S T R A Y
shipping meme
Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival.
These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too.
But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it.
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- ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?
- ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.
- ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any
- ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.
- ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.
- ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.
- sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —
- ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.
- sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.
- sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.
- ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.
- ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.
- ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?
- ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.
- ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.
- ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is
- ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?
- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.
- ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.
- ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.
- ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.
- ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.
- ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.
- ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.
- ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.
- ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.
- ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
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bakerstreet2017-10-22 07:48 pm
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[He mainly avoided it by getting the drop on his opponents. When he didn't there were large, spindly messes like his elbow. It's around then, the touch there, that Shouta realizes what Toshinori is looking for.]
[... and it's a little irritating, to still be viewed as something to be protected.]
What kind of hero apologizes for saving a life? [He can't hide that irritation when he opens his eyes, tiredly glowering at Mr. Sad & Sentimental. Of course the ex-Number One Hero couldn't just feel him up in his sleep. Of course not. It had to be something like this.]
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... Aaaa, the secret method to summon Eraserhead...
[He huffs, enjoying the fact that their legs are still tangled up together under the sheets. Despite the throb in his side -- and he reminds himself that's his own fault, for sleeping awkwardly on his scar yesterday night to keep them more separated -- he forces himself to scoot a bit closer in.]
... I can't help it. I was late. I feel guilty.
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Don't waste time feeling guilty about it. [He's never wanted an apology for that, after all. The thought of All Might arriving earlier didn't hang over him. The students were all safe. He would have gladly risked more to guarantee their safety. It was his job. Rather than his job, there it was his privilege to keep those children alive. His words are curt, but he doesn't withdraw any part of his body from this cuddle pile.]
I've got plenty of scars. I don't care about having two more. [He's literally gotten more scars since. The increased refractory period on his quirk was probably the worst of it and that change wasn't common knowledge yet. He could still work. He was still here.]
... they clearly didn't make me unattractive to you, anyways.
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[Still... He can't help running a hand along the scarred cheek, thoughtful.
Was he supposed to be -- open? Or is it too soon? It's been a long, long time since he's talked about how he feels about something. Since he's focused on a part of himself, in front of someone else. He hums, feeling at ease in the comfortable bed, secured by Shouta's body heat.]
I didn't have what you'd call an... outstanding childhood. And school was a nightmare, for a long time. Because of it, I guess I wanted to keep people safe... heroes and crushes included. Wherever I could use myself for good... I mean, clearly, it... was a lot to handle, and it took a lot out of me most of the time, but -- it gave me a purpose.
[A soft breath, as he pulls his hand away. And looks at peace, for once.]
I felt like I was living for something bigger than where I came from.
... I just wanted everyone to be happy.
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[He turns to listening, though, when Toshinori speaks again. A person doesn't just get to hear about All Might's childhood. From the perspective of the world, All Might had sprung up from the earth as a fully-formed hero, ready to rid the world of its ills. It had always seemed highly illogical to Shouta, when he glanced over tabloid magazines back in school, that no one seemed to know where he came from. Everyone came from somewhere. Still, to hear it from the person himself...]
[Not an outstanding childhood? School was a nightmare? Those sort of things didn't fit with the puzzle of All Might at all. They were little fragments of Toshinori Yagi, something that had to be carefully hidden from the public eye. And those fragments were now entrusted to him.]
[How many times had he wanted to tell someone and how many times had he held himself back, Shouta wonders idly.]
If you were one of my students, I'd have told you right away that was a stupid goal that would get you killed. [Toshinori must know as much. It's not a surprise for Shouta to say that sort of thing, with a neutral expression, because it's simply a fact. He sighs, though, and closes his eyes again.] ... So, I guess it was a good thing I wasn't around, then. [It's the closest to approval he'll give. While he hated what being All Might had done to Toshinori's body, his state of mind, his sense of worth, it was still important that he was. Wishing for the happiness of everyone in the world, even just everyone in a city, was far too ambitious... but wouldn't it be nice if it could happen.]
