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“Do you ever wish that everybody could forget about you?”
It was a cold night, wind rampaging outside of the windows. Izuku was lying on the couch behind his dad, who was currently grading the second year students’ exams. The question had been lingering on his tongue, something he couldn’t get rid of but didn’t want to speak.
The scratching of a pencil stopped, the fabric of his dad’s shirt rustling as he turned around. Izuku fiddled with his fingers, staring up at the roof. On multiple occasions, Shouta had made it obvious that he was welcome to speak his mind, but the greenette knew this wasn’t exactly what he meant.
“Sometimes,” the boy glanced at his adoptive father, emerald meeting onyx for a mere second. “If people didn’t know me, it’d make it easier to keep to myself. But, I also know that I have people who care about me and that I care for them just as much. When things feel down and I don’t feel my best, I definitely do. However, the good days always help trump out the bad. What brought this on, kiddo?”
Izuku turned to face his dad, his face unusually neutral. It’s hard to keep up a smile all the time, sue him. “Nothing,” it was a blatant lie, but he was hoping the dark-haired man wouldn’t see through it. But, of course, he never is that lucky. (Ignoring the part that he’s adopted by the best person ever and in the hero course.)
“Izuku, you can talk to me if you want to. I won’t judge you for having feelings other than ‘absolute sunshine who can do nothing wrong’,” the teen snorted, a genuine, soft tug at the corners of his lips. Shouta softened at the sight. It wasn’t too often they were real, usually an illusion meant for comfort.
Izuku sighed softly, curling up to keep his legs close to his chest. “It’s just-” what was the best way to explain this? That he’s depressed and hates how everybody knows? That simple manners make him confused because it’s been so long since he’s experienced them? He groaned, both hands coming up to cover his face.
Shouta, however, didn’t move. He simply waited, making no indication that he was annoyed or frustrated. It made him feel a little better. “I don’t like that people know things about me.”
The man raised an eyebrow, tilting his head similarly to a cat. “What kinds of things?”
“You know, like- it’s just so… ugh, I can’t even say it!” He grumbled into his hands, fingers twisting and pulling at his green locks. A larger, calloused hand was placed on top, tangling itself into his hair, but scratching lightly at his scalp. “Things about my… past and mental health.”
It was basically whispered, but the close proximity between the two made it as loud as a regular conversation. Shouta hummed thoughtfully, pulling one of his arms down to swipe a thumb over his cheek. Izuku was pouting, making an effort to avoid eye contact as his cheeks flushed, talking about himself felt so embarrassing.
“What about it makes you want people to forget?” It was a simple question and he knew the answer to it, ten times over. But, when it came to actually formulating words, he came up empty. A huff of frustration escaped as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
“I know why but- but my stupid mouth won’t do its job!” He whined, lips trembling. His dad sighed lightly, shifting in his spot. The man stood, gesturing for Izuku to scoot over. He did as he was told and shuffled, Shouta plopping down where his head had been. As if it were second nature, the greenette climbed back over and situated himself in his father’s arms, not noticing how he paused.
This was the first time he’d been so open about wanting physical contact, and the hero wasn’t sure whether to curse or laugh as his cold, dried up heart beat to life with a new found warmth. His arms hesitantly wrapped around the smaller figure, cautious of making him uncomfortable. When all he did was snuggle up closer, Shouta tightened his grip and adjusted their position, making it much more comfortable for the both of them.
“Whenever I think about it, it feels like I’m breaking all of the promises I made. If nobody knew me, then they wouldn’t have to worry,” Izuku explained, the comfort of being in his dad’s arms making his confidence peak ever so slightly. “I want people in my life, but is it really worth it when I cause so much distress?”
If that didn’t just hurt Shouta’s newly revived heart. His adoptive son, who hasn’t had a proper support system in years, doesn’t want to be a bother. That isn’t exactly new, but it feels just as painful as the first time he heard it.
“Well, we’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, aren’t we? There are many people I believe I don’t deserve, but I choose to keep them around. I choose to stay.”
Izuku seemed to ponder this, shifting in the hero’s lap as their eyes met. There were gold flakes scattered around the pupil of his, reflecting in the orange light their lamps provided. “Do you want me?”
