Rough Hands, Gentle Love

(Age: Two) Mama! Dada!

It's not often you get to indulge a little in the mornings anymore. Tomo was usually up before either of you, and Tomura did usually deal with him for you.
But for once, Tomura had fallen asleep relatively easily despite his insomnia, and stayed asleep the whole night, which meant you got to stay asleep the whole night too, not being disturbed by either him or his son.
So when you wake up to cracked lips pressing against your scarred back, careful hands pulling you closer and trailing down your body, you hum contentedly, leaning into the contact.

You don't even get the chance to turn properly to meet the lazy kiss from Tomura before there's distressed crying from outside the door.
"Mama! Dada!" Tomo cries, audibly clawing at the door to get in.
Tomura groans against your mouth and immediately moves away, flopping onto his back and covering his face with his hands.
"You wanted another one." You state, your own voice raspy with sleep as you begin to get up.
"It's been weeks." Tomura continues to gripe.
"Well unfortunately we made the literal devil." You murmur sourly, pulling Tomura's sweatpants on from off the floor and opening the door, Tomo immediately slamming himself into your legs.
"Mama!"

"What is it, Tomo?" You ask, trying to keep your voice soft as you gently peel him from your legs so you can give him a proper hug.
"Tummy ouch." Tomo replies morosely, wrapping his little arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder. "Up?"
"No honey, no up." You sigh.
Tomo immediately starts crumpling his face up against your shoulder.
"I haven't done my stretches yet, Tomo." You explain as though he'd understand. "Up would make mama ouch."
Tomo shakes his head, rubbing his snotty and tear covered face all over your shirt.
"Tomo, come here." Tomura calls from behind you.

Tomo moves away from you to scowl at his dad.
"Mama." He says firmly.
"Tomo, be nice to your dad." You sigh.
"Mama can't pick you up." Tomura repeats. "So you have to climb up here."
Tomo looks at you with wide pink pleading eyes.
"Sorry Tomo, but no." You shake your head. "Climb up."
Tomo pulls his lip again but reaches for your hand and lets you lead him to the bed, which you pat gently as you try to encourage him up.
He grunts a little as he uses his chunky arms and legs to climb his way onto the bed. You help him with the final haul up onto the mattress, your wrists sounding out loudly.

"Are you okay?" Tomura asks.
"Fine, just noisy as always." You say, smiling at Tomo when he immediately latches onto you again.
"Careful." He warns Tomo, his hand reaching to pet his messy black tufts of hair.
Tomo swats at him irritatedly though.
"Mama." He reinforces.
Tomura deadpans at him, lowering his arm and then staring at the ceiling.
"You're right, we've unleashed something unholy onto the world." Tomura grumbles.
"Don't be so grumpy." You comment as he gets up, sitting at the edge of the best and tying his fluffy hair up. "Just because he wants me for once."

"Sure. That's why." Tomura says dryly. "I'll get the medicine."
"You want mama to give you your medicine?" You ask Tomo, laying down and pulling him into a proper cuddle.
Tomo nods, cuddling into your chest, gripping fistfuls of your shirt. You hold him tight, petting his hair softly and pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head.
"Sleepy." He admits quietly, his voice muffled.
"You can sleep after you've had your medicine." You tell him gently. "Your tummy is ouch?"

Tomo nods.
"Can mama touch your belly, Tomo?" You ask, carefully moving his little fringe out of the way as you try to move his head away from you.
"Ouch."
"Mama will be careful." You promise. "Please?"
Tomo's quiet for a moment, but eventually gives a little nod, and rolls away a little.
"Good boy, Tomo." You praise. "Tell mama if ouch, okay?"
"'Kay..." He agrees cautiously.
You lift his sleep shirt a little, and gently feel around his stomach, silently worried about how often he seems to get stomach aches.
"Ouch!" Tomo cries in distress just as you touch a slight bulge on the side of his stomach.

