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Izuku sees Toshinori’s light on as he floats to the rooftop balcony. He frowns a little at his dad being up so late. He knows it’s not an unusual event, but Izuku doesn’t like it all the same. It does lessen the guilt ever so slightly of what he’s about to send over their bond, though. At least he won’t wake the man up. Izuku’s been clenching his jaw the whole way home to keep his mind quiet, not wanting to bother Toshinori before he needs to. But it’s a struggle. Izuku really, really does need him right now.
As he drops down onto the roof and opens the door, Izuku doesn’t let his need be known until he stumbles down the stairs and falls into the living room.
I need help.
Pressing his palm onto the floor, his other hand clenched into a fist, Izuku attempts to lift himself up while gritting his teeth. Toshinori sprints down the hallway toward him as Nana trots behind. His dad mutters something, probably a curse, as he reaches for him. All Izuku can do at the moment is groan. He pulls out Black Whip, trying to use it to sit himself up, but even the tendrils fail and fall, too exhausted to stay out as they wither back into his body.
Shutting his eyes tight, Izuku attempts to push out the memories of the first time he felt this raw and helpless with their quirk.
“Izuku,” he finally hears his dad prod with stern gentleness. Opening his eyes, he sees Toshi’s face close to his, his piercing blue gaze examining him with worry. His fingers reach for Izuku’s eyes, peeling apart the lids to check if he’s concussed. “Izuku,” he says again, “what happened?”
“I- I’m okay,” he says, which is met with an unconvinced and unimpressed look from his father. “I mean, I don’t need a hospital or anything, I’m just… just exhausted. And some scrapes. There were too many villains, twenty maybe, and backup didn’t come for a while…” Izuku closes his eyes again, but instead of falling back to the floor, he feels Toshi’s reassuring hands grab hold of him, sitting him up. Izuku sighs involuntarily at the comfort of his hero, his father, his soulmate, the person he loves and trusts more than anyone in the world, holding him in his arms. Another pang of guilt shoots through him at coming home so bloodied and broken, having refused to wait for the paramedics to check him out. But he couldn’t stand the thought of their rough hands slapping bandages onto his scrapes. He needed his dad.
Toshinori seems to understand this, or he at least doesn’t question it. Instead, he holds Izuku for a moment, not complaining that Izuku is covered in his own sweat and blood, and discreetly checks Izuku’s limbs as he does so.
“Superficial wounds…” Toshinori murmurs, pressing his sunken cheek to Izuku’s head. “We need to get you cleaned up. I’ll run a bath. Do you need help getting changed?”
Izuku shakes his head ever so slightly, which jostles a headache he didn’t realize he had. His face contorts at the feeling, and Toshinori registers Izuku’s need before he realizes he even sent it. Try as he might to hide his true feelings with words and actions, the bond calls him out on his bullshit every time.
I need help.
“Come on,” the man says, hooking his hands under Izuku’s armpits to help him stand up. Izuku clasps a hand to his dad’s arm in return, attempting not to grip it too tightly. Together, they manage to stand him up, and Toshinori guides Izuku to his room. Once they’re there, Toshi sets Izuku down in his chair, then opens the drawer where Izuku keeps his swim trunks. He pulls out a pair and hands them to Izuku, then kneels down beside him, running his fingers through Izuku’s hair.
“What am I going to do with you?” Toshi asks with mirth and fondness in his voice, even if his smile betrays a bit of sadness. Izuku manages his own small smile at that.
“Same thing you always do, Dad. Scold me for pushing myself too hard, then tell me how proud you are of me.” Toshinori chuckles.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Toshinori admits. Nana jumps on Izuku’s bed and sits down, watching them intently as they both look over at her. “Make sure you watch over him, Nana,” Toshi says with a pointed finger and too much seriousness to the cat. “I’ll be right back,” he whispers to Izuku as he stands, giving him a lingering pat on the head.
Once Toshinori shuts the door behind him, Izuku starts to peel off his costume while still seated. With a groan and a pop in his joints, he pulls off one sleeve, then the other. He sits there for a moment, the bruises and cuts on his arms exposed in the pale moonlight, before he reaches to take off his undershirt, too. Nana hops off the bed and comes over to the chair, reaching up for Izuku. He reaches a hand down to pet her, which she chooses to lick instead. He chuckles at her.
