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Endeavor is certain he’s making a grave mistake.
It wouldn’t be his first time—in fact, making mistakes is something he almost excels at, especially when it comes to family matters. If he were the self-pitying type, he might even say he’d done nothing right in that regard. But at that point, one’s just asking for pointless sympathy.
When he’d first heard that Shoto age regresses, he hadn’t known how to feel. Some strange combination of indignant and guilty, an awful, ugly ball of emotions he didn’t dare tell anyone about.
And once that had passed, all he had left was the determination to be better.
If not to help, then at least to understand. Shoto’s already made it clear that he doesn’t respect Endeavor as a father, and while Endeavor has yet to see Shoto regressed, he has no doubt he’d see the same distant distrust as always.
Maybe he’s wasting time. Maybe he’s chasing ghosts. But anything is better than giving up.
And if he can’t prove to Shoto he’s improved as a father, then at least he can prove it to himself. Or more accurately, himself and his kind volunteer.
He was so certain that Hawks had been teasing him when he brought up the topic of “baby blues,” but for once Hawks seemed to have a point. A true test of grit. After all, if he could handle the world’s brattiest regressor, then that’s a pretty big mark in his favor. Endeavor just hadn’t been expecting the regressor in question to be Hawks himself.
“I’m not a regressor, I just play one on TV,” Hawks had joked. “Press loves that sort of fake vulnerability, though. The sweet child hiding behind a bad boy façade. You let it slip every now and again in interviews and the fans go nuts.”
Endeavor would never understand Hawks’ obsession with being liked. If that’s what it even was. Maybe he just liked to keep people guessing.
When Hawks arrives, the Todoroki residence is empty. How Endeavor managed it, he’s still not sure, but it’s a blessing. He doesn’t need anyone asking why he’s bringing another pro hero home, and he especially doesn’t need them asking why said pro hero is acting like Shoto. He can already imagine the responses. That he’s favoring a perfect stranger over Shoto. No, this is something his family doesn’t need to know about. Not yet anyway.
Hawks takes one look at him and scoffs. “No need to look so tense all the time. Kids don’t like that, you know.”
Endeavor fights back a sigh, struck with the sinking feeling that he’ll be hearing that a lot today. Yes, he’s aware kids don’t like that, because kids don’t like him. He’s “scary.”
“At least look a little excited,” Hawks chides, taking off his shoes. “I happen to be a very cute kid.”
Endeavor opts to ignore him. He doubts Hawks will be as cute as he claims when he’s causing trouble. “What do you want to be called while regressed?”
Hawks flashes him a lopsided grin. Pretending to be regressed is a much more apt way to describe it, and Endeavor would do well to keep that in mind.
“Just Kei-chan. That’s what people called me when I was younger.”
There’s something about how he says that, something that Endeavor can’t quite put his finger on, that reveals it to be a lie. Still, he lets it go. He’s babysitting, not running an inquisition.
Besides, Hawks is already onto the next subject. “What do I call you, then?” he asks. “Are you my dad now?”
Endeavor scowls. “Absolutely not.”
“Ooh, harsh. I think I might cry.” Hawks says it the same way he says everything—half-sarcastic, like he couldn’t care less—but an alarm bell rings in Endeavor’s head regardless.
He’s already let himself fall into old habits. He supposes that, despite everything, he and Hawks have a certain rapport, but he can’t let himself get complacent.
This is for Shoto, after all. Even if Hawks… Keigo… is a royal pain, shouldn’t Endeavor make an effort to be a little gentler? He couldn’t be that harsh with Shoto, and it would do him well to remember that. Hawks is the variable, the placeholder meant to be switched out later. So he has to act with the same kindness he’d show his own son.
“Enji.”
“Huh?” Keigo glances up, his jacket hanging off his shoulders, his wings caught halfway through.
“You can call me Enji if you like.”
Keigo’s face sinks into a grin, giving Enji the sinking feeling that he’s made a fatal mistake. Like a beginner chess player against a grandmaster, unwittingly setting his opponent up for a brutal victory. “Cool, cool.”
