Chapter Text
Katsuki wakes up in his bed with his boyfriend’s arm draped over him. He checks the time—evening still, that’s good—and relaxes, sorting through memories. Remembering littlespace is always a bit hazy, like the memories belong to someone else, almost, and of course there’s the ever-present twinge of embarrassment, shame.
He sits up and hisses through his teeth, going to scrub a hand over his face. Ugh, he’s still wearing his wrist braces. Which is good, the way he fucked up his arms, but he has too many complicated feelings right now to keep them on.
The velcro straps are loud as Katsuki works them off, and he winces when Hitoshi starts to stir beside him.
“Kats, baby, leave ‘em,” he mumbles, eyes still closed as he feels his way across the mattress.
Katsuki tosses the first brace right at his head (lightly!). “Not a baby right now.”
“Still a brat, though,” Hitoshi complains, pushing himself up.
Katsuki freezes in the middle of getting his second brace off, staring down at his own hand.
“‘m not…” he says, voice too high and wobbly. He feels like he’s shrinking, or everything around him is towering. “I was?”
“Shi—crap, no, baby, you’re not a brat,” Hitoshi says quickly. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid joke, I didn’t mean it. You’re my good boy.”
Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and takes a couple of harsh breaths through his nose.
“Kats?”
“‘m an adult,” he mutters. He hates flip-flopping between headspaces. It’s confusing as fuck. “I don’t wanna—not right now.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi says, back in his normal voice. He sits back on his heels. “Seriously, though, that was a dick move on my part.”
“I’m just being fragile, it’s fine–”
“Katsuki,” Hitoshi interrupts. “Please just fucking accept the apology.”
“Fine,” he mutters, ripping the velcro off the brace and tossing it aside.
Hitoshi drums his fingers on his knee, clearly giving Katsuki the opportunity to speak first, but he rarely does in these conversations.
“Your wrists okay?”
Katsuki rolls them around, testing. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Hitoshi says softly. “And look, I’m really sorry. I did a shit job today.”
“You did fine, I’m the one with the issues. You—your head’s okay, right?” Katsuki glances at him quickly, then away.
“Yeah, for sure. I was more startled than anything. The cabinet’s fine, too, just needed a screw. You can tell it’s chipped, but who cares about aesthetics.”
Katsuki snorts.
“I really should’ve asked before I brought out the bottle,” Hitoshi says quietly.
“Yeah, probably. The fuck’d you do that for, anyway?” Katsuki plucks at the cuff of his cat hoodie. “‘m not a baby.”
“Sometimes you are,” Hitoshi says, very gently. “I noticed. And it’s fine, you know? You’re really…really sweet. And cute.”
Katsuki snaps his teeth. “Fuck off.”
There’s no heat to it. Hitoshi smiles. “You are, though. And—well, aside from last night, which was kind of different—it seems like it only happens when you’re, like, happy. And safe and shit. And it didn’t used to happen before. So, like.”
“God, just spit out whatever sappy crap you’re sitting on,” Katsuki grumbles.
“I’m just happy you trust me,” Hitoshi blurts.
Katsuki looks at him for maybe too long. “Tch. ‘Course I trust you. Think I’d do this around just anyone?”
“I know,” Hitoshi says. He shakes himself a little. “But like, anyway. A few weeks ago you were, uh, like that, and I could kinda tell you were struggling with even, like, a sippy cup—hey, hey, I’m not making fun, get back over here—and, I dunno. You like putting stuff in your mouth anyway, at that age. I would’ve gotten you a pacifier if I didn’t think you’d explode it.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Katsuki snarls.
“Yeah, I thought so. I did get something else, though, but–”
“What?”
Hitoshi shifts a little, uncomfortable. “We’re not, um, talking about that right now.”
“What, you wanna spring it on me and give me another panic attack?”
“No!” Hitoshi yelps, and yeah, that was probably a dick move on Katsuki’s part. “Just…just hang on, okay? One thing at a time.”
Katsuki crosses his arms. “Fine. So you thought, bottle. Whatever.”
“I really did mean to talk to you about it beforehand,” Hitoshi says sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to like, trick you into being receptive when you were small, or anything.”
Katsuki blinks. He hadn’t even considered that angle. He just nods for Hitoshi to continue.
“I definitely should’ve asked what you wanted, if you wanted anything, it’s just…you really don’t like to talk that little, and it seemed pretty natural, you know? Baby, bottle, milk.”
