#sofd

"What a splendid pie, pizza-pizza pie

Erasercloudmic, very fluffy, injury-based hurt/comfort drabble from my twitter giveaway!

“Hold still,” was a useless thing to say to Oboro, but Shōta couldn’t help but try. It did nothing to stop Oboro’s leg twitching back and forth, an attempt to evade the sting of the antiseptic-soaked cloth Aizawa hovered ready for each and every moment he could strike the open wound on Oboro’s knee with another cleaning swipe.

Hizashi hovered nervously nearby, gaze on Oboro’s twisting expression. His arms tucked in closer around himself, hands rubbing his sides in little agitated pulses Shōta was tracking from the corner of his eye. That was something it would take more than antiseptic to solve.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he announced.

Oboro’s gaze followed the words straight to Hizashi’s frown, his brows rising. “Dude. It was not your fault are you kidding?”

A nervous bleat came out of Hizashi, hand slamming up over his lips to muffle it, and the words that followed. “It sorta was! If I’d kept my mouth shut-“

“If you hadn’t used your Quirk? In a class about using our Quirks?”

“If I’d been more careful-“

“In a class,” Shōta expanded as Oboro was distracted by another hiss of pain, “about practising using our Quirks, that we are still developing, and can’t be expected to use perfectly yet? Yes. Of course. If only you had already had the training we are currently receiving.”

Hizashi stopped pacing. “I know not to aim it at other people!”

“You can’t be expected to know how to deal with idiots-” Shōta got the whole cloth over the injury this time, pressing it down over the wound and ignoring Oboro’s little foot-stomp whines. “-Who come hurtling into your impact range on a cloud.”

Oboro nodded emphatically, which was only partially due to the rabbit-thump foot-bounce level of pain he was in. “Honestly I kinda deserved the face plant! And the scrapes. Learned my lesson and all that!”

It did very little to convince Hizashi, who kept lingering back, shoulders hunched in and chin tucked down. The look didn’t suit him. Shōta and Oboro shared a look, before Oboro was stretching his arms out and making little beckoning fingers twitches towards the tragic figure of their boyfriend. “C’mere, Zashi. Come on. If you feel sorry for this poor, injured victim-“

“Oboro,” Shōta complained.

“-okay, this not actually badly hurt guy, come give me a hug. That’d make me feel miles better.”

“I can’t just hug the damage away,” Hizashi mumbled.

“You can hug away the damage in my heart~ The emotional trauma~”

“He does not have any emotional trauma,” Shōta clarified, smacking Oboro’s less injured leg. “He is exaggerating. You should still hug him to shut him up.”

After a reluctant moment of consideration, Hizashi shuffled in, yelping when they seized him the moment he was in reach. He was bundled into both their arms, squeezed in between them, legs bent up over Oboro’s already bandaged arm so Shōta could keep working uninterrupted by the body in the way.

Oboro pressed a kiss to his temple. “If we’re gonna have a joint agency, figuring out kinks like this is important! And I’m okay. Really, no jokes! I’ve done worse to myself when I’m messing with my own Quirk. I can take you putting me on blast.”

“If you don’t stop moving this leg I will also be putting you on blast,” Shōta muttered, but not without adding his own kiss to Hizashi’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault. It was his fault.”

“Hey! It was an accident!”

“Yes. That is what I meant to say. Obviously.”

Hizashi finally started to unwind, sinking into the hold and kisses, head dropping to Oboro’s shoulder. “I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you,” Oboro replied, sneaking him a kiss to the corner of his mouth this time. “Don’t sweat it, Zashi. I’m okay!”

where they really did meet at a small book shop, where Aleistar did find Haze's wallet, and returned it after recognizing him from his id. and where haze got so flustered by the big nice man that he really did insist on rewarding him by writing his number down on the back of a horribly out of date, incomplete fro yo punch card that he tucked into Aleistar's belt before his brain caught up with him.

where they did have a three year dating period of highs and lows and uncomfortable conversations about the intersection of haze not wanting to be seen as a gold digger who was only with Aleistar to get his money, and Aleistar wanting to take care of his boyfriend.

I was thinking of a shippy comic Idea where mark sleep overs at david's house,