Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

[Then]

"I think you're being too hard on them," Hizashi said, flipping through the stack of notes on the exams as he trailed after Shouta. "I mean, some of these match-ups were just mean, and I'm pretty sure Izuku was channeling his evil mirror dimension doppelganger. Or Nedzu."

"No such thing as being too hard," Shouta said, then made a face of disgust before Hizashi could even formulate a good joke. "Shut the fuck up."

Like that ever worked. "Quoting your boooooyfriend?" Hizashi crooned, and Shouta punched him so hard it made his bones vibrate.

Hizashi rubbed his shoulder with an offended squawk, but the pain was absolutely worth it for the air of embarrassment that settled around Shouta. No blush—he was much harder prey than Izuku—but Hizashi took the victory. Besides, he'd gone and started dating that detective and broken their unspoken single loser pact. Hizashi was glad he was happy, but he was also going to make him suffer for it.

"Woe unto me, I am a poor battered omega," Hizashi cried, slumping against Shouta who bore the dramatics with a sigh. "My only friend in the whole wide world is a savage brute!"

"That's not true," he said, shoving Hizashi away.

Hizashi scoffed. "Don't try to defend yourself, you big bully, you—"

"I was talking about Midoriya."

Hizashi frowned at him. "What are you talking about, Izuku's the opposite of a brute. He's like a cute little fluffy bunny. Who could punch you into next week."

Shouta snorted. "I meant I'm not your only friend."

Oh. Hizashi faltered, then sped up to match pace with Shouta again. He hadn't really thought about it, but Shouta... wasn't wrong? Hizashi's circle had always been small. First they lost Oboro, and then Nemuri, and Shouta was really all he'd had left. And then Izuku happened. "I guess? Maybe?"

"You guess," Shouta repeated in flat disbelief.

"Hey, fuck you," Hizashi said, the whole thing making him feel a little squirmy. There were friends, and then there were Friends, and that second list hadn't seen any new recruits in a long, long time. And maybe it was weird to be weird about it, but Hizashi wasn't all that great on the meaningful interpersonal relationship front. He sighed. "I mean, he's great, and I've had fun hanging out with him, but I think he's just... like that, y’know? Friendly with everyone, on account of being an ambulatory ball of sunshine."

Shouta hummed in a way that somehow said you're so fucking stupid. "My granddaughter says otherwise."

"Okay, first, he already admitted he's done that to, like, everyone he knows. Second, I'm so fucking delighted I've got you calling Shouta Jr. that, oh my god." Hizashi was pretty sure Shouta only did it because he also saw the entertainment value in a flustered Izuku, but it was still a victory considering he got all scowly any time Hizashi called him a dad. Even though he was such a dad.

"Don't overthink it," Shouta said. "You're friends whether you want to admit it or not, and it's been good for both of you."

Wait, both of them? "What does that mean?" he asked. Hizashi might be a lonely, overworked sad sack, but Izuku wasn't like him at all. Except for overworked, but that was the biz. The kid had more friends than he knew what to do with.

"It means exactly what I said," Shouta said, turning the corner towards the conference room. "And you might wanna stop talking about it."

"The hell, man, you can't just say something like that and then tell me to drop it!" The idea that Izuku had gotten as much out of their friendship as Hizashi made him feel all fuzzy, and even if he wasn't quite sure it was true, he wondered why Shouta thought so.

"Suit yourself," Shouta said, pushing open the door to the conference room.

Izuku was sitting in one of the chairs, swiveling back and forth like sitting still was a physical impossibility. He perked up as soon as the door opened. "Sensei! I've got the notes you asked for, and I have some thoughts on—" he caught sight of Hizashi, breaking off with a sunny smile. "Hizashi! Hi!"

Hizashi smiled back, a reflex he couldn't help even if he'd wanted to. Yeah, okay, maybe Shouta was right. Maybe he'd gone and made himself another friend entirely by accident. He glanced at Shouta, who was looking back at him with a narrow, piercing gaze that felt like danger.

Then his expression melted into bored neutrality and he said, "I brought him along so he could give us his wrong opinions."

Hizashi forgot the weird look in favor of kicking Shouta in the shin.

[Now]

Hizashi woke with the familiar sandblasted feeling of too much booze and not enough water. His throat was dry, his head was pounding, and despite both he felt absolutely content.

Izuku was still curled in Hizashi's arms, and Hizashi nuzzled into his hair with a hum of pleasure. His mate still smelled of their combined scent, and—wait. Hizashi blinked muzzily, frowning against the thought. Izuku wasn't his mate. One late night confessional and an impulsive scent-mark didn't make for a bond. What the fuck?

And why did that realization feel like it had sucked all the air from the room?

Hizashi held Izuku tighter, struck with a flood of anxiety because it was true: Izuku wasn't his mate. Izuku wasn't his mate, but he should be, the feeling a certainty, an irrefutable fact. It was like the entire world was wrongside up, and the only thing that would fix it was pressing Izuku down into the mattress and biting a mark into his throat.

The urge was overwhelming and intense, and Hizashi realized with a spike of alarm—familiar.

He groaned into Izuku's hair. Mating instincts in inexplicable overdrive? Yeah, he'd been here once before. In high school. With Oboro.

The problem with being an omega was that sometimes they were saddled with the worst bullshit. Overclocked reproductive instincts—and boy had Hizashi embarrassed himself with Shouta on that front—all the fuckery that came part and parcel with heats, and what Hizashi spitefully referred to as the ‘biochemical boot’. Bonding instincts. Hormones looking at someone you like and saying, "Oh nice, let's get this on lockdown."

It was a hormonal overreaction to falling in love, to facilitate bonding with a preferred partner. Except it was always too fast and too soon, and often the cause of some impulsive poor life choices. The effect didn't last long, a rush that ran through you in a few days. It was awful though, like the emotional equivalent of a really bad heat.

Hizashi did not expect to experience it a second time.

