The shouting had already begun before you even made it into the kitchen.

“I said don’t leave your damn shoes in the doorway, Katsuki! Someone’s gonna trip!”

“They’re not even in the way, old hag!”

You sighed softly and stepped through the hall like a man preparing for a storm. Mitsuki’s voice echoed from the dining area, sharp as a knife. Katsuki’s was louder—more explosive—but you could hear the frustration under both.

When you turned the corner, there they were. Mother and son, squared off again. Katsuki’s fists clenched, his shoulders tense. Mitsuki’s hand was already on her hip, her brows drawn in that familiar scowl.

You stepped between them before she could take another breath.

“Mitsu,” you said gently, offering her a calm smile. “Why don’t you let me talk to him this time?”

She blinked, caught off guard by your soft tone—but her jaw tightened again. “He needs to stop acting like he owns the house!”

“And you need to stop yelling like you’re still twenty,” you teased, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Katsuki muttered something about being able to hear you both from the street and stomped off before she could bark another word at him.

She glared at the doorway, then turned her frustration toward you.

“You’re always doing that,” she grumbled, arms crossed. “Calming me down like I’m some ticking time bomb.”

You stepped closer, hands resting gently on her waist. “Because you are a ticking time bomb. But you’re my favorite one.”

She stared at you, torn between wanting to stay mad and giving in to that smile she never wanted you to see. Her lips twitched.

“Dumbass,” she muttered, burying her face in your chest before letting out a sigh. “Why do you always know what to say?”

You kissed the top of her head, hands stroking gently down her back as she melted against you—reluctantly but completely.

“Because I’ve had a lot of practice with the two loudest people in Musutafu.”

She snorted, muffled against your shirt.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re the only reason this house hasn’t exploded yet.”

“Exactly.”

And just like that, the storm passed. For now.