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Whumptober 2021, Beautiful Short DFO and MHA Fics To Chill To
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2021-10-18
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Summary:

Izuku's just turned five. His father is taking him to see a doctor.

He needs to get his shots.

 

Izuku's turning five soon. His father is taking him to see a doctor.

He needs to get his shots.

 

Izuku will never stop turning five. His father is still taking him to see a doctor.

He will never stop getting his shots.

Notes:

This is based off of my day 3 fic for DFO week, but you shouldn't have to read it to understand this! I include a bit of a summary in this piece.

I'm only doing two Whumptober prompts, but this is one I was very eager to do! I hope you all enjoy!!

No. 18 The Doctor Is In
"Now, smile for the camera"|doctor's visit|CPR

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Izuku hates the doctor. He squirms to no avail in his father’s arms, the grip only tightening on him.

“Izuku...there’ll be a surprise for you if you can behave for me and the doctor. Can you do that?” His father coaxes sweetly.

The five year old frowns. “I don’t want a surprise.” No surprises from him had ever been good. He thinks about his Quirk being taken from him, of his own abduction from his mom, of this stupid, endless cycle he seems trapped in. Not one of them had any kind of silver lining to them.

So he hates surprises.

“What little boy doesn’t like them?” His father pouts as one hand rests against Izuku’s back, rubbing circles into it.

Izuku scowls at the comforting gesture. “Me.” He kicks his legs out in frustration, feeling smug when they hit his father’s legs. He counts the hits in his head, one...two...three...four...five...his legs are manipulated into a sitting position, his father slinging his arm around Izuku’s middle like he’s a seatbelt. He hates the number five.

“That can’t be right. You love it when I surprise you with gifts.” A hand toys with his hair and Izuku frowns. He ‘loves’ it because he’s not allowed to leave to ‘play’ with what he gets until he smiles and says thank you. He hates every second of it. “Izuku? Don’t you love my surprises?”

He chokes down a whimper, his mom would want him to be brave, and stays silent for a second longer as the atmosphere grows tense. But finally he gives a small nod, and lies. “I do, dad.”

It’s never gotten easier addressing his kidnapper like this. He knew in his heart that he never had a father, he has his mother and that’s always been more than enough. He misses her so much it physically hurts.

The door opens and in strides the doctor. “My apologies for being late, sir.”

His father smiles and shakes his head. “No need to apologize, my friend. I know the importance of your work, I’m grateful that you had the time in your schedule for this.”

He doesn’t understand why they always say the same thing every time. Grown-ups are weird.

“Alright then, let’s see him.” The doctor leans in close, his father’s hands keep him from getting away. “No medical changes, height remains the same, hair still black...green eyes…Any changes to his weight?”

His father shakes his head. “No, I’ve been keeping a close eye on his meals.” Especially after he’d caught Izuku trying to make his plate look emptier on one of the many occasions he felt less than hungry.

“Good, good. Still five years old?” There’s a joke in the doctor’s voice and a smile on his father’s face. Izuku hates being the butt of the joke.

“I’m eight,” he says firmly.

There’s silence for a minute before his father laughs. “Such an imagination you have on you, Izuku. You’re too little to be an eight year old. No, you’re five years old and you’ll be turning five again in July.”

The doctor nods in agreement. “You’re already in the lower percentile for your height and weight as it stands, were you to be truly eight years old, your health would be disastrous.” He heads towards a cabinet and sink and begins washing his hands.

Izuku scowls. “I’m eight. You only think I’m five because of this stupid Quirk.”

His father hums. “Izuku...remember what I told you about behaving.”

“I don’t want to behave, I want to go home! I don’t want this stupid Quirk, I want Float back! I want my mom, I don’t want YOU!” He starts trying to hit his father in any way he can, beginning to scream when he’s too restrained to do more than rock his head back and forth.

His father is trying to talk to him. Izuku screams louder to drown him out and is rewarded by a scowl blooming on his face. Good. He hates his father’s smiles.

“Here we are, now.” The doctor says, voice barely audible over the child’s screams. He holds three syringes in his hand and Izuku begins to wail and sob. He’s scared of these needles.

His father rocks him gently in his arms, only wincing once at the shrieks directly hitting his ears. “It’s alright, Izuku. Just three quick pokes, that’s all they are. Just three quick shots and you’re up to date on them for now. Can you be good for me?”

Izuku pauses his crying to shake his head frantically no. “They hurt,” he croaks out before freezing.

He felt it then, three quick jabs while he was distracted. His arm starts burning a minute later and he’s still restrained too tightly to keep from immediately trying to scratch his skin off. A long five minutes pass as he cries and shakes before his body stills. He’s completely limp in his dad’s arms, staring blankly at the wall of the lab.

“I apologize for his behavior, you know how they are at this age.” His dad’s voice echoes around in his head, refusing to leave. The doctor says something that makes his dad laugh, Izuku’s head ringing unpleasantly from the sound. He wants to be put down for a nap so he can be away from his dad. But he knows that won’t happen right now. Not when his body is too tired to do anything except listen to his dad. He’s always liked getting Izuku like this.