It was Izuku's fault for being so perfect. And now Hizashi had to somehow stumble his way through the next few days without acting like an absolute headcase or trying to suffocate himself between Izuku's thighs.

The thought made him shiver. Hizashi was absolutely and utterly fucked. Izuku might be a little adorably dense, but even if Hizashi managed to pull off the act flawlessly—doubtful—his scent was going to give him up. He was a horny bastard to begin with, but now he was a horny bastard with a fixation.

Maybe if he could just... keep his distance from Izuku for a couple days. But even if the logistics weren't impossible, the sharp, sudden spike of distress at the mere thought of being apart told him this wasn't going to be simple.

Still asleep, Izuku whined in response to Hizashi's anxiety. A restless shift as he nuzzled under Hizashi's chin tore a soothing purr from Hizashi in response. God help him, he did not know how to handle this, and he only had until Izuku woke up to figure it out.

The last time had been a miserable affair. Hizashi had mistaken it for a heat at first, and holed up at home for what would be some of the worst days of his short life. And that wouldn't even be an option, here. Maybe he could talk Shouta into swapping rooms? They didn't bunk omegas and alphas together for obvious reasons, but Shouta and Izuku would be fine together and Hizashi could lose his mind in peace. All he had to do was lie and tell Izuku he'd had the misfortune of an early heat—that would buy him some privacy at least.

It would just... require that Hizashi extricate himself from Izuku and do it. Hizashi did not move for several very long minutes, staring sightlessly at the green curls past the end of his nose. All he had to do was get up, sneak off to Shouta's room, and throw him out. Let go of Izuku and leave.

His arms did not listen.

Then Hizashi caught sight of the clock, glowing a condemning 10:43, and remembered that they were at a conference. With responsibilities and obligations. That they were so fucking late for. "Fuck!" he swore, making Izuku startle and shaking the strange paralysis that had kept him locked in bed. Hizashi rolled away with a climbing sense of panic that had nothing to do with the time.

Izuku sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking sleepy and confused. "S'wrong?" he asked.

So many things. So many things were wrong. Hizashi took a step back against the invisible drag of demanding urge, swallowing against the borderline hysteria crawling up his throat. "We overslept," he said. "I dunno what you have going on today but I'm late as shit." He forced his legs to move, darting into the bathroom to sweep up his stuff. "I'm gonna go get ready in Shouta's room so you can have the shower; see you later!"

Hizashi tore out of that room like his ass was on fire. He had Shouta's spare keycard like Shouta had his, and he was so fucking grateful for the practice even as he struggled to escape the gravity well determined to draw him back. Hizashi was fine. He could do this. Even if it felt like his entire body was on fire with the need to turn around and go back.

Shouta's room wasn't far, one floor down, and Hizashi flung himself through the door like having it closed behind him would bring him some measure of peace.

It didn't.

It did wake up Shouta though, who lifted his head and glared at Hizashi through the curtain of his hair. "The fuck, Hizashi?" he mumbled.

Hizashi froze like a startled deer. He hadn't expected Shouta to be in his room. The man could drink an entire bar dry and still turn up for work on time the next day, and he'd only had, like, one beer last night. "Why are you still here?"

"I was sleeping in because I don't have any meetings until later." The single eye Hizashi could see was deeply judgemental. "Why are you in my room, waking me up?"

And just like that, the hysteria that he'd kept at bay burst free with a mirthless, wheezing laugh. "Because I'm losing my fucking mind, that's why!" he said, marching into Shouta's bathroom and dumping all his stuff on the counter. He'd forgotten his costume in his haste to escape, but decided he didn't care. Hizashi did not have it in him to be Present Mic today, and the errands he was running for Nedzu didn't require it. A man should not be expected to go through a 12-step hair routine in the middle of a crisis.

Shouta followed him, leaning against the door and scratching his beard. He needed to shave—it was at risk of becoming the real thing. "Explain," he commanded.

Explain? Hizashi could barely put two thoughts together and Shouta wanted him to explain. Hizashi clutched the counter and wailed, "He doesn't even know how to nest, Shouta!"

It wasn't the problem. It wasn't even close to the problem. But it was where they'd started and for some reason it was stuck in Hizashi's mind like a splinter. It made Hizashi want to take care of Izuku, and the rest was a slippery slope.

At least Shouta seemed to appreciate the severity of the issue. The last of his sleepiness vanished and he frowned at Hizashi with obvious concern. "What do you mean, he doesn't know how to nest?"

One of the benefits of being best friends since forever was that Hizashi didn’t have to explain omega bullshit to him. Shouta knew that nesting was important for omegas. Knew that it wasn't a good thing when an adult didn't know how to build one, or even why it mattered. "His mother is a beta and they never gave him the classes because he was quirkless. He never learned." Hizashi was still so infuriated about it he couldn't see straight. He was having a conversation with Nedzu about this as soon as they got home.

Hizashi turned on the shower and Shouta dutifully turned away while he stripped. "The fuck does being quirkless have to do with health classes?" he asked.

"It doesn't, but people are assholes, " Hizashi said viciously, scrubbing the shitty hotel shampoo into his hair with more force than necessary. He'd forgotten half his morning routine in his flight from their room. It felt good to vent to Shouta, even if Izuku’s childhood mistreatment wasn't the real problem.

"So there's probably a lot he doesn't know," Shouta said. He sounded worried.

"He said he figured out heats on his own," Hizashi said. And thinking about Izuku in heat right now was not a great idea. He reached for the equally shitty hotel conditioner.

"Fuck," said Shouta— and that said it all, really. Heats were overwhelming as it was. Not understanding what was happening to you? Trying to weather them without knowing how? It must have been so fucking miserable.

Hizashi turned off the shower and stepped out, catching the towel Shouta threw over his shoulder. He dried off, then secured it around his waist and announced that he was decent. At least he'd managed to remember to grab underwear. He could run back to his room for a change of clothes once he was sure Izuku would be gone.

"Well," Shouta said, leaning against the bathroom counter and watching HIzashi try to shimmy into his underwear without flashing him. "That's concerning, but it doesn't explain why you burst into my room like the world was ending."