Keigo hangs up his jacket, then picks up a small backpack he’d brought with him. It’s clumsily zipped, with a shirt sleeve poking out the side.
Not for the first time, Enji is having second thoughts. In theory, it’s a nice gesture, and sure, his heart is in the right place, but who’s to say Shoto will even accept it? What if this is all for nothing, and “proving it to himself” doesn’t bring the self-satisfaction he hopes it will?
Worse, what if this is all so Hawks has blackmail material?
It’s not that Enji doesn’t trust Hawks, but he knows he’s desperate. And that desperation has caused him trouble more than enough times.
Enji is thrown from his thoughts when a hoodie is unceremoniously shoved under his nose.
Keigo pouts up at him. “Can you help? I gotta cut the holes in my street clothes myself. It sucks.”
Enji takes the hoodie, where clumsy scissors have cut two mismatched holes right below the hood. The threads are loose and fraying, the fabric already showing signs of wear.
Does Keigo really not have his clothes custom-made? Surely he can afford it. But it’s not Enji’s business, so he simply shakes his head and does as he’s asked.
“Hold still.”
“Sure thing, Enji.” The way Keigo says his name almost makes Enji regret giving him permission.
Enji starts with the wings, gently guiding them through the slits. He has no idea how sensitive Keigo’s wings are, so he errs on the side of caution and stretches the hoodie a little more than he should. It’s not like a few more loose threads will make a difference.
With a final tug, Enji pulls the sweatshirt over Keigo’s head. His wings give a little flutter, as if testing out their mobility, and Keigo beams.
“Hey, you didn’t even ask why I couldn’t do it myself!” he says. “You’re a natural!”
Enji blinks, realizing only then that was even an option. Keigo does have exceptional control over his quirk, though, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t have trouble guiding them into the right places.
“That’s lesson number one,” Keigo says. “Kids need a lot of help. You’re welcome.”
So that’s how they were going to do this, then. With Keigo still in charge, even while pretending to be a child, and of course, still sporting that smug grin of his.
Why Enji thought it was going to be any different, he has no idea.
Keigo spreads his palms, still beaming. “We’re gonna keep today’s agenda real simple, alright?”
It doesn’t feel worth it to point out that as the child here, Keigo shouldn’t be the one making these sorts of plans.
“Playtime, snack time, naptime.” Keigo counts each one off on his fingers. The list is deceptively simple, but the glint in his eyes gives him away. He’ll be fighting every step of the way, and even worse, he has some sort of scheme in the works. “Think you can keep up?”
If this was how they had to do it, then so be it. Enji’s always been one for a trial by fire. And he certainly won’t back down now.
“You’re one kid,” Enji replies. It comes out like a challenge, and maybe it is, but he’s never been good about de-escalation.
Keigo grins. Wrong answer or right answer? Somehow, it’s both. “That’s the spirit. Now,” he says, brushing past Enji, “kids are sensitive. So hopefully you can keep your cool.”
If that’s a joke, Enji’s not laughing. He quirks a brow, going for that patented unamused look that always shuts people up, but Keigo returns his gaze without so much as blinking.
“But I’ll hand it off. Since you’re the grown-up.” Each sentence is like his own private joke. He’s having far too much fun already.
But thankfully, that’s all Keigo has to add. He stands up straighter and gestures for Enji to take the lead, his eyes wide and alert like he’s waiting for instruction.
“Well—” That’s as far as Enji gets before Keigo takes off, zipping down the narrow halls with ease.
“Catch me if ya can, Enji!” Keigo calls, his laughter echoing as he disappears.
“Kei-chan!” So this was his first test, then. He should’ve guessed Keigo would try wreaking havoc at the first opportunity.
Even worse, Keigo told him. He just hadn’t realized that “playtime” translated to “chase me around so I can’t get into something I shouldn’t.” Belatedly, he wonders if this was all a plan for Keigo to get into Enji’s home office.
That’s the first place he plans to look, but as he rounds the corner, he catches sight of a familiar set of red wings.
A moment later, Keigo’s head pokes out from around the corner. His shoulders tremble with joy, and he’s barely able to contain puffs of laughter.
