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[It's—still embarrassing, to need this much help. Yes, his arm is quite broken, so of course he needs someone to help him with the finer motor skills, but somehow it's awkward!!

Perhaps because he doesn't just have people over to help him get around... ever. Not even Nighteye, before their partnership split, would help him get dressed while he was injured. It's all he can do now to look down at Aizawa and watch his hands move, faintly mesmerized by how close he is. The quiet in the room is almost tense, but not uncomfortably so— like there's a line to cross and everything involved is just considering when to cross it.

Touching his scar might be getting there. All Might doesn't pull away- besides doctors, there's only a handful of people who've seen this scar, and once again Aizawa has joined their ranks. It's... alright? His skin feels too warm all over (probably some kind of fever, following everything else wrong with his body now) and Aizawa's fingers are cool against his chest. So.

...So. Go right ahead.]

It's from the last time I faced All for One, [he says, eventually, quietly. An explanation is only fair.]

This is why you cough up blood all the time.

[He had no idea. Oh, he'd known it had to be due to some kind of injury, but he'd never imagined . . . this. Something enormous, something so jarring, marring the skin and twisting Toshinori's body in such an obvious way.

Without really thinking about it, he slides his hand down, cool fingers tracing the edge of the scar. They drag over the bumps of his ribs, the curve of his stomach, sliding so carelessly it's as if he's done it a thousand times. He only stops when he reaches the jut of his hip and the edge of his sweatpants.]

You must have been terrified to see him again.

[It isn't pitying. It isn't sympathetic, really. Just a fact.]

Part of it.

[He's also been tearing himself apart with One for All for six extra years, which hasn't helped, but that bad habit has just taken care of itself.

Not really important now, compared to Aizawa's fingers tracing over him. The scar is a harsh reminder of his mistakes, but to say he's embarrassed by it wouldn't be accurate. It's a private thing, one Aizawa has just put his hand all over without asking, but All Might doesn't say anything to him. It feels nice, plain and simple; it's been years since someone has touched him in... ways similar to this one.]

"Terrified" doesn't begin to cover it. [He puts his hand over Aizawa's and nudges it up a little; go on, touch him again.] It was going to happen sooner or later, though.

[His gaze darts up, meeting Toshinori's face for just a moment before focusing back down on his body. There's few clearer signals than the one he just got, but still his fingers hesitate for just a moment. Not because he doesn't want to feel him, but . . .

This is a path he can't back down from. So he'd best make a decision quickly on what it is he wants to do, because he'd despise himself for being something so stupid as fickle.]

It's . . .

[Slowly, his fingers trace upwards again. They move lightly this pass, memorizing the feeling of rough warmth beneath his fingertips. There's no rush, and so he takes his time, lingering here and there for no other reason than it suits him.]

There are plenty of heroes who would run from such a confrontation, and no one would blame them.

[If All Might stopped to think about it, he'd be politely embarrassed about his automatic insistence that Aizawa touch him. There's really no reason for it, besides the fact that his hand feels nice and why not, he's let Aizawa into so many different aspects of his life already in just one day. Another one, this one, isn't any different.

It is a little different. Not enough to deter Aizawa, at least, and All Might can... relax, minutely, under the careful observation of his fingertips.]

That's true.

[He considers reaching for the scar under Aizawa's eye, to smooth his thumb over it and maybe make Aizawa look up at his face again— but that feels like rushing ahead, and so his hand winds up at his elbow, where Shigaraki's quirk left its mark.]

Not you.

[It's a compliment, but one he ignores for the moment. This is about Toshinori, not Aizawa, and he won't let him deflect from it.]

You're brave. And it's an easy quality to overlook in this day and age, because all heroes are supposed to be brave.

[He takes a step forward. They're too close now, intimate in a way they haven't ever been before. He can feel the warmth radiating off his torso, the puff of his breath as he exhales against the top of his head. Aizawa's fingers drag down lower again, almost experimental in how they linger at his hip.

A beat, and he glances up, a little smile on his face.]

Savor it. I'm not going to give you a compliment for another year or so after this.

Edited 2018-07-05 02:10 (UTC)

[You try to compliment a boy and he throws even more compliments back in your face and gets up in your business. Kids these days.