Hizashi grimaced, pulling his pajama pants back on. The anger on Izuku's behalf had been a nice reprieve from the maelstrom of his feelings, but they'd passed through the eye of the storm. The thing was, he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Shouta. Hizashi wasn't planning on acting on it, he knew he was being snowed under by hormones, but Shouta was particularly fond of Izuku and probably wouldn't approve. Not that there was anything to approve, because nothing was going to happen .

The thought made his heart ache.

Best to get it over with. "Pairbond instinct," he confessed. He'd told Shouta about the first time once, ages ago, a drunken recounting of the absolute misery he'd endured over a crush he'd never even gotten the chance to confess.

Shouta stared at him. Raised his eyebrows. "Midoriya?"

Hizashi answered with a pathetic wail that was as good as an admission, sinking to the floor. "Kill me," he moaned. "It would be kinder."

"We won't be doing that," Shouta said, and then picked Hizashi up from his miserable huddle on the bathroom floor. "And we won't be doing this." He carted Hizashi out into the room and tossed him on the bed. Hizashi lay where he landed, face first in the blankets. They smelled like Shouta. That was nice.

The bed dipped as Shouta sat beside him. "So, how did this happen?"

Hizashi gathered a pillow in his arms and rolled on his back with a whine. "I don't know! He won't stop being perfect? He's so sweet, and he's adorable." Hizashi reached out, tugging at Shouta's wrist. "Have you seen his face!? Have you? He's so pretty I could fucking die." A garbled sound of suffering. "He could snap me in half, Shouta."

It seemed like Shouta was trying very hard not to laugh at him. "That's... a good thing?"

"Yes! Obviously!"

"Right. Obviously." Shouta stared down at him for a silent moment. "It's my understanding that being attracted to someone isn't enough to set this sort of thing off."

He was right, but Hizashi was used to talking about physical things. That was familiar. Easy. "I think I'm in love with him," Hizashi breathed, the words too heavy and too real spoken aloud. "But that's just. That's just the hormones talking, right?" It had to be. "It's been two days; you don't fall in love with someone in two days. I might be a fucking disaster but even I know that much." It was a crush at best, muddied by the whole nesting thing, artificial intimacy and bullshit omega instincts. It wasn't anything real.

The thought felt like being torn in two.

"I can't tell you how you feel," Shouta said, and fuck him for being right anyway. It would be so much easier if someone could. "I can point out that it's been a lot more than two days."

"That's not the point," Hizashi whined. "This is bullshit. It's bullshit! He’s too young for me, and definitely too good for me. I'm just a dirty old man." Hizashi didn't want to be a dirty old man! He was not, as a general rule, the kind of guy to creep on cute young twenty-somethings. Izuku was just... different. Perfect. Hormones. AUGH. Hizashi pressed the pillow over his face with the small hope of suffocating.

"Well," Shouta began, in a tone that did not bode well.

"Stop," Hizashi begged. He was in no state of mind for teasing. He could die.

"He is a little young for you."

"Shouta, stooooop."

"And," he said, the hint of a smirk in his voice, "A former student to boot. That's pretty unfortunate."

"I hate you," Hizashi moaned, kicking out blindly. "Best friend card revoked. You’re the worst friend, a terrible friend! A monster in human skin!"

Shouta snorted, and Hizashi tugged the pillow down to glare at him. "You're being melodramatic," Shouta said.

"Drama is my coping mechanism," Hizashi muttered. "Besides, you don't know what it's like to experience a hormonal throat-punch designed to convince you that you're in love so you bond and make babies or whatever evolutionary bullshit this was meant to facilitate. Which is extremely fucking unfair. I hate alphas. You suck."

"Sexist," Shouta said blandly. "You said you're in love with him."

The words felt like an electric shock and Hizashi kicked Shouta again for daring to parrot his own words back at him. "Hormones! That's the hormones talking! He's cute and I like him and maybe I want to bundle him in a blanket and bite anyone who comes within fifty feet. I don't know! It can't be real." And that was the thing. Hizashi didn't know. Losing Oboro had hurt him so much that it had felt safer to lock his heart up and forget it entirely. He did not expect to have to deal with, with feelings again, and certainly not twenty fucking years later! Feelings for someone wildly inappropriate. Hizashi didn't have the framework for this anymore—it had been too long, he was too out of practice.

He couldn't even be sure it was real or not.

"I don't want you to be my father-in-law," he complained to the ceiling.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing Midoriya's not my son," Shouta said, and Hizashi wasn't looking at him but he could feel the eye roll. A sigh, the bed shifting under Shouta's weight, and then he leaned into Hizashi's line of sight. "You wanna know what I think?"

"I'd rather you punch through my chest and tear out my heart," Hizashi said in a long, gusty exhale.

"Too messy." Shouta's expression softened, and that's how Hizashi knew he must really be a mess. "Last time it was real. Why not this time?"

Why not this time? Because Hizashi wasn't sure he could handle it again. Because his own feelings were a guarantee of exactly nothing. Because Izuku could, and should, do better than an emotionally-stunted hero flirting with middle age.  "Because," he said, petulant and a little heartsick.

"Ah, well. You've convinced me," Shouta did not seem impressed. "Why don't you go talk to him instead of sitting here whining at me?"

Hizashi stared at him, incredulous. "You can't be serious. I can't be trusted around Izuku right now! I'd either, I don't know, kiss him, or sleep with him, or-or fucking propose to him. Bad idea, Shouta! Bad idea!" Talk to Izuku when Hizashi was out of his fucking mind over him, of all the stupidest shit.

Shouta gave him a considering look. "You're the one who said he could snap you in half. I don't think he'd let you do anything to him that he didn't want."

"Who are you?" Hizashi asked, brain fritzing and spitting like a live wire. "Are you actually suggesting I go back upstairs and maul your favorite student?"

"I don't have favorites," Shouta said, because he was a fucking liar. "And all I suggested was that you talk to him."

