Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hizashi goes a little overboard when it comes to picking stuff out for Izuku.

They grab diapers, wipes, creams and other things Shōta has no idea about— it's a good thing Hizashi comes from a big family and knows what they’re looking for. Shōta does not spend enough time with his nephew to know what he’s looking for; he probably would’ve picked the wrong sized diapers or something. And he’ll definitely need to read the labels of everything before anything touches the kid.

The blonde had been verbally putting together an entire list of nessessities on the drive over to the store, and Shōta had tried to keep up with Hizashi, but it was a lost cause.

Shōta, more or less, just trails after his boyfriend with Izuku and the cart as Hizashi scans the aisles and tosses things he deems important into the cart. Izuku is content enough watching that same cartoon he’d been watching at the social services office on Shōta’s phone.

The child’s attention is focused down on the phone screen like a tiny mindless zombie and Shōta wonders if Inko had raised Izuku like this, or if it was just a simple distraction that everyone was offering the toddler to keep him calm and content.

Shōta almost feels guilty about falling into that category if it’s the case, but in their defense, they had only had the child for an hour tops.

And he doesn’t plan on making it a habit, but he can’t argue now that it’s not easier to have Izuku distracted in the cart. Especially with Hizashi so distracted by everything he sees— lit up on a way Shōta hasn’t seen before as the man browses baby stuff.

“Shō!” Hizashi coos, “look how cute!”

Held up is a package of sippy cups with All Might on them.

There seems to be a theme Hizashi has going on with the items he’s picking out. Though, they do match the plastic dining set depicting the lining of the Pro’s costume and the deep blue training chopsticks Hizashi had already dropped in the cart.

Shōta supposes if they’re going to fill their cabinets with All Might, it might as well all match.

“Yeah,” Shōta agrees monotone, barely looking over. “Cute.”

“At least act a little excited, babe,” Hizashi teases as he drops the sippy cups into the cart. “Or, y’know, at least actually glance at me before lying. You’re just such a ray of sunshine, my darling.”

“That’s you,” Shōta corrects with a snort. He glances down at Izuku, lifting a hand off the cart handle to brush unruly curls back out of the child’s forehead, Izuku remaining unbothered by the touch, “and him.”

Hizashi’s smile softens when his gaze drops down to the oblivious two-year-old. He nods with a fond smile, “I guess I’m going to have some competition now, eh?”

“He’s definitely cuter,” Shōta teases, hands settling back on the cart handle.

Hizashi squawks his offense, pouting dramatically before turning back to the shelves, pout slipping off his face almost instantly as he’s distracted by something else.

Shōta snorts a laugh to himself which draws Izuku’s eyes up to him.

He’s clearly not all the interesting, because just a moment later the child’s eyes are back on the screen in his pudgy little hands.

Hizashi picks out other household items; things that they as two grown men don’t typically have on hand. He grabs a digital ear thermometer and bandages with All Might on them (figures on that one) to add to their already quite advanced first aid kit.

A few different child-friendly soaps and shampoos and lotions. Most of its fruity scented, but Shōta doesn’t mind a toddler who smells like strawberries or coconut.

Hizashi grabs the kid a toothbrush and toothpaste, both branded for toddlers. The toothbrush is impossible small, and Shōta reads the box of toothpaste, brow furrowing at the fact that it’s strawberry flavored. That sounds very sweet and a little gross.

He doesn’t mention it.

Hizashi shoots Shōta a pointed look as he adds hair care products and combs and soft bristle brushes into the cart. All things Shōta probably should have but doesn’t, because he doesn’t care.

“At least I can ensure the one of you doesn’t lose those adorable curls by neglecting them! You’re a lost cause, Shō, but his curls are literally perfect!” Hizashi scoffed.

Shōta simply shrugs; curls are a lot of maintenance that he doesn’t care to put in when it comes to himself. He doesn’t care what he looks like; doesn’t care what people think. Yet still, Hizashi had been trying since they were teenagers to get him to do more than shampoo and brush his hair.

“You say like it offends me,” Shōta offers a teasing half smile. “If my mother and sister scolding me never worked, you don’t stand a chance, Hizashi. It’s really not worth the work.”

“It should offend you,” Hizashi whines, “your curls were so cute! I’ve seen the pictures, babe! Back before you were left to your own devices and ruined them! You ruined yours but I will not let you ruin ‘zuku’s! His curls are so worth the work!”

Izuku hardly glances up when he hears his name.

Hizashi picks out quick and convenient snacks for the toddler and assures Shōta that Izuku can eat the same meals at them, just maybe in moderation when it comes to salt and seasonings.

He picks out probably way too many outfits considering Shōta assumes Inko would’ve had an entire wardrobe for the kid, and the diaper bag has some changes of clothes and pajamas tucked in there.

Still, Shōta can’t help but scrunch his nose up at the theme Hizashi is going for.

“This All Might theme of yours is getting outrageous,” Shōta comments drily as Hizashi coos over an All Might onesie he finds.

Shōta doesn’t think the blonde has picked out a single thing without All Might on it.

“He likes All Might,” Hizashi huffs, “don’t ya, Izuku-kun?”

“Ah-My,” Izuku babbles in agreement without looking away from the cartoon.

“That shouldn’t count,” Shōta squints at a pleased looking Hizashi. “I think he’d agree to literally anything if you threw in his favorite word, Hizashi.”

“But it does,” the blonde grins sharply, “face it, babe, you’re out numbered now! ‘zuku and I are just on the same wavelength, ya’dig? We live by democracy, Shōta; I don’t make the rules!”

Shōta sighs, “at least let me pick some things. I’m going to cry if every time I see my two-year-old son he looks like an All Might impersonator. I refuse to only dress him in All Might, for my own sanity.”

“Sure thing, Babe,” Hizashi snickers as they swap places, Hizashi leaning against the cart handle as he lightly tickles at Izuku’s side. The baby giggles loudly, squirming in place before refocusing on the phone. Shōta bites back a smile as he heads further into the infants clothing section.

Shōta picks out some clothes that don’t have All Might’s face, or colour scheme, on them.

He finds cute olive-green overalls with paw prints on them, and a couple tee-shirts to go with them. He picks out some pajamas that aren’t obnoxiously All Might— even finding a pair of pastel footie pajamas with a hood with cat ears.

The non-slip jiffy grip on the bottom of the feet are even shaped like little paw pads and Shōta’s chest warms at the thought of Izuku’s cute little face peeking out from the onesie.

He grabs a second pair in a darker colour for his nephew.

He knows Hitoshi will love it.

Shōta picks out a couple other outfits for the child; no theme in mind, just things that he thinks will look nice on Izuku. It’s very easy picking out baby clothes.

Shōta heads back to the cart where Hizashi is leaning over the phone in Izuku’s hands, watching the cartoon with the child, just upside-down. The blonde’s gaze lifts as Shōta sets the clothes in the cart.

“And I thought you had no style,” Hizashi titters teasingly, eyes flicking over Shōta’s selections.

The dark-haired my shoots Hizashi an unamused look.

“You’re an ass,” Shōta snorts drily, “I have style, I just can’t pull it off. Plus, dark clothes are easier, and a lot less work than whatever you have going on. But Izuku? You could put him in a potato sack, and he’d be adorable.”

“Hey, language! There are teeny tiny ears present, Shōta,” Hizashi scolds halfheartedly, even as he nods in agreement. Shōta glances down at the teeny tiny ears in question, which are quite obviously not paying them any attention. Hizashi seems to ignore the fact, snaking a hand up to thumb at Izuku’s freckled cheek, “it’s definitely the chubby cheeks.”

“It’s the doe eyes,” Shōta corrects, tossing a plain blue shirt and an impossible small pair of jeans into the cart. He pauses, glancing back at Izuku in thought before nodding to himself, “or the curls. Or both at once. It’s like he doubled up on adorable features.”

“Good points,” Hizashi nods seriously before a sharp smile curls onto his lips, “you clearly make adorable children, sweetheart. Too bad all the studs with good genes turn out to be gay. A pitiful day for women, but an absolute score for me!”

Shōta scowls back at a snickering Hizashi. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Hizashi laughs brightly. “Right, Izuku?”

Izuku doesn’t even bother looking up this time.

“Clearly not,” Shōta grins sharply as Hizashi deflates in betrayal.

Shōta adds one last outfit into the cart before turning back to Hizashi, the cart is very full.

They’ve definitely over done it, especially since they’re going to be getting Izuku’s stuff from Inko’s place soon. As is, he doesn’t know where they’re going to be putting all this stuff. “Are we done yet, oh great knower of babies? Anything else pressing we’ll need to get through the first night?”

