Mismatched Rhythms and Lullabies

Katsuki's POV

The early light of dawn cast a warm, golden hue over Katsuki's living room, transforming the usual disarray of baby essentials into a scene almost serene.

Katsuki navigated the living room landscape, a careful dance he'd mastered out of necessity. Holding Eri wasn't just a matter of physical contact; it was a calculated effort to maintain peace. The football hold became his strategy—Eri nestled against his forearm, her tiny frame supported in a way that allowed her the freedom to observe her world without immediate distress. It was awkward, her limbs dangling, but it worked, keeping her calm for the moments it took to cross from one end of the room to the other.

Izuku Midoriya had become an unexpected cornerstone in these early stages of fatherhood, his presence bringing both relief and a quiet challenge to Katsuki's self-sufficiency. His neighbor's recent venture into the world of child development toys, coupled with an endless stream of parenting trivia, was a curveball Katsuki hadn't seen coming.

Just days ago, Izuku dove headfirst into this newfound obsession, each visit showcasing another gadget or toy meant to stimulate Eri's growing mind. The mobile walker, with dangling colorful, intricate shapes designed to captivate and educate, was merely the latest addition.

Katsuki couldn't pinpoint exactly what sparked Izuku's sudden fervor for contributing in this specific manner. For all the meticulous research and good intentions, Izuku's hands-on help often bordered on comically inept. Yet, his knack for uncovering entertainments that actually caught Eri's interest was undeniable. It was an odd contrast—on one hand, Izuku's practical caregiving skills left much to be desired; on the other, his efforts brought bursts of joy and curiosity to Eri's day-to-day life.

This dynamic between them, marked by Izuku's eagerness to help and Katsuki's hesitant acceptance, was miles apart from their initial agreement. Katsuki navigated a complex mesh of feelings—gratitude mixed with a gnawing sense of dependency, an uncomfortable yet growing reliance on Izuku's presence.

Where once there was skepticism and a firmly held belief in his own sufficiency, Katsuki now faced the reality of his limitations as a single father. Izuku's persistence, though often clad in awkward attempts at babysitting, had unwittingly begun to mend the fragile bond between Katsuki and Eri, a barrier he was desperate, yet struggling to overcome.

It was a debt he wasn't sure how to repay, not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

"Honorary uncle, maybe?" Katsuki mused aloud, the title feeling both appropriate and woefully inadequate for Izuku's role in their lives and something he would never say to the other man willingly.

The mobile caught the light as he moved, drawing a soft coo from Eri. It was a minor victory, her attention momentarily captured by the toy rather than dissolving into fussiness.

"I should just gift him a superhero cape," he muttered, the lightness of the jest belying a deeper acknowledgment of Izuku's role in their lives. "He'd probably wear it with too much pride, the nerd."

As Katsuki wrestled with his thoughts, the sudden knock at the door jerked him back to the present, interrupting their morning's fragile tranquility. In his arms, Eri shifted, her wide eyes darting toward the source of the sound, her calmness an anchor amidst Katsuki's rising apprehension. He wasn't used to unexpected visitors. Casting a wary glance at Eri to ensure she remained undisturbed by the intrusion, he moved toward the door.

Opening it revealed a sight that, despite becoming increasingly common, never failed to amuse him. Izuku stood on the threshold, clad in an outfit that screamed 'adventure awaits', his arms burdened with bags that seemed excessive for the urban sprawl of their neighborhood. The flyer in his hands, screaming "Farmers Market" in bold, vibrant hues, was just the enthusiastic overkill Katsuki had come to associate with Izuku.