"I want Izuku to still like me when this is all over, so no, I don't think I'll be doing that," Hizashi snapped. The idea of driving Izuku away was a sharp ache, like a broken rib stabbing with every breath. Hizashi was friendly with a lot of people, but he didn't really have a lot of friends. Shouta, and now Izuku, and the thought of losing that because his stupid hormones got a few bright ideas and decided to run amok? Awful. Terrible. Unbearable.

His mounting distress must have been evident in his scent, because Shouta's brows pinched in concern. "Okay, sit up." When Hizashi didn't comply, Shouta hauled him upright while Hizashi whined piteously. Then he sighed, doing his best to tame the damp disaster of Hizashi's hair out of his face. "Breathe," he commanded, scent-marking Hizashi with a quick drag of his wrist over Hizashi's hair.

It helped, damn him. Shouta's scent bloomed around him, and it helped restore some of Hizashi's dangerously wobbly equilibrium.

They sat there staring at each other for a few moments before Shouta shook his head. "You're really fucked up about this, aren't you?"

Hizashi pitched into his chest with a sigh so heavy it rattled his bones. "Little bit."

Shouta stroked his hair for a quiet, thoughtful moment. "Okay, here's what you're going to do. You're going to get dressed, and you're going to do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing today. And when you see Izuku later, you'll deal with it, and it'll be fine."

Easy for him to say. "Every moment I'm not with him feels like I'm dying," Hizashi said, and god he wished that were hyperbole. "There's no chance I'm not gonna mess things up." Then he remembered his panicky idea from the morning and lifted his head. "Switch rooms with me."

"No."

Bastard. "Why not? If you're worried about propriety I think we can both agree I'm more likely to be a problem. He likes you, he won't care, it's fine."

Shouta was unmoved. "I'm not switching rooms."

Stubborn ass, worst best friend in the world. "Fine. I'll crash here then, that's a better idea anyway. Lets Izuku have his space."

"That's not happening either," Shouta said. "Go back to your own damn room and stop being a child."

Hizashi drew away, stung. He might be dramatizing things, but it wasn't over nothing. "It's like a heat, Shouta. Sort of. An emotional heat, I guess. I can't be trusted to be rational around him right now, I can't."

Shouta shrugged. "So don't be rational."

"Okay that's it, you are clearly an imposter, my Shouta would never say something so sacrilegious." Hizashi grabbed his face, turning it this way and that. "Quirk? Pod person? Evil twin?"

Shouta swatted him away. "Accept that this isn't the end of the world and go be an adult."

Hizashi grabbed his emotional support pillow and buried his face in it. It wasn't that simple! It felt like the end of the world! "What if I make him hate me?" Hizashi knew it was the hormones, but god, if that happened he might die.

A snort. "He makes friends with villains. Even if things go as poorly as possible, Midoriya isn't going to hate you. Kid doesn't have it in him, especially for people he already cares about."

Shouta wasn't wrong. "I want him to crush me with his thighs," Hizashi complained, both a true statement and one guaranteed to gross Shouta out.

He was rewarded with a soft sound of disgust, and then the world went upside down as Shouta literally kicked him out of bed. "Stop being a pathetic asshole and get the fuck out of my room."

[Then]

Izuku felt himself break out in a grin as the crowd above cheered so loudly it shook the entire stadium. He'd managed to break away from work long enough to come spectate the Sports Festival, and he was so excited! It was the first chance he'd had to watch one in person without the anxiety of competition, and he was looking forward to a day nerding out over a bunch of up and coming heroes. He was also, technically, supposed to be scouting for work study candidates, but Izuku could do that in his sleep.

He wanted to see what these kids could do.

Just as soon as he managed to find his seat. Izuku frowned at the ticket Nedzu had given him, then up at the directory sign. It was supposed to be a VIP section reserved for attending heroes, but hell if Izuku could find it in the twisting maze of samey gray passageways through the stadium. He was almost sure he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Pro Hero Deku, done in by his own shitty sense of direction. Maybe he'd retrace his steps and ask one of the security guards for directions.

He'd just check down this way, first. Izuku swung down a corridor only to stop short when he found himself at the entrance to a box packed to the rafters.

With media.

He'd found the fucking press box . That was worse than being lost, that was being lost and then walking straight into a tank of flesh-eating piranhas. 

"Press badge?" asked the man at the door.

"Wrong turn, sorry!" Izuku said, tugging his hat down and pivoting on his heel, desperate to get out of there before someone spotted him.

"Hey, is that Deku?"

Oh, come on ! Izuku walked faster, but it was too late—the cat was out of the bag and there was now a gaggle of reporters following him.

"Deku, could I get a word?"

"Deku, do you have any comments on the incident in Kyoto last week?"

"Deku, what are your thoughts on the crop of contenders this year?"

That last one almost got him, because some of the press had his number. "No comment," he called over his shoulder. Like that ever did him any good. They kept following him, chirping his name like a bunch of deranged ducklings, and Izuku sped up.

So did the press.

To hell with it. Izuku broke into a run, ignoring the startled shouts behind him, tearing down the hallway because he did not want to lose his whole day to the media! He was there to watch the kids; could they maybe cut him a break for once in his life?

Considering the way they were chasing him, the answer was no.

Even without his quirk, Izuku was in better shape than the average reporter, and managed to put a little distance between them as he scanned the hall looking for a place to hide. And then, like a blessing from on high, his savior appeared.

The announcer's booth.

Hizashi would rescue him, and Izuku didn't even hesitate before bursting in and slamming the door shut behind him.

Hizashi spun in his chair, startled, and cut the mic. "Izuku?" he asked, brows pinched.

"The press is after me!" Izuku said, and the part of his brain that was not wholly consumed with evading them acknowledged that this whole scenario was ridiculous. "Hide me!"

Hizashi laughed, the jerk, but he stood and gave the small room a thoughtful sweep. Then he took Izuku by the shoulders and stuffed him right under the desk, peeling off his leather jacket and throwing it over him as the door banged open.

