SWEETHEARTS [flufftober 2023]

Sick/Injury (Shota Aizawa)

🧡

"You are such a fucking idiot."

Bloodied and bruised, Shota Aizawa chuckled, which sent a searing pain through his chest. He collapsed on our door frame, holding himself up with trembling hands. I rushed forward to support him, wedging my arm under his.

"You're right," he wheezed with a little shake of his head. "You're always right."

God, I hadn't seen him look so haggard in... I couldn't remember how long. Life had been nice and quiet lately. Both of the kids had flown the coop, so Shota focused on teaching, I focused on work, and we enjoyed our empty nest. We talked about his retirement from hero work more than once... and I assumed he was done with risking his life for the sake of others. Guess I was wrong.

With a sigh, I lugged him up higher, gripping him tightly. "Come on, let's get you fixed up," I said, leading him slowly into our apartment.

He rushed out earlier in the evening to help with some emergency... but I hadn't anticipated that he would be out so long, only to return around dawn. Of course, I stayed up, worrying. Now we were both exhausted... but only he was bleeding from a weeping wound in his chest. Right. Focus.

I navigated both of us around the furniture and toward our bathroom, where I propped Shota on the edge of the tub. "Stay," I commanded, turning to grab the first aid kit from under the sink.

"Sure," he hissed between clenched teeth, clutching his ribs with one hand as blood dripped from the other. God, he was a mess.

I sighed and unearthed the kit, popping it open right there on the bathmat. "You wanna tell me what happened?" I asked. My mind was in so many places that I wasn't really looking at the bottles and boxes. I couldn't even remember what I was looking for. "Or was this a top secret situation?"

"Hitoshi ran into some trouble," he grumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

That made me smile despite the circumstances. Of course he went and hurt himself while protecting our son. Refocused, I snatched up a few things and I hobbled over to him with an armful of bandages, antiseptic, and painkillers. "No wonder you rushed out."

He squinted at me as I tugged at his shirt. "I can't lift my arm."

"Good thing you have spare uniforms, then," I said, brandishing the scissors. A few snips later and his shirt fell to pieces in the tub. With one finger, I gently tapped his bloody knuckles and said, "Let me get a look at that wound."

"My hand's holding everything in place," he grunted, opening one eye to squint at me. "You want my guts all over the bathroom?"

"Like your guts haven't been all over the bathroom before," I said, rolling my eyes. He got injured too often for my tastes, but between Eri and I, we'd always been able to get Shota back on his feet in no time. Although Eri was off at college these days, I knew my quirk was more than enough. "Let me work my magic, you old fart. Unclench your butt cheeks and let me help."

He laughed at that and moved his hand out of the way. "Fine. Consider my cheeks unclenched."

"For the first time ever," I mumbled, placing both hands over his wound.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Shut up."

His ribs were obviously broken, and something was gushing blood. Luckily, my quirk worked quickly, and I watched as his skin and bones began to heal beneath my glowing fingers. "Just a few more minutes," I said, already feeling the exhaustion creeping up on me.

"Don't do too much," Shota said, his voice soft and sleepy.

I snorted. "Said the pot to the kettle."

He smiled at that, even with his eyes closed. "Are we about to fall asleep on the bathroom floor again? We haven't done that since—"

"That one time Eri had the flu and wouldn't stop barfing everywhere?"

"No, when—"

"Oh, you mean—"

"When we got the flu after Eri and both couldn't stop barfing everywhere," we said in unison. We both chuckled at the memory—the two of us piled comforters on the floor so we could nap between rounds of barfing, and only opened the door so Hitoshi could pass us bowls of thin soup—and I kissed Shota's stubbly jaw.

He pressed a kiss to my hair in exchange. "Thank you."

"'In sickness and in health', remember?"

Even through the haze of exhaustion and blood loss, he pulled me in for a hug.

"...I remember."