“Now, you weren’t very well behaved at all, but I think I’ll still give you your surprise. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t spoil my only son?”

Izuku’s too dazed to think of a scathing comeback.

He doesn’t like the doctor. He’s...fine with waiting patiently in his father’s arms, but he doesn’t like it.

“What do you want to do after this, Izuku?” His father smiles at him before pressing a kiss on his cheek. Izuku stops himself before he can flinch or twist his face up.

He bites his thumb for a second. “Can...I play with the toys you just got me?” It’s a nice, safe option. His father positively beams.

“Of course! I’m glad you like them.”

He nods before moving forward and kissing his father on the cheek. “Thank you again, dad.”

He gets wrapped in a tight hug and kisses are peppered all over his face. He buries his head in his father’s shirt and tries not to think about how much he misses his mother’s hugs. He thinks they used to be warm.

He’s forgotten so much about her in the years he’s been with his father. She had...black hair like him, and they used to have the same Quirk...he thinks. She had a nice smile, but he can’t remember what it looked like, only that he would always smile back. He misses her more than he can ever verbalize.

“I’m sorry for being late. The latest test subject was being...uncooperative.” The doctor strides in.

“No need to apologize, my friend. I’m grateful that you were able to see Izuku today.” The script doesn’t change. It never changes.

“And how are you today, Izuku?” He pulls his head out of his dad’s chest only to flinch at how close the doctor is, his hands ready to inspect the boy’s face. He squeaks in surprise, but stays still. It’s better than being made to stay still.

“I’m okay, thank you...Dad said I can play with my toys after this.” He gives a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The doctor hums. “Black hair still, green eyes, weight appears the same. You have a birthday coming up soon, don’t you?” It doesn’t sound like he’s listening to Izuku at all.

Izuku squirms. “Yes, sir. I’ll be five.”

He hates how his dad makes him say it now, even getting the doctor to talk to him sometimes just to hear Izuku admit it. He can’t remember how long he’s been five for now. Every time he tries to write it down to remember, his dad always seems to find it.

“A good age, a good age.” The doctor turns his back on the pair to wash his hands. Izuku bites his lip to keep from crying.

“Go ahead and stick out your arm for the doctor, Izuku.” His father encourages, a thumb swiping at his son’s tears.

“I...it always hurts when I get my shots.” He holds his wrist and looks at the ground. He knows this won’t change anything.

“But if you don’t get your shots, you’ll be making me very sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Izuku wildly shakes his head no. A fuzzy mind and the loss of several hours of time was nothing compared to his father feeling emotionally neglected. “You’re such a sweet boy, I couldn’t have asked for a better son.” His father kisses his forehead, pleased as Izuku stretches his arm out for the doctor.

This time there are four syringes. He cries silently as all four are injected in him. His father’s voice is the only thing that keeps him from completely drifting.

Time melts around him.

“Does Tomu-nii have to get checkups too, dad?” Izuku asks, taking his thumb from his mouth.

His dad shakes his head. “He’s a big kid, so he doesn’t need to see the doctor like you do. We have to make sure your body’s nice and healthy.”

“Oh.” He lays back and rests his head on his dad’s chest, feeling his heartbeat and hearing the gentle wheeze of his breathing.

“Apologies for the delay, sir. I was doing the final tests on one of the nomu.” The doctor strides in.

“There’s no need to apologize, my friend. I look forward to seeing the finished product.” The script skips a beat but he stopped caring about things like that a long time ago. What use is there in keeping track of everything that changes when he’s stuck at the same point?

He faces the doctor and blinks slowly as a light shines in his eyes, limp and unresisting as his head is tilted. “Vitals seem good, weight and height unchanged. Green eyes...and white hair.” The doctor makes a quick note on a clipboard, he notes with detached interest.

White hair is new. Dad’s injuries are new. Tomura is new. New, new, new. But nothing changes.

“And how old are you, Izuku?” His dad prods, an eager smile on his face.

Izuku mirrors that same smile as he holds up five fingers “I’m five!”

He’s so tired.

The doctor smiles indulgently and goes to wash his hands.

He leans back against his dad, holding his hand tightly. He likes to feel needed, Izuku’s learned. Little gestures like this make him happy. He thinks it must be nice to know what makes you happy. Going along with what makes his dad pleased is the closest he gets to it.

Maybe once, a very long time ago, he was happy. But memories from Before are fragments of fragments. A flash of warm smile and opening the door to see his dad. That’s what he has.

The doctor comes back with five syringes.

Izuku holds out his arm and watches as they’re all injected into him, making sure to squeeze his dad’s hand extra tightly, as if he’s afraid.

He doesn’t react as his head begins to go fuzzy along the edges, waiting for his dad to show how he wants Izuku to react.

Izuku has trouble acting his age sometimes, despite his experience. He thinks it’s in the decades now, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when his dad is talking and giving him something to focus on.

Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed! If you did, feel free to leave a kudos/comment/bookmark! I love responding to all of you guys, your support means a lot! :^)