The waiting room is hell.

Katsuki looks down at his bone-white hands and grits his teeth, hating the white walls and antiseptic smell curling at the back of his throat. His palms itch to combust, to crackle and pop and explode, but he is in a hospital and that is not accepted behavior –

He slowly uncurls his fingers and takes a deep breath. The piece of cotton taped over the crook of his elbow covers a dull ache; he drank the juice they gave him but the low throb in his head is still there, clustered at the back of his head.

The fucking nerd had lost a lot of blood. And for some reason the hospital was out of Deku's blood type, some shit about a lot of surgeries and lack of blood type O, but the end result is that they match, hurray, and Katsuki's seated and donating blood before he knows it.

He thinks the lack of blood is messing with his brain, because his leg is jiggling, up-and-down-and-up-and-down, his hands are trembling, and all he can think is that Deku is a little shit, that fucker, who told him to jump in, the moment the fucking nerd is out of surgery Katsuki is going to fucking murder him –

It's been several years since Katsuki has stopped actively getting up in Deku's face, since they've formed a grudging half-competitive working rhythm. In fact, it's almost fucking hilarious how they are arguably the best team combo in their class, considering the number of times they get into arguments, now that Deku grew a fucking spine and yells back.

Their seamless transition into teamwork doesn't surprise him; estranged or not, bully-and-victim or not, Deku is still the first friend he had - hell, Katsuki probably knows things that even Deku's mother doesn't know.

(They both promise to keep their mouths shut about the toaster incident. It's better off not discussed.)

He grinds his teeth harder and tries not to think about it too much. Sometimes on this train of thought of I know Deku better than anyone he remembers how he treated Deku and it threatens to gag him, now that his fucking over-sized ego is deflated, now that it is so fucking obvious that he's been woefully misinformed about Deku's potential. Fuck, he was such a little shit, still is.

(Katsuki still sticks to the belief that Deku's a fucking nerd, though. That hasn't changed.)

Fuck, he hasn't apologized to Deku yet – and that's going to be fucking hell, but if anything Katsuki is his mother's son and he has his code of honor that he'll stick to come hell or high water.

Shit. Mom.

He digs into a pocket and one-handedly dials; he's going to be in so much fucking trouble, he knows, it's been at least thirty minutes since Deku went into surgery and it's his job to tell Inko-baasan that her son was being a fucking idiot, again, and threw himself in the fight at the expense of his life, again.

(Katsuki hates that it's him this time around.)

"Katsuki?"

He swallows. "Uh, hey Mom," he says. Rubs his eyes. "So we got into a fight…"

Inko worriedly watches as Izuku sleeps.

He's asleep now, passed out and exhausted due to blood loss, bandages around the stitches that keep the bullet wound closed. There is a breathing mask strapped to his face ("Precaution," the doctor says. "The bullet barely missed a lung."), he is pale, and all Inko can think of is the memory of his birth, Izuku quiet and still and a month premature.

It is at moments like this that Inko wishes with all her heart that her son had been anything, anything other than one of the next generation of heroes. She never knows if the job will call her son out the door and bring him back not breathing, and she worries as she watches his fights on the TV, worries as the news reports higher crime rates, as she sees him shoulder the burden justice brings.

She knew there had been no going back the first time All Might had appeared amongst fire and ash and said I am here, the moment Izuku had turned to her with those shining, shining eyes –

The crushing despair after the doctor's appointment, the hesitant hope that had kindled one night ten years later, the firm, proud look he has taken to wearing now – Izuku is growing up to be every inch of the hero he's always wanted to be, and Inko can't help but wish he was small and two years old again, wearing his All Might pajamas and saving her from imaginary monsters.

Thinking of Izuku's childhood pajamas makes her glance over to the side table, where a vase of flowers sits. All Might – he's Toshinori-san now, had asked her to call him that – had come and gone when Izuku had been awake. Inko had taken one look at the way Izuku brightened and quietly excused herself.

It hurts and heals at the same time to see Izuku so happy, because Inko is so glad that her son, fatherless and drifting, has found someone to look up to, but the reminder of how lacking Yuuta was makes an old part of her ache.

Because Toshinori is everything Yuuta failed to be and more, for not only Izuku but also Katsuki and the wayward students in the boys' class, has been a steady constant in their lives.

Inko doesn't think she could ever stop thanking him for that. While she still holds him partly responsible for some of the danger her son and Katsuki has and will run into, Inko can't deny that after enrolling in UA and running into Toshinori the boys have settled into their skins.

(Izuku and Katsuki are friends again. Natsume and Inko meet up and cry, apologies coming from both sides.)

"Young man," Natsume seethes, and Izuku visibly shrinks. "We are going to talk."

Katsuki shifts as if to make himself scarce when the woman's arm shoots out and grabs the back of his shirt. "Oh no you don't, you little punk," she says, calmly. Both Izuku and Katsuki pale, because Natsume is only calm when she is extremely pissed off.

Izuku looks over pleadingly to his mother, but Inko just stares him down. Her eyes are still teary and her chin seems to be wobbilng a bit, but Izuku seems to realize that his mother is in no way backing him up and so instead shares a panicked look with Katsuki.

"First," Natsume says, "what the fuck, Izuku." She looms threateningly over both of them. Fuck, it's so much harder now, because both young men have long since overshot them in height. It was easier, she thinks, when they were smaller, when at least she and Inko could confine them to high chairs and make them listen.

"How many times do we have to say it? You do not fucking throw yourself in front of others," she hisses. "It doesn't matter if it's Katsuki, an elder,or a fucking kitten. Treat your life lightly one more time and we're going to call Recovery Girl and ask her to sit on you for a week!" That makes Izuku gulp. Natsume isn't so clear as to what elder hero had done to put this fear in him, but she is going to damn well use it if it gets through his thick skull. Katsuki is discreetly nodding, hiding a grin. So her son has noticed Izuku's lack of self-preservation as well.

She turns and points at Katsuki, taking him off guard. "As for you, you little punk," she growls. "What have we said about charging in like that?"

Her son bristles. "What the fuck, old hag, it's not like you were there to –"

"Katsuki-kun," Inko smoothly cuts in. "You know that's no way to speak to your mother."

Katsuki mumbles an apology and scratches his head. Inko pats his arm. "I know you were thinking of the people in danger," she says. "And thank you for saving them. But be more careful next time, hmm? Goodness knows how I get enough of a scare from Izuku alone."

Natsume rubs her eyes. The two of them, honestly. They're both the spitting image of Yuuta, sometimes, his stubbornness and inability to look past the needs of others. As if we need daily reminders that they're half-brothers, Natsume grumbles.

Something crashes. She blinks; Izuku had knocked over his glass of water, and Katsuki looks like he swallowed a cactus. "…What?"

Inko sighs from behind her. She pats Natsume's arm, looking resigned. "I think you're tired as well, Natsume. You just said that out loud."

"Shit," Natsume groans, covering her eyes again. She then peeks around her fingers to look at their sons. The two young men are eyeing each other, slowly and carefully inching further away.

She nabs Katsuki before he can blot, and Inko engulfs Izuku in a hug to keep him from trying to escape through the window.

"Alright," Natsume starts. "We were planning on telling you one day anyway, so what the hell."

Inko smiles. The woman is enjoying this too much, she can tell. "So, boys," she starts. "This is how Natsume and I met your father."

Izuku and Katsuki both start swearing under their breath.

"Language," Natsume and Inko say automatically.

A.N:

Cross-post of the second part to my tumblr flashfic.