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Tomura was sick and tired of the way things were going with Kurogiri. The misty creature had been running himself ragged for the past week now, but things had finally settled down enough to handle his caretaker as well.
Most people can't read Kurogiri. Being completely covered in mist with the only visible facial feature being his eyes, and they didn't even have pupils, made him a pretty closed book. Not to Tomura. The nomu had pretty much raised him, so he had plenty of time to learn what everything meant. Currently, the sluggish, slow movement of the mist that always emanated from him gave away the exhaustion from a mile away.
While Tomura certainly wasn't the best at taking care of things, he knew the basics that living things needed. Sure, Kurogiri was a nomu, a creature made from a corpse and countless procedures, but he was still alive… somewhat. Either way, he still needed everything every other living organism needed.
"Okay, you're done. Eat." Tomura huffed, haphazardly pushing the instant ramen toward the nomu across the bartop as he plopped down onto a stool at the bar. It was still in the disposable bowl it came in.
Kurogiri wasn't very outwardly startled, but the way the yellow slits widened more than usual when he was spoken to gave him away to Tomura. It was obvious that he was about to speak up and politely decline, so he had to do something about it.
"Stop and eat. That's an order, Kurogiri." He said a bit sternly. Nomu's were programmed to follow orders. Kurogiri physically could not refuse an order if it was given firmly enough. Although, Tomura rarely used it. It felt slimy to do that to him. Thankfully, there was no further argument.
Kurogiri eating was always a bit of an odd sight. Food just sort of disappeared into the mist where a mouth supposedly was beneath it. Wordlessly, Tomura's guardian shoved large mouthfuls of noodles in with the chopsticks. He knew he didn't really prefer instant ramen, but it was all Tomura knew how to reliably make, so if Kurogiri was too stubborn to make real food for himself, he'd just have to suck it up and deal with it. Eventually, the disposable bowl was emptied and warped away.
"Is everything alright, Tomura?" Kurogiri asked as he tilted his head a small bit, one of his more noticeable tells.
"No. It's been two days. It was time for you to eat and it didn't look like you were gonna do it yourself any time soon. Since when was I the damn caretaker here."
Before Kurogiri could even attempt to defend himself, a plastic bottle of water was shoved against his chest that he had to quickly catch before it fell. Already knowing that he'd be ordered to if he didn't himself, Kurogiri just gave a small look at Tomura before downing the water and warping the resulting empty bottle away to the recycling. He may be a villain, but he still demanded that they all at least follow that.
"Are you pleased now, Tomura?" Kurogiri nearly drawled. He always was a little more emotive with Tomura than anyone else.
"No again. Jeez, you're off your mark today. That just proves my point, you idiot. Come on. You're done for the night. The League won't kill each other for one day."
With that, Tomura slid off the stool and came around the counter, a half-gloved hand grabbing onto Kurogiri's sleeve and began practically dragging him away. It was nearly reminiscent of how Tomura used to cling to Kurogiri when he was much younger. The small bout of nostalgia made the nomu considerably more pliant, letting himself be taken away from the main room and to the room that functioned as his bedroom.
"Okay, shoes off. I know they're your inside ones, but it's still weird to wear them in bed. Don't be a hypocrite." Tomura grumbled, giving the fog covered creature a small push. In return, a small somewhat-glare was given over Kurogiri's shoulder, but he listened anyway. Once the dress shoes were put next to the door like always, Kurogiri was promptly shoved over to his bed and Tomura was once again grateful that Kurogiri procured a set of artist's gloves for him so there was no fear of accidental quirk activation. With a small grunt, the nomu flopped onto the bed with the coercion.
"Tomura-"
"Shut it. I know you're just gonna get up as soon as I leave, so I'm not gonna. Easy cheat." He said, sounding a little triumphant like he had won the nonexistent argument.
Tomura crawled into the bed as well and leaned against Kurogiri's chest with a little hesitation. He used to do this much more often when he was smaller, plagued by frequent nightmares of blurry yet familiar faces and dust. Kurogiri always smelled oddly of petrichor. Maybe it was due to the mist his quirk produced. Either way, Tomura had essentially pavloved himself into calming when he smelled the rainy scent.
Kurogiri's heartbeat was quite slow when he was at rest, just another difference between human and nomu.
"You're gonna sleep. You've been bullshitting around too much and you're gonna be useless if you keep it up." Tomura mumbled into the fabric.
"You do not need to concern yourself with my well-being. You know very well that I am able to sustain myself with very little. It is alright, Tomura."
