The uncertain vulnerability that opens up in Kaworu's expression like an old injury does make Paul want to fight something, an impulse that skates across the backs of his knuckles where Kaworu clings to his anchoring hand. He's grateful for Midoriya's intervention, glancing warmly at the other boy briefly from underneath his eyelashes before returning his attention to Kaworu.

"You are handsome." Paul brings the hand not on Kaworu's sternum to his jaw, skimming his fingers along it to tilt his head at an angle similar to the one Midoriya held for him, although altered for the horizontal position. "And we'd both fight for you any day."

He states these facts as facts, with authority that belies his dishevelled state and the casual arrangement of the three of them on this couch.

(He did fight for Kaworu, once; it's better that he doesn't remember.)

"You matter to us." He taps Kaworu once, on the graceful corner of his jawline.