Enji forces himself to be calm, to walk in short, steady strides. He’ll keep a cool head. Just watch him.
“Kei-chan,” he tries again.
Keigo stays where he is as Enji approaches, waiting until he’s just within Enji’s reach to take off again. He zips down the hall and disappears around another corner. Then, after a few seconds, he pokes his head out again, the grin never once leaving his face.
Okay, so that’s what it is. A game of cat and mouse, a chase. Enji will have to be smart about this, since Keigo has the tactical advantage. Enji can’t use his quirk indoors without a massive risk, so he’s stuck moving on foot.
Considering Keigo’s speed, Enji will have to outmaneuver him to win. Which, for any other situation, might cause a problem. Keigo’s usually ten steps ahead in any given battle, but Enji has one notable advantage.
He knows this house inside and out, which means he can trap Keigo before Keigo even realizes what he’s gotten into.
Enji gives chase, pretending to always be a step behind, pretending like he’s only trying to pounce when Keigo lets him close enough. Which, as planned, keeps Keigo’s focus on him.
Keigo makes a game of that too, staying as long as he can in one place, like it’s some game of chicken to see who moves first. And while there are a few close calls, he always manages to remain just out of Enji’s grasp, gone and around a new corner before he even has time to make a grab.
All the while, Keigo laughs, and somewhere along the way Enji started smiling along. Dare he say it, it’s almost fun.
But that fun comes to an end as Keigo dashes around his final corner, only to come to the horrifying realization that he has nowhere else to go. And by the time he whirls to make a U-turn, Enji’s already blocking the path.
“Dead end,” Enji announces with a smirk.
Keigo’s eyes flash to the walls boxing him in, then to a spot over Enji’s shoulder. He’s going to make a break for it regardless, so all Enji has to do is time it right. Wait for it… wait for it…
Keigo squeaks as he’s plucked out of the air, looking quite befuddled at the fact. Enji certainly can’t blame him. One minute he’s making a break for freedom and the next he’s caught in Enji’s grip.
Still, there’s a more pressing matter to attend to.
“How are you so light?” If Enji weren’t looking right at Keigo, he could almost imagine he was holding a child. Keigo can’t wait more than one hundred pounds, and even that feels generous.
Keigo just grins. “Bird bones! Gotta be light to fly, y’know? Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
And before Enji can even guess at what he’s planning, Keigo’s already slipped clean out of his hoodie and made a break down the hallway.
“Kei-chan, we’re not doing this again!” Enji follows in clumsy pursuit, and so begins the second round of their game.
But this time, Keigo knows Enji’s plan. So while he still hangs around corners, he does check ahead to make sure he isn’t cornering himself, extending their game indefinitely.
And unfortunately, Enji knows when he’s beat. He can’t outpace or outmaneuver Keigo, and thus he’s submitted to playing Keigo’s game until the novelty wears out.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Keigo gets tired. A full day of flying around and fighting criminals catches up to him, and his movements noticeably slow.
Still, he refuses to give up the ghost, even when his wings tire and he has to continue by foot. Then, it’s just a matter of closing the gap and scooping him up by the armpits. He’s struggling for breath, still giggling even when the joke has long since gone stale.
“You think that’s funny, do you?”
Keigo nods, flapping his wings. “You shoulda seen the look on your face!”
And for some reason, Enji can’t resist chuckling along. “Well, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to rest.”
Keigo’s lower lip juts out. Unfortunately for him, Enji is immune to pouting. “But I’m hungry! Food first.”
“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” Enji asks. “Doesn’t a nap sound nice?”
Keigo fixes him with a look, and the easygoing atmosphere strains under the newfound pressure. “I’m hungry,” he repeats, more forcefully.
Enji raises an eyebrow. Does Keigo realize how unthreatening he looks, being held like a misbehaving child? If he’s looking to escalate Enji’s temper, he’ll have to do better than that. “I think you just don’t want to nap.”
“Aw, come on!” Keigo whines. He struggles in Enji’s hold, to no avail. “Do you know how many calories I burn just by flying around?”