Katsuki swallows, just to prove to himself that he still can. “Yeah, I know.”
“I swear I’ve seen you drink milk before, too, if I’d known–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki groans. “I didn’t tell you, so you literally could not have fucking known, I’m not mad about it. I don’t like it when I’m big, either. It feels—you know. Makes me think of shit. I probably drink it like, once in a blue moon when I feel like it.”
“You’re just more sensitive like that,” Hitoshi muses. “And I didn’t give you a choice, or time to prepare.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Katsuki shrugs. “I’m sorry. I know I scared the shit out of you.”
Hitoshi laughs weakly. “Little bit.”
“You had it handled, though,” Katsuki says. He’s always been impressed by that, in any context. Hitoshi’s ability to stay calm under pressure.
“I was completely terrified,” Hitoshi admits. “I really—I thought you were really hurt, because I was trying to put you down and you fell and I didn’t see if you hit your head. And I was worried you wouldn’t trust me anymore. You looked so scared.”
“Thought it’d kill me,” Katsuki admits gruffly. “Which is stupid. But. Yeah.”
“God,” Hitoshi breathes out. “Can…can I hug you, for a sec?”
Katsuki shoots him a frown, but scoots over, obliging. Hitoshi pulls him all the way into his lap and buries his face in his hair.
“Oi–”
“Shh, just a second, just a second,” Hitoshi whispers, fast and with the exact cadence he gets before he cries.
Katsuki settles. Loops one arm around Hitoshi’s ribs to gently squeeze him back. Hitoshi doesn’t cry, he doesn’t think, but he does sniff wetly.
“You okay?” Katsuki ventures after a second.
“I feel really bad,” he admits. “I made a baby think I was gonna kill him, fuck.”
“Hey, I was panicking, you know that shit doesn’t run on logic–”
“Kats, please, please shut up for a second.”
Katsuki shuts up. Hitoshi pets him a bit, and it all feels weird because he isn’t little, but he allows it for Hitoshi’s sake.
“I just,” Hitoshi starts. He laughs a little. “I guess you don’t get it. I seriously love you when you’re little. Like, so much. And obviously, like, all the time, just—you’re really important to me, and you’re so cute and sweet it makes me want to break things a little bit, and it hurts so fucking bad when you cry.”
“Sorry,” Katsuki whispers, a questioning little uptick right at the end. He’s confused, honestly.
“Don’t, that’s not…don’t be sorry. I just love you a lot and last night I hurt you way too much and I just…”
Katsuki pets his arm a little, gentles his voice. He might be trying to mimic Hitoshi a bit. “What do you need?”
“I just wanna know you’re okay,” Hitoshi whispers.
“Okay,” Katsuki whispers back. “I’m okay.”
“You are,” Hitoshi says, and Katsuki hears what’s unsaid.
Unease prickles up his spine, and, feeling cowardly for it, he pushes himself out of Hitoshi’s grasp.
“Kats?”
“Sorry.” He pulls his knees up, digging his forehead into them and breathing slowly. “Sorry, I’m having a reaction to that and trying not to be an asshole about it.”
“You can be an asshole if you wanna be,” Hitoshi offers.
Katsuki’s not going to do that to him. It’s bad enough that he does it when he’s small. He's supposed to be better at this shit now.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Hitoshi asks after several long beats of silence.
I’m not a circus performer. I’m not gonna do it on command for you. Would you ask because you like me better that way? Because I’m sweeter or just because you want a project? What happens if I give in once and you keep asking? You can’t ask a kid to be your emotional support, you can’t do that to me, don’t do this to me–
“You can’t ask me to do it for you,” Katsuki decides on. “Not, like, a performance, it can’t work like that–”
“Katsuki, no, ” Hitoshi says. “I wouldn’t do that. It’d make me feel better to know right now, for sure, but I wasn’t actually going to ask.”
Katsuki breathes out, slow. “Right. Yeah, no, I know that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Hitoshi sighs, running a hand through his hair.
Katsuki’s stomach growls. He remembers abruptly that he hasn’t eaten since lunch. Hitoshi snorts at him.
“Hey, you’re the one that didn’t give me a snack,” he snarks, rolling out of bed. He starts to head to the kitchen, but stops when he gets to their bedroom doorway, resting a hand on the frame.
