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Against popular belief, Hanta’s tape does actually stick to his own skin.
After years and years of sticking and tearing off, sticking and tearing off, his forearms, legs, torso is covered in a thin calloused layer. The adhesive is weaker on his skin, sure -- but it’s strong enough.
It’s with this thought in mind that pro-hero Cellophane hisses between his teeth as he pulls at tape latched firmly onto his skin.
Hanta groans as the tape lifts up stray skin and blood. Sure, using his tape as a bandage in the thick of battle seemed like such a brilliant idea. At the time. Bleeding out with villains surrounding you has a way of rearranging your priorities, Hanta’s found.
“Staunch the blood, it’s a perfect solution,” Hanta mutters angrily at his past thoughts. It’s not the first time he’s used tape as an impromptu bandage, but that was always on other people, and he would wrap it sticky-side up, making sure to keep them comfortable. The tape acts as a terrible absorption pad, but it usually keeps the blood inside. Where it’s supposed to be.
“Like ripping off a bandage,” Hanta says. He tugs at the tape and bites his lip hard.
“Cellophane? Medical is on it’s way, the rest of the civilians who are stable enough to wait should be taken care of soon.”
“Good,” Hanta says, smiling painfully. He takes a deep breath and debates ripping the rest of the tape off; it would bring scores of skin with it, but then he’d have a new problem to deal with, instead of this slow torture.
“So, I’m thinking -- what are you doing?” Shouto says. Hanta pulls at the tape again, grunting, and Shouto drops to his knees, putting his hands over Hanta’s and stopping him. “What did you do?”
Hanta grins comfortingly, but the effect is probably lost because when he swipes his tongue over his teeth, he tastes blood. Aw, cute. His lungs don’t rattle and he suffered few wounds near his chest, so it must be from a mouth wound. Nothing serious.
“Just using my resources, like any good hero would,” Hanta says cheekily. He tugs at the tape and makes a discomforted face.
“Stop,” Shouto says softly. He pulls Hanta’s wrists away and gently presses his lips to his hands. “Stop.”
Hanta sighs through his nose. “Shouto…”
“I don’t like this,” Shouto confesses quietly. “Is all of this tape staunching blood?”
Hanta squints his eyes into an apologetic smile. Shouto narrows his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hanta’s hand.
Shouto reaches into one of his many pockets decorating his hero suit, pulling out gauze and disinfectant. He’s far gentler than Hanta was, pulling the tape gently off his haphazardly strewn substitute bandages.
“How often do you do this?” Shouto asks softly. The tape pulls at some stretched skin and Hanta sucks in a breath. Shouto murmurs a gentle apology.
“Eh, here and there,” Hanta says. He evades Shouto’s searching gaze, scratching his cheek.
“ Why? ”
“Because it works, Shouto,” Hanta says. He sighs, suddenly exhausted. “I know it’s stupid, and it causes more problems later, but I can’t bleed out when I’m out there. Lives are at stake.”
“I know,” Shouto says. I wish you didn’t have to, Shouto says with the pitious tilt of his eyebrows.
“I have to save the gauze for civilians,” Hanta insists. “Really, it’s okay. I’ll talk to Medi-chan and she’ll take care of the worst.”
Shouto pulls the rest of the tape off his arm and pours disinfectant on the brutalized wound. Hanta hissed and Shouto rubbed his wrist comfortingly.
“Why do you always jump in danger’s way?” Shouto asks, quiet as a ghost.
Hanta laughs derisively. “Shouto, be serious. We’re heroes, it’s part of the program. You jump in front of swords all the time!”
“Because I can make ice armor that’s stronger than steel!” Shouto snaps. The angry furrow to his eyebrows doesn’t change the gentle way he wraps gauze around Hanta’s arm. His movements slowly come to a stop.
“You can’t,” Shouto says quietly. “You can’t .”
“I’m sorry,” Hanta says honestly. He hadn’t known this was weighing on Shouto. There aren’t any promises Hanta could declare that he’d be confident in keeping, because Hanta’s a hero through and through. One of the new-wave Deku-endorsed heroes.
“I just…” Shouto trails off and resumes dressing Hanta’s wounds. He’s silent for long minutes, moving from his arm to the slash along Hanta’s torso, also taped up to stop the bleeding.
Again: in the moment? The perfect, quick little plan to keep the blood where it belongs (inside) and go back to his life-saving job.
Currently, though, Hanta lies back and tries to keep from flinching every time Shouto peels off more tape.
“There has to be another solution than this,” Shouto says dryly.
“Tried and true method, babes,” Hanta says. He twirls his finger in the air, grinning crookedly.
“Next time you do this, I’m chaining you to the bed for a week,” Shouto says, tone unchanged.
“Ooh,” Hanta says. His grin widens. “That’s some nice incentive, there!”
Shouto huffs a laugh. “This’ll sting.”
Hanta takes a deep breath as Shouto moves through the motions. His touch is as familiar as it is comforting, and within no time at all Shouto’s hands have stilled, settled beside the freshly wrapped gauze.
Hanta props up on his elbow, smiling. “So, how was…”
Shouto leans down and kisses Hanta’s exposed stomach, and Hanta inhales sharply. A flush trails up his shoulders and ears. “Shouto, we’re still in public .”
“Mm.” Shouto hums against Hanta’s skin, dragging his lips up to his ribs. “You know, we’re both free tonight.”
Hanta’s heart pounds and he tries to blow it off with a scoff. From Shouto’s knowing gaze, he doesn’t do very well. “Mhm, mhm, so hot when we’re both recovering from battle.”
“Isn’t it?” Shouto says. He says it like a joke, eyebrow quirking upwards, but his fingers dance gently around Hanta’s skin. He brushes over spots where he peeled off Hanta’s tape, the skin still sensitive, and Hanta shivers.
“Well, Mr. Todoroki Shouto, I am very interested in your plans for this evening,” Hanta says. He grunts as he tries to push all the way upright. Shouto swiftly slides forward to prop him up.
Shouto smiles. His hand slides up to Hanta’s neck, thumb massaging gently. “We have to report on the mission.”
Hanta groans. “Freedom, so close yet so far.”
“You’ll make it,” Shouto says. He gives Hanta’s neck a comforting squeeze.
Hanta sighs, despondent, and leans into Shouto’s touch. “How? I am so terribly wounded, I fear I may not be able to stand.”
Shouto rolls his eyes and smiles mischievously. “Well, then I’ll just have to carry you.”
“Wh--” Hanta yelps as Shouto slides his arms underneath Hanta’s knees and upper back, standing to carry him with no effort.
Hanta laughs breathlessly, throwing his arms around Shouto’s neck. “Well! What a knight in shining armor.”
Shouto hums, a pleased smile on his lips. He leans forward just enough to kiss Hanta’s temple, his forehead.
“Shall we?” Shouto says, smug as hell.
“We shall,” Hanta says, laughing at Shouto’s radiating pride. He plays with the hair at the nape of Shouto’s neck.
Shouto smiles and holds him tightly. He doesn’t say so, but Hanta knows: I love you. I care about you. I’m never letting you go.
Hanta doesn’t speak, either, but he continues rubbing along Shouto’s neck. He’s saying I love you. I never want you to hurt. Never let me go.
Shouto’s expression turns soft, because time has lent them the privilege of speaking each other’s hidden language. Words are unnecessary.
Hanta exhales slowly and closes his eyes, sinking into Shouto’s arms.