Hisami kicks his legs in his car seat, bouncing around like he's on a dangerous sugar high. He's hit with a sense of deja vu. It's eerily similar to the last time they made the trek to Kirishima's and Ashido's home. Luckily, this time the person Hisami is excited to meet will actually be there. When Katsuki asked Hisami if he wanted to accompany him to meet the baby, he jumped up on the couch just to theatrically fall down fainting. He's since spent the morning muttering up a storm—the spitting image of a young, blond Deku—about babies and how special they are and how much he loves them. It's endearing as fuck.

"Papa, do you like babies?" Hisami asks from the backseat. Katsuki's eyes drift over to peek at him in the rear view mirror. He's incandescent.

"I don't know. I haven't seen very many babies."

"Not even me?" Hisami's head tilts, confused.

Katsuki can't keep his eyes on him in the mirror—his heart gives an ugly, little lurch. Hisami doesn't seem to know much—or care much, for that matter—about Katsuki's absence in his life. Maybe he hasn't thought about it at all past how much he loves Katsuki being around. Maybe he assumes he was there once. Kids are weird, little things, and Katsuki would never presume to fully know what goes on in Hisami's head. Someday, they'll have to have a conversation about Katsuki's absence in the first three years of his life, but that's a conversation for an older Hisami, and one Deku most certainly needs to be present for. For now, he goes with the only truth he knows.

"You're my favorite person in the whole world, Bub."

Hisami clutches his Ground Zero action figure and giggles with reckless abandon.

"Love you, Papa. Even more than I love babies!"

Katsuki smiles because that's the only thing to do when Hisami is in such a good mood. He babbles on about every little thing that pops into his head until the driveway comes into view.

"Okay, Bub, the baby might be sleeping when we go in, so we have to be quiet. Alright?"

Hisami puts a finger to his lips in response, and they walk hand in hand to the front door.

Kirishima answers the door with a burping towel over his shoulder, and a ratty pair of sweatpants with more than a few stains.

"You look like shit," Katsuki says, in lieu of a greeting, and Hisami pinches his leg for cursing, but remains silent as a mouse.

"These are my parenting pants, bro. Don't be a hater," he says, and even though he looks tired, his wide smile as he welcomes them in is still at its full, sharp brightness. "You've got great timing. She's awake, and not screaming."

"You talking about Ashido, or Akane?" Katsuki smirks. Kirishima rolls his eyes as he leads them to the living room.

The house is definitely more lived in since the last time he was there. To be frank, it's a mess, but Katsuki doesn't know what it's like to be an exhausted parent to a newborn, so he holds his tongue. Hisami remains quiet, but the second he sees Ashido on the couch he's off like a shot.

Hisami hovers around the little bundle in Ashido's arms, wiggling his fingers like he wants to touch, but won't move without permission first. Katsuki looks at the tiny thing—a human, a baby, oh god—and he's unnerved by the size of her. Akane looks fragile, and his hands are literal bombs. Babies are terrifying things. Somehow, Hisami seems better equipped for this moment than he is.

"Pink-chan is a mama," Hisami whispers reverently. Ashido smiles fondly at him, and Katsuki has to look away. Instead, he turns to Kirishima.

"Need me to clean up around here?" Katsuki is horrified by how thick his voice is.

"Later. Go see the baby, man."

Katsuki doesn't know how to say he doesn't want to see the baby without offending anyone, so he doesn't say anything. He just clenches his jaw tighter, somehow.

"You're freaking out," Kirishima says, not quite like an accusation, but it's definitely not a question either. Katsuki very nearly flinches.

"Is it because she's so small? Freaked me out at first, too. Like, I never really thought about how… how much violence we use our hands for every day until I held her."

Once again, Kirishima seems able to cut through to the heart of Katsuki's problems like some kind of emotional guru. Katsuki looks at him like he's trying to see through a dirty window, but Kirishima doesn't seem to notice.

"But we also use them for good, right? Like, I never think twice about holding Mina, or picking up a civilian in danger. You hold Hisami all the time. It's no different."

