late-night call between dad!toji and baby megumi 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ
husband!toji x reader, some hurt to comfort, fluff | wc 1.7k
“…hey.” you murmur, your voice quiet as you flash a small smile at your husband on your phone screen.
he’s roughed up — you can tell that much from what you can see of him. the angle which he holds his phone at is inconvenient, but part of his head is in frame, seemingly propped up against the pillow of some dingy hotel bed, one of his arms resting behind his head.
your heart aches a little at how worn down he looks. it’s an unfamiliar feeling, to see your typically-strong husband looking so weathered under the lamplight, hair messy and under-eyes dark. it’s so unusual, to see his confident demeanour eroded into something much more fragile. nonetheless, there’s something sincere in his eyes, something so familiar, so distinguishably toji.
your eyes rest on his pixelated face. “how have you been?”
he sighs. “yeah…been okay. how are you? has the kid been behaving?” you snort weakly at that. for your son to ever act up was practically unheard of to both of you. he was always uncharacteristically quiet, his actions and behaviour much milder than that of any three year old child you’d ever seen.
“come on toji, i think we both know the answer to that.”
“yeah yeah. silly question i guess. but…just wanted to check.”
your heart twists a little at that, a dull ache hitting you at his words. they’re more vulnerable than you’re used to hearing from toji, and you don’t fail to miss the way his mouth twitches, as though he’s not quite sure whether to elaborate. he doesn’t have to, though. you already understand, and you can hear the regret tainting his tone.
it isn’t like it’s his fault that he hasn’t been so present in megumi’s life. what with working to provide for your little family, it makes sense that he sees the boy much less than he’d have liked. nonetheless, you can sense your husband’s insecurity easily, and it makes your chest ache.
this level of rawness between you both — unfiltered, total openness — is definitely new, but you’re undeniably glad that he’s somewhat more readable for once. seeing toji’s true feelings is a kind of luxury that you don’t normally get when speaking to him thanks to high walls he seems to have built around himself, after all.
you watch his eyes lower from the camera, his brows furrowed a little as he tries to settle with the uncomfortable feeling lingering between you both.
you hesitate. “hey…i can put megumi on the phone if you want…?”
“yeah, that’d be nice. thanks.”
you head to the living room, where megumi is currently doodling. his puffy cheeks are pushed out in careful concentration and his lip is jutted out. his hair is freshly damp from his pre-bedtime bath, and you can’t help it think that he looks eerily similar to his father. his usually thick spikes are pushes down into a mess of straight inky strands, save for the the odd few spikes that still seem to stubbornly stick out.
you crouch and rest your hands against the coffee table, speaking softly in the hopes of drawing his attention towards your words.
“hey gumi, wanna say hi to papa?” you speak tentatively, gently poking his chubby arm with your finger, but he doesn’t look up. he’s too focused on colouring in the poorly-drawn frogs on the page, sticking his tongue out and furrowing his brows further as he tries and fails to stay within the lines.
you sigh, throwing toji a quick, apologetic look over the phone before trying again.
“megs? look!” he finally looks up, blinking slowly at you, clearly unsure what you could possibly want from him. you decide to gently ease the phone into his hand, letting him take hold of it.
he peers down through long lashes at the screen, expressionless as he watches the cluster of pixels that seems to be his father shift slightly. toji sits up a little, dark green eyes a touch brighter at the sight of his son.
“hey little man. what’re you up to?”
your son doesn’t reply, uninterested in speaking as always, and simply stares at the screen in silence, lip poking out further. at the angle that megumi’s grasping the phone, you’re sure toji can see all three of the toddler’s chins as well as the mess of crayon colours staining his oversized pjs.
the bright light of the phone bounces off the boy’s face in uneven blue flickers, rays of light catching on his dark strands of hair. after a few minutes of waiting for further action from toji, your son seems to deem the (lack of a) conversation pointless, placing the phone back onto the table beside him and picking his crayon back up.
toji’s expression falls immediately, but he tries to play it off, turning his face to the side and scratching his neck awkwardly at the dismissal.