“Almost!” Hizashi cheers, easily swapping places with Shōta again to lead them further into the store, “just some bedding and stuff. We should find a light blanket for him to have in the playpen. I think most of ours are too heavy for the little guy to be under. Maybe something plush, you know?”

“As long as it’s not All Might,” Shōta sighs.

It’s All Might.

Of course the first thing Hizashi zeroes in on is All Might themed.

“You’re going to give him an All Might complex,” Shōta warns with another sigh. He slumps his shoulders, arms crossed on the handle of the cart as he eyes the monstrosity Hizashi had selected. It’s an eyesore— bright and overstimulating even to Shōta’s eyes. He can’t imagine sleeping under it.

“He likes All Might,” Hizashi defends again, like it’s a valid argument.

“His sole personality isn’t All Might,” Shōta squints at Hizashi.

Or, he hopes Izuku’s sole personality isn’t All Might. He’s only two— isn’t it common for kids to fixate on things? Shōta doesn’t mind humoring Izuku, but this seems like a bit of overkill; running with the first thing they know Izuku likes.

Besides, it’s unlikely Izuku doesn’t have other likes; the cartoon he’s watching now isn’t All Might, so maybe they shouldn’t force the Hero entirely. It would be different if Izuku was picking these things out, but until he’s old enough to do so, Shōta think they should overdo it.

There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Hizashi pouts, “what else should we get then?”

“How about something that’s not an eyesore?” Shōta suggests with a huff of laughter. “I like All Might as much as the next guy, but you can only have so much blue, red and yellow before it’s overwhelming. And overstimulating. And at this point, it feels more like we’re forcing it onto him, even if he likes All Might.”

Hizashi pauses thoughtfully, eyeing the blanket in his hands, “yeah, okay,” he nods, putting the blanket back on the shelf before scanning the rest of the selection. “How about this one?”

The new blanket is a soft baby blue colour with little cartoon dinosaurs in a darker blue on it. It’s light, but fluffy too. Shōta knows it’ll be super cozy, but also a perfect weight for a small child.

“Yeah,” Shōta agrees lightly, “that’s a good one. Kids like dinosaurs, don’t they? Let Izuku see it.”

Hizashi brings the blanket over and sets it in the seat beside Izuku. The toddler blinks away from the screen, scrutinizing gaze dropping to the blanket. His brow furrows before he glances up at Hizashi, then Shōta, before looking back down at the blanket.

“D’saur!” Izuku jabs a finger into one of the dinos, “rr’aw!”

“Right on, sweetheart!” Hizashi grins, shooting a look of defeat in Shōta’s direction, “that’s what a dinosaur says, isn’t it? You’re so smart! What about... a puppy? Huh? What does a doggy say?”

“Ruff.”

“And a cat?” Shōta leans towards the toddler who looks up with wide eyes.

“Kitty ma-w, Dada.”

“A kitty does meow,” Shōta agrees.

Shōta’s thought drift to Shy back home but decides it’s probably best to introduce the two of them when the time comes. He’s not sure Izuku will understand the concept of ‘we have a kitty at home’, and if he knows the feline, she’ll probably be in hiding for the next however long until she adjusts to Izuku’s presence. Her record is two weeks, and that had been when Hizashi and Shōta had moved into the apartment together.

“Aren’t you a clever boy,” Shōta smiles softly.

The praise goes right over Izuku’s head as he focuses back down on the phone.

When Shōta looks back up from the toddler to his worryingly quiet boyfriend, he squints disapprovingly. “No, Hizashi.”

“But it’s perfect!” Hizashi whines.

“It’s too big,” Shōta narrows his eyes, “how are you the most obnoxious shopper in existence? You’re the one they market all this crap to. We don’t need that thing.”

“It’s so cool though!”

And in Hizashi’s hands is a giant All Might plush toy. A little bit like the one Izuku had left in the car with his pacifier, but newer and about the same size as the kid himself. It’s probably bigger than Izuku, actually.

Shōta narrows his eyes at the man clutching the giant toy to his chest, “it’s the same size as Izuku.”

“Orrr, we could also look at it that Izuku is just tiny, and this is moderately sized in comparison—”

“No.”

“Shō-ta!” Hizashi whines, “c’mon, tell me he wouldn’t love it!”

Shōta’s nose scrunches up.

“It’s a welcome home gift!” Hizashi is quick to add, shooting Shōta puppy eyes. “Don’t you want your new little baby boy to feel welcome in our home? In his new home? What’s a better welcome home gift than a giant All Might toy? You saw his plushie too, he’ll adore this thing!”

Shōta is about to say no again, when Izuku turns back to look at Hizashi, as if All Might is the magic word to gain Izuku’s attention. The phone almost drops from the child’s hands when he spots what Hizashi has, and its only Shōta’s quick reflexes that saves him from needing to go through the hassle of getting a new one.

Shōta swears he sees stars in the toddler’s eyes as he reaches desperately for the toy.

Hizashi is still a couple feet away, but Izuku is trying nonetheless, nearly leaning completely out of the seat. Shōta has never been more thankful for safety straps, but he still slips a hand around the child’s leaning torso. “Ah-My! Ah-My! Papa, p’ease! Ah-My!”

Hizashi grins challengingly at Shōta before offering the boy a theatric pout, “ah, sweetheart! It’s cool, huh? What a fun All Might, right? You gotta ask Dada though, baby boy.”

Izuku swirls around to Shōta as soon as the words register in Izuku’s little mind, “Dada, p’easee! Ah-My!”

And if Shōta could hardly stand a chance against Hizashi’s puppy eyes, he’s completely and honestly weak for Izuku’s wide, pleading gaze. And if the wobble in his lip is anything to go by, saying no might result in waterworks. He really doesn’t want Izuku crying on the first day.

“Fine,” Shōta gives in weakly. “You play dirty, Yamada Hizashi. This is a new low, even for you. Weaponizing our son against me.”

“Yes!” Hizashi grins, marching closer to pass the toddler the giant toy. His smile softens as Izuku wraps around it, before the blonde is turning to Shōta with a knowing smile, “yeah, yeah, I’m an evil, awful person. But how can you say no to that smile? And I think this baby needs to be spoiled a bit, yeah?”

“I can’t, clearly,” Shōta sighs heavily in defeat, but lets the corners of his lips tilt upwards as Izuku hugs the toy almost bigger than him to his chest. “You won’t always have me so wrapped around your little finger with that adorable charm, Izuku.”

The child isn’t even looking at him, too enthralled by All Might.

Hizashi cocks a challenging eyebrow in Shōta’s direction and Shōta doesn’t like where this is going already, “Izuku, sweetheart, what do we say to Dada for getting us All Might?”

“’dank you!” It’s muffled into the fabric of the new toy, where Izuku’s entire bottom half of his face is pushed, but wide green eyes glance up at him. “Ah-My!”

Shōta’s heart melts in his chest as he ruffles gentle fingers through the toddler’s curls. Hizashi is sporting a shit-eating grin and Shōta never wants to forget this feeling. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Or... maybe he will forever be entirely weak for this child.

Their first night with Izuku goes a lot better than Shōta had expected it to.

Maybe Izuku feels comfortable with them already, or maybe he’s just used to being in unknown places since he’d been living with a foster and being surrounded by strangers since his mother never came home.

Shōta feels his heart clench whenever he allows himself to think such a thing.

For the most part, coming home with Izuku hardly feels any different. They have a brief moment of relaxation after lugging in the child, his playpen and everything they’d bought at the store.

Shōta flops onto the couch for a second to decompress after everything that had happened that afternoon, while Hizashi goes into tidy mode like he always does when he’s a bit stressed or overwhelmed; washing all the new plastic crockery and putting on a load of laundry with all of Izuku’s new clothes and the new blanket in it so they’re clean and fresh for the toddler.

Shōta really hopes it’s ready in time to put the new cat onesie on the kid for bedtime, because he really wants to see how cute the child will look.

Izuku is in the living room with Shōta, playing quietly with the new All Might toy and the old All Might toy he’d had before. Shōta keeps an eye on him without being noticed by the toddler. Izuku seems to do well playing alone, or maybe he’s still just trying to process and get used to everything still.

Izuku makes his way through the small collection of toys they’d purchased— a set of blocks, a wooden puzzle and ball that Izuku had found on their way to check out and pointed out to them.

Hizashi had guiltily added it to the cart, even as Shōta scowled at the man in disapproval. Shōta doesn’t know which of the two of them is more wrapped around Izuku’s little tiny finger.