"When the hell did you get smart?"

"When I knocked my girlfriend up," he says with a Cheshire grin. Katsuki snorts.

"I've never held a baby. I don't know… anything about babies."

"So, it's about De—wait, what's his name again?"

"Midoriya," Katsuki mumbles.

"Yeah. This is about him. You never got to do the baby thing, and you're upset about it."

"I'm fine." He's not fine.

"Then get over there and hold my kid," Kirishima says. He's known him long enough to know when he's being baited into a challenge, but Katsuki's never been able to back down.

"Fine," he barks, trying to affect confidence he doesn't feel at the moment. He takes easy strides to the couch, where Hisami has pasted himself as close as he dares to Ashido's side so he can look at Akane's slow blinking eyes.

"Why is she not pink?" He asks. Ashido laughs.

"I don't know, but her horns are coming in. See the little bumps?"

Hisami gasps, utterly enchanted, and even in his state of borderline panic, Katsuki can't help but smile at how damn precious his kid is.

"Horns like Pink-chan?"

"Bet that's gonna be a bitch to deal with," Katsuki mutters, leaning over the back of the couch to look at the little thing that's slowly driving him crazy. Akane stares at him, big red eyes unblinking.

"Language, Papa," Hisami whispers, but he can't muster enough outrage. He's too busy poking Akane's chubby cheek, his finger sliding over soft skin.

"My mom said it's ten times worse than teething," Ashido says, but she sounds unbothered. "Baku, you want to hold her?"

"'Course he does," Kirishima says, picking the worst time to intrude.

"Can I hold her?" Hisami asks, meek, but excited.

"Only if your Papa helps you, okay?"

"Yes, please," Hisami says, staring hopefully at Katsuki. Katsuki glares at Kirishima for using his son against him, and he mentally reminds himself to avoid doing it to Deku ever again.

Hisami sidles up to Katsuki as he gets comfortable on the couch. Once Hisami is sitting between Katsuki's legs, and Ashido informs them both how to hold a baby, and where to put their hands, Kirishima moves Akane into Hisami's arms, and Katsuki provides extra support. Akane coos and Hisami babbles back at her like they're speaking in a secret language.

"It's like a cuddle sandwich," Hisami giggles, and Katsuki's laughs too. He feels like a matryoshka doll—the largest vessel holding smaller, more precious things the further in he goes. Katsuki remembers what Deku said, about how newborns smell, and he subtly leans in to catch onto it. Deku was right, but that hardly surprises Katsuki anymore.

It solidifies some things for him. He realizes he does want this—every second of it. He feels guilty for even thinking it because Hisami is really the only kid he wants to care about, and he doesn't want to be a single parent the way Deku was. Katsuki knew if he held Akane, he'd figure all these things out. That's why he didn't want to do it in the first place. Now that he has, all he wants is to bury this feeling. Instead, he plants a kiss on the top of Hisami's head.

"She's so pretty, Papa," Hisami says, turning to smile at Katsuki. Katsuki can only nod because the lump in his throat is choking him.

—

Izuku decided to ditch the treadmill and go for a run in the park. The last of the snow has melted off into a pile of dirty slush, and the sun is bright enough to allow for some subtle warmth. He loves spring, and he can't wait for the last dregs of winter to fully abate. Just as his run is starting to get good, just as he's starting to fall into a rhythm, a text alert pings in his headphones, throwing off the beat of his music. He tries to ignore it, but the reminder alert pings again about two minutes later, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

He brings his run to a light jog, just to get his heart rate right before slowing to a walk. He frees his phone from the zipped pocket of his joggers and thumbs through his notifications. A message from Kacchan. Someone took a picture of him with the baby—Akane, he remembers—and Hisami. It's probably the cutest thing he's ever seen, and he fears if he looks for too long his eyes might burn out of his sockets.