Izuku froze, well aware he'd never live it down if he got caught huddled beneath a desk under Present Mic's jacket like some sort of kid who was bad at hide and seek.

"Hey!" Hizashi barked, sharp and angry. "You can't be in here. Get out."

Izuku could see the milling of feet as the reporters murmured uncertainly. "We were looking for Deku," one of them ventured.

Hizashi snorted. "I don't care if you were looking for the secret to world peace. Press isn't supposed to leave the press box unescorted, so unless you want me to make a call and have the lot of you thrown out, beat it."

A chorus of half-hearted apologies and platitudes, and they were gone. Izuku heaved a sigh of relief and climbed out from under the desk, handing Hizashi his jacket back with a bit of reluctance. Now that the crisis had passed, he realized how much it smelled like Hizashi. It was nice.

He sank into one of the chairs with a deep sigh. "Thank you."

"No problem," Hizashi said, shrugging back into his jacket and casting Izuku an amused look. "Can I ask what that was about?"

"I got turned around and walked into the press box," Izuku said with a grimace. If nothing else, Hizashi would probably know where he was supposed to go.

Hizashi dropped back into his chair and spun with a laugh. "Well!" he said, with an unnerving grin that had shades of Aizawa-sensei in it. "Never let it be said that I looked a gift Deku in the mouth."

Before Izuku could ask what that meant, he queued the mic. "Hellllllllloooooooooo listeners! Have I got a treat for you today! Serendipity has conspired to deliver unto me a very special surprise co-commentator!"

No. Oh no.

Hizashi winked at him. "Let's hear you give it up for our beloved number three hero, Deku!"

The crowd went wild, and Izuku stared at Hizashi in abject betrayal.

Hizashi cut the mic, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Aw, c'mon. If Shouta can handle it, anyone can. You'll get to enthuse about all these crazy kids and their quirks to your heart's content. It'll be fun, I promise."

That... didn't sound so bad, really. Izuku turned his chair toward the microphone and the confusing array of buttons and dials with trepidation. "I trust you," he said, because he did. Hizashi had never let him down before, even though Izuku wasn't at all sure about this. If Hizashi said he'd have fun, it was probably true.

In the end, Izuku had a blast, so swept up in the excitement that he'd forgotten that his commentary was being broadcast to a stadium of thousands. Instead, it felt like spending hours talking about one of his favorite topics with one of his favorite people. When Hizashi asked him to come back and do it again next year, Izuku didn't even have to think before he agreed.

[Now]

Izuku watched Hizashi disappear in a whirlwind of limbs and hair care products, blinking at the door in sleepy confusion as silence fell. It felt like a hook in the guts, and god, Izuku felt like shit.

He rubbed his eyes, fumbling for the water Hizashi had left last night. He stilled with it halfway to his lips when the distorted memory of the night before filtered into his wobbly consciousness. He'd gotten super drunk, been embarrassingly clingy, had a nightmare and been a baby about it, and then—then Hizashi had talked to him. A warm, close presence, a reassuring voice, and before Izuku knew what he was doing he'd been confessing the insecurities around his gender that had been plaguing him since he was old enough to care.

And after that. Izuku touched his jaw, suddenly aware how much he still smelled like Hizashi. The strength of their commingled scent hadn't faded at all over night, and Izuku's spine felt like warm jello because oh, he liked that. A lot. Too much. When Hizashi had scent-marked him it had felt like a claim. Izuku had gone liquid, pliant and passive, and he swallowed against the realization that his crush on Hizashi might be a lot more than a crush.

He remembered the water and knocked it back with an unsteady hand, washing some of the sand from his throat. He looked at the time with a grimace. He'd already missed the interview his PR team had set up, which meant he probably had seven hundred exasperated texts from Suwa. He peeled himself from his nest with more reluctance than he'd ever felt in his life, head pounding. He wanted Hizashi to come back so they could curl up together and sleep the day away.

Hizashi. Izuku glanced at the door with a thread of uncertainty. Had his hurry this morning really been because they were running late, or did it have more to do with Izuku being embarrassing and clingy last night? Uncertainty settled in his chest, thick and uncomfortable. He hoped not.

Izuku went through his morning routine with leaden limbs, Hizashi's absence becoming more pronounced and more awful with every moment that passed. He didn't know if it was the hangover, or what, but the fact that Hizashi wasn't there felt awful, and it only got worse despite Izuku's attempts to shake it.

He showered awkwardly, careful not to wash away Hizashi's scent. He doubted Hizashi would do it again and he wanted it to last. It was a depressing thought, but even if Izuku had feelings for him there was no chance it went both ways. Despite Hizashi's kind reassurances, Izuku wasn't under the illusion that he was good mate material. Quirkless in the way that counted, with a dangerous job that kept him too busy to breathe most of the time. Weird and a little unpalatable.

And that was fine! Most of the time. Izuku had come to terms with it, more or less. Growing up had taught him that he wasn't the type of person that someone would want, for a lot of reasons. His fame would only mitigate that until someone got to know him, and dating fans was always fraught besides. He had his friends, their agency, and his work. He was content with that. He was the hero he'd always hoped to be, and it wasn't unusual for heroes to stay out of relationships anyway.

He might not be the kind of person anyone would want, but Hizashi was. There was something magnetic about him. Something about him that Izuku was drawn to. He'd had plenty of crushes in his life; they came and went easy as anything. But this was the first time he'd ever wanted someone as a mate.

The realization struck hard enough to wind him. That wasn't—it couldn't. Hizashi was so out of his league it wasn't even funny, and Izuku was a lot younger than him. There was no way Hizashi saw him like that. But what if he did? Did the scent-mark mean anything? It felt like it had, but maybe that was all in Izuku's head. Wishful thinking.

Izuku brushed his teeth a little too hard, as though he could scrub the whole idea right out of his head. A stupid flight of fancy, not worth getting his heart broken over.

Might be a little late for that.

