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“No no no!”
“Izuku. You’re swayin’ on your feet, babe. I know you’re sleepy.”
“Am not!”
Katsuki sighs and rubs his temple, already feeling a headache coming on. He knows Izuku’s in need of a nap. After running around all afternoon, he’s been rubbing his eyes, visibly slowing down, for the past hour and a half. And yet…
“No nap? P’ease? I play?”
Well, at least he’s polite about it. Still— sweet as he is, Katsuki needs to get him down before he works himself up. Izuku always gets overtired fast, and that’s a whole other headache Katsuki would really like to avoid today. He’s fussy enough as it is.
“Izu, baby, c’mere.”
Izuku shakes his head dramatically. “Nuh-uh. I busy. I play blocks. An’ cars.” He takes one wobbly step backward for emphasis— and promptly stumbles, arms windmilling as he fights to stay upright.
Katsuki lunges forward on instinct, hands firm on Izuku’s sides before he can topple.
“Easy, baby”, he mutters, steadying him. “That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”
Izuku blinks very, very slowly up at him, like he’s so tired that even thinking takes tremendous effort.
“I okay”, Izuku insists, though his words are slower, heavy with exhaustion. He rubs one eye with a balled fist, leaning into Katsuki’s touch without even realizing he’s doing it. “I jus’ dizzy, a li’l”, he says. “Don’ needa nap”, he adds after a moment, as if repeating it will convince him.
Katsuki hums. “We don’t have to take a nap”, he says smoothly. “We’re just gonna lie down for a minute.” He holds out his arms in invitation.
Izuku eyes him suspiciously. Pouts. Takes another two steps backwards.
Katsuki sighs. He could just pick him up. That was always an option. Scoop him up, tuck him under his arm, ignore the inevitable protests until Izuku melts into him like always.
Today, however, that’s looking like less and less of an option. Izuku is in a mood. Overwhelmed, stubborn, clinging so tightly to the illusion of independence. Forcing it would only turn this into unnecessary tears.
Nah. Katsuki’s got one more strategy.
He flops down on the couch with a big sigh, stretching out and burying his head in his arms. Izuku seems to take that as a sign he’s won and plops back down by his cars, pushing them back and forth happily with a little “vrrrm.” Katsuki watches him for a moment. He’s so, so visibly exhausted, but he’s never gonna admit it himself. Naps are the enemy to Izuku.
Katsuki exhales loudly, dramatically. Turns over. Runs a hand through his hair.
One of Katsuki’s favorite things about Izuku is how deeply he feels. His heart is too big for his own good, especially when he’s little. Izuku has never been able to walk past someone who needs help. Not once. Not as a hero, not as a teacher, not as a child, and certainly not when he’s regressed. If someone looks just the slightest bit off, Izuku feels it like a tug in his chest, a quiet insistence to do something. His empathy is so painfully honest, so woven into every part of his being. It used to frustrate Katsuki to no end. Now, Katsuki adores that about him more than he can put into words.
It does, however, come with a downside for Izuku— and a very convenient upside for Katsuki: that boundless empathy makes him incredibly, disastrously easy to sway. Unfortunately for Izuku, Katsuki is more than willing to take advantage of that.
He throws an arm over his eyes and sighs again, more theatrical this time. “Man, I’m just so, so tired.”
Izuku peeks up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You nap”, he suggests helpfully, intent on going right back to playing.
Katsuki shakes his head. “I wish I could. I just can’t do it all by myself. If only there were someone who could help me…” he sighs. “I’m so sleepy, what a shame. I could really use a snuggle.”
Izuku blinks at him, brows knitting in confusion. He pushes himself off the floor clumsily, stumbling closer. Gotcha.
Katsuki peeks at him through his fingers, then drops his arm back dramatically. “But there’s nobody. Nobody at all. Guess I’ll just lie here, all alone. So cold and sad…”
He lets out the absolute saddest sigh he can muster, and Izuku’s face crumples.
“Oh no”, he whispers, sounding so genuinely distressed that Katsuki has to cover his face to avoid laughing.
He shuffles closer, hands twisting in his shirt. He looks between Katsuki and the empty space on the couch like he’s trying to come to a very important decision.
“No snuggle?” Izuku asks, horrified.
Katsuki shakes his head solemnly. “Nope. If only there were someone here who could help give snuggles… then I’d really be able to sleep.”
Izuku’s lower lip wobbles.
“But…” he says slowly, thinking hard. “But ‘Zuku here.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
“Oh?” Katsuki says, sitting up a bit. “You’d really do that? For me?”
“Yuh-huh!” Izuku nods very seriously, already clambering up onto the couch until Katsuki pulls him the rest of the way up. He flops onto Katsuki’s chest with an oof, curls tucked under his chin, snuggling in like it’s his own personal mission.
“What a relief. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you”, Katsuki murmurs, adjusting them both subtly— an arm around Izuku’s back, hand between his shoulder blades.
Izuku’s chest puffs up. “I good helper?” he asks, then squirms a little, still buzzing with leftover energy. He kicks his feet once, twice.
“You sure are,” Katsuki assures him, grabbing a paci from the coffee table and pressing it to his lips. Izuku pauses, startled for half a second, before instinct takes over. His whole body seems to loosen at once, finally relaxing.
“M’kay,” he mumbles around it, words already slurring. “But m’not sleepin’… jus’… jus’ help. Help K’cchan.”
Katsuki hides his grin by pressing a kiss to his curls. “Just helping. Of course.”
Katsuki rubs his back, listening to his breathing even out.
Izuku’s eyes flutter.
“Sleepy?” he asks quietly, half-asleep as he says it.
“Mhm,” Katsuki answers. “Real sleepy.”
Izuku nods once, convinced. “‘Kay. I help good.”
A full minute passes.
Then another.
Izuku’s grip on Katsuki’s shirt loosens, paci bobbing in his sleep. Katsuki adjusts the blanket over Izuku’s legs as he nuzzles closer, out cold. Katsuki knew he was sleepy, stubborn nerd.
“Such a sweet helper,” he murmurs fondly.