“I think you’ll survive,” Enji replies. He turns in the direction of the guest bedroom.
“Well, how am I supposed to nap on an empty stomach? Would you make Shoto go to bed hungry too?”
Enji stops in his tracks. That’s a low blow. The circumstances are different, surely, but patience. Patience is the virtue he’s trying to learn.
Enji sighs, hating the victorious smile he’s met with. “Fine. But don’t think I’m giving you the chance to dart off again.”
Keigo snickers, the stormy pout he’d been sporting all but forgotten. “Fine, fine. I’ll hold your hand so I don’t get lost.”
Now it’s Enji’s turn to smirk. “Who said anything about putting you down?”
He shifts Keigo onto his hip, an action that’s oddly familiar considering he has no firsthand experience. His children had never wanted him to pick them up, and likewise, he’d never wanted to hold them. But he can’t deny there’s comfort in holding someone so small so close. It’s like his own personal ring of protection, a place where no bad things dare approach.
“Check out the view from up here,” Keigo says. “Not as high as what I’m used to, but not bad. They must hate you at baseball games, huh?”
“I don’t go to public sporting events,” Enji grunts. Especially not anymore.
And for once, Keigo doesn’t have a smart remark prepared. More than anyone else, he knows the dangers of having such a high profile, of putting so many civilians in danger just by existing in public. After a moment, he folds his hands over Enji’s shoulder, leaning his head against Enji’s.
Enji is immediately on guard. Sweet as it is, it’s exactly what he’d expect from a kid trying to make a break for it.
He isn’t sure whether to be relieved or doubly suspicious as they enter the kitchen, all without Keigo trying anything.
“How hungry are you?”
But Keigo’s already zeroed in on something. “I want pudding,” he announces, already reaching for the package on the counter.
Enji pulls him out of grabbing range just in time. “You’re not getting pudding.”
“Aww, that’s no fair! It’s snack time!”
“You’re not getting sugar right before a nap.” Enji glances around, desperate to find something before Keigo starts whining again. “What about some toast?”
Keigo scoffs. “Bo-ring! You’re gonna have to do better than warm bread, Jiji.”
Enji’s nostrils flare. He certainly hadn’t approved of that nickname, but he has more pressing matters to attend to. “Oatmeal, then?”
Keigo pauses to think it over. “With cinnamon?”
“Sure.” Enji’s chest folds over in relief, just in time for Keigo to dash his hopes with expert timing.
“I don’t like cinnamon. What else?”
The frustration wells, a fiery pit in the bottom of Enji’s stomach. But these flames don’t control him; he controls them. And he won’t let Keigo see him sweat.
“What about some cereal?”
“What about some pudding?” Keigo counters.
“You’re not giving up on the pudding, are you?” Enji purposefully turns him toward a different part of the counter, just in case he gets any ideas. “If you can’t pick something, I’m picking it for you.”
Keigo pouts. “Wow, harsh.” And just because he can, he opens the nearest cabinet within reach. “Ooh, fruit gummies!”
Enji will take what victories he can. He has no idea where the fruit gummies came from, but he can take a guess. Fuyumi would be the type to always have snacks on hand for her students. He should probably thank her later.
Enji grabs two packages, just in case. “Try not to drop any.”
“Sure thing.” Keigo tugs at the packaging, but before Enji can offer his help, he’s already using one of his feathers to cut it open.
Maybe that’s one of the things Enji should scold him over, but he doesn’t have the energy. And it’s not like Enji could help with his hands full. So maybe this is one of those things he just has to let go.
Keigo yawns widely between bites. He’s surprisingly adept at putting on this act, and while Enji would never say it out loud, it’s almost cute.
“Naptime, little one.” Enji once again starts toward the guest bedroom, and this time, Keigo doesn’t fight him on it.
Instead he pouts, rubbing at one eye. “No story?”
“Will you actually stay down?” Enji asks.
“Ooh, a bribe, huh? Better make it a good one. I don’t stay put for mediocre stories!”
“Sure.” Enji opens the bedroom door, carrying Keigo to the bed. His first instinct is to drop Keigo on the mattress and leave, but that’s not very patient or kind. Instead, he gently turns down the covers and sets Keigo against the pillows.