... what about now, Toshinori? [The peaceful expression looks good on him but has he learned anything? If he couldn't live for the world, he would live for his students, and so on and so forth, a constant path away from the simple question of what about yourself?]
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Yeah. Good thing. I'd have probably gotten kicked out.
[The question leaves him with a pregnant and thoughtful silence.
He's clearly got Something to Say. But... how to say it.]
... Now... Ahh. There's something you have to understand, Shouta-kun. All Might, he wasn't just -- some persona. Not all of him. It's not like I always looked like this naturally, and it's not like I'm just one or the other, either. I was confident when I was out in the world... and I played it up a lot to keep people unafraid -- and in turn, that kept me going, even when I was terrified. What All Might believed in, what he said, it wasn't just all hot air.
That annoying guy, he was a big part of me, and he's just... gone.
[He scoffs at himself; look at him, waxing poetic. So stupid. But...!]
I mean, you probably find plenty both of us have in common that annoys you, but... Anyway. [He looks at him carefully, his bright blue gaze burning intensely.] Living for others... that's just... who I am. It's not because of what All Might became, or what I thought I had to be as a hero. It wasn't just to be some... symbol. That was also just me.
I'm at my most fulfilled when I'm fighting for the sake of someone else. When I can make them happy.
[Before he can give Shouta a chance to dispute that idea, he reaches over, using his index fingers to push the man's near-constant frown into a smile. He's clearly all too amused at the visual, he to is grinning like a madman in the dim room, albeit of his own volition. His voice is low like they're sharing secrets, even when there's nobody remotely close to listening in.]
If I keep fighting for my friends and students... and keep living for you, is that such a bad idea?
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[He'd seen so many annoying things about Toshinori Yagi. Some of them were those holdovers from having to show confidence his whole life. Some were the new annoying things that came from being completely uprooted from the role he thought he'd die fulfilling. Then there was stuff like the stupid gesture of trying to make him smile. He's not smiling, Toshi! But that sort of thing was just him. Shouta just never got a chance to see it because the only time he ever saw All Might was at work.]
[He grabs one of Toshinori's hands in his own, to pull to away from the corner of his mouth so he can properly respond.]
... If I'm going to accept you living for me, there are two things. [Because, of course, he couldn't just accept it happily. For all his greediness and selfishness he wasn't happy to hear about someone living for him. It went against everything he'd tried to do. If he was trusting Toshinori to not just make him another thing to burn himself out for, he needed terms.]
Firstly, your health is most important. Don't lie to me when you're feeling unwell. Don't overdo it. Stop acting like you have to take your medications when I'm distracted. [That part was simple enough. Nighteye's prediction aside, he didn't want to worry about Toshinori dying in a hospital bed. Not when he apparently had more creative uses for a hospital bed that he couldn't remember.]
Secondly... [This one was harder to say, the words got caught a little.] I'm quite happy right now. [Even if he doesn't look it, criticizing the other while they cuddle under the sheets.] So, promise you won't do anything you're uncomfortable with just because you think I want it. Any time I kiss you, any time I touch you... I don't want to be bothered, worrying that you're just putting up with it to please me.
Got it, All Might? [He was both. He couldn't save everyone, now, but he could teach a class of eager students. He could keep one scruffy man happy. He could maybe even make that scruffy man smile... when he wasn't being such an idiot.]
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But more than that, he's come to certainly understand that Shouta cares way more than he lets on -- worries plenty for his kids. Toshinori's not about to tease him for it. Yet.]
... Loud and clear.
Health first, comfort necessary, honesty counts.
[He runs a hand along Shouta's back again, just -- because. His scar twinges at the motion, offended by the pull of his muscle, and it reminds him of his greatest weakness -- shielded only by a flimsy shirt. Toshi has very few scars, for how long he's been a hero, but the near killing wound had more than made up for All Might's lack of vulnerabilities. He swallows hard.