Kacchan looks so soft, so incredibly sweet that Izuku can't help but smile. Izuku wonders what he could possibly be feeling, and the smile slips away like water down an open drain. He must be freaking out. Maybe he's finally realizing just how much Izuku took away from him. Izuku hopes with everything he has that he's okay, that the truce they called isn't shattered by new revelations. He can't bring himself to text back, and just as he's about to put his phone away, it starts ringing. Kacchan's name appears on his phone, and Izuku's heart gives an anticipatory squeeze.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Kacchan says. Izuku waits for more, but he's only met with silence. Izuku's curiosity immediately becomes concern.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you busy right now?" His voice sounds tight, aggravated.

"'Course not. What's wrong?"

"I'm taking Hisami to your moms. Can we talk?"

"You're making me nervous, Katsuki," Izuku says, cold dread forming in his stomach. He feels like he's about to be dumped, or something.

"I just need to hash some shit out right now, and I don't think it'd do much if I talked to anyone but you."

That cold dread is suddenly mixing with a stupid, warm hope. He wants to smack himself for feeling special—for feeling like Kacchan wants to open up to him. Logically, he knows this is bad.

"Oh, okay. Yeah. Should I meet you somewhere?"

"I'll come to your apartment. Thanks, Izuku."

Kacchan ends the call before Izuku can muster a response. He feels like the world is about to end, which may as well happen if the peace they declared only a few days ago is about to break again. Izuku feels like his body is a maelstrom of negative emotions, but all he can do is head home and hope to shower before Kacchan brings down the hammer.

—

Deku's been on his guard since the second Katsuki used his key to the apartment. Actually, he's probably been on his guard ever since the phone call. He's nervously flitting around the apartment, tidying up and rearranging just about everything he can get his hands on. It reminds Katsuki so much of Auntie Inko that he just kind of watches it happen from the couch for a few minutes, vaguely stunned. Finally, Deku finds the wherewithal to speak.

"Do you want some tea?"

It's a placating question. A question that's less about tea and more about subtly begging Katsuki to get on with it. So, he gets on with it.

"I'm not here to scream at you, so just chill out. Sit down." Katsuki blows out a sigh, hoping it'll relieve the tension plaguing his body. It doesn't.

"What are you here to do, then?" Deku asks softly as he seats himself on the couch, as far away from Katsuki as possible.

"Fucking… talk, I guess. We never really talked about all this. About everything. I want to understand what you did, so I can stop feeling so…" Katsuki trails off because talking—especially talking at a normal volume—has never been his strong suit. Deku tries to help finish his sentence because that's just the kind of guy he is.

"Angry?"

"Hurt." Katsuki forces the word out through clenched teeth. He hates this—talking about feelings, showing weakness. He hates that he feels weak and hurt at all, but he needs to get this out, to let it go. He needs to excise the wound and drain the infection, so that he might finally have a chance to heal. Deku's face crumples, and then smooths as if he's pulled his mask down. Katsuki thinks he hates that more than the crying.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he mumbles, eyes downcast.

"I know," he says because he's not ready to say it's okay. Not yet.

"What can I do? I'd do anything for you, Katsuki."

The sincerity of that sentence smarts. It's hard to hold back a wince. Katsuki runs a hand down his face, frustrated that he doesn't quite know where to start.

"I held Akane today. First time I've ever held something so small and fragile and… I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed with Hisami, and that there's nothing I can do to get that time back."

"I figured that's what this was about. I could tell just by looking at the picture."

"And I'm pissed because I don't know what to do to feel okay with that."

"Yeah… I honestly don't know, either. I think about it everyday. How things could've been if I'd just been honest—if I'd just asked you."

"I would've said no," Katsuki says, and the realization utterly shatters him. There's no way Katsuki would've even listened to him. He would've told Deku to fuck right off without even thinking twice about it. And Hisami wouldn't be alive, and Deku would be all alone—or at least with some other shitty kid who's not half as great as their son.

"Yeah, I know, but it's… I don't know, sometimes it's easier to think what if than dwell on reality." Deku has this dreamy, somber look on his face as he picks at the loose threads on his jeans. Katsuki stares hard at Deku—at the pouting downturn in the corners of his lips, and the way he tends to hang his head just enough to hide behind his curls. He looks like a kicked puppy, and though Katsuki knows he's not the only one to ever kick Deku when he's down, he knows he might've been the worst for a long time.