Or: he's been so continuously awed by the bravery of the people around him, like Aizawa, like Midoriya- as foolish as he may be sometimes- that even he overlooks the quality in himself sometimes. It's always nice to hear a little encouragement, and it's even nicer to hear it spoken quietly and in earnest, in his home, while Aizawa steps closer to him. Into his space, like he has every right to, as easily as if he belongs there.

Suddenly he's a little dizzy, which is either his fever spiking or something else entirely.]

I— yes, I'll... I will treasure it. I think I need to sit down.

[His grip tightens slightly on Aizawa's arm, but not for support. Stay.]

Ah-- all right.

[He twists his hand, fingers wrapping around his forearm, taking a step back. There's a couch not too far (with an All Might felt blanket draped over the back, neatly folded), and he leads them both over there. Toshinori is seated first, naturally, before he joins him.

His shirt is still hanging open, he realizes, but he won't move to help him button it just yet. Not until he knows where they're going with this. It would illogical to do anything else.]

All right?

[He lets Aizawa steer him to the couch, letting out a grateful sigh when he's finally seated. What he really needs to do is sleep for another few days-- nothing but sleep and healthy eating, even going out for a walk is probably ill-advised-- but what he wants to do is sit here on this couch and look at Aizawa.

Thankfully, it's easy for him to do just that, his more mobile hand sitting in his lap while he wonders how to regain that intimacy they had just a moment ago. It hasn't been broken, he can tell that much, but he also doesn't exactly know where this is going...

Ah, of course, now is the time to reach out and touch Aizawa's face, thumb skimming over the scar beneath his eye.

And then after a moment, because Aizawa asked him a question and he's definitely paying attention--] Oh! Better!

[Ah . . . that feels better than he wants to admit. It's been a long while since someone's touched him like that. Oh, Midnight and Mic will touch him, throwing arms around his shoulders or taking his arm, but that's different. This is something deliberate, something sweet and intimate, and he shouldn't like it as much as he does.

For just a moment, his eyes close. A soft exhale leaves him, pleased and satisfied, and then he opens his eyes.]

Good.

[Good he's better, or good that he's touching him? Both, maybe. He reaches up, covering Toshinori's hand with his own, aware that he might try and pull it away.]

Hey. Do you really want your shirt fixed?

[Oh-- that's not the reaction he expects. What he anticipates when he reaches for Aizawa is that Aizawa will do... nothing, at best, and at worst pull away from him and firmly shut the door on whatever this is that's forming between them. A content sigh isn't much but it's beyond his expectations, so—

Well, that's very nice!! That's all!! He gives him a small smile, shifting his hand to cup his cheek.]

You're the one who wanted it fixed in the first place.

That was before you wanted me to feel you up.

[That's much cruder than what truly happened, but he's also teasing, so. It's probably fine. Anyway, he's just a little uncertain as to what he's doing, and it's easier to deflect than actually confront that.]

I like this look better.

[Ah, well, that gets him to sputter and cough, turning away to cover his mouth with... his cast. It's fine, there's no blood-- at least none that comes out of his mouth, so for all intents and purposes, he's fine.]

Ah... you said you weren't going to compliment me again for a year, as well.

[All these things Aizawa is doing in the past ten minutes that are throwing him way off his game, goddamn. But, alright - confronting this, no, but being honest about it--sure.]

You make me... feel better. Coming to see me in the hospital, and coming here— I'm glad.

I'm glad.

[He's not just echoing him. He is glad, because he'd set out to . . . what? Cheer All Might up, yes, and thank him, but more than that. To keep him company, to make sure his spirits were up. To ensure he wasn't left alone in wake of all he'd done.

And because he likes him. Because he'd wanted to see him.]

I like spending time with you.

[It's the truth. It hadn't used to be, but it is now.]

[Ah, but if he hasn't actually, earnestly wished for Aizawa to say that for months now. I like spending time with you— it's enough to make his heart sing, which is, you know. A tad embarrassing, but against all odds and off-base assumptions he'd once made, Aizawa is here with him in his greatest time of need because he wants to be.

It's a very different homecoming than the one he'd have had alone. Alone, the All Might merchandise all around- even the silly blanket- would have clawed deeper the hole in his heart, but with Aizawa here, everything seems a little bit brighter.

