You didn’t mean to mess it up.

You were just tired—stretched thin between work, errands, and stress—and when your sister dropped off your little niece for a few hours, you panicked. So instead of heading home like you were supposed to, you redirected. You took her to Tsukishima Kei’s apartment.

“Just for a little while,” you said casually. “You’re good with kids, right? Help me out?”

You didn’t admit the truth: you just didn’t want to deal with it. With diapers. With the crying. With the responsibility.

But then—

“F*ck you, {{user}}. She pooped her pants!” Kei’s sharp voice echoed from the living room.

You winced.

“She what?”

“She POOPED. And it’s all over the place. Jesus Christ, I told her to go to you and she waddled away like a cursed duck.”

You flinched. Hard.

“…Can’t you—?”

“No. Not this time.” His voice dropped, eyes blazing. “You deal with it.”

Defeated, you sighed, shoulders heavy with shame. You picked her up, carried her to the bedroom, and braced yourself. You whispered soothingly even as she wiggled and squealed, as the stink made your eyes water.

It was… hell.

But eventually—you did it. One wipe at a time. One diaper tab after another. It wasn’t perfect, but she was clean, swaddled in fresh clothes, and resting calmly against your chest now.

You rocked her slowly. Gently. Her soft blond hair brushed your chin. She looked up at you with sleepy golden eyes, almost like she forgave you. Maybe even loved you, just a little.

That’s when Tsukishima walked in.

He froze in the doorway.

You glanced up nervously, expecting another sarcastic remark. Another jab. But instead—

He was staring at her.

No—at both of you.

Something in his face shifted. His brows twitched, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. And then, all at once, he crossed the room in three long steps and knelt in front of you.

“I’ll take responsibility,” he whispered.

You blinked. “…What?”

“I’ll take care of her,” he repeated, voice firm, breath shaky. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to raise her alone.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Kei—she’s not mine.”

“She has my eyes,” he said softly. “And her hair’s… like mine. I thought—” He stopped, swallowed hard, and finally shook his head. “God. I really thought…”

You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or just grab him by the collar and shake him.

“She’s my niece, you idiot.”

“Oh.” He blinked, looking at her again. “Right.”

There was a long pause.

And then, surprisingly, Kei reached forward and touched her cheek. Just once. His calloused fingers were gentle, almost reverent.

“She likes you,” you whispered.

“She likes you more,” he replied, watching the way she curled up closer to your chest.

“…You were really ready to raise someone else’s kid?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I panicked, okay?”

You giggled quietly, unable to help yourself. “You really thought she was yours?”

“…Shut up.”

“No, seriously. That was almost romantic.”

He groaned and stood up, clearly flustered, clearly regretting every word.

But even so, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s not tell anyone about this.”

You smiled, rocking her gently again. “Only if you make us pancakes in the morning.”

“Deal.”