“Katsuki?” Hitoshi asks from behind. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, I‘m just…a little fuzzy, apparently.” Not teetering on the border between headspaces, but within view of it. It’s a weird feeling, but not an unfamiliar one. And usually he would push through, but… “You wanna cook? Or order in?”
“I’ll cook,” Hitoshi says determinedly. Katsuki looks over his shoulder, dubious. “I will! I’ve been learning.”
“Fine. I’ll pick a movie for us, then. Just do something easy, I don’t want another headache.”
“Aw, ‘course baby,” Hitoshi says, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek as he passes. “Call if you need anything.”
Katsuki squints at his back. He can’t decide if Hitoshi called him baby on purpose or just slipped.
Ha. Slipped.
Either way, he heads into the living room. Flops on the couch and pulls up Netflix.
It comes up halfway through some kid’s movie, a bunch of dogs and a little orange cat. Katsuki has a vague, fuzzy memory of the one with the red bandana.
Something in him is compelled to press play instead of navigating away, and he quickly turns the volume down low before Hitoshi hears from the kitchen. It’s colorful and bright and simple and Katsuki has no clue what’s going on because he slept through the first half, but it’s not bad. Most kids’ media annoys the hell out of him in his normal headspace, and a good bit of it still does when he’s small.
Picky baby, Hitoshi says fondly in his head.
It is kind of hard to hear on the couch like this, so Katsuki slides to the floor, scooting closer. He doesn’t think too much about how it feels better to be down on the carpet, almost craning his neck up at the screen. More right. He just stares, transfixed.
He whines softly when the little orange kitten gets taken away from his owner, covering his mouth with his hand just a little too late. Hopefully Hitoshi didn’t hear.
And then, well, his hand is already there, so it’s no surprise his fingers find their way into his mouth.
“Hey, baby-cat,” a soft voice says, pulling his attention away. Hitoshi crouches beside him. “Let’s get fingers out of our mouths, huh? Kinda gross.”
Katsuki whines and shakes his head.
“I know, I know,” Hitoshi pouts at him, sympathetic. “I got you somethin’, though. You wanna try it?”
He holds up a thin black cord. Dangling on the end of it is a small black silicone grenade. Katsuki stares.
“It’s a chew necklace,” Hitoshi explains. “I got a bunch, actually, but I figured you’d like this one best. You gotta take your fingers out of your mouth if you want it, though, baby.”
Katsuki pouts but does as he’s told. Hitoshi loops the cord over his head and pokes the grenade into his mouth. Rolling it all around, Katsuki tests it out. It’s not so big or tough that it hurts his jaw to chew on, and it squeaks nicely between his back teeth.
“You like it?” Hitoshi asks.
Katsuki nods.
“Good.” Hitoshi ruffles his hair. “Any reason you didn’t come tell me you’re small?”
Katsuki blanches. He is. He is small. He didn’t mean to be, he just—he was supposed to be picking a movie.
He messed up.
“Hey, no, honey, don’t cry,” Hitoshi says immediately. “I’m not mad, little cat. You’re alright. Kats, hey, look at me, do I look mad?”
He’s cupping Katsuki’s face, making him look, so of course Katsuki has to shake his head and admit that no, he doesn’t look mad.
“I’m not mad. But I thought we agreed you’d try to tell me when you’re small so I can make sure you’re safe and happy, right?”
“‘m ‘orry,” Katsuki mumbles. “Kitty.”
“You just wanted to watch the movie, huh?” Hitoshi says. “I guess I’ll have to forgive you, since you’re so cute.”
Katsuki scrunches his nose, but he’s smiling, too. Hitoshi’s phrasing brings something to the forefront of his mind then, and he frowns.
“Kats?”
“Fo’give you,” he mumbles, pointing at Hitoshi. They’re close enough that it’s more like poking him hard in the sternum.
“Hm?”
“Sad,” Katsuki explains. “Small. Fo’gives you.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. Can I have a couple more words? Why’re you sad?”
Katsuki spits out his grenade, frustrated, and forcibly drags himself to a headspace where he has access to more words. “You’re sad,” he says, poking him again. “I’m small. Small ‘nd not mad at you.”
“I’m gonna squeeze you,” Hitoshi says fondly, half threat and half warning. Katsuki is warmed by it; Hitoshi started being more careful about that sort of stuff ever since the tickling incident (his bruise didn’t fade for a week) and the incident where he playfully laid on top of Katsuki and Katsuki got so scared he threw up. That was the early days.