“…the kid doesn’t like me much, huh?” he jokes, but it’s evident even over the poor call quality how the joke falls completely flat, a humourless laugh escaping his lips as though to make up for it. he attempts his usual teasing grin, but it just looks…weak. somehow, he looks even more tired than he had just a few minutes ago, despite being all roughed up from all the busy days of being away from home.
you sigh and lift the phone from the table before heading to the kitchen doorway, choosing to leave megumi to colour in peace. you speak softly into your phone, trying to adopt a gentle tone: the way you speak is careful, tender, as though you’re speaking to your three year old rather than your 6’2” husband — and toji hates it. you can tell as much by the way he winces the second you speak.
“toji…it’s nothing, that’s just how he is, you know.”
“nah, don’t be like that. it’s fine.” the short laugh he forces out sounds robotic, void of any real sincerity, and you know that’s your cue to drop the topic.
nonetheless, the look of dejection simmering beneath your husband’s usually confident, lazy features breaks your heart. you’re about to speak again, hoping to salvage the situation a little, when you feel a small tug on your sleeve.
“oh! megs, what’s up?” you frown, a little alarmed at the suddenness with which he’d appeared at your side. to see megumi ask for anything is rare, and you can’t help but fear the worst — maybe he’s unwell? or has he hurt himself?
before you can spiral any further, however, the three year old reaches out a hand, expression unreadable. he’s practically on his tiptoes now, one hand holding onto your leg for support as he tries to signal for the phone silently.
“my phone?” he nods, tugging at your sweats more urgently, brows furrowed and expression determined.
puzzled, you pass the phone to him. he takes it, glancing quickly down at the screen, as though to check whether toji’s still on call. upon confirming that he is still on the line, megumi nods assuredly to himself before shuffling his way back to the living room, taking toji with him.
you follow behind, watching the chubby toddler lower himself back onto the floor and place the phone down on the coffee table, leaving toji by his side as he scribbles more frogs and a couple of bunnies onto the sheet. every few seconds he peers over the phone screen, checking to make sure toji hasn’t left. and each time, upon seeing his dad’s face peering back at him, his surprisingly stoic features soften a fraction in relief, only for the child to then return to wearing serious look as he goes back to colouring.
you notice the pattern on the third repeat, with megumi struggling to peer over the phone properly from where he’s sat down. watching him struggle to properly angle himself to see toji’s face once more, you decide to help him, carefully moving to his side and propping the phone up against a plant pot. he seems pleased at that.
by now, it’s obvious to you that toji has clearly cheered up, his usual grin back, but there’s an undeniable softness in his eyes as he watches megumi doodle quietly.
a kind of comfortable silence settles of the room, only occasionally interrupted by toji prompting megumi to show him the latest development in his drawing: first a few dogs, then an elephant and then a pair of wobbly stick men. the shorter one has noticeably spikier hair, sticking up at angles on the stick figure’s head, and you can’t help but grin at the accuracy.
at some point megumi begins to yawn. he seems to have deemed his drawing done, and so he lifts himself off the floor before sleepily laying down on the couch with the phone still propped under his arm. under his other arm are his two dog plushies, retrieved from where they had lay amongst the pile of cushions at the far end of the couch. you begin to gather the toys at the far end of the living room, having noted the toddler’s exhaustion and the clear signs that it’s his bedtime already.
toji scoffs under his breath at the captivating view of megumi’s sleeve, which is now perfectly in the way of the camera. he can’t see a thing, though he recognises the tell-tale sound of the boy’s breathing easing into gentle snores. it’s oddly soothing to him, really: the feeling of being needed by his son despite being miles away.
you finally finish tidying the toys, planning on picking your son up to take him to bed, but not without hearing toji speak softly into the phone. there’s a slight lilt to his voice, as though he’s fighting back a smile, and his usually-gruff tone has been softened into something almost borderline boyish. it’s so gentle, so uncharacteristically tender, that you almost miss it:
“night, megumi. sweet dreams.”
author’s notes: i love dad!toji and baby megumi sm they’re so precious to me
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