Izuku dressed and ran a careless hand through damp curls. He had to focus. He had things to do and his team would yell at him if he didn't. He didn't have time to stand around wringing his hands over whether Hizashi might like him when it was almost certain he didn't.

The instant Izuku left the hotel room he was struck by a wave of inexplicable anxiety. Hizashi was gone, he was alone, and it was... it was awful. Izuku sucked in a long, steadying breath. It was weird, but he was no stranger to anxiety. It would be fine.

It was not fine. As the hours crept by the anxiety got worse, but that wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was everything else. He felt flushed and strange, like his skin was half a size too small. He couldn't concentrate, the people around him were irritants and distractions. He missed Hizashi. It was completely irrational and so overwhelming it felt like some invisible force had his lungs in a vise. All he could think about was Hizashi, all he wanted was Hizashi, and if pressed Izuku wasn't sure he could even say what he meant by that.

The jangly irrationality of it was so much like a heat that Izuku wondered if it hadn't struck early. He'd never been quite so obsessed with a singular person during a heat before, but he didn't know what else it could be. Except none of the alphas around him today had acted out of the ordinary, and if there was one thing you could rely on, it was alphas conspicuously not noticing an omega in heat.

Which was why Izuku was now hiding in a stairwell, calling Hitoshi for the twentieth time that day.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," he begged as the line rang, and rang, and rang. Then it cut to Hitoshi's voicemail again and Izuku let his head thump against the wall as he hung up. Hitoshi had probably muted his number, because in his fanboy excitement the first day Izuku had, maybe, blown his phone to kingdom come. And called him at least twelve times to enthuse about this hero, or that. And now he was ignoring Izuku which was both justified and completely unfair because this was a fucking emergency.

There was something wrong with him, and Izuku had no idea what it was. Hitoshi was his best friend, and an omega. Izuku might be shit at dealing with all the things he didn't know about his gender, but this one was freaking him out enough that he was willing to swallow his pride for answers.

It felt like he was turning inside out. Being apart from Hizashi hurt in a way Izuku had no framework for. All he knew was that this was absolutely, definitely not normal, and that it sort of felt like he might die.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku yelped and whirled, hand clutched to his chest. Aizawa-sensei looked unimpressed with the outburst. Or with Izuku's lack of awareness. Probably both. "Where did you come from?" he asked, glancing around the empty stairwell as if it would offer some clue.

"Saw you come in and followed you," Aizawa-sensei said, jerking a thumb towards the door that led back out into the convention hall. He scanned Izuku head to toe, expression neutral. "You okay? You seem a little rattled."

‘A little rattled’ was one way to put it, and—oh! Sensei was an alpha, and Izuku remembered he always tended to get a little tense in the shoulders around an omega in heat, like he was bracing for an attack. He seemed fine now though, shoulders loose, slouching a bit and regarding Izuku with a raised eyebrow because he still hadn't answered the question.

"Fine!" he squeaked, in a way that would fool nobody. "I'm fine! Just feeling a little—" he rubbed at his chest, wondering for a moment if he could ask Sensei. And then that creeping shame that always rode the tail of all the things he didn't know coated his throat, and Izuku swallowed the question down. "A little hungover," he finished. It wasn't even untrue.

"Hm," Aizawa-sensei said, and Izuku wasn't sure what that meant.

"Have you seen Hizashi?" he asked, and Izuku's heart slammed into his throat at the name, gaze ticking around like Aizawa-sensei might have summoned him, but no. That was stupid.

"Not since this morning," Izuku said, feeling wretched about it.

Sensei regarded him with silent consideration for a long, long moment. "You should go back to your room and get some rest."

Izuku blinked. "What?" he asked, because he hadn't expected his former teacher to essentially send him to bed.

"You aren't feeling well, so go get some rest." God, Izuku would like nothing better than to go back to his room and curl in the shared scent of their nest. 

"I've still got things—"

"Cancel them," Sensei said mildly. "Your wellbeing is more important than whatever stupid publicity tour they have you doing this morning. Get some rest."

Izuku went limp with something like relief at the command. If nothing else, he could hide in his room until Hizashi got back. Take a nap. And if he was brave enough, maybe he'd ask Hizashi what the hell was up with him.

"Yeah, okay," he conceded, and it was a testament to how out of sorts he felt that Sensei looked surprised.

He'd take a nap, and maybe he'd feel something closer to sane when he woke up. And if nothing else, well, at least the nest would smell like Hizashi.

[Then]

"I think that's everything!" Nedzu said, clapping his paws together. But before Shouta could escape to find himself a quiet corner for a nap, his boss paused and said, "Ah, but there was one other small matter. I nearly forgot."

Shouta stared at him, and Nedzu smiled blandly back. Nedzu never forgot anything, and they both knew it. "What small matter?" he asked, a feeling not unlike dread settling into his bones.

Nedzu's expression never changed, but there was malice in his eyes as he said, "The International Hero Conference."

God fucking damn it. Shouta didn't know why he ever hoped to get out of that stupid, pointless, self-congratulatory gathering. Nedzu hadn't let him off the hook in years. "What do you need me there for?" There was always something, some new excuse that required Shouta's personal attention. And the rub was, Nedzu always found a reason Shouta couldn't say no to. Manipulative bastard.

"Why, our new exchange program, of course!"

Of course. The specter of defeat already loomed over him, because Shouta's weak spot was his students and Nedzu knew how to exploit it. Didn't mean he was going down without a fight. There was an attendee list on Nedzu's desk among the other paperwork, and his gaze caught on Hizashi's name. "Make Hizashi do it," he said. "He's already going, he's more personable than I am, and he actually likes being there." And not only because he treated these things like some sort of all-you-can-eat hero buffet.

Shouta had mixed feelings about that. Hizashi was an adult and he could do whatever—or whoever—he wanted, but he always seemed a little... off, after he got home from a conference. Omegas weren't built for the sort of solitude Hizashi had chosen, and Shouta had a feeling the hookups were doing more harm than good on that front. Small bursts of human connection that only served to highlight how little he actually had.

