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For the first sleepover (ever) in his life, it's going very smoothly.
Hitoshi blows at his nails as he tries to get the dark green polish to dry faster. Katsuki's are such a deep purple they look almost black as the blond fans them out, and Izuku is flapping his arms frantically in the corner, fingers a red blur.
"Be careful," Hitoshi calls again, wincing as the greenie almost clips his fingertips on the nearby bookshelf stuffed to the brim with hero merch. "Don't hurt yourself."
"He'll be fine," Katsuki snorts, rolling his eyes. "Nerd's done stupider stuff."
Said nerd whines at the description, but doesn't disagree. He really can't; they all know about The Incidents, and they cannot ever forget.
There's a knock at the door, and all three of them perk up: Izuku and Katsuki with curiosity, and Hitoshi with fear. "Yes, Mom?" Izuku calls, and Hitoshi is still forming the words to chastise him for being so rude when another voice calls back.
"I'm sorry to bother you," his mother says, opening the door with a sweet smile that makes Hitoshi relax a small amount. "But I've made some cookies, and I'm looking for three cookie testers to help me out, if you wish?"
That gets everyone going. Hitoshi is the last out, and he finds it amusing that Izuku and Katsuki would move faster for cookies than they would if a fire was lit under their asses.
The air is tinged with the smell of baked treats, and it makes him wonder how he hadn't noticed it before. Maybe it's because of the pungent smell of polish permeating Izuku's room, or maybe he's just tired.
"Thank you, Ms. Midoriya," he says politely as he gingerly picks up a cooling cookie from the porcelain tray. Izuku and Katsuki both have one in their grips, happily eating away.
As he takes a bite, Hitoshi almost melts into the stool he's perched on. If he had ever tasted a better cookie, he was lying to himself.
The woman seems to notice his reaction and smiles. It's the same kind of smile Izuku has, he notes, vaguely dazed by how bright she is. "Well, of course!" she chirps, eyes crinkling at the corner. "You're my Izuku's friend. Anything you need, if I can help, I will."
He nods, because he isn't sure what else to do. The beginnings of discomfort gnaw at his stomach as he nibbles on the cookie, staring off into space. She's too nice, a voice whispers inside of him. She doesn't like you at all and she hates you.
But then he glances back up to where she's cupping the bud of a flower in the bouquet he'd nervously handed her when he walks in, and Hitoshi knows that's not true. This woman is too nice to have a single mean blood cell in her body, let alone a bone.
-
The weirdness continues.
She finds him looking for the laundry area and simply takes his basket for him, flashing a dramatic wink as she props it against her hip and waves him off with her other hand. "Shoo," she playfully says. "Those boys are almost too much without you."
He asks her where the bathroom is and not only does she guide him there, but she also instructs him on how to lock the door, use the toilet and shower, and where to safely store his toiletries, alongside offering some if he didn't happen to bring any. Inside of the cabinet, he puts his toothbrush beside Izuku and Katsuki's, noting that it's the exact same make of toothbrush that Katsuki kept in his own home, but a different one - this one seemed less worn, but well-used regardless.
"Ms. Midoriya?" he asks as he's packing up, before he can second-guess himself. "Why are you so nice to me?"
The woman in question pauses, the blanket in her grip shifting as she turns to look at him. "Well," she starts, clearly not having expected the question. "I think you're a very sweet boy. You always use your manners, you clean up after yourself, and most importantly," she stresses, then relaxes into a soft smile. "Most importantly, you're a good friend to them. Good friends will always have a place in his home."
Hitoshi can't tell if it's the warmth in his chest or the tears in his eyes that incapacitate his voice, but it's most likely both. "Thank you, Ms. Midoriya," he manages to choke out, turning to hide his face as he wipes it with his sleeve. "I think I needed that."
"I'm Inko to you," she says simply, then goes back to folding and sorting blankets. "No need for formalities."
-_-_-
Mitsuki Bakugou is just as weird, Hitoshi quickly finds.
She's rougher around the edges than Ms. Inko, but just as kind when you look beyond the crass tone and into the subject at hand. She speaks like she knows what she's doing, and Hitoshi trusts that she does.
No one as competent as Katsuki can have stupid parents, after all.
"Hag," Katsuki huffs as the trio pad downstairs and into the living room. "When's dinner?"
A head of spiky blonde hair pops from below the kitchen counter, and she yells back, rolling her vivid red eyes with a fond look. "Thirty minutes!"
Katsuki nods and turns back to the other two, raising an eyebrow at Hitoshi's flabbergasted expression. "What?" he sighs, waving his hand flippantly. "That's just how we talk."
"Can confirm," Izuku pipes up from where he'd flopped on the couch, patting the spot beside him, which Hitoshi takes. "She never talks like that to anyone else, though. Can't say the same for Kacchan-"
Izuku is cut off by a pillow to the face, and Hitoshi can't bite back the startled laugh that bubbles in his throat as the Bakugou household delves into a cacophony of yelling. Is he fond of the noise? No, but it's not overwhelming, and Hitoshi can handle it by now.
"Dinner!" a loud voice calls, and all three boys immediately rush to the dinner table before Hitoshi remembers his manners and finds himself at the kitchen island, shifting from foot to foot.
"Can I help with setting the table?" he tilts his head, and the blonde woman simply smiles as she slides the cutlery and plates over.
He does what he always does and is helpful, finding himself called over by Ms. Bakugou before he leaves the next morning.
"You're a good kid," she says gruffly, cracking a grin. "Don't let those boys get you down, alright?"
"They're my friends, ma'am," Hitoshi responds simply, a bit of sarcasm dripping from his tone. "It's inevitable."
The blonde snorts and gently reaches out to ruffle his bird's nest of a hairstyle. "Come back anytime," she suggests, raising a trimmed eyebrow. "I could use someone with some human left in 'em. I think those two boys are just balls of energy."
Hitoshi sighs, and the lady in front of him laughs. "Call me Mitsuki," Ms. Bakugou says, and he nods although he knows he won't.
"Thank you for having me over."
-_-_-
"Your moms are nice," he says to them suddenly one day, remembering. "Like, when I first met them, it kinda freaked me out. In a good way."
Izuku doesn't even look up from his game, simply snorting. "They're good moms," he shrugs, then leans over to push at Hitoshi's shoulder. "And a good mom can always tell when someone needs a bit of help."
Hitoshi grins, but he accepts the answer for what it is.
A memory.