The toddler was more or less just studying the toys— the puzzle had been dumped out on the floor and the blocks were spread around the child. He hadn’t let up his grip on the original All Might toy, but the new one was always within arm’s reach for the boy.

When Hizashi finally makes his way back into the living room, he pauses to crouch beside Izuku to offer one of the new All Might sippy cups filled with what Shōta assumes is water. The child takes it without hesitation, drinking without a word as he clutches his All Might toy to his chest and studies the two men thoughtfully.

Shōta knows the child isn’t going to make it much longer, just by how his eyelids are drooping as he sips. Hizashi puts on another cartoon on the television as the two men head into the kitchen to make dinner.

Shōta suggest they make Oyakodon for dinner, since chicken, soft eggs and rice are fairly neutral, and they don’t really know Izuku’s palate yet. It seems easy enough for a toddler to stomach.

Hizashi even has the idea to throw in some frozen peas to add a vegetable to the meal.

They end up eating at the coffee table in the living room since Izuku isn’t big enough to be able to see over the table at the dining table and they don’t have a booster seat or a highchair yet. Shōta hadn’t liked the idea of them eating separately, or at different times, so crowding the coffee table was the most logical option.

Following that, they’d given Izuku a bath.

He likes the bath. Like a lot. The child squealed, giggled, and splashed. He let Hizashi wash his curls and let Shōta run a soft washcloth over him.

By the time they were finished cleaning the boy, they were more wet than he was.

Hizashi tasks Shōta with applying a moisturizing lotion to the toddler’s skin as he goes to grab the pajamas from the dryer. The exhaustion is quickly catching up to the boy as he lays in a bath towel on the bathroom floor while Shōta massages the lotion into his delicate skin.

The first time Izuku cries is when he’s overtired.

He looks so tired, and he’s babbling something through the tears that Shōta can’t make out. He’s dressed, clean, changed, and fed, and should be okay, but he’s crying anyways. Shōta doesn’t understand; can’t decipher the babbles and lisps through the tears and wails.

Shōta’s heart is in his throat as he gently bounces the crying toddler, but it doesn’t help.

He doesn’t know what to do for Izuku— doesn't know how to help him.

For a moment, he curses Himura-san for entrusting Izuku into his care; for believing this is something he’s capable of. He barely knows babies. He barely knows kids in general. He’s so far out of his depth— how do new parents do this? With newborns too. Izuku can sorta express his needs. Babies can’t.

Hizashi is in their bedroom setting up the playpen for them to use as a makeshift crib but comes out of the room with a concerned furrow of his brow when Izuku’s cries get louder and more desperate. It’s like Izuku is upset that Shōta doesn’t understand him, hasn’t figured out his needs yet.

Shōta offers the All Might toy they’d left in the living room, and Izuku takes it, clutching it to his chest, but the cries don’t stop. He’s still babbling incoherently through the tears, making grabby hands at nothing from where he’s held in Shōta’s arms.

It takes far too long, in Shōta’s humble opinion, for them to remember Izuku’s pacifier.

Of course, the kid would want his pacifier. It’s close to bedtime, obviously Izuku would know that. He’d want something routine and familiar. What he associated with bedtime and self-soothing.

Shōta feels like an idiot as Hizashi locates and then pops the pacifier into Izuku’s mouth.

It’s blissfully silent as soon as Izuku has the pacifier.

“I hated that,” Shōta breathes out as he flops back into the couch, Izuku still curled in his arms.

The child is contently sucking on the pacifier, ear pressed against Shōta’s chest as he cuddles in close. Having the child so calm and relaxed in his arms after that fiasco starts to ease the panicked beating of his heart.

Izuku adjusts himself, almost molding himself to Shōta’s chest, one hand flattening over his peck, while the other clutches at the All Might toy he’d been given.

“Shōta,” Hizashi smiles softly, thumbing away the toddler’s tears and pushing his curls out of his face. Tired eyes blink up at Hizashi before they slip shut. “You know crying is normal for toddlers. That’s a noise you’re gonna have to get used to, sweetheart. Babies cry. Especially babies in his position. This must be confusing for the little guy. We are strangers after all, even if he’s warming up fast.”

“I don’t like him crying,” Shōta mutters, hand coming up to cup the back of Izuku’s head. He pets the baby’s hair back a couple times before threading his fingers into green locks. “How do parents do this? That was literally the worst— he just started crying and I didn’t know how to help him.”

“It’ll get easier,” Hizashi shrugs as he flops down beside Shōta on the couch, letting his head fall onto Shōta’s shoulder to gaze down at the toddler. Shōta thinks Izuku is still awake. “I hope, at least. And we’ll learn him too. You can’t expect yourself to know everything and get everything right the first time, you know? We’ll get better at this.”

Shōta snorts a laugh, gazing down at the toddler on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here too, Hizashi. I... don’t think I’d be able to do this alone.”

“You’re just saying that because I found the crying plug,” Hizashi teases lightly before sobering, “I’m happy to be here too, Shōta, but you’d do just fine on your own too.”

“Maybe,” Shōta shrugs without jostling the kid, “but I’m still glad that’s not the case.”

“I love it when you’re sappy,” Hizashi laughs. “Talk about hot~”

“You’re so weird,” Shōta mutters into Izuku’s coconut scented hair.

He thinks the baby might’ve fallen asleep now. His breathing has evened out, and he hasn’t stirred. Izuku’s head is positioned just over Shōta’s heart. Izuku’s arm is loosely clutching All Might and his fist, where it’s fisted into the material of Shōta’s shirt, has relaxed faintly.

Shōta thinks he could watch the toddler sleep all night long.

“They’re so cute when they’re sleeping,” Hizashi coos, reaching over to lightly stroke the back of his finger down Izuku’s cheek. “Did you want to put him to bed, or are you enjoying the cuddles too much?”

Shōta hesitates, “just... just a bit longer.”

Bakugou Mitski gets in contact with Shōta the following morning.

He’s up early, against his will, and for just a second as he lays in bed and tries to figure out what roused him from his sleep, he forgets about the fact he has a baby now.

He blames the early morning bleariness and the fact that this all came on so suddenly.

Then his thoughts focus on the light babbling coming from across the room and when he sits up a little, he can see little hands curled on the edge of the playpen and just bright eyes and mussed green curls peek out over the edge.

“Izuku,” Shōta breathes out, rubbing at his eyes as he glances back at Hizashi, who is still sound asleep. Hizashi had taken his hearing aids out last night, so he obviously wouldn’t hear Izuku’s babbling.

Shōta wishes he was asleep too.

But then he glances sideways at the still cooing child, Izuku’s little eyes brightening at being spoken to and acknowledged, and he figures this isn’t the worst way to be woken up. He pushes himself up out of bed, tossing the blankets back as he quietly gets up and steps to the playpen so he can scoop the child into his arms.

Izuku chatters happily to Shōta as the man takes him into the bathroom to change his diaper and then Shōta brings them both into the kitchen for something to eat.

They end up sharing a banana since Izuku hadn’t appeared interested in it in the slightest once Shōta had peeled it, until Shōta accepted defeat and took a bite out of it first. Izuku had scanned the banana, then scanned Shōta with the same intensity, before simply opening his mouth with a prompting noise. Shōta squints as he offers the banana, to which Izuku takes a bite.

The child is a little slobbery, but Shōta tries to force himself not to mind.

He hopes he’ll get used to it if Izuku’s gonna insist on sharing food.

It’s Hizashi that notices the new text on Shōta’s phone as they sit at the table together, a bit later in the morning. Izuku is in Hizashi’s lap with a plate of scrambled eggs and sliced strawberries in front of him, while Shōta and Hizashi are both eating an omelet.

It’s a simple message explaining that Bakugou-san would be going to Inko’s apartment that morning if he was interested in coming by to take some stuff for Izuku. She mentions wanting to meet Shōta, and he wonders if Himura-san would’ve mentioned Hizashi or not.

Shōta replies that he’s interested, and would like to meet, and the next text he receives is a time, noon, and Inko’s address, though it’s the same address Shōta hazily remembers cabbing to that night.

It’s surreal standing outside of Inko’s apartment with his boyfriend and the child that belonged to him and Inko sitting on Hizashi’s hip.

Recognition lights up Izuku’s eyes as he points to the building and bounces slightly in Hizashi’s arms, “Papa,” Izuku turns to look up at Hizashi’s face as Hizashi glances down to meet his gaze, little hand batting at Hizashi’s chest lightly before pointing to the building they were approaching again, “mama!”