The thought of showing Aizawa both terrifies him.
But also, it feels like it would be -- a great relief to just... get it over with.
Delicately, he pulls Aizawa's hand in, moving the palm softly over the old wound, like he's reaching into broken glass, careful not to cut himself or Shouta. Even with a shirt in-between, the unnatural curve of rebuilt muscle and jutting scar tissue is clear, and when he breathes in a deep, worried breath, the rattle of his bones thrums along Aizawa's splayed fingers, ribs sharp under taut skin.]
This is the worst of it... it hurts sometimes, especially when it's cold.
To be honest, I've been afraid that you'd see it.
[It's a stupid, stupid feeling, but. He can't help but imagine revulsion as the first reaction.
Even from Shouta Aizawa.]
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[Then they're shifting from one avenue of trust to another. It was one thing to know how wounded Toshinori had been, to be aware of little bottles of medication and dietary restrictions. It was another to feel the curve of his side dip down so precariously. He can take a cue from how gently his hand is moved, resting it down on the fabric with a ghostlike touch.]
Ah. [It's not revulsion, just a sort of quiet surprise playing on his face. That surprise settles down, his eyelids droop a bit again and he carefully moves his fingertips to assess the state of the damage. Would it have been better to have just seen it at some point? His invasive nature hadn't extended to the other's body, that would have been a step too far, even though he could have easily yanked the other's shirt up at some point.]
[His hand moves a little, dragging against the fabric. He pauses,]
So is it better for me to touch it than see it? [It was something he wanted to share, after all. Toshinori wouldn't be so stupid as to immediately break the second clause of Shouta's terms. This was the level he was comfortable with in this moment. His fingers twitch ever so slightly, wanting to use his senses to take in as much information as he could about it.]
You touched mine, after all. [He says it seriously, for as childish as the justification is. His hand dips down a bit, to the hem of Toshinori's shirt, then hesitates there. Restraint.] Or would it be painful?
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... If you'd like to touch it.
It's sensitive, but it doesn't hurt if you're not forceful.
[He trusts Aizawa to be capable of great caution, more than brutish force.]
It had been re-opened during the fight with Nomu; just my luck, right?
[He doesn't mind the inspection, if it's something Aizawa's not disturbed by. It's a big part of his body, the root cause of why he is the way he is. It'd be weird to deny that part of him to someone who was now sleeping in his bed -- yeah, he was okay with it. He clears his throat after a hearty pause.]
I can't let you see it, right now.
[His voice lowers, admittance like defeat.]
... I can't really look at it, myself, most of the time.
[He accepts what's happened, accepts that he's quirkless again, but...
It's just different, when someone you love faces a body you greatly dislike.]
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[It gave him time to adjust to it, as well. When he did see it, he'd have to take every care not to flinch or give Toshinori any reason to hate it more. He could get used to it pieces by piece.]
[With Toshinori's approval, he slips his hand other the other's shirt, quickly making contact with the heavily scarred skin. A bit of skin is exposed by the movement but Shouta doesn't look. His eyes are trained on the older man's face, which could be embarrassing in its own way. He starts to trace his hand up, fingers stretching over the expansive scar as if to make a map of it in his mind.]
[There was a lot to map.]
[So he makes sure to brush against every dip, finding ridges in it that seemed to lead up into a crater of a wound. It felt a bit like a shattered window where, if he were cruel enough to put pressure on it, it would creak and fall apart. So every movement is slow, deliberate, and gentle in its own way. It was analytical, but not cold, the way a scholar deals with a well-worn book. He loses track of time, a little, just feeling the other's scarred skin, finding an outline to it, and forming an image in his mind. The extent of it is obvious, when Shouta's arm is almost entirely up the other's shirt, the scar tissue of his elbow brushing against that radiating wound.]
[He glances down, only slightly, to confirm the position of his hand tenting up the other's shirt. Like it or not, that information would come back to him looking at Toshinori in a suit, or a hospital gown, that there it was, carefully hidden. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath.]
