Aizawa rarely got sick. Years of late nights, cold patrols, and stubborn resilience made him almost immune to seasonal colds. Almost.
When Souto and Shinso woke up that morning to find Aizawa curled on the couch with a blanket cocooned around him and a box of tissues within arm’s reach, they were both equally surprised.
“Dad’s mortal?” Shinso muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“HE’S DYING!” Souto yelled, immediately dropping to his knees next to the couch. “WE NEED AN AMBULANCE!”
Aizawa groaned and cracked one eye open. “I’m not dying. Just a cold.”
“Just a cold? You’re shivering! Your voice sounds funny! Hitoshi, call someone! We need soup! I’ll get soup!” Souto screamed, darting toward the kitchen.
Shinso sighed and leaned over the back of the couch. “You sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“Positive,” Aizawa said, his voice raspy. “Just… keep him from breaking the house while I rest.”
“That’s a tall order,” Shinso muttered as he heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.
Five minutes later, Souto reappeared with a bowl of “soup” water with a single carrot floating in it. He carried it with the solemnity of someone holding an ancient treasure.
“I MADE THIS FOR YOU!” he declared proudly, placing it on the coffee table in front of Aizawa.
Aizawa stared at the bowl, blinking slowly. “What… is that?”
“Soup! It’ll make you better! Drink it!”
Shinso leaned in, inspecting the “soup.” “Why is there a whole carrot?”
“I used warm water from the sink!”
Aizawa looked too tired to argue. “Thank you, Souto.”
Souto grinned and ran off again, mumbling something about finding a blanket.
Souto’s idea of finding a blanket turned into him tearing apart every closet in the house. By the time he returned, he was dragging a mountain of mismatched blankets behind him.
“Here! You need to be warm!” he yelled, tossing the entire pile onto Aizawa’s cocoon.
Aizawa’s face disappeared beneath the mountain, leaving only a muffled groan.
“You’re going to smother him,” Shinso said, pulling a few of the heavier blankets off.
“Nah, he’s fine,” Souto said cheerfully. “Now he’s cozy!”
Aizawa poked his head out, his hair even messier than usual. “Souto, stop helping.”
At some point, Shinso handed Aizawa some cold medicine and a glass of water.
“Take this,” Shinso said, setting the glass down.
Souto immediately grabbed it. “I’ll do it! Here, drink this!”
In his enthusiasm, Souto tipped the glass too far, spilling water all over Aizawa’s lap.
“Oops,” Souto said, grinning nervously. “I’ll clean it up!”
Before anyone could stop him, he darted to the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. Instead of using them properly, he threw the entire roll at Aizawa’s lap.
Shinso facepalmed. “You’re making it worse.”
Aizawa sighed, his patience hanging by a thread. “Souto, sit down.”
Deciding that Aizawa needed tea, Souto insisted on making it himself.
The result was boiling water all over the counter, tea leaves scattered like confetti, and a mug that was only half full because Souto had spilled the rest on the floor.
“Here you go!” Souto said, presenting the mug proudly.
Aizawa stared at the mess in the kitchen behind him. “Souto…”
“I’ll clean it!” Souto said, running off to grab more paper towels.
Shinso groaned. “I’ll get the mop.”
---
By noon, the house looked like it had been hit by a small hurricane. Souto had knocked over a chair, spilled medicine, and somehow managed to get a blanket tangled in the ceiling fan.
“Okay, that’s it,” Shinso said, grabbing Souto by the back of his shirt. “You’re banned from helping.”
“But I’m just trying to take care of him!” Souto whined, squirming in Shinso’s grip.
“You’re killing him faster,” Shinso said, dragging him out of the living room.
With Souto safely distracted by cartoons in another room, Shinso set about cleaning the house. He mopped up the tea, restocked the tissues, and even managed to untangle the blanket from the ceiling fan.
By the time he was done, Aizawa was actually resting peacefully, cocooned in a more reasonable number of blankets.
“You’re welcome,” Shinso muttered, flopping into the armchair.
“Thank you,” Aizawa said, his voice still hoarse but grateful.
From the other room, they heard Souto yelling at the TV.
“I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU’RE OLD!”
Aizawa sighed, closing his eyes. “Let’s hope I survive this cold first.”
...
Appreciated (I might stop posting everyday, I ran out of silly ideas.. thanks for the support anyway. If you want to recommend a chapter you want to see actually feel free, I can try to write it.)
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BNHA | A Bite-Sized Problem
Fanfiction.ᐟ Comic relief / Slice of life. Eraserhead, pro hero and notorious insomniac, adopts an 8-year-old vampire delinquent with an attitude problem? Chaos, that's what. Souto, a loud, abrasive troublemaker with a biting temper (literally), finds himself...
