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Eijirou’s thirteenth birthday is spent alone. He invites both Tomo and his other friend, Hikaru, but they both decline, the former attending cram school and the latter visiting his grandparents. Eijirou has no backup plan, so he does what he would’ve done with both of them—alone. His father offers to come with Eijirou to the arcade, but Eijirou declines.
“You have an important meeting today, dad,” he sighs, shaking his head. “You need to be there, otherwise your employees will worry.”
“It’s fine!” Eijirou reassures.
It’s not.
“I’ll find someone else to go with!”
He won’t. Everyone else thinks he’s lame.
“Don’t worry about me, dad,” he grins.
Stay anyway, please. Please, dad.
“Alright, well... if you’re sure,” his dad mutters, already grabbing his phone and slinging a tie around his neck.
“Your pops will be back tonight; we can have some cake!” Eijirou nods enthusiastically, desperately hoping that his dad will change his mind. His dad leaves the house. The meeting’s important, Eijirou reminds himself, sitting on the carpet in their living room and hunching over his knees.
They’re bruised; a testament to his attempts at hero training. Who am I kidding, Eijirou laughs haplessly, I’m just a nuisance.
Dad’s meeting is way more important than a silly old birthday party.
Somehow, Eijirou is unable to convince himself of that fact. His fathers return to Eijirou curled up on the sofa, drying tear tracks forming a web over his face as he sleeps fitfully.
+ + +
Eijirou’s fifteenth birthday goes slightly differently. “Eijirou!” his pops exclaims, pointy teeth flashing as he grins at his son. He bends down to hug the boy, ruffling his hair and chuckling when Eijirou protests.
“Pops! I brought a friend, remember?” Eijirou hisses, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. The man straightens up, peering behind Eijirou’s sturdy form. There, hunched over and avoiding his gaze, is a blond boy around the same age as his son.
A friend, huh? Eijirou’s dad muses. Eijirou must like him a lot, to have brought him home. With that thought in mind, Kirishima Tsuyoshi pulls the other boy into a bone-crushing hug, laughing raucously when the kid freezes in his arms. “Welcome to the Kirishima household! I’m Eijirou’s pops, but you can call me Yoshi-san,” he grins, hiding a snigger when the boy’s eyes widen slightly.
“Yep, like the Mario character,” Eijirou sighs, rolling his eyes. The blond looks at him, barely holding back a laugh, and rolls his eyes back.
“‘Course Kirishima’s dad would be named something like that,“ the blond snorts. Tsuyoshi raises a brow, folding his arms.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, young man?”
Clearly, Tsuyoshi wasn’t supposed to hear the blond’s comment, because the kid flushes pink and ducks his head.
“You’re exactly like him,” he mumbles, jabbing a thumb at Eijirou’s shocked face. “Both of you are utter goofballs,” the blond smirks, cackling when Eijirou elbows him roughly.
“Rude!” Eijirou exclaims, but his friend is laughing too hard to respond. Tsuyoshi smiles, relaxing as he lets the two boys into the house. Maybe... maybe this kid isn’t so bad, Tsuyoshi thinks, watching as Eijirou pulls his cake out of the fridge and the blond berates him for trying to eat it too early.
The real test will be when Eijirou tells this kid he has two dads, Tsuyoshi thinks heavily, sitting down to read his book and watch over the pair in the kitchen.
+ + +
Eijirou spends the night before his seventeenth birthday fretting. He’s already called his dads—twice—but nothing they’ve said has managed to calm the turmoil lingering in his mind. What will Katsuki think? How’s he going to react? I’ve kept it a secret for this long—will he get mad? Or is he going to be disgusted?
Eijirou sits down in a chair, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. I don’t know anymore... if I lose Katsuki, I don’t know how I’ll survive. But I can’t hide this forever—I’ve met Katsuki’s family; it’s only fair he should meet mine.
Yet Eijirou knows it goes beyond just ‘should’ and ‘necessary’ and ‘fair’.
He wants Katsuki to meet his fathers. He wants his best friend to be okay with it. He wants to be able to invite Katsuki over without his dad disappearing for the night.
Eijirou sleeps fitfully.
+ + +
On the morning of his seventeenth birthday, Eijirou is woken up by a gentle hand carding through his hair.
He smiles softly, eyes still shut, hair a total mess.
“Mornin’, Katsuki,” he rumbles, cracking an eye open. He focuses his gaze on blond spikes, a button nose and sharp red eyes. Katsuki’s cheeks are a pretty pink, like they always are whenever Katsuki wakes him up.
I wonder why, Eijirou thinks to himself. Maybe my room is a bit hot for him, so he’s overheating.
“Time to get up, Ei,” Katsuki murmurs, brushing a strand of crimson out of his eye. Eijirou sits up, groaning as his back clicks, and rubs his face.
“Yeah, sure. Gimme a minute,” he mumbles, wincing at the brightness of the new day. “Oh, and Ei?” Katsuki adds, turning around. Eijirou nods, looking at him expectantly.
“Happy birthday, Red,” Katsuki smiles, placing his hand on the top of Eijirou’s head and rubbing it softly. Eijirou pauses, eyes wide, mouth a little slack. Katsuki turns around properly, then, and slips out of the room, leaving Eijirou to get ready.
Alone.
With his thoughts.
Once Eijirou is fully dressed, he grabs a large satchel and thunders down the stairs.