“That’s pretty gross, Nana,” he insists, but she doesn’t seem to care.
He manages to stand himself up now with support from the chair. He slides the rest of his costume off, then pulls his swim trunks on. Overall, the entire ordeal doesn’t take more than five minutes, but each painstaking movement from Izuku’s exhaustion and sores makes it feel twice as long. He lets himself fall back into his chair once he’s ready for the bath as he stares blankly at his wounds, waiting for Toshinori to come back.
I need help.
He hates sending the same need over and over again, but he tries to remind himself that he will always respond to the same need from his dad in a heartbeat, and he will always be happy to do so. Izuku reminds himself to trust that - as unbelievable as it still seems sometimes - Toshinori feels the same way, too.
And he remembers the time he refused to ask for help, somehow managing to suppress the bond for days.
Izuku hears the tap to the bath turn off within seconds. Then, a soft knock comes to the door shortly after. “I’m ready,” Izuku calls out, and his dad enters.
When he meets Toshinori’s eyes again, seeing them full of fondness and worry, emotion swells in Izuku’s chest. Memories flood back to him of the time he turned away, of the time he broke Toshinori’s heart and his own, all while maintaining an emotionless facade. He remembers the names people called him then, names that swung so far in the opposite direction from quirkless . He had once thought that would be the worst insult he’d ever receive, but it had been nothing compared to nomu and agent of his, of the man he will not dare name .
A tidal wave of feeling Izuku doesn’t want to hold back anymore threatens to burst forward as his lip begins to wobble. Toshinori’s lip starts to do the same, although he manages to keep a smile on his face at the next need that Izuku sends out unwittingly.
I need you to know I love you.
Izuku reaches his arms out to his dad like a toddler asking to be held. Toshinori responds in kind. It’s moments like these, nights like these, nights where all his most painful memories surface from the hero work he refuses to put aside, where Izuku’s feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness don’t just seep through the broken cracks within himself. Instead, he opens the door for them, desperate for relief, giving just enough room to show his wounded inner self to Toshinori, the only person in the world he trusts to see it.
Reaching out his arms, Izuku’s tears fall, too exhausted to maintain the face of the brave, feral, selfless hero. As Toshinori reaches back, lifting Izuku up, Izuku lets his mind go back to when he was small, to a time before he felt broken and useless, before everything around him felt broken. He lets himself grab on tight to his dad as he breaks within the comfort of his arms.
“It’s okay, Izuku, I’ve got you. I love you, my son, I’ve got you…”
Toshinori continues to murmur these words to Izuku as he sobs, sobs that he cannot maintain for long in his exhaustion.
When they subside enough for Izuku to move, Toshinori guides him with great gentleness and care. The weight of Izuku’s emotions eases upon entering the bathroom. The steam floats off the water, fogging up the mirror and creating a comforting haze throughout the room. Izuku feels it instantly cling to his skin, and he practically tumbles over from his eagerness to get in. Toshinori manages to hold him back long enough so he doesn’t fall.
“Easy, my boy, easy. We don’t want to add any more bruises, do we?”
Izuku lets himself be held back, holding his dad’s hand as he stands straight and dips a toe into the water first. It’s almost too hot, which makes it perfect for Izuku now. He lets his entire leg be consumed by the deep tub. Toshinori grabs Izuku’s other hand so he can get his other foot in without slipping, and his dad helps him maintain his balance as he sinks all the way in, low enough so he’s completely enveloped by the water and heat.
With a sigh, Izuku leans back as Toshinori gets to work. They both have the routine down pat from each side of the tub, although Izuku’s usually the one who needs the help. Toshinori does this for Izuku when he comes back from particularly rough missions, while Izuku does this for Toshinori when his coughing leads to blood spewed everywhere.
