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One weekend, after what had felt like a never-ending week, Toshinori reached for the jar of flour and placed it beside the other ingredients for the pancakes he would make for Izuku.
Izuku’s second year at UA High was both easier and harder in many ways. They had brought an end to the war. Treacherous villains were no longer looming over their heads, allowing Izuku to be a normal kid. But that also came with all the normal kid things that could feel equally as stressful, and one of those things was training.
Toshinori would have thought that all of Izuku’s hard work out in the world would have left him feeling capable of his skills. But true to form, he just pushed himself harder in his second year. He became more competitive, more interested in beating his own best and measuring that against the best of his equally talented and hardworking classmates. And that drive came out this week in full force as they trained for Izuku’s second Sports Festival.
As Toshinori pulled out the rest of the ingredients, he wondered to himself, not for the first time, if he was doing enough to treat Izuku’s training differently this time around. He didn’t want to place the burden he had on him before again, especially with so little need. Izuku had declared himself to the world, and he deserved to have some fun now.
So when Izuku had started pushing himself too hard a few days ago, Toshinori had tried to get him to let up, which only caused Izuku to snap at him.
“I’ve got it,” he had said as he attempted to dodge out of the way of projectiles launched at him from the training device. Every so often, though, one managed to hit him out of his fatigue and sluggishness. Toshinori had turned off the machine at that point.
“My boy, you’re tired. We can stop for the day and—”
“I said I’ve got it!” Izuku had huffed, stomping up to the machine and moving to turn it back on. Toshinori had placed his hand over the switch, telling him to stop once again, but Izuku had tried to push his hand out of the way.
“Izuku!”
Toshinori had bellowed a little louder than he had intended, but Izuku’s mood swings were still new to him, and he found the behavior quite worrisome. At first he had feared it was some sort of trauma from the war, but Hound Dog had assured him it wasn’t necessarily as serious as that.
“He trusts you,” the counselor had assured him, “and so he feels comfortable taking out his negative emotions on you. He knows you won’t leave.”
Toshinori still didn’t love the mood swings, but he’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel a certain kind of warmth hearing that.
The other reason the mood swings were tolerable was because they always quickly swung in the other direction. After Izuku’s huff about training, he had sulked their entire way back to the dorms and stared at his phone. But once they got there and Toshinori went to say goodbye, Izuku had paused. His face was still scrunched up in frustration, but Toshinori didn’t miss the slight wobble to his lip and the glassiness to his eyes.
“Can I come stay with you?” he had mumbled.
And of course, Toshinori said yes.
Because this pattern to Izuku’s mood swings had happened enough, he knew what was coming next. First, Izuku’s anxieties built up to the point of lashing out in frustration over something or other. Then, they would reach a boiling point where Izuku would cry, often filled with more teenage rage and frustrations. After that followed gasping apologies where Toshinori would reach out for Izuku and Izuku would grab Toshinori like he was a lifeline in the sea of his confusing and stressful emotions. Finally, Izuku would often crash into sleep, sometimes soundly and sometimes nightmare fueled.
But either way, the last part of the cycle always remained the same. He’d wake up feeling childlike and needy.
As Toshinori placed the bowls and the scale on the counter, he had the good sense to feel at least a little bit guilty for enjoying this last part. Yes, it meant that Izuku would return to normal soon and he’d feel better. But this particular part of the cycle also meant that Toshinori got to dote on him in a way that would be appreciated.
And Toshinori loved doting on Izuku.
So, he opened the jar to the flour and shook it out onto the scale. He set it down and kneeled slightly to get a closer look at the measurement on the digital face. He smirked, pleased he could now eyeball the stack of flour well enough to get the weight right on the first go. Dumping it into the larger bowl, he proceeded to measure out the other dry ingredients for the American pancakes — baking powder, salt and sugar.
After mixing those up, he pulled over the smaller bowl where he cracked an egg in one swift motion, eying the whites for any shells, then pouring in the creamy milk and the melted yet cool butter to stir it all together. He poured the liquid mixture into the center of the crater he had made in the dry mixture, then stirred it all until clumpy. He hadn’t made these in years, not until Izuku started staying over, but it came back to him as easily as riding a bike.
Letting the batter rest, Toshinori took the time to step into the bedroom and check on Izuku.
He found his boy splayed out over the bed and haphazardly wrapped in the blankets, exactly as he always did. His mop of curls stuck up on one side of his head and remained pressed down on the other. Toshinori approached, a soft smile tugging at his lips as it always did. Sinking down onto the mattress as he sat beside his boy, he reached a hand up to fix his hair and to start the process of gently waking him.
“Izuku,” he whispered, bending closer to take a look at his boy’s face. His eyes were still closed, green lashes resting above his starred freckles as gentle breathes wheezed out of his pouting lips. The sight of it made Toshinori forget everything else about this week, made him forget that Izuku was even a teenager, instead making him seem like such a small boy. In so many ways, he still was.
“Izuku, breakfast is almost ready,” Toshinori tried, bringing a thumb to rub his chubby cheeks. Izuku stirred a little, brows furrowing with the frustration of morning coming sooner than he’d like. Then, he opened his eyes, and his expression quickly shifted to the one Toshinori had been expecting, something so sad and so longing.
“It’s okay, my boy,” Toshinori assured him with a small smile, continuing to cup Izuku’s cheek in his hand. “You can rest here a little longer. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but it will be soon.”
