taps a finger against his cheek, pretending to deeply ponder the question.
“Mine is probably green. Bet you couldn’t have guessed that!”
Izuku bends over until a few of his curls are dangling over Eijiro Jr. The baby squeals and lets his hands twist and pull at the green strands. Izuku ignores the slight pain.
“What about you, Kacchan?”
Katsuki wants to vault through the window, even if it means shattering glass in the process.
“Orange.”
He says the words quickly, as if each microsecond he spends talking causes tremendous pain.
Izuku continues pulling cards from the deck. He answers the questions first, repeats it to Katsuki, and patiently waits for an answer from Eijiro Jr. that will never come.
Katuski is aggravated with the entire interaction.
At least for the most part.
He refuses to let Izuku know that he finds his playfulness with the baby to be adorable.
Izuku stops while holding the next card in hand. He rolls the paper between his fingers. Notices how the texture is different from all the others. Notices Eijiro’s handwriting that’s messily scrawled across it.
“I think Kirishima made this one.”
This finally seems to pull Katsuki from his sulk, even if it’s just a little bit.
“Are you gonna read it or just gawk at the damn thing?”
“Say something you love and something you hate about each other.”
Katsuki wants to punch a hole through the wall. His fists clench into tight balls. Arms shake and tremble with rage. His jaw clenches and teeth grind as the precursor to a scream rumbles in his throat.
“Shittyhair really has the nerve to try and play armchair psychologist with us.”
Katsuki is seconds away from walking out the door.
He stands up from the couch.
Shoves both hands even deeper into his pockets.
Takes the first step to leave.
“I love how you would straighten my tie every morning.”
Katsuki freezes.
His attention turns to Izuku. Even though he hasn’t fully turned to face him, Katsuki can see the tears beginning to well in the corners of his eyes.
“I love when you’d get up early to make coffee for me, Kacchan. Even if you didn’t have patrol that day.”
Izuku’s voice breaks towards the end. He wipes the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes, attempting to hide the obvious.
“Sorry, Kacchan. I shouldn’t be lingering on stuff like that. I ended things between the two of us, and I need to respe-”
“I hate how you always get so emotional.”
Izuku doesn’t fully process the words at first.
It takes a few seconds to register that Katsuki’s voice has softened.
“I hate how I’d wake up with you wrapped around me… Always having to shake your clingy ass away before I could even get out of bed.”
There’s dead silence between them.
Eijiro Jr. has fallen quiet, his eyes drifting between the two men. He attempts to understand the unfolding situation, but blows a few spit bubbles instead.
“I love how when there was something bothering you,” Izuku lets out softly. “you’d share it with me, even though I could see how uncomfortable it made you.”
“I hate how you’d come home late, but you were always careful to not wake me up.”
“So you did notice, Kacchan?”
“You’re not as nimble as you think.”
“What else do you hate about me?”
Izuku watches a full and genuine smile form on Katsuki’s face. A tear rolls down his cheek. Katsuki lifts a hand to wipe it, but Izuku stands and stops him. He caresses the scar beneath Katsuki‘s eye, feeling the rough patch of skin for the first time in weeks.
“I hate how you treat me so softly, like I’m made of glass.”
Izuku pulls Katsuki into a hug. He doesn’t expect Katsuki’s arms to lift and hug him back. All he wants is for Katsuki to feel safe.
To feel protected.
To feel that it's acceptable to be vulnerable.
To feel that Izuku is always going to be there for him.
“I hate how you always ask if I’m alright while we have sex. It’s like you can never enjoy your own pleasure because you’re too damn worried about me.”
Katsuki sniffles. His chin presses deeper into Izuku’s shoulder, no longer attempting to hide the emotional landslide.
“I hate how even after both of us have climaxed, you don’t let go. We just… lay there. Your arms wrapped around me and refusing to let go. Like you’re the only thing keeping me anchored. The only thing stopping me from floating away.”
“I’m always worried about my Kacchan.”
Izuku pulls away. He stares into red eyes that are burning with admiration. Katsuki’s lower lip is trembling, barely able to keep his composure together.
“Can you be my Kacchan again?”
Eijiro opens the apartment door softly. If Katsuki and Izuku had done as they asked, all three should be fast asleep by now. Mina is still leaning against him as they walk through the doorway, groggy and slightly inebriated from their late night out.
“I wanna go to bed, Kiri.”
“I know babe, but I need to check on everyone first. Why don’t you go to the bedroom and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Promise you’ll be quick?”
“I promise.”
Mina trudges off towards their bedroom while Eijiro tiptoes into the living room. He doesn’t see anyone at first, but notices a few strands of green hair fallen over the edge of the couch. Taking cautious steps, he peers over the couch and has to keep a cry from leaving his mouth.
“I knew it’d work,” he whispers.
Izuku has both arms wrapped tightly around Katsuki. His face is nuzzled into the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder. Izuku stirs a little bit and wriggles about, pulling closer against his boyfriend.
Katsuki has one arm around Izuku’s waist. The other is holding Eijiro Jr. against his chest. There’s a pool of drool beneath the infant’s mouth, the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt dark and damp as it soaks in.
Eijiro moves with the precision of a surgeon as he pulls his son away. Katsuki’s limp arm doesn’t react at first. Once the weight has been fully lifted off his chest, he turns on his side and pulls Izuku tightly against him.
“Kacchan…” Izuku mumbles.
Eijiro throws a final smile in their direction and begins to carry his son towards the nursery. He stops in his tracks as a sound can be heard coming from the couch. Katsuki stirs, but doesn’t fully wake.
A sentence breaks through from his sleeping subconscious.
“...I wanna… wanna have an Izuku Jr…”