"Why me?" He blurts out. He can't fathom why Deku would choose him. He's actively tried not to think about it, but something tells him he really needs to know it. Something tells him that the only way to really be okay, is to understand.

"What?" Deku looks dumbfounded for a moment, and Katsuki realizes that Deku probably never thought he'd care enough to ask.

"Why did you pick me?"

Deku squirms more than usual, trying and failing to maintain eye contact. Katsuki knows he won't lie or withhold—Deku said he'd do anything for him, so he waits with saintly patience.

"I don't think you realize how much I looked up to you, how jealous I was of how easy everything seemed to come to you." Deku rubs his eyes, and Katsuki knows the tears are coming. Deku's crumpled face makes him itch, but he can handle it. He waits for Deku to pull it together.

"I knew I wanted a kid, but I was also terrified of a kid being anything like me. I've never found myself to be someone to emulate, and I wanted—I wanted my kid to be tough and confident and unshakable. I thought, maybe if he had a part of someone like you, he wouldn't have to grow up like I did."

Deku is well and truly crying now, unconsciously clutching the front of his shirt, like his heart is breaking. It's hard to watch, but Katsuki waits. He couldn't speak if he tried.

"And then you were there, in front of me, and it… I was so happy to see you, again. It was surreal. I got carried away, swept up in the idea of it, and I took advantage of you. I'm sorry. I'm never going to stop being sorry, Katsuki. Feels like I cheated to win the genetic lottery." He pauses, pulling in shaky breaths he can't seem to hold in for very long. "I know we haven't been friends for a long time… but you were my best friend, and I've never stopped wanting you back, even though I knew I didn't deserve it. I've never had anyone else like you. I never really had anyone. I'm so sorry—I'll never be able to say that to you enough."

Katsuki takes a second to absorb everything Deku says, to turn it over and process every facet, from his insecurity, to the way he felt—and very likely still feels—about Katsuki. He thinks of all the bullshit that's built up between them over a shared past, a mountain of misunderstandings, years of silence, and a cataclysmic decision that tilted everything he knew off its axis. He finds, as he thinks hard on everything, that he forgave Deku a long time ago for using him to father a child. He's just stubborn about grudges—stubborn about anything and everything when it comes to Deku. He loves Hisami too much to regret the chain of events that led to this moment.

"It's… it's okay, nerd." Katsuki is crying, too. He can barely speak over the lump of pain and guilt and understanding in his throat, but he can't stay silent. Not after what Deku told him. "After everything we've been through, well, at least your stupid decisions led to something great. I can't say the same for the way I've acted in the past."

It's not an apology, per se, but it holds the essence of it, and the way Deku's eyes fill with more sappy little tears tells Katsuki he knows that. Deku lunges for him, wrapping his arms around Katsuki's waist and pressing his damp, flushed face into Katsuki's chest. It takes Katsuki a moment to respond, to push aside the shock and the desire to not be touched, but when he does, he wraps Deku in his arms, and it doesn't feel wrong. He fits into him, molding seamlessly with Katsuki. It's more than physical contact. It's a meeting of the minds—confirmation that no other person in his life has seen so much of Katsuki and chosen to stick around. In turn, Katsuki sees Deku, too, every aching, abused part of him, and he regrets the part he played in hurting him so profoundly. They've always been like this—opposing forces meeting one way or another, smoothing and sanding each other down until their rough edges are softened, however unwillingly. Katsuki doesn't want to fight it anymore.

Katsuki's not quite sure where this leaves them. He's never known exactly what Deku means to him, and he's done his damnedest to avoid figuring it out. None of this feels like something people who are just friends do—the crying, the comforting, the embracing—but there's something here, a little ember of something they had when they were kids. Something Katsuki had all but forgotten, and something Deku has always been fighting to keep alive. Katsuki owes it to himself, and to Deku, to figure out what they really are to each other, if they're anything at all. For now, they're in this together, and he knows that it's right.