Izuku’s eyes fell from Toshinori’s face, staring straight ahead of him. He tucked the blanket in his hands closer to his chin as his eyes began to wander over the rest of the bed. Toshinori joined him in looking around, knowing what Izuku wanted. Soon enough, Toshinori found it on the floor beside the bed. Bending down, he picked up the plush of his hero form and brought it to Izuku’s face.
“Is this what you were looking for, my little fanboy?”
Izuku’s only acknowledgment in confirmation was to reach for the toy and hug it close to his chest. Looking up at Toshinori once more, Izuku still had that apologetic look in his eyes, still not quite comfortable with what he wanted even though Toshinori was giving it to him.
“It’s okay, Izuku,” Toshinori said again, brushing his hair back and placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. “It’s okay. You deserve to be babied if that’s what you want. I’m happy to take care of you.”
Izuku buried his head into the sheets in response, still holding his plush tight. Toshinori brought the hand in Izuku’s hair to Izuku’s back, rubbing soft circles. He stayed there a little longer, knowing the batter was ready to go several minutes ago, but it didn’t matter. This was more important.
Eventually, Toshinori managed to pull himself away, knowing he’d get to be at Izuku’s side most of the day, knowing his little fan boy must be hungry. He went back to the kitchen and turned on the stove beneath two pans to heat them up. Then he opened the fridge, pulling out the bacon and eggs to go with the pancakes. Placing them on the second griddle to sizzle, Toshinori then dipped a cup into the goopy pancake batter, scooped some up, and dumped its contents onto the first griddle. For the final, special touch, he reached for a small cup on the counter filled with red, blue, and yellow sprinkles. He dipped his large fingers in to grab the small pieces and sprinkled them onto the pancakes for something a little extra special for Izuku.
Once the pancakes, bacon and eggs were plated, once Toshinori made his own plate of the mealy but more digestible pancake mix he kept handy, he set them on the table, pulled out the chairs, then went back to Izuku.
Sitting on the bed once more, he returned his attention to his boy.
“Izuku, breakfast is ready now. It’s time to eat.” Just as Toshinori expected, Izuku let out a bit of a whine and pressed his face further into the pillow. Toshinori ran his hand along Izuku’s back. “Izuku, aren’t you hungry?”
Before the boy could say anything, his stomach answered for him with a loud gargle.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Toshinori said warmly, still watching Izuku. His boy had turned to look at him now but still seemed hesitant to sit up. “Izuku, breakfast is getting cold,” he chided with no heat behind it. “If you don’t get up, I’ll have to carry you over myself.”
Izuku stilled at that comment, and Toshinori watched him carefully for his reaction. After a moment, Izuku leaned into the hand Toshinori had on his back and scooted closer. Not a challenge, exactly, but an invitation.
Toshinori took one arm and pulled it under Izuku’s knees, then took the other arm and hooked it underneath Izuku’s back. Bracing his legs, he stood up with his precious cargo in tow. Izuku held on to his plush still, burying half of his face in it.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to—” he started to mumble when Toshinori cut him off gently.
“You don’t need to apologize, my boy. I’ll always take care of you.”
With slow steps, Toshinori carried Izuku out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. Even though he knew the food might grow cold, Toshinori took his time, relishing the feeling of his boy in his arms, delighting in this version of Izuku. Every version of Izuku loved Toshinori, and Toshinori loved every version of Izuku in return. Still, Toshinori had come to love the opportunity to indulge in the softness of Izuku’s spirit that, up until now, only his mother had been blessed with.
Reaching the pulled-out chairs, Toshinori set Izuku down with great care, making sure he was fully settled before pulling his arms away. He pushed Izuku’s chair closer to the table as his boy stared wide-eyed at the pancakes. Taking his own seat, Toshinori pushed the syrup toward Izuku.
“Do you like the little addition?” Toshinori asked, nodding at the sprinkles. A small smile came to Izuku’s face, and Toshinori knew the sprinkles had been worth it for that moment alone. Izuku nodded, then poured far too much syrup onto the sugared meal. He took his fork, sliced off a piece of pancake, then shoved it in his mouth. Chewing with the cheeks of a chipmunk, his eyes grew wide.
“These are really good,” he said, or Toshinori thought he said, but it was hard to tell in the muffle of the pancake. After he finished chewing, Izuku added, “Thank you.” Toshinori smiled, bringing a hand to the boy’s hair.
“Anything for you, my boy.”
They ate the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence. Toshinori took small bites of his mealy pancake as Izuku wolfed down his massive plate, and Toshinori couldn’t help but smile the whole time. He brought a hand to Izuku’s back and rubbed it in soft circles as they ate, which caused Izuku to look at him with wide eyes before returning to his food.
The first few times they went through this routine, Toshinori would try to ask Izuku what he wanted to do the rest of the day without much of an answer. But by now, he knew the magic formula.
With a kiss to Izuku’s forehead, Toshinori stood up and took the dishes to clean them. By the time he finished up, he found Izuku on the couch, curled up in a blanket with the remote in his hand. As soon as Toshinori sat down, Izuku pressed play on one of his favorite shows, a show they had watched together many times through now. But Toshinori didn’t care. All he needed was the moment that came next, the moment where Izuku would crawl into his lap and let Toshinori hold him.
Whether these moments were brought about by too many years of solitude on both of their parts, too many years of staying strong and hardened and insisting that they were fine, Toshinori didn’t know. It was possible it was all of it, but it also didn’t matter much to him. They had each other now and Izuku, on more days than not, seemed happier than ever. That was all that mattered.
And if Izuku needed to be carried some days, if he needed to be held on the days that were harder, Toshinori would always be there with open arms.