Luckily, Keigo doesn’t see the need to make this a fight and happily snuggles into the warmth of the comforter.
After an awkward moment, Enji lowers himself onto the bed. He stays perched at the edge, and from the way Keigo’s mouth twists into a frown, it’s not the right response.
“Kids like being close,” Keigo says. His voice is low, like this is the most important lesson he can impart. His hands lock around Enji’s bicep, as if he has the upper body strength to yank Enji around.
And yet Enji still acquiesces.
Shoto never liked being near him. Even before the training, but especially afterward. There’s always been this distance, one that’s gotten so insurmountably wide that Enji doesn’t even know how to bridge the gap.
Any attempts at contact get him ignored at best, and all the while the space between the two of them grows ever larger. Giving Shoto his space makes it worse, while doing the opposite yields the exact same results.
And Enji is left in the middle, at a complete loss of what to do.
“Jeez, are you always this tense? Kids can pick up on that, you know.” Keigo tugs Enji back so he’s resting against the pillows, then lays his head on Enji’s shoulder.
Enji can’t remember the last time someone was this close, and his nerves are firing at the touch.
“Seriously, loosen up!” Keigo grumbles. He squirms, partly trying to get comfortable but mostly just trying to drive his point home. “You’re sitting like a robot.”
It goes without saying that Enji’s job requires him to be on guard twenty-four seven, but he doubts that excuse would fly here. Nor would it fly with Shoto.
Enji takes a long, deep breath, forcing the tension to wind out of him. The image he grabs onto is the unspooling of a thread, looser and looser. Nothing but slack.
“Aww.” Keigo nuzzles into his shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to snap back to tension. “You’re just a big teddy bear, huh?”
Enji fixes him with a look. “Do you want your story or not?”
Keigo feigns a gasp. “You’d take away my story? Me? The littlest of guys?”
“If you can’t keep your comments to yourself, then yes.”
Keigo heaves a sigh. He sure loves being dramatic. “It better be a good one.”
“Keep talking and you’ll never find out,” Enji says, which is the last push Keigo needs to go quiet.
If Enji’s being honest, this is also something he’s never had experience with. Not telling stories to children, nor sharing tales of his own heroism. Both felt overly bombastic, a waste of time, but now he’s woefully unprepared.
This particular rescue mission had been about ten years ago, and while the memory has been dulled with time, there are moments that will always stay in his mind. One of which being the sound of screaming civilians, but that doesn’t feel appropriate to tell to a little kid.
So instead he sticks with the brighter points, the woman and the baby he saved, how the child wrapped its little hand around his index finger and beamed, how he carried both their expressions with them through the entirety of the siege.
They were the only two civilians caught in the collapsing subway, and Enji had been the only hero close enough to hear their cries for help. He found them trapped under fallen debris, and he’d used what strength he had to create a gap for them to climb out.
“What happened to ’em?” Keigo asks. He’s stayed quiet, much to Enji’s surprise.
“Who?”
“Mama and the baby.” There’s an odd edge to his voice, one that Enji’s never heard before.
“I don’t know,” Enji answers. “They were evacuated by another hero, and after that, the villains responsible made their reappearance.”
Keigo hums. The answer isn’t quite what he’d been hoping for, but he accepts it easily enough. He curls back against Enji’s shoulder, lapsing back into the quiet attentiveness. It hardly feels like him.
Enji details the fight to the best of his ability, but it was over and done with rather quickly. The villains went into hiding because they were outnumbered, and without endangered civilians as a distraction, they didn’t have a chance. A good number of them had chosen to flee, but they too were rounded up with little trouble.
He's never been good about endings, but thankfully, Keigo spares him by falling asleep. He’s still tucked up against Enji’s shoulder, his breathing heavy and even.
If he’s actually asleep or just a good actor, who’s to say, but he does look a lot cuter without that stupid smirk on his face.
Enji tries his best to keep from waking Keigo as he lowers him back against the pillows. And while Keigo gives a sleepy hum at the disturbance, he rolls over onto his other side, curling into the nearest pillow, and goes still once more.