You freeze, panic gripping your heart in its icy cold grip.
"Tomura!" You call, panicked.
"Yeah, what?" Tomura grunts as he comes into the room with a bottle of medicine and spoon in one hand.
"He has a lump." You say, your voice thick with tears that you're trying desperately not to shed.
Tomura pauses for a split second, his expression becoming more thoughtful, and his movements as collected and calm as ever as he sits on the bed behind you.
"Where?"
"Here." You say, pointing at the slightly visible lump you'd never really noticed before.

Tomura reaches for him, but Tomo slaps his hand away again.
"Tomo." You warn, your voice watery.
"Want mama."
"He needs to check the ouch, Tomo." You explain, gently taking his hands in yours, kissing his little knuckles and distracting him while Tomura runs his fingers carefully over the lump, ignoring Tomo's whine of pain when he presses down a little harder.
"Oww." Tomo sniffles.
"I know." You say apologetically, letting the tears fall now. "I'm sorry, baby."
"Have you tried healing it?" Tomura asks.
"My quirk is only good for injuries, not..." You sob. "Sickness."
"Don't be dramatic. He's two."

"Two year olds never get c-?" You begin to ask, but Tomura cuts you off, frowning at you.
"It's probably just a cyst." He snaps. "We'll take him to Garaki."
"Absolutely not. We're taking him to a real doctor." You refuse, holding Tomo protectively and glaring straight back at Tomura.
"Mama..." Tomo whimpers, clearly unsettled.
"Garaki is a real doctor, and is more than capable of telling us whether it's a cyst or something to be worried about."
You refuse to let go of your child or reply to your partner, holding Tomo's head to the side of your neck as you stare Tomura down.

"Fine." Tomura relents, throwing his hands up and running them through his hair, forgetting it's tied up and snagging his fingers uncomfortably in his white locks. "Fine."
You let out a shaky breath and kiss the top of Tomo's head again. "It's okay, Tomo. We're gonna take you to a doctor and they'll tell us about the ouch, okay?"
"Want mama." Tomo says, looking up at you with worried eyes.
"I won't let you go, promise." You vow, leaning your forehead on his head and taking a deep breath.
Tomura begins getting changed in your peripheral vision, doing a quick job of it.

"Give him to me." Tomura says as soon as he's changed, reaching over the bed to try and get Tomo.
"No! Mama up." Tomo insists.
"Honey I can't." You explain, hating yourself and your weak body for not even being able to carry your hurting child.
"Stop fussing and just let me carry you, Tomo." Tomura snaps in a way you'd never heard him snap at the little boy before.
When you turn to look at him, to ask him what the hell he's doing talking to your child like that, you see the slightly paler hue to his skin, and the concern in his eyes.

And then when you look back at the hands reaching for Tomo, there's a vague tremor to them.
He's just as worried as you.
You stroke Tomo's cheek gently with the back of your index finger.
"Let dada pick you up, and then when we see the doctor, mama will give you hugs, okay?" You try to bargain with the toddler.
He glances at Tomura judgementally, unphased by being snapped at.
"Mama hug?" Tomo asks when he looks back at you.
You nod.
"'Kay." He agrees, still teary, but reaches for Tomura back, allowing his father to pick him up in one easy, but gentle, swoop.

Tomura doesn't even question it when you don't change, remaining in your baggy sleep shirt and his sweatpants, sliding on some sandals and heading straight out of the house.
You sit in the back of the car with Tomo, letting him grip your hand in his sleep on the journey and crying silently the whole way to the ER.

You don't know what upsets you more, the fact that there's wondering wrong with your little boy, the fear of what's wrong with your little one, or the feeling of being a failure of a mother again for missing the lump in the first place, and not even thinking twice when he complained of stomach aches all this time.
Tomura doesn't say a word the whole journey either, but when you look through the gap in the seats, you can see how white his knuckles are on the steering wheel, and how tense his muscles are from clenching his jaw.