Of course, enjoying spending time with someone and wanting to touch them intimately are very different things, something that trips him up only for a moment. They've already crossed that line, so there's no harm in it, surely.]

Then-- could I...? [Get closer to him somehow, something he attempts to convey by leaning about an inch towards him. He's held together with bandages and prayer right now, there's only so many different positions he can be in without pain. But he is still going to ask.]

[He doesn't quite know what it is he wants them to be. He doesn't really know what's happening between them, whether this will be a deepening of a friendship that's only just properly begun or something more.

But he wants to find out. He wants to get to know this man, Toshinori Yagi, so much more. He wants to find out how he thinks and what it is he values-- and even beyond that, the pettier things. He wants to find out what his routines are, how he likes his eggs and what movies he likes, the things that don't really matter but that all add up to make up him. He wants to hear the man who doesn't laugh at the drop of a hat, but rather talks like a normal man, grumbling and wry and sweet.

Could I--? There's a hundred ways to end that sentence.]

What do you want to do?

[But yes, and he shifts forward himself, til his foot brushes lightly against his knee.]

[What does he want to do-- there's a hundred ways to answer that, too, and the first thought that hits him is just to hold him, but that's-- well. There's an attraction, of course there's an attraction, but he's just today learned that Aizawa cares about him on the most basic level. He's cleared step one, and already his inclination is to dive headlong into whatever's next.

So, no, not that. Well, yes he wants to do that, but he doesn't want Aizawa to pull away from him, either.

Delicately, then.]

I know we just sat down, but I would like to-- lie down. Here.

[Let him put his head in that lap, babe. Will his legs be forced to curl up against the arm of this couch? Yes, but let him do this.]

. . . all right.

[He won't be able to fit, but that's a call for him to make. Aizawa shifts, both legs dropping down to the floor, one elbow leaning back to hook on the edge of the couch. The lap is free, babe, come lay down here.]

[yesssssssssSSSSS

Or: If he looks a touch delighted by this, that's because he is. The couch is most certainly too short for all of him, but he turns to lie back with his head in Aizawa's lap with basically all the energy he has left for the night, so enjoy having him here like this for the foreseeable future.

And yes, he has to keep his legs bent or else just dangle them over the other arm of the couch, but those limbs he hasn't recently shattered, so it's more comfortable than it looks.

Hi, Aizawa.]

Ah- you're sure? [He's already there and he asks anyway.]

[He sets one hand atop his head, heavy and confident, so yes, he's sure. Toshinori is an easy weight to bear, light and lanky. He can still feel a little bit of tension, but that will pass, he assumes, the more time goes on.

Absently, he pushes his fingers through the front of his hair, puling those long strands back. It's a simple motion, but a soothing one, and he repeats it, resting his chin in the palm of his other hand.]

Better?

[Oh- that's incredibly nice, actually, and after a moment he shuts his eyes contentedly to enjoy it.]

Much, thank you!

[Fingers in his hair take his mind off almost everything-- the pain, the fear of what will happen next against the villains, the great expanse of future he has no idea how to manage can all fade to the background while Aizawa does such a simple thing as run fingers through his hair.

So he'll enjoy that in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before speaking up idly again.]

You shouldn't miss work for me.

[This is just an observation; he doesn't know just how much time Aizawa plans on spending here the next few days, so...]

Mm. I won't.

[Who knows what's happening over the next few hours, but he won't abandon his students. Especially not now, when they'll be frightened and elated and desperately looking for guidance.

But they don't need him now. So he keeps carding his fingers through his hair, enjoying the way he looks relaxed like this. It's a good look for him.]

After all that's happened, I don't trust them not to break down my door to try and rescue me if I don't show up on time.

Haha... that's what I would do, too.

[And then he'd carry him away bridal style, although with a lot more difficulty than the last time Aizawa was unconscious for. But good; the students need someone there to guide them after all that's happened, and honestly, Aizawa is a much better choice for that than he himself is...]

Although finding your door would be the first step...

[Take him home someday just so he can see? Thanks.]

[He huffs. It's meant to be a sigh, but it comes out a little more petulant.]

It's going to be in UA in a few weeks. Nezu wants to move the children to the school in a dormitory.

[Superb idea, very good for the children, lots of great reasons to do that, and most importantly of all—]

Ah.

We could be neighbors.

[Babe.]

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