His dad starts by taking a cup, dipping it into the water, then pouring it over Izuku’s hair. Izuku closes his eyes and lips tight so his dad can bring a second cup of water to his face. Izuku feels the grime start to fall away, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes to see how dirty the tub must already be. Instead, he keeps them closed but relaxed as he hears Toshinori reach for the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into his hand.
Izuku lets out a pained sigh of relief when Toshinori runs his fingers through Izuku’s hair, massaging his scalp and encouraging the soap to turn to suds. He always manages to apply just the right pressure with his fingers, and Izuku wishes he could figure out how to do that. He’s been trying to figure it out for years, ever since the first time Toshinori did this for him, back when…
“I’m sorry,” Izuku finds himself saying before he can catch himself. Toshinori’s motions don’t stop, but the pressure does increase.
“Are you apologizing for needing help, or are you apologizing for that again? Because either way, you know I don’t accept apologies that aren’t necessary,” he insists as he rinses out Izuku’s hair.
Izuku wants to say he’s apologizing for pushing himself too hard. He knows how much he makes both his dad and his mom worry, and he really tries to watch out for himself. But he would be at least partially lying if he said that. It isn’t the full truth. He is apologizing for needing help. And he is apologizing for…
Another sob breaks from Izuku.
“I’m so sorry I left you, Dad. I never should have left you. You were trying to help me and I just left you there. What if you had gotten hurt? You weren’t around the danger coming after me, but I also wasn’t there to protect you. It could have been the last time I saw you. I’m so sorry, Dad, I could have never seen you again, you could’ve… you could’ve…”
Izuku’s body shakes as more familiar sobs escape from his body. It’s the side effect of opening the door to everything he keeps locked away. Greater comfort can come in, but greater pains can come out, too. And his guilt over leaving Toshinori during the war, when he was just trying to help Izuku, is a pain Izuku doesn’t know if he’ll ever get past. He’s apologized a thousand times over. But every time he finds himself buried in a similar layer of exhaustion and grime as he had been then, it triggers something in him, and it all comes rushing back.
Toshinori’s hands clasp Izuku’s shoulders from behind.
“Izuku,” he whispers, his face beside Izuku’s ear. “I have said it before and I will say it again. I will say it every day until you understand, as often as you need me to say it. You are forgiven. Wholly and completely. You don’t need to apologize anymore. To me, you never had to. I should have taught you that it was okay to ask for help, to receive help, to rest. I failed you , my son. You didn’t fail me. You never could. I know how hard it must have been for you to leave, to push back against the bond, and I know you did that to keep me safe. I know , Izuku, I know. I know more than anyone, and I know you know that.
“I also know that you’ll never stop apologizing, just as I wouldn’t if it had happened the other way around. But, Izuku… Please, please think of how you would feel if it had happened the other way around. I believe you would want nothing more than for me to forgive myself, and that’s exactly what I want for you. We are the same, my son, you and I, so please remember that. Because however you would feel if I had done that to you, that is honestly how I feel. I love you. I understand . You are completely forgiven because there’s nothing to forgive. I only wanted to take care of you, and if anyone needs to ask forgiveness, it’s me for failing to do that when you needed it most.”
Izuku reaches a hand for Toshinori’s, and Toshinori responds by wrapping his arms loosely around Izuku. He encourages Izuku’s head to rest against his chest as he places his own cheek upon it. Toshinori’s shirt and face must be getting wet from Izuku’s freshly-cleaned hair, but neither of them thinks much of it at the moment. They simply listen to each other breathe, feeling each other’s hearts beat as they remind themselves that the other is alive and okay and they have each other. They let the electricity of their quirk flow between them as it does these days, even when deactivated, feeling the bond, feeling whole from their proximity to the other.
Eventually, Toshinori pulls back and reaches for the loofah. He fills it with soap to wash Izuku’s arms.
“You get my hair dirty again whenever you do that, you know,” Izuku teases.
“I prefer to think of it as your hair cleaning my face,” Toshinori replies.
They sit in silence for a while as Toshinori wipes the scrapes on Izuku’s arms with great care, examining each one. Then, he hands the loofah to Izuku so he can finish cleaning up as Toshinori goes to stand. “I’ll get the first aid kit ready,” he says, giving Izuku one last head pat before allowing Izuku some privacy to finish cleaning.