“More than anybody else, Strawberry. You’re the best thing that happened to me,” and it’s true. Without Izuku, Shouta would probably still be using jelly pouches to replace meals, taking every excuse to go on patrol, ignoring his own issues, the list goes on. It turns out, being responsible over a child makes you want to take care of yourself, as well.
Izuku bit his bottom lip, emerald eyes searching his adoptive dad’s for deception, for the inevitable lies hidden beneath. There were none. Just pure, unadulterated care. Acceptance and love were things he’d never once been shown, and this man had managed to give him both within the last four months.
His eyes were like leaky faucets, small droplets of tears escalating as if it were being turned on. They traveled down his cheeks, ignoring the ticklish feeling as his father gave him one of those rare, gentle smiles. A quiet sob ripped from his throat and the edges of his eyes crinkled, ducking his head into the hero’s shirt.
Izuku’s body trembled as he hiccuped, gripping the black fabric tightly. Shouta didn’t shush him, didn’t push him away. Instead, he rocked slightly from side to side, humming a tune he’d heard on Hizashi’s radio the other day. The familiarity of it calmed the boy down, his sobs turning into the occasional sniffle.
There was another shift, the greenette moving to look back up again. He opened his mouth, closing it before hesitantly speaking up. “I- I want to be selfish too. Can- Can I do that? Be selfish?” The man smiled down at his son, pushing away the damp curls from his forehead with a nod. “Good, ‘cause I want you. You’re a good dad.”
Shouta froze for a moment, the teenager leaning back down as exhaustion struck him like a knife. He was basically snoring before he even closed his eyes. With a light chuckle, the dark-haired man placed a peck over his dark-green curls, resting his chin on top afterwards.
“You’re a pretty good son.”
___________________________
“What’s got you in such a happy mood, Sho-Sho?” Nemuri asked, watching the Underground Pro walk towards the coffee machine with the slightest bit of a better posture.
The man pressed a button, turning around to glare at the woman, although it lacked any heat. “What? I can’t be in a decent mood for no reason?”
“Not you, no,” Hizashi perked up from where he was on the staff couch, laptop in hand. “Seriously, though. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you walk inside a room without a scowl. Did you adopt a new cat?”
The dark-haired man stilled for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he thought. Then, as if he’d had the best idea of the century, hummed out in delight. Now that, that was definitely new. Both Nemuri and Hizashi froze, glancing towards each other for a moment before locking their eyes onto their friend.
Shouta continued to make his coffee, a small grin hidden by his capture weapon. Once it was finished, he spun around, pausing as he observed the way both of the other two heroes were looking at him. He sighed.
“No, I didn’t get another cat. Although, I have impulsively made the decision that I will be, some time this week. Well, technically for Izuku,” he spoke, his spare hand rubbing at his temple as he took a sip of his coffee. Contrary to belief, he preferred sweet things.
Nemuri snapped her fingers, grinning widely. “It has something to do with little Izu, doesn’t it?” The man raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor shooting it down. Which, in Shouta Aizawa, meant yes. He walked towards the other end of the couch, sitting down with one leg up to his chest.
“Potentially,” that was answer enough. Hizashi shut his laptop, focusing entirely on his friend. His lime-green eyes narrowed, lips a thin line in concentration. Suddenly, he backed away, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.
“Did Izuku call you dad, perchance?”
Shouta smiled fondly at the memory, gaze unintentionally softening. Both of his friends snorted at the action, only for it to harden all over again. “Yes. He did,” he confirmed, an odd bunch of pride and happiness swelling in his chest. Is this how it’ll always feel? If it is, he’s sure he’ll appreciate every moment of it.
“You’re an amazing father, Sho’,” the Underground hero turned to look at the Limelight Pro again, an equally soft expression gracing his features.
“He’s right. We always did say you’d be good with kids,” Nemuri chimed in, an airy chuckle filling the comfortable silence.
Shouta thought about it. Really, thought about it. All of the movie nights, how Izuku woke up at random times at night to make sure he was safe after patrol, learning how to cook different meals together, going to different cat shelters, on and on and on. There were so many things he thought he’d never find the time to do, things he pushed away because he felt like he had to be a hero all the time. If not to avoid his problems, then to save as many as he could. Apparently, Izuku had saved him as much as he had him.
“Yeah. Izuku’s my son, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”