All the way home

Morning bells are ringing

"Wait downstairs. No, I'm serious—wait downstairs. Actually yeah, don't wait downstairs—just leave the car and take the train ho—don't tell me to shut up! I'm telling you just—hey!"

Katsuki growled as he pulled his phone away from his ear, grumbling a few choice words as he shoved it back in his pocket. Crafting a baby-appropriate vocabulary would have to wait yet another day.

"Hung up on you?" Izuku asked as he triple-checked his backpack. There hadn't been much time for shopping that morning when they'd wanted to return to the hospital as early as they could get away with. Nevertheless, they'd managed to grab some essentials on their way out the door, as well as a few items from the corner store. All that rushing only to wait hours more upon arrival.

"The witch," Katsuki affirmed with a nod. "Insisted on coming up here."

At that moment, there was a buzz, sharp and clear from Izuku's phone. Izuku barely had it out of his pocket before Katsuki was pointing a finger at him.

"Don't you dare tell her the room number."

Izuku began typing, conveniently not looking Katsuki in the eye. "Kacchan, I have to."

"Like hell you do!"

It was already done. Izuku looked up at him with shining, know-it-all eyes. "You shouldn't be surprised, Kacchan. Of course she'd wanna see Sugu."

Sugu. The name had come to Izuku late in the night between hiccupped bouts of restfulness. Both men were decorated with bruised bags under their eyes, born from a nearly entirely sleepless night. Katsuki was only sure he'd slept at all as the clock on their dresser advanced from two a.m. to three a.m. to four between blinks. Meanwhile, he was awake for every moment of Izuku turning from stomach to side to back to side, his uneven gasps of air. Awake enough to agree to the name, anyway. Even as Izuku had said it for the first time, it had drizzled like warm honey over Katsuki. Coating quickly and sweetly from Izuku's lips. Now it was on a birth certificate behind the name Midoriya, tucked into Izuku's bag.

"Tch. Get up in our business, more like."

Izuku chuckled. "I'm sure it's not that. Besides, it's not too much trouble to just give her what she wants."

No, it really wasn't, but only because trouble wasn't the word for what was marinating in Katsuki's core. This feeling wasn't shame. It wasn't guilt. It was self-defense. It was introversion, greed in the face of an invasion. His gut demanded privacy but instead he would be perceived by force. The threat of it poured saccharine and heavy down his throat, landing in the pit of his stomach with a flavor like cherry blossoms trampled into the concrete sidewalk. Once blush pink and open, now yellowed and brown, scenting the spring streets with sweet decay.

This wasn't the first time. It had come last three years ago when they'd told people they were dating. Sticky reluctance in his gut at sharing something so intimate, so personal, even with his parents or closest friends. Before that it had been coming out. The words for it had been trite and rehearsed but still reluctant to be shared, snapping back at him with painful recoil.

It was an assault. It gnawed at his stomach when he thought of getting engaged, getting married. He strategized ways to get away with it, just him and Izuku. Keep the public at bay, convince their friends to keep their congratulations to themselves. Enjoy some peace and quiet.

It sunk into his stomach now as their bubble of privacy threatened to be burst with every step of his parents first across the sidewalk, then through the lobby, and up the elevator to the new postpartum room they'd been loaned.

"Hey," Izuku said, putting a hand on Katsuki's shoulder. They were lucky enough to be in their own plainclothes this time. Simple tees and jeans, so Izuku's touch was softer today than the day before. It was warm over the thin fabric, stretched over large shoulders that always made it hard to buy off the rack. "They already know. They want to help."