“Squeeze!” Katsuki chirps, submitting himself to it and pushing sadder thoughts out of his head. Hitoshi wraps him up in a tight hug for just a few seconds before letting go.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” Hitoshi says. “Watch the end of your movie, m’kay, and then dinner will be ready. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Katsuki pouts at the screen, where it’s raining on all the characters but at least the girl and the cat have been reunited. “Missed it,” he mumbles.
“You didn’t miss much, bug, I was watching. Really boring stuff, just lots of people talking.”
Katsuki hmphs because he’s pretty sure that’s not true, but he doesn’t want to fight. “Fine.”
“Good boy.” Hitoshi ruffles his hair again before padding back to the kitchen.
Katsuki happily watches through the end of the movie, as the girl and the kitten return to their big fancy house and the kitten agrees to keep being friends with all of the dogs even though they’re separated. It’s a little sad that they can’t all live together, but they seem happy, so Katsuki doesn’t mind. The credits roll, and he glances toward the kitchen.
“Toshi!”
“Yeah?” Hitoshi skids into view immediately, relaxing when he sees Katsuki. “All done in here?”
Katsuki lifts his arms up, both an answer that yes, he is done, and a universal request to be picked up. Hitoshi laughs gently and trots over, scooping him off the ground.
“Are you sure you’re not done growing?” he grunts. “I swear you were lighter a few hours ago.”
“Jus’ gettin’ old,” Katsuki informs him.
Hitoshi lets out an incredulous laugh. “Alright, mister. Whatever you say. You wanna eat at the table or on the couch?”
“Couch, couch,” Katsuki chirps, pleased.
“Alright, let me just grab the plates here and–”
“Juice.”
Hitoshi stops for a second before catching up to him. “Yeah, baby, you can have juice, just give me a second to–”
“Juice,” Katsuki insists. “Pl’se.”
Hitoshi sighs. “Yeah, okay, one sec.”
Wait…wait that’s not a good sigh. Not good words. Katsuki didn’t mean to…
“Sorry? Sorry, ‘m sorry, don’ need it.”
“No, shit stop moving—Katsuki, hey.” He stops squirming to get away, to stop being an inconvenience, and hesitantly looks at Hitoshi. “I’m gonna get your juice, okay? I’m not upset. But do you remember what we talked about, about being patient?”
Katsuki’s face burns. “‘m sorry.”
“I know you are, sweetpea, but you still did it.”
“Feels r’lly long,” Katsuki mumbles. He knows he was bad, but it seems important that Hitoshi know he didn’t want to be. “Longer ‘an when ‘m big.”
Hitoshi stops. Frowns at him. Slowly sits him down on the counter, but before Katsuki can panic about being left there, he steps in close. “Kats, you never told me about this before.”
“Sorry…?”
“No, don’t be.” Hitoshi tips his head up. “Baby, be honest with me for a sec. Time feels different when you’re small?”
Katsuki nods, the movement big and loose. “‘s slower.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi says. “Thank you for telling me, I didn’t know. We still gotta work on you being patient, but I understand now.”
“Thank you,” Katsuki mumbles. He likes it when Hitoshi listens to him. It’s nice. “Juice now?”
Hitoshi chuckles. “Juice now. You want back up?”
Of course Katsuki wants back up. Hitoshi scoops him up easily and manages to pour apple juice into a sippy cup (it has sharks on it) (sharks are cool) with only one hand. He passes it to Katsuki and grabs their plates as well, balancing everything on the way back to the couch.
It takes Katsuki five minutes to decide to unscrew the lid from his cup. He’s too big for it, at the point where it feels weird and awkward and forced, but not enough to be grumpy about the cup or the drink itself.
“Kats, put that back,” Hitoshi warns.
“Not gonna spill,” he mumbles. “Bigger now.”
Hitoshi eyes him, then shrugs. “Okay. Just be careful, and let me know if you need help.”
Katsuki sticks his tongue out at him. Hitoshi does it right back.
They watch a new superhero movie that’s kind of sweet and kind of crap—Katsuki comes all the way back to his normal headspace partway through, though, so he’s biased—and when the credits roll Katsuki leans over and kisses the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth.
“Love you,” he mumbles. “Thanks for today.”
Hitoshi squeezes him around the shoulders. “Always.”