His friendship with Midoriya was such a fucking relief because Shouta should not be anyone's only close friend.

"Yamada already has other errands to run for me," Nedzu said. "And these conferences can be an exhausting affair—I wouldn't want to overburden him. Besides! I know you take the education of our students very seriously, and I trust your judgment as my proxy. A few meetings, that's all I ask."

Shouta glared at him mulishly and didn't answer, trying to decide if there was anyone besides Hizashi he'd trust enough to pawn this off on.

Nedzu continued, "We already have a great deal of interest! I've organized meetings with a few American schools, and I believe the New York Heroics Academy was particularly—"

"No," Shouta said, slamming a hand on the desk. "I am not sending any of my students to that bullshit hero mill."

"Ah," Nedzu said with a pleased smile. "It seems you have strong opinions about this."

Shouta didn't know why he bothered fighting. Maybe it was the principle of the thing. "Fuck you, I'll do it."

"Marvelous!" Nedzu said, like Shouta wasn't sagging into his seat and glaring daggers like a petulant teenager. "I'll get you the meeting schedule as soon as it's finalized. Now all that's left is some administrative work."

Shouta grunted. Administrative work? Right, Nedzu had taken responsibility for organizing hotel assignments a few years ago after a bunch of heroes arrived in Norway and found they had nowhere to stay. Shouta glanced down at the attendee list, scanning it until he picked out Midoriya's name. The wheels started turning.

Hizashi's friendship with Midoriya was a good thing, except for the fact that Shouta was almost certain Hizashi was in love with the kid. Shouta knew him better than anyone, and it wasn't exactly overt, but any time he saw the two of them together Hizashi seemed... brighter. Happier. Not in his fakey Present Mic bullshit way, but genuinely. It was something he'd only seen once before, when they were teenagers. Before everything had gone to shit and Hizashi had his heart broken in the worst way possible.

He also knew the chances of Hizashi acting on it were slim.

Midoriya was a harder read, because Shouta didn't know him as well and because he telegraphed his feelings constantly. Midoriya was easily flustered and friendly to a fault, so it was hard to say if his behavior around Hizashi was Midoriya being Midoriya, or something more.

Shouta didn't have much doubt about Hizashi. He didn't fall in love easily but when he did it wasn't quiet.

"You should put Hizashi and Midoriya together," Shouta said. It wasn't his policy to poke his nose in other people's business, but, well. Hizashi was his, and Shouta knew he wouldn't look after himself.

"Oh?" Nedzu asked, eyes gleaming, because the bastard could smell a good meddle a mile away.

Shouta was not planning to gossip about Hizashi's personal business with their boss, but he also wouldn't be surprised if Nedzu already knew, somehow. Shouta shrugged. "They get along."

"I see," Nedzu said, which implied that he did, in fact, see. "Having a friendly roommate would improve the experience! I'll make a note."

Shouta wasn't sure if it would make a difference. Hizashi was stubborn and Midoriya could be oblivious. But putting them together in the same space for three days might be enough to spark something, if there was anything to spark.

Couldn't hurt to try.

[Now]

Hizashi dragged himself out of the elevator with the heavy feet of a condemned man.

Spending the day acting like he wasn't losing his mind had taken its toll, even if he'd only been half successful. The manic alarm of the morning had faded to a consistent, persistent ache—a chronic beat of pain, a low hum of anxiety. Being apart from Izuku felt like dying, and the fact that this was his second rodeo did not make it any easier to endure.

He still didn't know how he was going to walk into that room and pretend to be normal. It seemed impossible. The moment he saw Izuku he was certain the perilously thin veneer of normalcy would slough off and he'd do something he'd regret.

Despite the over-the-top antics of his hero persona, Hizashi didn't have much trouble being genuine. What you see is what you get, more or less. He spoke his mind, he tried to be honest. Maybe a little too honest, sometimes, but Hizashi blamed that one his too-long association with Shouta rather than a baked-in character flaw. The problem was that sometimes honesty wasn't the best course of action.

Hizashi didn't like lying to his friends and the people he cared about. But walking into that room with his heart on his sleeve wasn't an option if he didn't want it broken. He couldn't have told you how much of his feelings were real and how much was hormone soup at this point, but what Shouta said had stuck with him. The last time this had happened, it was real. And maybe that was worse.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that twenty years of carefully guarding his heart had been upended by an omega with big green eyes who didn't know how to nest. It seemed too much, too sudden, but maybe he'd started down that path a year ago without realizing. Maybe every time the rivers of their respective lives had swept them past each other since had reinforced it.

Hizashi stopped, considering. He'd actually seen a lot more of Izuku in the last year than he'd thought. Never for very long—Izuku was busy and the demands on his time were constant and relentless. But enough. Midnight ice cream, a tiny kitten, a murdered tie. Izuku made a point to carve out time for him, Hizashi realized. Not to mention they texted each other all the time: pictures of Shouta Jr., stupid memes, and their ongoing bad selfie competition.

Maybe this wasn't as out of left field as he'd thought.

With that very unsettling thought lingering in his gray matter, Hizashi arrived at the door. He'd asked Shouta to let him crash with him again, and again he'd been turned down. So the only way out was through.

He steeled himself and opened the door, heart catching in his throat the instant he caught Izuku's scent.

There was no chance he was getting through this gracefully. None. He was so fucked. Hizashi kicked off his shoes and forced himself from the entryway to see Izuku sitting up with a sharp yawn. Hizashi had clearly woken him from a nap. Then Izuku froze, staring.

For a wild, irrational moment Hizashi wondered if he could tell somehow. Then Izuku reached for him, whining Hizashi's name in a soft, needy voice that fried every synapse in his brain.

Hizashi stood, rooted to the spot, thoughts a long, shrill dial tone.

When he didn't move, Izuku did, shooting from his nest and wrapping around Hizashi's torso like a human octopus. He buried his face in Hizashi's throat with another soft whine, scent sharp with distress.

