Chapter Text
By the time Hizashi and Nemuri left the Aizawa apartment, the sun was dipping into the horizon.
Shota let out a weary sigh, and even Izuku let out a breath, all energy drained from copious amounts of high-energy yapping and emotions.
Shota glanced out the window to check the time again.
“Dinner, kid?”
Izuku made an agreeing sound, and made an aborted move to get off the couch. “I suppose we don’t need to scavenge for food anymore-”
Shota let out an incredibly relieved sigh. “That’s the best goddamn thing that’s happened with this whole time travel thing.”
Izuku nodded vehemently. “Right? On the first day we came back I thought I used all my tears after seeing my mum, but then I smelled the breakfast she made after and the neighbours called the building administration on us for flooding.”
“That sounds about right.” Shota muttered fondly. He wandered to the kitchen while Izuku shifted to watch over the back of the couch, and peered in the fridge.
“Do you want anything in particular?” He asked while scanning the available ingredients.
Izuku fidgeted slightly. “I’m good with whatever!”
Shota made an acknowledging sound, and pulled out ingredients for a basic meal. Nothing too fancy for today. Pickiness was a luxury he never cared for, and both he and Izuku were long forced out of any pickiness with food anyway. As long as they ate something in a day, they were good.
He began to wash some veggies. “Have any of the other teachers bothered to give you homework or assignments?”
Izuku nodded before realising his dad wasn’t looking in his direction. “Yes- well actually, they said I didn’t have to but I’d rather do worksheets I’ve already done for revision if nothing else. I don’t want to fall behind the rest of my peers.”
He dropped slightly to a mutter, but Shota didn’t even register the shift, following along just fine. “I think I’ll ask to do most of the tests even though I don’t have to. It would make it easier to pass first year normally, instead of trying to work around the fact that I would have already passed it in… the future?” Izuku trailed off. He glanced between Shota and his still fidgeting hands.
“Fair enough. You still get a free pass for this week’s midterms though.”
Izuku nodded. “Yeah. I assume you’ve already finalised the matchups for the practical portion without me in them anyway.”
Shota grunted in affirmation and began to cut the meat and veggies.
There was a lull in the conversation as Shota concentrated on his task and Izuku ran out of commentary on school testing. He felt eyes on him peeking from over the back of the couch.
Shota idly wondered why Izuku was staring but didn’t give it much thought until- “...Do you want me to help with dinner?”
Ah. That was why Izuku was so fidgety. Silly kid. He felt his expression soften, and he turned to face Izuku fully. “You’re thinking too much. This apartment is now your house too. I don’t care if you steal all the food or make a mess or paint the walls green.”
Izuku sputtered, clearly not expecting to be read so thoroughly, so quickly. He was also very clearly not sure if he wanted to bother refuting the fact that he would ever make such a terrible mess, knowing full well Shota knew he wouldn’t.
Shota rolled his eyes and turned back to the food while Izuku gathered himself.
“I think that would have been nicer if you hadn’t been holding a knife.” Is what Izuku settled on.
Shota snorted involuntarily, and stopped cutting a carrot to point it lazily in Izuku’s direction. He again faced Izuku properly, so that he could see his amused gaze. “You’re my son and this is your home now. Got it?” He affirmed, teasing tone tinged with seriousness, as he swashed the knife faux-threateningly.
A giddy laugh bubbled out of Izuku. “Is this supposed to be stockholm syndrome now, Dad?”
He normally had a better natural poker face than Izuku, but Shota grinned too, betraying similar giddiness in his chest every time he called Izuku “son”, and his amazing, wonderful child returned it with a “dad”. Particularly in this current setting.
“Yes.” He deadpanned. “I brought you here against your will.”
“You wish.” It came out softer than what Izuku had probably intended.
He was trying his best to be as blasé about the situation to comfort Izuku, but domesticity like this was something he never let himself even consider until the moment he saw Izuku again, at the gates of UA a week prior.
While it had been unspoken, he and Izuku had been a small family unit for well over a year, and they didn’t need a physical home. But this? He thought, as Izuku finally stopped fidgeting and properly relaxed into the couch, notebook somehow in hand, this was shaping up to be really, really nice.
Dinner ended up being a quiet affair, with both Izuku and Shota being unable to smother small smiles as they ate. Shota didn’t notice that he had stopped eating at some point, just to watch his kid.
Izuku was seemingly engrossed in his dinner, lips ticking up at random intervals that had Shota’s own doing the same, both just so pleased with their current state of existence.
Shota took in all the small details, and the differences from the End. The eternal pallour from the End, had been replaced with a vibrant complexion. Izuku’s cheeks were more filled than what Shota remembered from before, though he was nearly certain it was because he was just used to them being slightly gaunt. Izuku looked so healthy now.
Something that made him melt with adoration was that, under the warm lights of his apartment, Izuku’s eyes were the same. They were as bright and kind as they had always been in smaller moments, stolen away from the blanket of grief that hung over their timeline.
He wonders if they’re the reason why his relationship with Izuku morphed into a parent-child one.
It was hard to be sure, because even when he tries to think back on older memories with him, he can’t recall ever not loving this kid the way he does now.
He nudged Izuku’s foot from under the table. Izuku looked up at him, stray crumbs on his cheek, and with those same, bright, kind eyes.
“I love you, kid.”
Izuku’s shoulders raised with the tears that immediately welled in his eyes.
Shota laughed softly, and pulled over the new tissue box.
Izuku beamed wetly, and dabbed at his eyes with a proffered tissue.
“I love you too, Dad.”
Feeling like they were floating, they went through the motions of settling down for the day.