... I think I underestimated how lucky you were to be alive. [He mumbles. Shouta traces over the pectoral muscle- or at least where it should be.] And yet you're still sorry for mine... [There's a small, perhaps self-deprecating smile.]
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I can't say I'd disagree... Nobody had thought I'd survive the night, at the time.
[He slides his arms around Shouta, pulling him so close, their bodies are pressed warmly.]
Aaa... but just because I'm hard to kill doesn't mean I want to see anyone else in pain, y'know.
[Especially not you, you fool.]
no subject
I've forgotten most of the pain. [He shakes his head a little, dismissively. Certain things were just too painful for the body to forget. It was locked away in the brain, enough to make little aches and pains seem worth complaining about again. A human wasn't built to process that much pain.]
Although, it was really irritating to go about my business with all those bandages. And Mic forcing me to commentate... [he grumbles, as if it were reasonable to complain about that when he could have died. All the while he traces small circular patterns over the other's scar, mapping and thinking.]
... I do remember parts, though. I remember negotiating with my body, "Just let me move a bit more." "Just let me open my eyes one more time." "Whatever happens after that is fine." [As much as he would criticize Toshinori for how he wore himself down, in that moment he was the exact same. He wasn't afraid of dying then, what he was really scared of was..]
... I never thanked you properly. [his hand stills] For saving the students.
[Or himself.]
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Your thanks is not necessary; I'm a hero, too, after all. But careful -- you'll start to sound like me. [A pause, as he shifts to wrap his leg around Shouta's. They're short compared to his, which is funny, considering the other man's still taller than an average human.] ... It's easy to get lost in the cause, especially when you care with your entire body and soul.
After all, you love your class.
[He has such an impish little smile.]
You're the one who saved them, in the end. I wouldn't have been able to do anything if you didn't defend them first.
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Just shut up and accept it. [He half-kicks at the other under the sheets, which is rather useless when they're so entangled. Done tracing the front of the scar, he drags his hand over the other's side to rest on the back.]
If I get credit for saving them, you undeniably saved me. [There was no one reasonable in that bunch of villains. Once his strength gave out and he was no longer fun to play with he would have been unceremoniously ground into the dirt, face first. He was another person that was alive thanks to the Symbol of Peace. He won't risk sounding even more like Toshinori by saying something corny like "my hero." He wasn't some lovestruck fan, he was a lovestruck equal.]
... I'm trying to praise you, idiot... [And he buries his face in the space between Toshinori's chest, now just a petulant mess of bedhead.]
no subject
Your praise is with a whole decades worth, with how hard it is to get! I'm rejuvenated! I already feel All Might's powers returning to me from the sheer strength behind your words...!!
[He holds up his hand and makes a huah! noise, an All Might-sized arm pointed up proudly at the ceiling, straining to keep appearance.]
I'm reborn!!
[oh my god he's mocking himself, lookit that]
no subject
[There's a quick movement of his fingertips and he searches for the edge of scarred skin, finally dips onto the normal smooth, skin and jabs his finger there as a punishment. It's the equivalent of a forehead flick, like something to say "cut it out," the instinctive way he reacts to it. It's not like he hates it, though. That sort of over-dramatic flair was a part of the package.]
[Although... He can match the comically exaggerated response. That unruly mess of hair flares up, floating a bit in the air, and even though his face is hidden one can tell his eyes are red. After a second, though, it abruptly stops and Shouta pulls back from their one-genre-change-away-from-a-fusion cuddle. There's a pause.]
... eye drops. [That's why. He'll finally slip his arm back out from under the other's shirt, pulling it back to rub his eyes irritably. He'd sort of forgotten what a pain it was to use his quirk so soon after waking up. He doesn't seem to be moving, though. Maybe the comment was less of an explanation and more of an order.]
no subject
He sits up quickly, looking around for Shouta's uniform while his body screams its mild protest; his joints are always stiff as hell in the morning, a cough bubbling up as he stands up like an old man, hand on the dresser and motions looking particularly routine. It's a little cold, and he's already decided he's going to need to find his heating pad -- something he usually does behind closed doors, though he figures if Shouta knew about his fanmail, he'd have snooped enough to find the equipment he's build up an arsenal for by now.]