And Shōta’s heart clenches guiltily.

He swallows thickly and looks away from the child as Hizashi smiles sadly at the toddler. Shōta hears Hizashi muttering something to the toddler softly, but Shōta doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t think he could bear to hear it, honestly.

Izuku doesn’t understand this, and he won’t for a good while yet.

They’d decided to come together and bring Izuku along.

Even a toddler needs closure, and it’ll be easier picking necessities with Izuku there to guide them in the direction of things he actually likes, even if he is only a baby. Izuku knows what he likes. They’re going to want things that draw in the toddler’s attention, things they’ll know Izuku likes and needs.

And Shōta figures Izuku deserves to see people he views as his family, even if Inko won’t be there. Himura-san had said they were close; that Izuku and Bakugou-san's son were friends.

Shōta doesn’t want to uproot the toddler entirely if he doesn’t have to.

He forces himself to keep moving, Hizashi following just a step behind. The entrance to the building comes into view, and there’s a woman, distantly familiar, standing at the doors to the building, holding a small child roughly Izuku’s age that looks near identical to the woman.

Spiky, ashy coloured hair and red eyes.

The child is scowling, glaring right at them.

They stop a few feet away from the doors when the woman straightens, gaze scanning up them both.

“You must be the brat's deadbeat, huh?” Bakugou-san narrows her eyes over her nose as she eyes them. She’s clearly looking at Shōta (maybe they do look a bit alike after all?), despite the fact Izuku is in Hizashi’s arms.

Hizashi bristles sharply, but Shōta waves a placating hand at him, “you need to know a kid exists to be a deadbeat. Given the chance, I would’ve happily been an active part of my son’s life.”

The woman blinks in surprise, processes the words before frowning thoughtfully.

Finally, the woman’s brow furrows as confusion laces her tone, “Inko said you knew.”

“Inko lied to you,” Shōta replies with a sigh. “I had no idea until Himura-san contacted me. Imagine my surprise to find out I had a two-year-old son who I didn’t even know about. Now, should we introduce ourselves, or was this just a ruse to harass me? We can go.”

“It wasn’t,” the woman mutters. “Sorry. I’m Bakugou Mitsuki. I was Inko’s best friend. And this is Katsuki; my son. You must be Aizawa Shōta, right? Himura passed along your contact, but I don’t know your friend.”

“He’s my partner,” Shōta keeps his done dry, “and he’s going to be a big part of Izuku’s life.”

Shōta doesn’t mention the fact that this woman has no legal rights to Izuku.

He could stop contact indefinitely, and she’d never see the toddler again. Even if she was Inko’s friend, that doesn’t mean she had any right to Izuku. Shōta doesn’t want to do that to Izuku, but if this woman is toxic to him, or his boyfriend, he won’t hesitate.

“Yamada Hizashi,” Hizashi introduces, though he makes no move to come any closer with the child, despite the bright coos and babbles the toddler in his arms makes when he sees Bakugou and her son. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but you called my partner a deadbeat without even meeting him first.”

The woman bows her head guiltily, shifting the angry looking toddler. “I apologize for that. I got ahead of myself. I was under the impression he didn’t want to be a part of Izuku’s life, and it was really fucking annoying to me, because he’s always been such a great kid. If you didn’t want him, we were going to try and get custody of him. I was just so pissed off that Izuku was going to a father who I thought didn’t want him. I was wrong.”

“You were,” Hizashi’s tone is clipped.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shōta sighs, setting one hand on Hizashi’s arm that’s supporting Izuku, while rubbing at his eyes with the other. He’s already tired of this. “I’m glad the kid has people looking out for him.”

“Shōta,” Hizashi frowns, obviously upset that Shōta is just letting this go, but he doesn’t want to fight.

He doesn’t want to start something.

Bakugou Mitsuki was ill informed, and she’d based her views on incorrect information. If Inko hadn’t told Shōta that Izuku existed, it wasn’t that unexpected of her to have told her friends that Shōta didn’t want to be a part of this.

Maybe it wasn’t the most pleasant greeting, but it made sense considering everything.

“It’s fine, Hizashi,” Shōta shakes his head. “Bakugou-san, you said there was some stuff you wouldn’t mind us taking? This all happened very suddenly and Izuku doesn’t... we don’t have much for him yet. I think he’d benefit from have his things— normalcy, even in a new setting.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou-san nods slowly, tone softening, “yeah, Inko would... she’d want Izuku to be set to go. That kid was her entire life, so anything you need for the brat, you’ll be able to find up there. We’ve... I already have everything I wanted of her’s so you’ve got free reign. Whatever you don’t want is going to be sold in an estate sale next week. We’re putting the funds away for Izuku’s schooling.”

Her words surprise him more than he’d care to admit.

Maybe the Bakugou’s really were a huge part of Izuku’s life. They clearly really care for him.

“Anyways,” Bakugou-san shakes her head, hiking her son up her hip as she turns to the door, “let’s head up. There’s still a lot to do up there, so excuse the mess. I’ve been sorting.”

Shōta bows his head and follows after the woman.

Bakugou-san places her child down on the floor as soon as they get in the door, and Izuku squirms to be set down. Hizashi keeps his hold him the toddler, glancing at Shōta who frowns lightly.

Bakugou-san pats her toddler’s bottom before standing to her full height, “don’t worry about letting him loose, Inko had this place baby-proofed to the extreme. There’s nothing these two brats can get into that they’re not supposed to be in.”

Hizashi hesitates for just a second longer before crouching down to set the green-haired toddler on the floor as well.

Izuku wastes not a second before he’s tackling the ashy-haired toddler in a hug, both nearly toppling over, and then the two boys are toddling into one of the bedrooms down the hall babbling amongst themselves. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, there’s a small crash, like a toy bin has been dumped over, and then the adorable sound of little giggles and the two toddlers prattling back and forth.

Shōta follows Bakugou-san's example and toes off his shoes. There aren’t any guest slippers he can see, so he settles for socked feet. It takes a second for Hizashi to follow suit.

They stand in the genkan for an awkward second before Bakugou-san lets out a sighed exhale.

“I really am sorry,” she bows her head in genuine apology. “I’ve got this God-awful habit of speaking before I think it through and it’s screwed me over before. Just... can we start over? Maybe? I realize that Izuku... he’s yours now. He’s yours like he was Inko’s and you... you could take him away and I... don’t want that. Our brats are best friends and they’ve grown up together. I already lost Inko, I don’t want to lose Izuku too.”

Shōta draws in a breath through his nose before offering a light bow, “you must be Bakugou Mitsuki. I’m Aizawa Shōta, and this is Yamada Hizashi. I believe you know our son Izuku. I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.”

The corners of the woman’s mouth tilt upwards as she bows her head thankfully. “Great to meet you. Call me Mitsuki; none of that Bakugou crap. I hope we can be friends. Our kids seem to like each other, so I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

It’s Shōta’s turn to offer a light smile, “yeah,” he says softly, “it appears so.”

Hizashi wilts but seems to accept this turn of event. Shōta ignores the exasperated, pointed look Hizashi shoots in his direction when the woman turns away from them for a second.

Hopefully Hizashi will warm up to Mitsuki at some point too.

They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, sure, but now everyone had all the facts.

Mitsuki leads them into the first bedroom; which is obviously the nursery. There’s a crib and changing table. A rocking chair and a few other things. The room is distinctly lacking any All Might, besides a couple of children’s books, stuffed toys and action figures.

That makes Shōta feel a little better about cutting Hizashi off on his All Might shopping spree.

Katsuki and Izuku are both plopped down in the middle of the room, a wooden box with shape holes cut into all sides and a variety of corresponding shaped blocks dumped out between the two boys. Izuku holds the box between two chubby hands while Katsuki bangs a square block against the circle hole.

“I’ve got some boxes we can load some stuff into,” Mitsuki stands in the doorway, glancing over everything before her gaze settles on where Izuku and Katsuki appear to be bickering in baby babble.

She looks back at the two men, as she steps to the closet, “a lot of the closet is clothes Izuku will grow into, so it’s probably wise to take those if you like any of them. The dresser is stuff that fits him now. He’ll grow out of ‘em fast. Inko was always well stocked on diapers and stuff; he was in the process of potty training, but it’s better to have diapers than to not have diapers. She’s got all sorts of creams and stuff— kid's prone to rashes. It’s all yours if you want it. It’s no use to me, Kat’s training too and he’s the next size up in diapers.”

Shōta takes a second to process, before he nods slowly, “anything else?”