Back in the End, this meant setting up a crude camp with the mostly in-tact tent they had managed to find, sponge baths if they were lucky enough to find a resource-rich area with excess fresh water, and lying there, listening to the other breathe, to distract from the lack of city noise and bird call.
Now, with only some minor hiccups of Izuku knowing he’s more than welcome and that this is his dad’s place and he can be comfy but he’s just not quite sure if it works differently from what he’s used to- they took turns to have a proper shower, change into pyjamas and brush their teeth. After a moment of staring at each other, wondering if it would be ok for their brains to have a routine similar to what they did in the End or not, they decided to deflate on the couch, the two of them taking up only one of three cushions.
Neither said anything about it.
They sat and breathed. Shota was squished on the edge of the couch, with Izuku squishing in close, and resting most of his torso on Shota’s.
They felt the other’s chest rise and fall.
An indeterminate amount of time went by.
“I’m kind of nervous.”
Shota hummed to show he was listening.
“This week… we’re actually going to try and change the future.” Izuku’s tone wasn’t uncertain, so Shota didn’t think he needed comfort. Sometimes Izuku just needed to get thoughts out of his head.
Izuku hummed pensively. Shota waited.
He eventually shifted a little bit off of Shota to face him slightly.
“I’ve been thinking that maybe we should have waited to tell my friends- the class- about everything?” Shota furrowed his brows confusedly at the shift in topic, but waited for Izuku to find the words for his racing thoughts.
“They have their midterms this week and I just trauma dumped a war on them!” Izuku blurted out, then hid his face in his hands. “And then they’ve been so kind and trying to pay attention to my every feeling and not overstepping and Uraraka said something about losing sleep over worrying about me and I saw a couple others nod along and-”
Shota winced. Yeah, maybe they should have waited. Too late for that though. Plus…
“Izuku,” Izuku’s worried mutterings came to an abrupt halt. “We wanted to tell them because we knew they’d notice something was up. Chances are, they would have just worried themselves silly over your change in demeanour anyway.” Hellions, he thought fondly.
Izuku fiddled with his fingers sheepishly. “That's true…” Shota could hear a slight smile in his voice.
Shota was very proud of the class. Proud of who they grew to become in the short year and a bit he knew them for, of course, but more so of how this more green version, only three months in, were handling everything. They were being so kind and considerate, and Shota could see the heroes that they grew to be, and would grow further into already.
If they passed the midterms again, he thought with a mental evil laugh. This whole period could be considered a test in managing stress, distractions and priorities, a must-have skill in the world of professional heroism.
Depending on the success rate of the ‘test’, he should find a way to replicate the lesson for future classes.
U.A. was known for its freeform education, after all.
He came out of his own thoughts to see Izuku giving him a slightly judgemental side-eye. But joke’s on him, because Shota knows for a fact that Izuku doesn’t have a mind reading quirk in his small collection.
Izuku raised a brow.
Probably didn’t have a mind reading quirk. Whatever. He totally wasn’t ignoring the fact that he knew the kid could just read him that well now. Hours of useless chatter in a post-apocalyptic setting and all. He could read Izuku back, just as well, anyway.
Shota raised a hand to card it through Izuku’s hair. “I know you feel a bit useless, kid.” Izuku deflated again, and he knew that he had hit the nail on its head. Shota also knew that Izuku was the furthest thing from useless, but he knew the feeling well and elected not to say anything on it. “Nezu will be in contact with you some time this week about your temporary provisional license, and I’ve already begun patrols around Kamino ward. I’ve been circling to make it natural but I’ll start narrowing in on them and we’ll have our evidence for a raid by Friday.”
Shota booped Izuku’s nose, and Izuku’s eyes crossed to watch his finger. Cute. “We’ll be okay. We’ve got a whole team behind us determined to make sure that we don’t face a future like the End again.” Shota shifted to make proper eye contact. “We’ll be okay.” He repeated. “Got that, problem child?”
Shota wasn’t surprised when Izuku’s eyes welled up again. He felt Izuku smush his face in his chest to hide the tears, and felt arms tightly around his midsection. “I got it, Dad.”
Shota gently wrapped his arms around Izuku, and gently rocked them side to side.
They breathed a little more, and Shota felt proper drowsiness set in for the first time since they returned to the past.
He nudged Izuku. “Go call your mum before you fall asleep.” Izuku got up and yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“‘Kay.” Izuku answered, but made no further movement.
With some effort, Shota also got up from the couch, and hovered a hand on Izuku’s back, gently guiding a bleary Izuku to his room.
He pushed the door open and flicked the light on. Izuku paused, and looked back at him with adoring eyes that took Shota’s breath away.
“I love you, Dad.” Izuku said, just because he could.
Shota heard the in-betweens. I’m so happy to be here. Here with you, here as a kid and his dad. Here with a future. Here with a future that has both of us.
Shota wrapped his arms around Izuku’s shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug. Izuku laughed sleepily and returned the hold.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I love you so, so much.”
He felt Izuku’s hold tighten.
They stayed like that for a few more moments, before Shota finally pulled back, planting a kiss on Izuku’s temple as he let go.
“Call your mum and go to bed, Izuku. If you’re not already up in the morning I’ll wake you.”
Izuku nodded and went to grab his phone.
Shota lingered in the doorway.
Izuku’s eyes caught his, and he beamed at him. Shota smiled back, softer than anyone other than Izuku would ever know.
“Goodnight Izuku.”
“Goodnight Dad.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
And with that, he closed the door behind him, went into his own room, and fell into the most restful sleep he’d had in years.