Enji closes the door behind him, checking his watch. It’s a little past five thirty, so he’ll give Keigo an hour to nap. If Keigo’s staying for dinner, he has no idea. But if Keigo wants to stay, he’ll stay, and if he doesn’t, he’ll be out the door before Enji can blink.
Despite his better judgment, Enji peeks back inside, to find Keigo still sleeping. His wings have tucked up around him, and they periodically twitch as he sleeps.
Part of Enji wants to linger, but that’s a ridiculous thought to entertain.
He has paperwork to catch up on.
Enji gives it an extra fifteen minutes before he checks up on Keigo.
It’s oddly peaceful, so he can only imagine Keigo’s sound asleep still. The kid’s so hyperactive; after work and their little game, he was well overdue for a crash.
But as Enji nudges open the door, his feeling of calm comes crumbling down.
The room is empty.
Enji steps inside, trying to ignore the welling sense of fear. It’s irrational to worry, when Keigo is one of Japan’s best heroes. It’s not like he could wander into danger, and it’s even less likely someone would break into the Todoroki residence and kidnap him.
And yet none of this fully registers with Enji. All he sees is a turned down bedspread with no one to occupy it.
“Kei-chan?” Enji calls, receiving no answer.
Perhaps this is another test… though for what he couldn’t be sure. Maybe how well he can keep a cool head when worried out of his mind?
“Keigo?”
Or maybe this is one of those things he needs to let go. That while someone regressed might be a little more childlike, it doesn’t mean they’re helpless. And that would make sense, so why is his heart pounding?
“Keigo, this is not funny.”
The rational part is still there, telling him that Keigo doesn’t even regress. He’s just playing a part. But if this were Shoto, if Shoto had up and vanished, well… Enji would be thinking the worst of the worst. League of Villains planned attacks, kidnappings, hostage situation nightmares.
He's gotten himself so worked up that when the air shifts behind him, he doesn’t think. He whirls and summons his flames.
Who he sees is not a kidnapper or assassin, but Keigo, wide-eyed and—dare he say—terrified.
Enji wrestles his flames back as quickly as he can, but the damage is already done. Startled, Keigo jumps away, only for his back to slam into the opposite wall. His wings puff up, like a cornered animal desperately trying to make itself look bigger.
“Kei-chan—” Enji begins. He has no idea what he would say past that, but luckily, Keigo takes the choice away from him.
His head snaps up to Enji, and for a terrible moment, Enji doesn’t recognize the person in front of him. Wild-eyed and cornered, tensed and ready to flee, he hardly looks like the Number Two Hero, and all words die on Enji’s tongue.
Then, in an instant, he remembers himself. But instead of trying to run or crack a joke, Keigo snaps his wings up around him, a feeble shield from the eyes boring into him.
The silence falls heavy. If this is a test, Enji’s failed miserably. It doesn’t even matter what the lesson is—don’t aim fireballs at children is pretty cut and dry. But the way Keigo is pretending to cower, perfectly imitating a scared child, only serves to further drive the point home.
It was a mistake, but a mistake that would never fly with Shoto. Enji knows what thin ice he’s on, and a single misstep would have Shoto leaving in a flash. He can’t let his emotions get the better of him, no matter what.
But for now, he can only plead for forgiveness. Children can be rather forgiving, if Fuyumi is any indication, though he doubts Keigo will be the same. No, Keigo thrives on giving him a hard time, and his forgiveness will be hard-earned.
But as Enji steps forward, Keigo pulls his wings in tighter, solidifying one simple truth.
This is not an act.
“Kei-chan?”
Keigo’s feathers splay ever so slightly, giving him a tiny window to peek through. However, no sooner than the two of them make eye contact, the feathers slam back into place, the walls high and strong once more.
Enji will have to proceed with caution. He’s no longer being swept up in Keigo’s windstorm, but instead being asked to take the lead—actually take the lead.
How hard can it be, though? He’s a symbol of peace and strength for all of Japan, so surely he can be the same for one child.