Mitsuki hums thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot of toys, like an overwhelming amount, but doesn’t play with most of them. He likes plush things and thinking toys— blocks, puzzles, books. If you’re taking any toys, take the ones scattered on the floor; those are the ones he likes most. Also, the kid is starstruck over All Might, which you’ve probably seen; carries that All Might plush around like a lifeline.”

“We figured that one out,” Hizashi nods as he scans through the bookshelf. “It’s super cute.”

“Isn’t it?” Mitsuki glances over at the blonde, smiling lightly, and then her attention turns back to the room, “the crib and furniture are yours if you want them. I doubt you’ll be able to fit them in your car, but, like I said, the sale’s not until next week so you can come back with a truck or something any time before then. Not sure where you guys are with baby-proofing your home, but Inko’s got electrical outlet plugs and cabinet locks you can have. It can’t hurt to have a baby monitor either. Izuku’s transitioned out of his highchair, but he’s got a booster seat in the kitchen.”

“We’ll take anything you think we might need,” Shōta tells the woman, bending down to Izuku’s level as the toddler makes his way over, waving an All Might action figure that he’d randomly found on the floor around.

“Dada, Ah-My,” Izuku tells him with wide eyes, pushing the toy against Shōta’s chest as if he needs to feel the plastic to be able to tell it’s an All Might toy.

“I see,” Shōta hums softly, “very cool, sweetheart. Do you want to bring that with you? Let’s pick out some more toys, okay? We’ll bring whatever you want.”

Shōta carefully avoids the word ‘home’ not wanting to confuse or upset the toddler. Their apartment isn’t Izuku’s home yet; not when they’re standing in the apartment he’d lived in all his life.

“Yah!” Izuku brightens, clutching the hard plastic toy to his chest, “’duku’s Ah-My! ‘duku’s toys!”

Izuku toddles his way over to Hizashi, dropping the All Might toy into the box the man is filling with books. Izuku waits by the box until Hizashi finally glances up and over, dramatically stopping when he spots the toy on top of the books.

“That’s not a book! That's not where All Might goes!” Hizashi gasp playfully, smiling softly when Izuku squeals and giggles as the blonde grabs him by the waist and tugs him into his lap, “help me with your books. Which one’s Izuku’s favorite, huh? All Might? Ooh, Dada will like this one with the kitties on it, yeah? Where are your music books, huh? Papa doesn't see any, so we’ll have to buy you some, right?”

Only a second later, Katsuki is marching over to Hizashi as well, scanning the man with a scowl before plopping into his lap beside Izuku, so Hizashi has a toddler on each knee.

The blonde-haired man waits a second, as if waiting to see if Mitsuki will say anything, but when the woman doesn’t, he seems to take it in stride, chatting animatedly about the books they’re pulling off the shelf, looking at and dropping into the box. The toddlers add their two-cents about everything, pointing stuff out to him and babbling incoherently— Hizashi nods along, pretending to understand.

Shōta finds himself smiling to himself as he fingers through the clothes hung in the closet.

“He seems like a keeper,” Shōta looks up to find Mitsuki picking some of the toys up off the floor. “I like to think my grouchy little Kats is a good judge of character and he’s not usually like that with strangers.”

“He is,” Shōta replies quietly, grabbing a couple hangers of clothes to set in a box at his side. “Hizashi is great with kids. He comes from a big family, so I’m not completely out of my depth when it comes to all this. I’d be lost without him. And thankfully Izuku has warmed up to us both too.”

“Scary, huh?” Mitsuki cocks her head to the side. “I was terrified when we brought Katsuki home from the hospital. Inko too, with Izuku, but Masaru and I helped out when we could. You don’t know fear until you leave the hospital with the world’s most delicate potato that you’re responsible for.”

“Potato?” Shōta turns to the woman, trying to keep his tone neutral despite his amusement.

“Newborns aren’t exactly adorable when they’re born,” Mitsuki shrugs honestly. “They’re definitely an acquired taste. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a cute newborn. They’re all wrinkly little potatoes. Trust me, those two definitely grew into their adorableness. So, tell me, how’d you two meet?”

“Hizashi and I?” Shōta blinks in surprise. The woman simply glances at him, as if urging him on. “At school. I was transferred into his class and from there he didn’t leave me alone. He’s hard not to like, but I gave it my all.”

Mitsuki lets out a loud laugh. “What about Inko? Where’d you meet her?”

“A bar,” Shōta looks back into the closet, pulling a onesie out to look at it.

“A bar?” Mitsuki repeats, brow furrowed. “Hang on... you’re telling me you were that guy? The loner at the bar? I knew you looked familiar!” Mitsuki accuses with a laugh. “Man, Inko could not stop looking over at you. She thought you were cute and kept saying that you looked lonely. I thought you looked young. And you did come in with that woman who left ya— what, you get dumped or something that night?”

Now that he thinks about it, he does remember seeing this woman— the spiky hair and the loudness. She’s definitely a part of the group Inko had been at the bar with that night.

“No,” Shōta sighs, “she’s just a friend who has a bad habit of dragging me out and then getting distracted and abandoning me. It wasn’t a great night. I probably shouldn’t have even agreed to go out.”

“It apparently ended well,” Mitsuki teases sharply, “if you two ended up with Izuku you must’ve done something fun. I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone, which was why I was so surprised when she told us she was pregnant too. I never thought it could’ve been you. She’s usually all talk, always wanting to be kind to the outcasts, no offense, so we didn’t think anything of her mentioning you that night. How’d you two end up meeting? My husband and I left a bit early, but I thought Inko left right after us.”

“Inko bought me a shot,” Shōta frowns to himself. “And then I bought her one too.”

“Ah, yeah, I get that picture,” Mitsuki bows her head as she snickers. “Inko was super secretive about Izuku’s dad in the beginning. I guess that might be why. She was always a modest girl— had dreams of finding the right man, falling in love, getting married. The whole shebang. And then Izuku came along unexpectedly, and he was her everything. I’d never met anyone who loved being a mom more than she did; I mean, I love being a mom, don’t get me wrong, but Inko just threw herself into it completely. I have my husband to fall back on when Katsuki is being a little shit. She was alone, and she loved it.”

“She didn’t have to be alone,” Shōta whispers as he thumbs at a onesie that is far too small for Izuku to fit in now. It’s like newborn sized and Shōta finds himself trying to imagine his son this small. “I would have stepped up for them. I might not have been able to give her that happily ever after, but I could’ve been there for Izuku.”

“I believe you,” Mitsuki nods solemnly. “Trust me, I see it now. How you look at that boy; that’s exactly how Inko looked at him. Even how your partner looks at him. You’ve gotta understand that Inko was also fiercely independent, and I’m not saying that makes what she did right, but I think it plays a role in why she never told you. She liked to make people believe she didn’t need anyone else, even if other people wanted to be a part of it.”

Shōta doesn’t say anything. It still doesn’t feel right.

He thinks he would’ve loved to meet a wrinkly little potato of an Izuku. It feels like he’d missed out on so much; that Inko had kept it all to herself. Kept Izuku all to herself.

He harbors no ill feelings, it’s not logical when she’s no longer with them, but it also hurts to think about everything that he wasn’t even given a chance to be a part of.

“Look,” Mitsuki pats Shōta’s shoulder sympathetically, “Inko never had a bad thing to say about you. I badgered her for nearly her entire pregnancy to get her to tell me who the father was. It was only after the squirt was born that she told us you knew and didn’t want to be a part of the baby’s life. Didn’t even tell us your name, I thought she just didn’t want me tracking you down or something. I should've suspected something with how secretive she was being.”

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but he does bow his head in acknowledgment.

“I really am sorry this happened the way it did,” Mitsuki says softly, after a second.

Shōta forces himself to look up at the woman, mouth pulled downwards in a slight frown.

“Inko should’ve... just know I would’ve tried to talk her into at least telling you, you know? If I’d known she hadn’t told you. I don’t agree with not telling someone they have a kid. I’d be all kinds of pissed if I found out I had a kid I didn’t know about. Choose to be a part of the kid’s life or not, but at least give them a chance.

“Inko was a great mom, there’s no doubt, but I think about my little Kats and his adoration he has for his dad and I... I don’t know, I felt for the little guy, you know? She withheld that from both you and Izuku. Here you are, a good guy who wants to be a good person, a good dad, for that little shrimp and she didn’t give you a chance. I love Inko, but that doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge her being an idiot. It’s a little fucked up.”

Shōta snorts a quiet laugh.

Mitsuki seems proud of herself.

