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Shouto comes back from his lunch date with Fuyumi worried about fuckin’ stretchmarks.
“Did you know,” he says, twirling a strand of long hair back and forth around his finger as he paces the living room in front of Katsuki, “that nee-san tried all sorts of things and still got them? She was telling me something about okra water and tearing later and I physically recoiled. I almost knocked the tray out of the poor waiter’s hands.”
Katsuki sighs. Shouto does this, when he gets worried. Works himself up into a mess of feelings, and just has to try and untangle them into words no matter how they spill out of him. Katsuki’s got a lot of practice at witnessing his little outbursts.
They’re cute, really.
But this one is Katsuki’s fault, for a definition of the word, so—
“C’mere,” Katsuki says, grabbing Shouto by his waist and pulling him into his lap without waiting for a response. “Alpha’s got you.”
He nuzzles at Shouto’s scent gland, and Shouto melts into it all content before—
“But Katsuki, what if I’m bad at it?”
“At having a baby?” Katsuki asks, only mildly incredulous.
Shouto nods, pulling his long hair to one side. “Birth is actually really traumatic, you know. Nee-san had these books about it. There’s the tearing, and the placenta detaching leaves behind an open wound, and—I’m not sure how I feel about being handed something that just came out of me still unwashed, actually.”
Katsuki can perfectly picture the scrunch of his nose even before it happens. He laughs, can’t help it. “Alright then,” he says. “I’ll take it first.”
Shouto turns to look at him fully, an arm around Katsuki’s neck to keep himself steady. It’s barely been a little over two months. They’ve got time to figure it out. But if Shouto wants to plan ahead, Katsuki doesn’t mind.
“The baby?” he asks.
“Mm,” Katsuki says. “I’ll magnanimously sacrifice while it’s all yucky and give it back to you once it’s tidy and clean. How’s that sound?”
Shouto laughs. “I doubt I’ll be very tidy and clean,” he says. “You might not like me as much after.”
And the thing is—
Katsuki knows Shouto doesn’t say these things like he used to when they were kids, insecurities spoken like unshakeable truths, but he’s never been that good at hiding where it might hurt if you poke him when you pay attention, so. Katsuki’s his alpha, anyway. That’s what he’s for. So Shouto can open that pretty mouth and show Katsuki exactly where to kiss him all better.
“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed not to like me in there?” he asks. “You know, because you’ll be in pain?”
Shouto’s mouth purses. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Besides—it’ll be for a good reason, right?” He runs a hand over his still flat stomach, the corner of his mouth curling up into a little smile. Then, he says, like he’s sharing a secret, “I—I really want to, Katsuki. Do you think I’ll do a good job?”
“Do I think you’ll be a good mom, you mean?” Katsuki asks.
Shouto shivers in his lap. “Don’t say it like that,” he protests. “You make it sound like—”
“Like what, baby?”
Teeth digging into the inside of his cheek, Shouto says, “Like you’re picturing me making apple pie in a gingham apron, or something.”
“You don’t like apples,” Katsuki points out, cupping Shouto’s cheek and rubbing a finger back and forth over the swell of his cheekbone. “Why would you make apple pie?”
And—
Shouto lets out a little whimper at that, tucking his face into Katsuki’s neck, and he whines, “Not fair,” all stubborn about it. Tch. Like Katsuki minds even if he never moves and makes up his mind to usurp Katsuki’s lap for the rest of his pregnancy instead. They can both afford it. And Katsuki would sure like to see that old bastard talk about cutting Shouto’s pay when he’s like this.
Katsuki pulls Shouto even closer. He doesn’t want any space between them. Hasn’t in a long time, even back when he was still embarrassed about it and ended up yelling at everyone except Shouto until Shouto decided to take his hand and smile at him in that special way that was meant just for Katsuki, and now—
They’re having a baby.
Shouto ran out of the bathroom when the test came back positive, and back then he was rambling about I know you had your heart set on making the top three this year, and I’d have to file for maternity leave, and not sure if we’re ready yet, so Katsuki took his face into his hands and kissed him full on the mouth, because—
Well, because everything he’d ever thought he wanted badly enough to reach for paled in comparison to the look on Shouto’s face in that moment, and Katsuki realized the only thing he’d had his heart set on for a damn long while was just. Making sure Shouto was happy, and maybe also making sure he was responsible for it. For giving his pretty omega anything he wants.
(Even if that meant kissing all over his teary face after Shouto mumbled are you sure? and you don’t hate me? against his mouth with his hands clutching the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt.)
“You okay there?” Katsuki asks, rubbing Shouto’s back in slow circles.
“Not fair,” Shouto repeats, voice wetter than the first time. “You can’t do that.”
“Can’t do what, princess?” Katsuki asks softly. “Thought I was supposed to take care of you.”
“Not this well,” Shouto protests. Then, even smaller, “I’ll get used to it.”
“Hey,” Katsuki says, pulling back a little to tip Shouto’s chin up and make him look at him. “Aren’t you already used to it? What have I been doing all this time, huh?”
“Taking care of me,” Shouto says, a little like he’s embarrassed about it. “Better than anyone else.”
“Damn right,” says Katsuki. “That’s what your alpha’s for, sweetheart.”
And Shouto—
Shouto says, “Are you sure you don’t mind?” like he’s actually kept himself up at night before an 8 a.m. shift worrying about it or some shit, and Katsuki thinks fuck, I gotta love him better than that so viscerally he almost blurts the words out loud.
He doesn’t want Shouto to think it’s his fault, though. So instead he presses his lips to the edge of Shouto’s perfect little mouth, and whispers, “You’re mine, princess. Course I don’t mind.”
“What about now?” Shouto says. “You know, since—it won’t be just us anymore.”
Katsuki nips at his earlobe. “Now I guess I gotta rub your belly so you stop worrying about the damn stretchmarks and the other stuff,” he says. “How’s that sound?”
“No okra water?” Shouto says very seriously.
Katsuki nods. “No okra water,” he promises. “No other weird shit either.”
Shouto considers this. “What about kisses?”
“When have I ever not wanted to kiss you?” Katsuki asks, because yeah, he might not have had words for it back then, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have minded kissing Shouto the first time he laid eyes on him and realized that the pretty princess smelled like fucking strawberries. “You think I’m gonna want it any less now that you’re like this?”
“Carrying your child, you mean?” Shouto asks, arching an eyebrow at him.
Which is just—
Well, Katsuki’s alpha definitely likes the sound of that.
“Now you’re playing dirty,” Katsuki accuses, eyes narrowed.
Shouto chooses that precise moment to press his lips to his forehead and whine, “I thought you liked me,” though, so. Of course Katsuki crumbles.
“Get your facts right,” he says. “You’re the best thing on this damn earth, sweetheart, and I love you.”
“Oh,” Shouto says, all pleased. “Okay then. My bad.”
Yeah, well. Good thing Katsuki’s here to remind him. And to hold him close so he doesn’t go using that pretty little head to think too hard when he could be sitting in Katsuki’s lap instead.
They’re good, like this.