Enji reels in his spinning head, chanting that this was not part of the plan, and kneels. It’s hard to come across as less than imposing, but he’s trying.
“I didn’t know you actually regressed,” Enji says softly. It seems like a decent enough place to start. Maybe there’s some part of him hoping that this is still an act, but even Keigo isn’t that good of an actor. But still, he’d take being played for a fool over making a little kid cry.
He's answered by something caught between a laugh and a sob. “That makes two of us.”
That’s enough to raise Enji’s brows, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’s always been good about thinking on his feet. What is this but another turn in the road?
“You don’t have to hide,” Enji tells him. “This doesn’t change anything.”
The feathers curl in tighter. Easy for you to say, Keigo says, without speaking a word. Easy when you’re the one in charge, when it doesn’t affect you either way.
But to be on the other side, to find yourself at your most vulnerable without even meaning to… Enji suspects letting someone in would take a great deal of courage.
“We can just sit here, if you need?” It comes out more confident than he feels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s still something.
Still no response.
Enji lets the silence settle before trying again. “Maybe we could have that pudding.” Let the record show that he’s not above bribery.
An eye pokes out from behind the wall of feathers.
Enji wrangles in a chuckle. Of course that would work. He holds out his arms, an open invitation. It’s trust he hasn’t earned yet, but trust he can only hope to be worthy of. “Come here, little one.”
He’s not sure what he expects. For Keigo to throw himself into the hug or go right back into hiding. For him to leave and never come back or for him to hide under the bed. All or nothing, as it always is with Keigo.
But no, Keigo slowly, painstakingly uncurls himself. First his wings, tick by tick by tick. His feathers quiver, strung up so tight they strain from the effort.
Then he leans forward, his fingers curling into the carpet, his arms and legs tensed like he’s about to take off sprinting. And yet he continues pressing gently forward. Hand, then knee, hand, then knee.
Keigo comes to a stop inches away from Enji, unable to clear that gap. Waiting for Enji to make the first move.
And that, at least, is something he knows how to do. He matches Keigo’s molasses speed, telegraphing each movement as he wraps his arms around Keigo’s shoulders.
“Shh, shh,” Enji soothes. Keigo goes stock-still under his touch. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
Keigo doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. Not without great shame, Enji knows that body language too well. The tension, coiled up with nowhere else to go, is indicative of a child too scared to fight back.
“You’re okay. I’m…” He trails off, unable to say I’m here. The biggest problem with being All Might’s successor is that he was good at everything, including comforting people. Enji almost can’t help echoing his iconic catchphrase. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Keigo still doesn’t move.
“Did I startle you?”
That must be the case. Here Enji thought he’d been decent at keeping his roaring temper and rough edges in check, but he’d failed when it counted most.
A small shudder runs through Keigo’s shoulders. It’s barely there, a tiny ripple on the surface of water, but Enji sees it for the answer it is. He wasn’t just startled, but terrified.
“You have my deepest apologies, then. I’m afraid I let my worries get the better of me. I couldn’t stand to think of you hurt or missing.”
Keigo relaxes, however slightly, in Enji’s hold. If Enji said the right thing, he can’t be sure, but he’ll stay here for as long as Keigo needs.
He’s not sure how long that is, just that it’s long enough for his knees and back to make their aching protests known, but to his surprise, it’s Keigo that breaks the silence.
“You’re not half-bad at this,” Keigo says. It comes out strangled, like he’s fighting around his own emotions to try and put the mask back on. “Full credit, I’d say.”
As usual, Enji ignores him. “You don’t have to speak. I’m right here.” He hesitates to touch Keigo’s hair, when he gets a better idea. Keigo certainly didn’t protest about being carried earlier… “Do you want up?”
The stillness that ensues almost makes him think Keigo’s following his advice on not talking, but then comes a quiet “yes please” he couldn’t imagine saying no to.
He stands with Keigo in his arms, and while Keigo doesn’t lift his head, his wings come up to curl around them both. It’s a kind, protective embrace that has him holding Keigo a little tighter. After all, he’s the one that should be doing the protecting here.