“It is a little fucked up,” Shōta agrees lightly. “I just don’t really understand her thoughts and I... guess I never really will now. I’m not going to hold a grudge, not against someone no longer around to be angry at. I won't turn her into anything less than the great mom she was, especially when it comes to Izuku.”

“You’re a wise young man,” Mitsuki offers a soft, toothy smile. “So, how old are ya anyways? You looked like just a baby that night in the bar, we half expected you to have snuck in with that baby-face of yours. And you still don’t exactly look old, you know?”

“I’m twenty-two,” Shōta offers.

“You really were young,” Mitsuki lets out a low whistle, “jeez, you would’ve been what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Did Inko know before she slept around with you?”

“I doubt it,” Shōta shakes his head, as he piles the last of the closet clothes into the box at his feet, “it didn’t come up that night and I was obviously of age to be in a bar. It doesn’t even matter anyways. Why? How old was Inko?”

Mitsuki offers a forlorn smile, looking away from the man, “she just turned twenty-six. She and I went out, and Masaru watched the boys. You really are just a baby. I can’t imagine having a baby at twenty-two. Granted, we were really not ready to settle back then. I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m here if you need any help. I like to think I know the green-bean pretty well, so don’t hesitate to reach out, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Shōta bows his head.

“Hey, uh,” Hizashi interrupts, standing to his full height with Katsuki in his arms, “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but where’s Izuku? He kept saying Dada, so I thought he’d head for you, Shōta!”

Shōta whips around to face the room and yeah, Izuku isn’t to be seen.

Shōta’s heart stalls in his chest as he draws in a breath.

Great. Day one and he’d already lost the kid. Perfect.

“Don’t worry,” Mitsuki snickers, patting Shōta’s shoulder. “Like I said, this place is baby proof. There’s nothing he can get into. Rule number one of toddlers, boys, if they’re too quiet, they’re up to something they shouldn’t be.”

Shōta leaves the bedroom despite the woman’s promises that Izuku was safe in the apartment, heading into the main living area.

He scans quickly, heart rate slowing when he finally spots the child sitting beside the coffee table, looking down at a book.

“Izuku,” Shōta inches closer, “what are you doing?”

Bright green eyes glance back at him and the baby smiles widely, “Dada! It Mama!”

Shōta crouches behind the boy, breath leaving his chest anxiously as he finally scans the book in front of the child.

It’s not a book.

It’s a photo album.

Shōta lets himself sink to the ground beside the child and Izuku doesn’t hesitate to hike up the book up to his chest and plop himself down in Shōta’s lap. Izuku cracks the book open across the entirety of his lap, edges settling on Shōta’s own thighs. Izuku’s head bumps back against Shōta’s chest as the child stares up at him expectantly, like he’s waiting for Shōta to turn the pages.

Shōta swallows roughly before doing so.

It’s a baby book, it takes Shōta an embarrassingly long second to realize. The pages are filled with newborn Izuku— tufts of green curls and a scrunched up little face. With each passing photo, the child gets a little older.

Inko is in some photos and it’s a bittersweet feeling to see her cuddling a baby Izuku.

Shōta says nothing as the child stares down at the pictures, little eyes studying his mother each time she makes an appearance. Izuku looks so thoughtful; probably more thoughtful than a two-year-old should be. Shōta wonders how much Izuku actually realizes about everything. Can he tell she’s not around? That she can’t be?

Izuku clumsily turns the next page, turning back to look up at Shōta as he pokes a finger into one of the photos. “Baby,” Izuku's little finger presses into a picture of himself swaddled. He’s really just cheeks and curls, still quite new to the world. It’s one of the cutest things Shōta has ever laid eyes on.

“That’s you,” Shōta whispers breathlessly.

“Baby,” Izuku refuses, little cheeks puffing out distastefully.

Shōta swallows again, brushing Izuku’s curls back out of his face.

The end of the book is what really throws Shōta for a loop, because there, in the last page of this photo album, one Izuku is apparently quite familiar with, are two pictures of Shōta.

The first is one where he’d laughing— they're clearly in the bar still. He’s got a shot glass pinched between his fingers and he thinks he might remember this moment. He hadn’t noticed Inko sneak her phone out, or he knows he’d be hiding away from the camera.

It’s actually a fairly nice photo for the setting they were in.

Shōta likes the photo.

The second photo Shōta stares are for a long second before it all comes back.

They’re in the back of the cab and they’re definitely drunk. He thinks he remembers Inko taking photos of herself, selfies, he remembers laughing at her, because it was just like Hizashi and all his stupid selfies, and then she’d thrown an arm over his shoulder and squished their cheeks together, so they were both in the shot.

“Smile, Shōta!” she had chirped brightly as she snapped the photo, hardly giving Shōta a second to pull away— which he was too drunk to do anyways.

Shōta is sporting a tiny half smile, clear amusement in his expression with his eyes looking in Inko’s direction instead of at the camera. Inko’s wide eyes are facing the camera, and she wears a wide, toothy grin. She looks so young. He looks so young.

“Dada,” Izuku says softly, little hand flattening over the picture of Shōta and Inko. The child stares hard at the photo before looking up at Shōta again with a little pleased smile, “Dada.”

And... maybe Inko hadn’t kept him a secret from Izuku. It... it makes sense how fast the child had warmed up to him now. Shōta had thought he was this stranger to the boy. Maybe Izuku hadn’t met him, but he’d seen Shōta in photos.

Shōta doesn’t know what to say to the boy now. Doesn’t know how to react.

Izuku doesn’t seem phased by the lack of response as he turns back to the album, little hand fanning out over Inko’s face. Izuku's head cocks faintly to the side as he stares down between his fingers.

And Shōta’s heart shatters.

All he can do is close the album.

He sets it beside them, staring down at it thoughtfully.

Izuku doesn’t complain, just leans back against Shōta. He’s content for just a second, and then he’s shifting, turning completely in Shōta’s lap to climb up him, little arms going around Shōta’s neck as he buries his face in Shōta’s neck.

Shōta hugs the child back, carding his fingers through Izuku’s curls, “do you miss your mama?”

“Mama,” the word is mumbled into Shōta’s skin.

“Your Mama really loved you,” Shōta tells the boy quietly, swallowing down the emotion threatening to cloud his voice, “I’m sorry she had to leave. Mama had a bad accident, sweetheart. I know you don’t understand this, but mama died.”

Izuku presses his face closer, burying his nose in Shōta’s shoulder. “Mama buh-bye.”

“Yeah,” Shōta whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of Izuku’s head. “Mama buh-bye.”

Mitsuki lets them keep the albums that are left. A lot of baby pictures and photos of Izuku’s family on his mother’s side. Shōta doesn’t know how to feel about looking at all the baby pictures he wasn’t around for, what he wasn’t there to witness in real life, but he also feels sick thinking about leaving them here.

It’s still Izuku, still his son, even if he wasn’t around back then.

He wants to have all of Izuku.

He wants Izuku to have everything he can of this life, of this family of his that’s not around anymore.

There are photos of people Shōta has never met, or heard of, in the albums as well, but at the end of the day, they are Izuku’s family too. The boy might want these pictures later. Shōta won’t withhold anything from Izuku.

They disassemble the crib and manage to fit the pieces and the crib mattress in the back of the car, packing in some of the other boxes around the child’s carseat.

Hizashi and Mitsuki arrange for them to come by in the next couple days for the rest of the stuff they’d picked out. Hizashi is going to rent a truck to transport what’s left; what they’ll never be able to fit in the car. The changing table, dresser and wardrobe and the rocking chair.

Izuku spends the rest of the time they’re in the apartment wanting to be held.

He buries his little face in Shōta’s shoulder, or Hizashi’s neck and clings to them. Mitsuki locates one of Izuku’s pacifiers and the child is content to suck on it while never letting his grip on the two men waver.

When they’re all loaded up, Izuku strapped into the carseat, they say their goodbyes.

Hizashi and Mitsuki exchange numbers and the woman apologizes once again for her brashness.

Shōta and Hizashi offer their condolences now that they’re on better terms than when they’d met that morning, and Mitsuki brushes away the tears before they fall, catching both of them in a hug and squishing her toddler in the process.

Katsuki scowls over his nose at them but cracks a smile when Mitsuki leans him into the car to say bye to Izuku. “Buh-bye,” Izuku waves at them both, little face squishing up when Mitsuki presses a kiss to the kid’s nose. “Buh-bye, Kacchan!”

They’re definitely going to keep contact with the Bakugous.