"Yeah, you can, but what if I don't want you to? Why wouldn't you wanna make sure you're in good condition? You're slowing down. Zoning out more. I know you know that you don't have much left in you." He argued quietly, adjusting and making sure the artist gloves that covered his pinkies and ring fingers were there securely out of habit.
Kurogiri couldn't argue much. His primary order was to protect and take care of Tomura, and what better reassurance is there than having his ward practically curled up against him. Having him nearby always made Kurogiri more relaxed Tomura found, which amused him a little.
"You… have not done this in a long time." Kurogiri said lowly. His programming rewarded him a little for having his charge so safe, so his brain was a little mushy at the moment.
"Uh huh, don't make it something it's not. I'm just here so you don't try to get up." Tomura grumbled, not exactly telling the entire truth. It wasn't like he wasn't getting anything out of this as well. It was quite comfy despite Kurogiri's not very soft build. His composition as a nomu made him always on the deathly cold side, and while Tomura ran a little cooler as well, it still helped when he wanted to be under heavy blankets and not even have a chance at overheating. Now that he was reminded of it, Tomura grabbed at the comforter on Kurogiri's bed and haphazardly yanked it over the both of them.
A small huff of air came from Tomura's makeshift pillow, the closest Kurogiri got to a laugh most of the time. Call him biased, but Kurogiri found Tomura just too cute, his little face melting his half-dead heart. Sometimes when the nomu looked at him, all he could see was a little boy with big crimson eyes, apprehensively swatting at the mist that came off of him.
As if to give away his more nostalgic train of thought, a low purr started up in his chest and throat against his will, startling Tomura a little. It had been years since he's heard that, and he didn't know he missed it so much.
Kurogiri used to be much more expressive back when Tomura was younger. However, one day, he was sent to the doctor and came back different. A shell of what he used to be. Thankfully, over the years, he seemed to be slowly coming back to himself, especially within these past months for some reason. Maybe it was because he was socialized more thanks to the League? Tomura had no idea. He had not even a clue as to how nomus worked and it was honestly a little sickening to think about, so he pushed the thought from his head and focused on the nomu's slow heartbeat and the rhythmic purrs.
Suddenly, arms were wrapped around Tomura and he was practically squished as Kurogiri rolled onto his side. Something akin to a low trill came from him as he essentially nuzzled against the top of Tomura's head.
"Oh jesus christ, did I start this shit up again?" Tomura sighed, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his skull. There was no verbal response, just another inhuman noise as it felt like he was being squeezed so hard his lungs were about to pop.
"Ghk-! Okay! Okay, you wanna keep me safe, yeah? Then how about you start with not fucking crushing me!" He wheezed before the iron grip fortunately loosened a bit.
"I cannot help it. You are so small. You must be kept safe. So small…" Kurogiri muttered against the dusty-blue hair of his ward.
"You and your God damn- ugh. I'm not small. I'm not short. I mean, I'm not like ripped or anything, but no one here is! Well, maybe Iguchi- that's beside the point! I'm not small!"
Kurogiri pulled back just enough to be able to look at Tomura, pupilless eyes staring at him. The mist slowly twisted and swirled as it emanated from the nomu. The soft curls it created made his contentment evident. Gentler than before, Kurogiri pushed Tomura's head forward to rest against his chest as the purrs grew a little louder.
"Mushy as hell…" Tomura huffed, his words caught in Kurogiri's clothes a bit. Despite his displays of protest, he truly enjoyed these moments with his father figure.
As much as Sensei tried to act as if he should be the one to be hailed as the man Tomura saw as a father, he wasn't the one who had spent sleepless nights trying to soothe the young boy who had just lost everything and yet could not remember any of it. Kurogiri had earned the right to be able to baby him a little, so if it made the nomu feel good to squish him a little, he'd begrudgingly bear it.
Unfortunately for Kurogiri, the soft moment was quickly coming to an end, or at least the part that he would be able to remain conscious for. Exhaustion and the days long stint of running on nearly empty were quickly catching up to him and it was obvious, especially to Tomura. Wordlessly, he gave the misty creature a few light pats on the side in an attempt to maybe coax him into sleeping quicker. That was what Kurogiri had done to him when he was younger, right? Or was it on the back… Tomura didn't exactly remember, but either way, it seemed to work on Kurogiri anyway.
Biting his tongue to hold back a snicker from the odd reversal of roles, Tomura let himself relax as well. As his eyes slipped shut, he let the scent of rain overtake any other thought in his head, drowning out the residual stressors of trying to run a League of idiots.
With the both of them wrapped up in their own nostalgic bubble, the rest of the League could survive a night without their scruffy leader and diligent bartender.