When he reaches the bottom of the staircase, Eijirou grinds to a screeching halt. The delectable scent of fried rice wafts towards him, and he drools a little, eyes glittering. “Katsuki?” he calls, the grin he’s sporting evident in his tone. Katsuki barks a laugh and walks into view, a steaming place of chicken fried rice in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
“Thought I’d make you something,” Katsuki utters gruffly, handing the plate and glass to Eijirou. He takes them, setting them down on the table, before surging forwards to wrap Katsuki up in a hug.
“Thank you,” he whispers into white-blond tufts of hair. Katsuki pats his back jerkily.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but Eijirou can envision the abashed smile Katsuki is wearing. Soon, they set off, Katsuki insisting upon taking Eijirou’s bag for him, Eijirou protesting but relenting (eventually).
The train journey is long, but after a couple of hours watching a detective show they’re hooked on, the pair arrive at Eijirou’s house. As they walk up the stone patio, Eijirou tugs Katsuki’s sleeve, pulling him to a halt.
“Katsuki,” he starts, then stops. Eijirou breathes, looking at the ground. His hands shake, and his throat closes up. But Katsuki is there in an instant.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Eijirou. Take your time, idiot,” Katsuki murmurs affectionately. Eijirou nods, each breath feeling like not enough and too much at the same time.
“When we go inside, I need to talk to you about something. I need you to listen to me until I finish, then if you want to, you can leave,” Eijirou hiccups, voice wavering, “but not a moment before then. Okay?”
Katsuki looks substantially worried by his statement, and frowns. “Yeah, of course, Ei, but—what’s going on?“
Eijirou shakes his head, already knocking on the entrance . “Inside,” is all he says, before his pops opens the front door.
+ + +
They move to the living room, Eijirou sitting down on the burgundy couch he’s grown up with, beckoning for Katsuki to take a seat beside him.
The blond slumps down, sitting close to Eijirou. “Can you tell me now?” Katsuki asks, somewhat impatiently. Before Eijirou can reply, his pops sits down, followed by his dad.
Kirishima Kei is the taller, quieter counterpart to his husband. Where Tsuyoshi is loud, Kei is quiet. Where Ei’s pops laughs openly, his dad hides a smile. Where one speaks, the other listens. They’re two halves of a whole, and Eijirou loves them to pieces. Eijirou swallows nervously, the action magnified a thousand times until it’s the only thing he can focus on.
His pops leans forwards, a calming hand on his knee. “Take your time, Eijirou,” he reassures, shooting his son a crooked grin. Eijirou smiles back at him, but it’s strained, and suddenly Eijirou is fighting to hold back tears.
“Um,” he wobbles, staring at his knees, “so this is my pops.” His voice tilts up at the end of he sentence, making it sound like a question.
Katsuki nods haltingly, still confused. “And this,” Eijirou breathes, gesturing at Kei, “is my dad.”
The tension is palpable.
Eijirou whimpers, barely audibly, and instantly curses himself for making such a cowardly noise. Inhaling deeply, he looks at Katsuki. “These are my fathers,” he says resolutely, “and if you can’t accept them, then we’ve got to stop being friends.”
Katsuki stares at Eijirou.
He keeps staring.
Eijirou fidgets, lip wobbling. Then, Katsuki cocks his head, looking infinitely more confused.
“Uh... yeah?”
Eijirou freezes. “What?” he asks, frowning.
Katsuki’s hand raises, then falls, like he’s not sure what to do with it. “Ei, I’ve known that since I first came to your house. I just figured you didn’t like talking about it, or something.” Katsuki says, scratching the back of his neck. Eijirou can’t function.
Neither can his dads, it seems, because both of them are gawping at Katsuki, completely gobsmacked. Katsuki’s head swivels between Eijirou’s fathers and Eijirou himself, his expression growing more and more incredulous by the minute. “Wha—did you think I didn’t know?” Katsuki asks, eyes bulging as he leans forwards on both hands. “Are you really that stupid—you have photos of all three of you hanging on pretty much every surface of your house!” he exclaims, snorting.
Tsuyoshi brings a shaky hand to his mouth. “You... you’re right, kiddo.”
Kei’s still staring at Katsuki, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
Eijirou bursts into tears. “Ei? Red, what’s wrong?” Katsuki frets, nearly falling out of his chair. Both of Eijirou’s fathers stand up, ready to rush to his side.
“I’M S-S-SO GLAD YOU D-DON’T HATE M-M-ME,” Eijirou blubbers, fat tears rolling down his ruddy cheeks. Katsuki scoffs.
“Hate you? Don’t be an idiot—I could never hate you, dumbass.”
His pops sinks down onto the sofa next to him, already chuckling as he wipes Eijirou’s tears with a tissue. “It’s okay, Eijirou,” he laughs, “Katsuki still loves you—doesn’t he?” Tsuyoshi says slyly.
Katsuki blusters. “Ah—woh—uh, yeah, I do,” Katsuki mumbles, flustered. Tiny ‘pap pap pap’s emerge from his hands—little miniature explosions.
Cussing quietly, Katsuki rushes to the kitchen, lifting the tap with his wrist and dunking his hands under the cold water. Kei watches the blond thoughtfully, noting the terms of endearment Katsuki used earlier, as well as the embarrassment at his husband’s sneaky words and general care for Eijirou. I don’t think I’m the only one head-over-heels in love with someone here, he thinks, then smiles.
+ + +
Kei leans over to his husband, who’s chortling at Katsuki’s tomato-red face.
“I told you they’d get together, didn’t I?” he murmurs, grinning when his husband pecks him on the cheek. “That you did, my love,” Tsuyoshi smirks, watching as Eijirou nearly face-plants into his nineteenth-birthday-cake.
A promise ring decorates both his and Katsuki’s fingers.