Shōta is beyond exhausted when they finally pull into their parking spot outside the apartment. He’s both emotionally drained, and physically. A quick glance back at Izuku shows the toddler in a similar state. Maybe they are alike, he thinks.

“Do we have to carry this all up now?” Shōta asks as he unbuckles Izuku, who wraps around him like a tiny koala bear. Shōta bites back a smile as he rubs the child’s back.

“Nah,” Hizashi laughs softly, grabbing one the boxes of books and toys, “it’ll be fine in the car overnight. Izuku did just fine in the playpen last night, so I’m sure he’ll be fine again tonight. That’ll give us some time to rearrange the office as well. I think if we push everything up against the wall we can fit all ‘zuku’s stuff in there, yeah? We should really start looking at bigger apartments too.”

Shōta gives a hum of agreement.

They make their way upstairs.

Shōta hears shuffling inside the apartment when they’re finally stood outside the door. Hizashi has his key in hand as Shōta tightens his grip on the toddler protectively.

“Hizashi,” Shōta hisses softly, “there’s someone in the apartment.”

Hizashi’s brow furrows before his eyes harden.

Hizashi unlocks the door, ready to use his Quirk but—

“Surprise!”

Izuku startles in Shōta’s arms and the man hushes him quietly as wide, wet eyes look up to Shōta fearfully. The underground Hero offers the child a soft smile before he’s looking up and glaring into his own home.

He takes a step into the apartment, eyeing the gathering of people. He sees his twin sister, his nephew and his and Hizashi’s school friends. Oboro is here and, of course, Nemuri too.

Shōta just knows this was her idea, if the grin is anything to go off.

Strung up in the living room is a banner that reads ‘It’s a Boy!’. There are streamers and balloons and there’s a collection of wrapped gifts on the coffee table. Along with the presents, there’s a plate of cupcakes, quite obviously store bought on the table.

Shōta blows out a defeated sigh through his nose as he tries to push down the migraine he feels starting. Shōta tries to shove the wave of annoyance that settles in his stomach aside as he adjusts his hold on Izuku.

Izuku tucks his head under Shōta’s chin, both hands fisted in his shirt fearfully.

“You know,” Shōta scoffs, “breaking into two Pro Heroes apartment is dangerous.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m so scared,” Nemuri scoffs back, “practically quaking in my boots. Why don’t you try saying that again when you’re not the image of domesticity holding a toddler.”

“My arms may be tied up, but I can kick,” Shōta warns tiredly. He looks back at Hizashi, squinting at the blonde whose brow is furrowed as he scans everyone before his own gaze is catching Shōta’s, “I blame you entirely for this.”

“Me?” the blonde squawks, “I was literally with you all day! You think I could’ve planned this? I just told Oboro about Izuku— we were supposed to meet him for lunch today, remember? I know you wouldn’t mind standing him up, but I do! And I told him to keep it quiet!”

“And I was so shocked that I had to tell Nemuri!” Oboro adds from across the room, he offers a wide grin before wincing, “and, ahah, and I told Tensei too. He’s out of town though, so he couldn’t make it. I mean our grumpy Shōta-kun having a son? Having such a cute baby? You expected me to keep that to myself?”

“I told Yua,” Nemuri doesn’t even bother to look guilty. The two of them had been fast friends as soon as Shōta had introduced his sister to his Yuuei friends. Yua went to a regular high school, but she was always the more social one of the two of them. “I assumed big sis might want to know what her little brother’s been up to. Shōta the sly dog! Who’d have thought, huh?”

“Gross,” Yua’s nose wrinkles. Hitoshi, in Yua’s arms, squirms a little bit as if sensing his mother’s distaste. “I'm just a bit upset I heard this from Nemuri instead of you, Shōta. Seems like a bit of an important life update. I just wanted to come meet my nephew, which is something I never thought I’d be saying. It was Nemuri’s idea to have a baby shower.”

“He’s two,” Shōta deadpans. “And she’s barely my big sis. Three minutes isn’t much of an advantage.”

“I got so much wisdom in those three minutes though, little brother,” Yua teases with a crooked smile, and Shōta can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance. What a familiar fight that they’d been having since they were old enough to talk.

“And he deserves to be celebrated!” Nemuri chimes in. “Let us spoil our nephew!”

“I’m only related to one of you,” Shōta narrows his eyes on her.

“You wound us,” Nemuri bellows dramatically, “you wound auntie Nem and uncle Oboro! How cruel can you be, Shocchan? We come all this way for your son, our darling new nephew, and you treat us like this! Have you no shame?”

“Don’t call me that,” Shōta sighs as he crouches to set the toddler on the floor. Izuku hesitates, scanning the room nervously before turning to hide his face in Shōta’s chest. Shōta takes pity on the child and picks him up again. “Don’t you think this might be a bit overwhelming to a two-year-old?”

“I didn’t know it was a party,” Yua admits with wince, “I thought we were just coming to meet your son. I picked out a welcome home gift, not a baby shower gift.”

“Ditto,” Oboro chimes in from the couch. “The banner was up when I arrived. Nem asked me to grab cupcakes while I was picking out a gift for the little guy. I suppose those cupcakes I was enlisted to bring made more sense though.”

Shōta glances at Oboro before his sharp gaze turns in Nemuri’s direction. “So, you’re to blame for this?”

“To blame, or who you should be thanking?” the woman pouts, “I was excited to meet your kid. You’re like a little brother to me. All you little knuckleheads are. I don’t have siblings. And you’re the baby of the group— my baby! And now you have a baby too. He’ll be my nephew, just like Hitoshi, and I’m going to spoil him rotten whether you like it or not!”

Shōta turns back to Hizashi, “this is your fault.”

“You already said that, sweetheart,” Hizashi snickers, taking Izuku from his arms and disappearing down the hall and into their bedroom. He calls over his shoulder as he goes, “you agreed to giving Nemuri a spare key!”

“I’m revoking your key.”

“Not happening,” Nemuri laughs.

Shōta accepts defeat, moving further into the room to plop down on the couch beside his sister. Yua smiles kindly as Hitoshi squirms in his mother’s lap and in the next second, Shōta has a lapful of purple-haired toddler.

“Hi, ‘toshi,” Shōta greets quietly, hands settling on the toddler’s waist to secure him.

Hitoshi coos in reply, standing in Shōta’s lap until they’re nearly nose to nose. “Hi, Unka Shō!”

Shōta lets out a winded sound as the kid flops forwards onto Shōta’s chest. He’s getting heavier.

Izuku must be tiny for his age. He’d noticed the size comparison between Izuku and Katsuki, but feeling Hitoshi’s weight now, compared to Izuku’s, is a bit overwhelming.

He doesn’t see his nephew as often as he’d like, and he’d definitely gotten bigger since the last visit. Yua and her husband don’t exactly live close and between everyone working, Yua going to school and Hitoshi going to daycare, they just don’t have time to meet up besides holidays and birthdays.

Maybe that’ll change now that Shōta has a son— now that Hitoshi has a cousin. Shōta hopes it’s going to change. He misses seeing his sister, brother-in-law and nephew.

Shōta’s going to try to socialize the toddler right off the bat.

He wants Izuku to have friends. He has Katsuki, and Hitoshi is his cousin now. And Tensei has a little brother too that Shōta’s sure he can introduce his son to.

After the annoyance has passed, Shōta’s glad to see everyone.

Oboro is hard to catch between all the travelling he does for his Hero work. They see Nemuri a lot, but it’s always nice to see her as well, and Shōta can’t argue that he doesn’t see his sister and nephew enough.

“Thank you all for coming,” Shōta finally bows his head, “a little notice would’ve been nice, Izuku is tired and overwhelmed, so don’t expect him to warm up easily.”

“That’s fine,” Yua is the one to console, patting Shōta’s knee. “Toddlers are like that. And you’ve only had him since yesterday, right? Poor little thing must be so out of place. I’m just glad he seems to have warmed up to you and ‘zashi.”

Shōta nods in agreement. “A party certainly doesn’t help.”

“How many times do I need to say sorry?” Nemuri whines with a pout.

“At least once would be nice,” Shōta deadpans.

“Okay, okay,” Nemuri sighs dramatically, an honest frown on her lips despite the dramatic flair. “Fine, I’m sorry. I forgot parties can be overwhelming and that... that your kid wouldn’t know any of us. We just wanted to meet him. You do realize how surprising this is right? How excited we are for you?”

Shōta bows his head thankfully. He’s not upset, not really, even if they had scared Izuku. It’s a nice sentiment, and he’s happy he’s surrounded by people who want to welcome Izuku into their family.