Once Izuku finishes, he towels off and heads to his room to get his pajamas on, now able to walk on his own. When he comes back out to the living room, Toshinori is attempting to keep Nana away from the spool of gauze. A glass of water and some sandwiches sit on the table beside him, too. Izuku picks Nana up and deposits her in his lap as he sits next to Toshinori, who immediately applies antiseptic to one of Izuku’s cuts and starts to bandage it up. Izuku lets himself lean into Toshinori’s side as he does so, still longing for the comfort of his presence, his touch, his care, in any way he can get it.
As his dad bandages him up, he reaches out for one of the sandwiches. Izuku isn’t sure how hungry he feels, but for years now, he never turns down food his dad offers him, even if he doesn’t finish it all. Most of the time he does, though, realizing Toshinori often knows better than him when it comes to his needs. It might be the bond, but Izuku suspects it’s also from Toshinori’s own time as a hero and when he also ignored basic functions like eating and sleeping.
Izuku gulps down the glass of water after eating the last sandwich. He puts it down when he finishes and sighs, holding Nana close and leaning into his dad’s chest with closed eyes. Toshinori tends to his other arm, working around him with practiced ease, always finding a way to pull Izuku closer with every new bandage he applies.
When Toshinori finishes, he wraps his arms around Izuku fully, pressing his face into Izuku’s slowly drying curls. They stay like that for a while. Izuku knows that Toshinori is waiting for Izuku’s lead, but he’s not ready to pull away yet. Between holding his cat and being held by his dad, he basks in the comfort he doesn’t often let himself indulge in. But soon enough, his muscles protest at the position, and his bruises still need attention.
When Izuku starts to pull out of the embrace, Toshinori silently reaches for an ice pack beside him and hands it to Izuku. Izuku decides to place it on his shoulder first where one of the villains had knocked into him early on. The heat of the bath helped loosen the stiffness. Now, hopefully, he’s gotten the ice pack on it soon enough to minimize the bruise it’ll surely leave.
Nana jumps out of Izuku’s lap as he stands once more, this time his dad needing more help to stand than Izuku does. They walk to his room where Toshinori lifts the covers for him to get in, but Izuku hesitates. He pulls at his dad’s shirt as if he were a small child, gazing up at him with great longing, letting his need be known.
I need you to stay.
Toshinori smiles, bringing a hand to Izuku’s head in understanding. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “I’m just going to grab something.”
He tucks Izuku in first, not bringing the blanket down all the way as proof that he’ll return, while Izuku burrows himself into his pillows. Nana hops up on the bed and crawls over to sit next to Izuku. Most of the time, she chooses to sleep with Toshinori, sitting next to his scar. They’ve discovered that she has this uncanny ability to know which of them needs more comfort in any given evening. So now, she sits with Izuku.
Toshinori comes back, holding a book, and slides into bed next to Izuku. Izuku places the blanket over his dad, scooting closer to him but not completely turning so as to not startle Nana. Toshinori wraps an arm around him, then reaches to open the book in his hand.
“I’m at the chapter you were telling me about in this,” he whispers to Izuku, whose eyelids are already drooping. “I thought I could read some out loud to you.”
“Okay…” Izuku mumbles. They both know full well that Izuku will likely not stay awake for an entire page, but he always welcomes being lulled to sleep by the sound of his dad’s soothing voice as he reads a passage from one of his favorite books. So, that’s exactly what happens. And while he’s too tired to say it out loud, he sends the feeling down the bond as he does every night, because there’s never a day where he doesn’t need his dad to know it.
I need you to know I love you.
As he falls asleep, Toshinori’s reading never wavering, Izuku feels the need returned to him. Despite his pain and exhaustion, despite his physical and emotional wounds that are unlikely to ever fully heal, Izuku still falls asleep comforted. He’ll be better in the morning, he knows, because he asked for and accepted help. He opened the door to his heart, even if just for a little while, to let some of his pains go. And although it’s not always easy to be so vulnerable, he’s not going to take for granted the relief it brings anytime soon.