... Eye drops, eye drops...
[He mumbles it mostly to himself, a determined furrow to his brow as he seeks out the man's supplies. Because Toshinori can't do anything half-heartedly.]
Ah, got it! Over here...
no subject
[Within reason. Maybe. If he couldn't look, he at least wanted to touch.]
[Impure thoughts aside, it was probably a bit mean to make Toshi go get them. Still, the way he just does it, treating it as importantly as anything else, makes a small smile form on Shouta's lips. And he said he felt fulfilled helping others, right? He could give minor, easy-to-satisfy orders like that while taking care of the important things himself. Not that getting his eyedrops right this minute wasn't world-endingly important. He blinks and it goes so slowly, please help him, All Might, he needs you.]
My hero. [he says, flatly, holding his hand out expectantly.]
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I don't know, Shouta-kun... I might become a villain!
Then who'll give you the eye drops?
[He's in a particularly good mood; usually not the case for him, in the morning. If he's honest. Usually it's just aches and pangs and him being lost in his own thoughts until he can meet Shouta in the living room and kitchen. Now, he's aches and pangs and Shouta in his bed. Big difference. He can't help but be a little happy, even if his joints complain.]
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[Still, it would be nicer if he didn't joke about highly serious matters like eye drops.]
I'd get them from you one way or another. [He doesn't move, though, not even making a token grab for the out-of-reach salvation.]
... and considering you know what I do to villains, [he's still covering one eye petulantly, he'll still smile a bit, half-concealed by his arm.] I'd call you a masochist, again. [He curls the fingers of his extended hand a little in a small, twitchy gesture that either says "Give them now, please," or "I could get up and pin you at any second."]
no subject
I guess if I'd want anyone to tie me up...
[God, don't finish that, he thinks. He sits down on the edge of the bed fully and carefully gives the eye drops to Aizawa, turning is back for just a moment to him to knead his low back with his thumbs -- trying and failing not to groan a little. Schedule, schedule... Hot shower, medication, dressing, breakfast. It suddenly seems far less enjoyable compared to laying around in bed with Shouta. Aaa, he can't go turning into some lazybones teacher now.]
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Masochist. [said harmlessly, as if it were just another observation like Toshinori's hair color or eye color. He shifts up to sitting so he can safely tilt his head up for one drop, two drops... the world gets a little less painful to look at. slowly, other thoughts about the day pile in, like what time it was or what he should be doing. He blinks a few times, letting the relief set in. Much better. As much as the morning and their time together was special...]
You should shower. [He presses a hand, softly, against the other's back.] If you look disheveled at work today, Hizashi's going to assume all sorts of things, you know. []
no subject
I think he'll probably assume plenty anyway, but... good plan.
[He almost invites Shouta to join him. Almost.
But then he remembers what he looks like under the sweats and shirt, and his confidence flounders.]
I'll be back. Try not to end up sleeping somewhere else in the house while I'm gone.
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I'll try. [Sharing a shower wasn't a good plan for work days anyways. The hours for teaching were less flexible than hero work. It doesn't stop him from idly following Toshinori with his eyes as he goes, thinking about it. Some other time, maybe.]
[The idea of just staying in bed is far less appealing with the blond man out of it, though. Shouta will pull himself out after a few more sluggish minutes. He'll busy himself with some early-morning stretches. It's nothing new for their shared time at the apartment. Some mornings, if he wasn't sitting on the couch as if he'd never settled down to sleep, Toshinori would exit the bedroom to find him in the middle of some absurd set of push-ups. It's nothing so intense this morning, just something to pass the time and work any lingering stiffness out of his own limbs.]
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