Pathetic as it may be, he doesn’t remember the last time he held his children. He must have when they were babies, or else rocking Keigo now wouldn’t come so naturally to him. But the should-be treasured memory is nothing but television static, a gaping hole where something fond should be.
It's almost a relief that Keigo doesn’t know the difference. That his hands still wind into the back of Enji’s shirt just as tightly. That he’s soothed by the back and forth all the same.
And at some point, if Enji were to feel his shoulder dampen with tears, he certainly won’t say a thing about it.
The minutes tumble by, one after the other, and slowly but surely, Keigo’s breathing evens out. More telling, however, is the state of his wings. Inch by inch, their hold on Enji slackens until they threaten to fall away completely.
“Kei-chan,” Enji murmurs.
“Hm?” The wings tighten their hold, as if remembering how they should be comporting themselves.
“You’re drifting off.”
“Hm,” comes the mumbled response. Is that it? the wings seem to ask as they slacken once more.
“You can’t fall asleep again. You just napped.”
“Didn’t nap,” Keigo says. And he must be exhausted if the truth comes out so easily. “Just pretended. So I could see what you’d do.”
“I see.” Enji can’t resist asking a follow-up question, just because it’s the most honest assessment he’ll get. “Did I do good?”
“Mm.”
Enji chuckles. He’ll take it and pretend it’s glowing praise. “Why don’t we lie down together? That way you can’t run off and cause trouble.”
And while Keigo whines, Enji shushes him and his protests stop cold.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asks in a voice that leaves no room for argument. By some miracle, Keigo doesn’t fuss as Enji lays him in bed.
As promised, Enji shuffles in beside him, trying to reel in his surprise when Keigo curls up against his chest.
More uncharted territory, and yet his fingers thread through Keigo’s hair as naturally as if he does it every day. Keigo melts into the touch, his breathing going heavy, and it isn’t long before Enji, exhausted from the day’s events, follows suit.
When Enji blinks awake, the sun is setting and the bed is empty, with Keigo nowhere to be found.
No doubt he’s left, but Enji still checks anyway. Just as suspected, his shoes are gone, and a sticky note is tacked to the wall in their place.
Getting you this mug, it says. Next to the message is a drawing of a mug that says “most improved.”
With a scoff, Enji crumples the note in his hand. That’s the end of that, then, and if Keigo won’t bring it up, then neither will he. Practice run successful, he supposes. Now he just needs to let it slip to Shoto.
However, Keigo isn’t out of surprises just yet.
The next time Enji sees him, they’re both on the clock. Not Enji and Kei-chan, but Endeavor and Hawks. Two professionals that have to come across as such.
Hawks flutters onto the rooftop, and for the first time since knowing him, Endeavor catches a flicker of nervousness in his expression.
“Is there a reason you called me up here?” Endeavor asks.
“Well, yeah, have you seen the view?” There’s the Hawks he knows, but even then, it’s a flimsy cover-up. Hawks steps a little closer, shifting from foot to foot. With the way his wings flutter, it’s like he’s ready to take off any second now. “You wouldn’t need more practice, would you?”
Realization dawns. Why he was called here, why Hawks left in such a hurry last time.
Hawks has gotten attached to him.
The surge of protectiveness he feels is something he knows he should nurture, and up here, who’s around to see it? Endeavor reaches out, lazily tousling Hawks’ hair. He can’t hide his amusement seeing how Hawks freezes under such a kind touch.
“You never got that pudding I promised,” Endeavor replies.
“I deserve more than pudding for the way you almost turned me into fried chicken,” Hawks teases. He falls back into his persona easily, but he can’t hide the undercurrent of relief surging through his voice. “All the ice cream I can eat.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Endeavor crosses his arms. The city skyline is rather peaceful, considering the time of day. It’s only a matter of time before a new emergency pops up. They don’t have much longer to talk.
“Sure, sure.” Hawks stretches his wings. If he’s thinking the same thing or if he just needs space to process, Endeavor can’t be sure. “See you later, Number One.”
He takes off without another word, but the meaning translates clearly.
The next time they both have a day off, Endeavor is sure to see him again.