ASMR therapy

 "But she hasn't been in, in <i>ages</i>," Mic insisted loudly, pounding his fist on the joined desk the teachers shared. His colleagues winced, and Ectoplasm went so far as to drop his head to his keyboard in frustration.

Cheshire had been locked in her room at the teacher's dorm for days after she came down with a strange malady during patrol. No one had seen her but Recovery Girl, who brought her medicine and food periodically. Present Mic was finally fed up, since he'd been asking about her and no one would let him know how he could help, or if she was doing okay.

Aizawa glanced over at his friend in irritation. "Yamada. We're at work now. If you want to check up on her after -" He caught Midnight making a slashing motion across her throat and stopped himself. Reaching up with one hand, he rubbed tiredly at his forehead, sighing. "Okay. Does someone want to tell him?"

"Tell me? Tell me what?"

"She doesn't want visitors. She specifically doesn't want you to see her," Midnight told him flatly.

"<i>Whaaaat</i>?!" Mic's mouth opened far wider than usual in his disbelief, and Aizawa quickly erased his quirk.

"It's a woman thing," she went on, grimacing. "There's a lot of pain involved, too, and Chiyo said she wants to be left alone so no one gets distressed seeing her like that."

Aizawa released Mic and he immediately blurted out, "But you said <i>me</i>. Why me specifically? And pain? What kind of pain? Is she hurt that bad?!" Without waiting for an answer he leapt up, his chair clattering onto the floor behind him as he rushed headlong out the door. "I'm comin', Ches!"

"Now you've done it, Kayama," the scruffy homeroom teacher groaned. He stared dully out the window at the black and gold figure streaking towards the dormitories.

"Yeah, gave us all some peace and quiet." She leaned back in her chair, a smug look on her face as she studied her ruby-red nails. "Brilliant move, I say. Plus, you know he wasn't going to stay away for much longer."

"You have to admit, she has a point," Ectoplasm echoed in that eerie hollow voice his mask created.

"I hope he doesn't make things worse," All Might fretted from the sidelines.

Present Mic flung himself recklessly around bends in corridors and down halls, even dashing through hedges in his rush to get to the sick counselor. He only skidded to a stop when he reached the door to her room, flailing his arms wildly to keep his balance. He took a moment to compose himself and knocked.

Silence.

"Ches? You in here?"

After what seemed an eternity the door swung open. Elly unlocked it and flopped back onto her bed before welcoming him in. Mic nervously entered her storybook domain, the room decorated to look like an oceanside version of her favorite book, <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>. The ill cat woman was shivering with fatigue and agony in her bed under a thin blanket. Her knees were propped, creating a tent in the sheets so he couldn't see her too well. The once proud tail of hers was matted and swished restlessly at the foot of the bed.

Mic cleared his throat, popping the catch on his neck gear and putting it on the floor. "I, uh, look, I don't wanna be out of line here, but..." He looked into her eyes pleadingly as he rushed on, "you're hurt and I might be able to help. How can I help? Can I help?"

Sweating and obviously in agony, the pale woman didn't argue. She nodded, clenching her teeth as another spasm shook her body. Mic glanced around and pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"They - uh, the others -- told me you didn't want me here. Is it really okay?"

"Yes," she husked. "You're seen me. Can't get worse."

"I hope not!" His expressive eyebrows drew his forehead into a worried point. "You look awful. Where's it hurt?"

She hesitated, but pulled the sheets back to reveal her discomfort. Mic gaped at her lower belly, distended and swollen under a pair of worn sweatpants that were clearly not her own. "<i>Holy shitfuck!</i>"

She smiled weakly, then clutched at her stomach, groaning. "Neuralgic," she choked.

Mic frowned even harder. "Uh, is that the weird ass villain that can transfer physical pain from her past?"

She nodded again, and he winced. "It's her pregnancy, isn't it." Another helpless nod. Mic sighed wearily. "She uses that too much. I mean, it's one thing to hurt someone but her labor pains ended in hours. You've been going on days." He shook his head. "This isn't cool, yo."

"It should end soon. But hurt for so long... I'm a mess."

He tilted his prescription sunglasses up so she could see his clear shining, green-gold eyes. The concentric circles in his irises whirled as he leaned in to take her pale, sweating features in close up. "You're fine," he told her firmly. "In fact, you look amazing right now, 'cause you are freakin' <i>strong</i>."

"H - Hiz -" She caught herself calling him by his given name and tensed so stiffly she triggered another wave of pain. "Mic..."

He shook his head. "Hizashi's fine. Don't worry."

"But -"

"You can call me anything. I know you stick to Mic when I'm in work gear, but it doesn't matter if you use my given name." He paused, then added shyly, "Elly."

She stared, nonplussed at his reaction until another wave hit. Her ears lay back, her damp hair rubbing off her cheeks to lay limply on the pillow as she writhed through it.

Hizashi nipped his left leather glove with his teeth, tugging it down enough so he could remove it. The right came off as well, and he set them aside on her nightstand.

"I'm gonna rub your tummy," he blurted out. "I promise, just where it hurts and only 'cause it hurts. I don't have any creepy hidden agenda." He stopped before his hands touched her lower stomach, his green-gold eyes wide. "Oh! Uh, is that okay? I'll leave right away if you want. Or stop. Or, or... anything."

Elly laughed quietly, then gasped as pain flooded through her at the motion. She nodded, straining to keep from making any embarrassing sounds. "S'okay!"

His hands were warm. Hizashi carefully tested several massage techniques, adding pressure and removing it until he found what was best. Pushing in lightly, he rubbed as if kneading dough on the bloated skin.

The unexpected comfort was so palpable her guard dropped and she whimpered in relief. "Zashi..." Her voice thick with sleep, her mind and body tired from struggling for days, all she could manage was a shortened version of his name.

Hizashi was thrilled, and, seeing it was working, decided to try a little more. "Close your eyes," he hummed softly. "Listen to my voice. Focus on me, and only on me..."

His ears burned as he watched her settle down, her head sinking into the pillow and her brow smoothing. Her furry ears flicked once, then regained a more normal position as they perked back from laying flat on her skull.

<i>It works! She likes my Voice</i> that <i>much!</i>

He couldn't bear to think that she might like <i>him</i> in general - that would be too much to hope for. But for now he shook himself into action, taking a deep breath and pitching into a low, pleasant baritone.

He heard cats liked deeper voices.

"I know you love the ocean. So just imagine: you're all alone on a beautiful beach -" She sniffled sadly, and he quickly changed tactics. "No? Then you're not alone, baby." He bit his lip at the slip, but she reached out towards him with a shaky hand in supplication. His heart racing, Hizashi took it and pressed it to his cheek as he bent close. "I'm with you..? Yes, there we go," he whispered as a soft smile turned her lips. "That's what you want. I'm there, and we're holding hands." He lightly squeezed and nearly fell off the chair when she began to purr.

"God, baby, I promise we're gonna do this when yer better. A nice, long walk down the beach, holding hands until we get to the pier. It's windy, and a little cold - not too much, but enough so I have a excuse to wrap my arms around you. Not like I need an excuse!" His laugh was melodic and soothing. Elly tugged on his hand, bringing it to her cheek to cuddle with.

Hizashi's eyes teared up and he bit his lower lip, struggling to hold his emotions in. He had to keep going, but the way she was holding him so close, nuzzling his hand...

<i>Eh?</i>

He blinked, noticing her broken purr had turned into a slow, steady rumble. High on inhale, rough on the exhale; she was asleep.

"Pheeewww!" He blew air out in a gust aimed at the ceiling. "I did <i>not</i> expect that to all come out. You're somethin' else, baby."