“Everyone,” Hizashi announces as he returns into the room; a freshly changed Izuku perched on his lip, “I present the man of the hour, our sweet little Izuku-chan! Dressed his best and in a semi-decent mood to meet you all!”

Izuku offers a little wave in the direction of their party, opening and closing his fist.

He’s got a pacifier in his mouth again, Shōta just knows the poor kid is already overwhelmed after the morning in his mother’s apartment and then getting bombarded by strangers in his new home.

Izuku is clutching at his All Might stuffed toy like a lifeline, and Hizashi had changed him into one of the pairs of pajamas they’d gotten at the store yesterday.

The toddler scans everyone hesitantly before his gaze locks on Shōta and Hitoshi.

Izuku’s face scrunches up.

“Dada,” Izuku demands, tugging the pacifier from his mouth and making grabby hands in Shōta’s direction. He looks back at Hizashi expectantly, whining more insistently, “Papa, Dada! Wan Dada!”

“Someone seems a little jealous,” Nemuri coos. “That’s adorable!”

Hizashi doesn’t hesitate to bring the toddler over and Yua takes Hitoshi back into her own lap as Hizashi lowers the green-haired boy down to Shōta. Shōta takes Izuku into his arms and instantly the toddler is curling into the dark-haired man as soon as he’s close enough to do so, all while his little nose wrinkles in Hitoshi’s direction.

“That might be a problem,” Shōta breathes out as he brushes Izuku’s curls back.

“No, it won’t,” Yua snorts in amusement, patting Shōta’s knee in sympathy. “They’ll both warm up to each other over time. Hitoshi will have to learn to share his uncle Shō, and Izuku will ease up on the possessiveness when he’s settled. He’s not going to want to share his comfort with someone else, especially someone he doesn’t know. Honestly, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t a little possessive of the two of you.”

“You think?” Shōta cocks his head in his sister’s direction.

“Oh yeah,” Yua nods fondly, “Hitoshi was the same way with his dad when we introduced him to his cousins on his father’s side of the family. Even shoved his older cousin. As long as no one’s hurt or crying, we should consider this a success.”

Shōta quirks a light smile, deciding to take his sister’s word for it.

“Izuku,” he shifts the toddler, turning his attention down to the toddler in his lap, “do you want to meet some of your family?”

Izuku takes a second to process Shōta’s words before he nods shyly, bright green eyes looking up at Shōta expectantly.

“This is uncle Oboro,” Hizashi calls the green-haired child’s attention, throwing an arm over Oboro’s shoulders and tugging him close, “he’s our best friend.”

“Hi, Izuku!” Oboro smiles a toothy grin and an easy wave in the toddler’s direction. Izuku scans the man warily. Oboro doesn’t seem offended in the least, just chuckling sheepishly when he notices too.

“And this,” Hizashi continues as he releases their blue-haired friend, now plopping down on the armrest of the chair Nemuri is sitting in, “is auntie Nemuri!”

“Auntie Nem,” Nemuri corrects with a huff, “I’m going to be your favorite aunt, kiddo.”

“Excuse me?” Yua snickers as she glares halfheartedly at Nemuri.

“I’m going to be one of your favorite aunts.”

“That’s better,” Yua laughs. She quiets down as she turns to look at Izuku, who is now watching both her and Hitoshi sharply. “Hi, sweet boy,” she says quietly, “I’m your dada’s sister.”

“Dada,” Izuku says around the pacifier, looking back at Shōta as if confirming he’s still there.

“That’s right,” Yua’s smile widens, “your dada is my baby brother.”

“Baby,” Izuku chimes in again, though he obviously doesn’t understand that concept.

Shōta thinks the boy is just processing the words he knows. Shōta pets Izuku’s hair back as he shakes his head at his sister’s antics, before he’s wrapping a gentle arm around Izuku’s waist.

Shōta smiles softly as Izuku twists his upper body to look back at Shōta, “that’s your auntie Yua,” Shōta whispers as he leans closer to the child, “and that’s her baby Hitoshi. Hitoshi is your cousin.”

“Baby,” Izuku agrees again, pointing to Hitoshi as if they’re not the same age; nearly almost exactly the same age. Actually, Hitoshi is older than Izuku by a couple weeks.

“Hitoshi,” Shōta corrects gently. “Cousin ’toshi.”

“’toshi,” Izuku babbles back on autopilot.

“Right,” Shōta praises proudly. “’toshi.”

“’toshi!”

Hitoshi blinks owlishly at Izuku saying his name, studying him with narrowed purple eyes.

“Bubba,” Yua thumbs at Hitoshi’s cheek to get his attention, “that’s Izuku.”

Hitoshi’s nose scrunches up, reaching for Shōta and ignoring Izuku almost entirely, “mine.”

Shōta feels bad about not reaching to take the boy like he normally would, but something tells him Izuku wouldn’t be content sharing his lap like he had with Katsuki in Hizashi’s lap that afternoon.

“No,” Yua corrects gently, catching Hitoshi’s little hand in her own and pulling it back to him, “we share. Uncle Shō is Izuku’s daddy. We have to be nice to Izuku, okay? We’re a nice boy. We have to share Uncle Shōta. Can you say hi to cousin Izuku?”

“I’duku,” Hitoshi frowns to himself.

Izuku stares calculatingly for a long second before point at Hitoshi, “’toshi!”

And that’s about as close as Shōta thinks they’re going to get on their first day meeting.

Izuku is already so overwhelmed, he can see it in the child’s face. Izuku is starting to get tired, and Shōta knows he hadn’t napped that afternoon, besides the twenty minutes he’d gotten on the car ride home. Shōta’s just glad Izuku hasn’t resorted to tears again yet.

It’s going to be another early bedtime for the three of them, he thinks.

“So,” Hizashi grins after a moment of silence, turning to Oboro, who freezes where he’d been shoving a cupcake into his mouth, “I need help bringing a crib upstairs. Anyone not holding a baby is now at my mercy. That’s the price to pay for breaking into someone else’s apartment!”

“It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key!” Oboro whines through his bite of cupcake.

Nemuri turns her attention to Shōta’s sister, holding her hands out hopefully, “Yua, whaddya say you pass ‘toshi over—”

“Not happening, Nemuri,” Yua snickers as she tugs Hitoshi back against her chest, the child just cuddling into her contently. “This party was your idea, so this is your punishment. Be a good favorite aunt and help Hizashi with Izuku’s stuff.”

“C’mon,” Hizashi snickers, “up and at ’em you two. Let’s go. There’s a lot of stuff to bring up, and then we’re going to arrange the office furniture and assemble the crib. Fun, yeah? Don’t you love baby showers?”

“I am never coming to another one of your parties again,” Oboro bemoans, but he does follow Hizashi into the genkan to get his shoes on. “Just so you know, I am only doing this for my new nephew. He’s my new favorite. He doesn’t make me work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi snorts a laugh, “c’mon, it’s not going to bring itself in. Let’s go, Nem. No whining! This is what you get for throwing a party in someone else’s apartment when they’re trying to welcome home a new baby! You practically signed yourself up for work.”

Their two friends playfully whine as Hizashi leads them out of the apartment.

Shōta sits in the silence of his apartment with his sister for a second, letting his eyes fall shut as he rubs a hand along Izuku’s spine. Green curls tickle at Shōta’s chin, but he doesn’t mind.

“And how are you, Shōta?”

Shōta glances down at the content toddler before his gaze lifts to his sister.

He lets himself think for just a second.

He thinks back to the night he’d met Inko. The rough patch he was in. Everyone was gone, his sister was away at school, studying to be a nurse and busy starting a life with her high school sweetheart. Hizashi was in another country, and Oboro across Japan. He’d still had Nemuri, but even she was busy more often than not. That was before he’d even found Shy.

It was a dark period.

Then he thinks of his boyfriend, friends, his sister and nephew and the chaos that had come with everyone gathering in the apartment to celebrate Izuku.

The difference between then and now.

He thinks of everything that had fallen into place as time went on.

He thinks of the son he never knew he had, or needed, but couldn’t think of living without now. The child who’d taken to them easily, even after everything he’d been through these past couple days since his mother passed away.

The sunshine child who was now melded along Shōta’s chest, completely content.

He even takes a second to think of Bakugou Mitsuki and Katsuki, new additions to their lives, but additions, nonetheless. He thinks briefly of Inko too but doesn’t let himself linger.

He doesn’t think long before leaning slightly to the side and letting his head fall onto his sister’s shoulder, confiding gently, “I’m happy.”

And he is.