It was the scent that shook Hizashi from his freeze. Izuku was desperately upset about something, and in his current state Hizashi could no more have resisted than he could have learned to fly. "Hey, hey, shh. It's okay, sunshine. I've got you." He stroked a calming hand over Izuku's hair, then followed it with a drag of his wrist. The scent-marking seemed to bleed a little of the tension out of Izuku. Progress. "You want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, maneuvering them out of the doorway and towards Izuku's nest. He'd feel more comfortable there.

It was the wrong question to ask. "I don't know, " Izuku said, voice so miserable it hurt to hear.

"That's okay," Hizashi soothed, managing to get them on the bed despite the fact that Izuku was disinclined to let go of him. He managed to wriggle his way into a sitting position against the headboard, Izuku glued to his chest. "You're okay, physically? Not hurt?" Hizashi couldn't smell blood, but that didn't mean much.

Izuku nodded against his throat, and Hizashi relaxed marginally. His mate was upset, but not hurt.

Fuck. Not his mate. Not his mate. Friend at most. Stupid fucking hormones. "Okay. How about we take a little time to calm down and then we try to figure out what's wrong?" Omegas had an unfortunate tendency to drop when distraught enough, and Hizashi suspected Izuku might be on the edge of it. First order of business was helping him get his equilibrium back.

A beat of hesitation, and then another nod. "Okay," Hizashi said, stroking a hand down Izuku's back, purr kicking to life without conscious thought. Izuku immediately started purring in response, and Hizashi nuzzled into his hair, trying his best to ignore the sharp ache in his heart.

This wasn't about him. This was about finding out who or what had upset Izuku so badly and murdering people about it.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, texting Shouta to see if he'd seen Izuku today, if he had any idea what could have happened. The response was immediate, short, and made Hizashi forget how to breathe.

Seems your problem is catching.

Was Shouta implying that—? Hizashi looked down at the top of Izuku's head. It wasn't... impossible, he supposed. It wasn't even all that unusual for omegas to experience the phenomena simultaneously, the hormone shift in one triggering the same shift in the other. It had happened to his parents. The resulting panicky disaster was one of their favorite stories.

But that would suggest Izuku had feelings for him, to some degree. Was that even possible? He didn't see how. Disbelief and hope crashed in his chest and tried to turn him inside out, and Izuku whined, sensitive to Hizashi's mood shift. "Sorry," he said, holding Izuku tighter for a moment. "Thinking too hard."

It didn't take very long for the distress in Izuku's scent to ebb, briefly neutral before warming with soft contentment. And Hizashi was a little insane over that, that being curled safe in Hizashi's arms left his mate loose and relaxed and smelling so utterly content.

Not his mate, Hizashi reminded himself with a pang.

"Feeling better?" he asked, loath to disrupt the peace. But Izuku had said he didn't know why he was upset, and if Shouta was right, well. That was a conversation that needed to be had.

"Yeah, thanks." Izuku sat back a bit, looking tired but okay, and seemingly unaware of the fact that he was still sitting in Hizashi's lap.

Hizashi didn't mention it. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Izuku made a face that suggested he would like nothing less. "I don't know, I've just been... weird today."

"Weird, how?" Hizashi pressed.

Izuku averted his gaze, cheeks going pink. He shrugged. "Anxious, I guess?"

Okay. Time to put on his big boy pants. "About me?" he asked.

Izuku's gaze snapped back to him, startled. Bingo. "How did you—" Izuku cut himself off with a grimace. "I mean why do you—what?"

Hizashi wanted to laugh, but if he started he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. Instead he leaned back against the headboard and gestured to himself. "Same," he said, the hardest word he'd ever forced passed his lips.

A beat of silence, and then, "I don't understand." Izuku sounded small and confused.

"What do you know about the omega pairbond instinct?" Hizashi asked, digging for his teacher mask, trying to distance himself from what he was saying just to get through it.

"The way you say that makes it sound like you're talking about something specific," Izuku said, and Hizashi forced himself to make eye contact. "I don't think I've heard of it."

God, no wonder he'd been so upset. Hizashi had barely kept it together and he knew what was happening. How alarming must it have been for Izuku? "When an omega... has feelings for someone," Hizashi began, choosing his words carefully. "The pairbond instinct comes into play. You know how heats can be very different from omega to omega?" Izuku nodded. "Same thing. It's loosey goosey bullshit, I know, but how early or how easily the pairbond instinct can trigger really just... depends on the person."

Izuku's eyes were wide, but he was listening, and Hizashi plowed on. "It's exactly what it sounds like. It's a hormonal gut punch that makes you a little crazy for a few days, probably meant to facilitate bonding."

Izuku considered this in silence, but he also hadn't denied anything Hizashi had said. "Symptoms?" he asked.

"Varies," Hizashi said. "For some people it feels a bit like a low level heat. Separation anxiety," Izuku jolted, and Hizashi realized that was why Izuku had been so distraught. "Mostly it's a big feelings flood. Like a sucker punch right in the heart. It usually lets up in a couple days or so."

Izuku digested this quietly. Hizashi took the opportunity to study him, tracing the splash of freckles across his nose. "And you're...?" Izuku started, but didn't seem able to finish the question.

"Yeah," Hizashi said, voice rough. He sure fucking was.

Then Izuku surprised him. "Has this ever happened to you before?"

"Once," Hizashi said, "A long time ago. When I was in high school."

"What happened?"

Hizashi had been a fucking chicken, was what happened. Too scared to own up until the choice had been taken from him. "He died," Hizashi said, an old hurt, but no less painful for it.

"Oh," Izuku breathed with understanding. His brows drew together, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and sorrowful. "I'm sorry." Hizashi had forgotten he knew about Oboro.

He shrugged and managed to summon a weak smile. "So am I. But it is what it is, you know? Nothing ever came of it, and that was probably for the best." Otherwise Shouta might have lost them both, and that didn't bear thinking about.

"So what now?" Izuku asked, and that was the question, wasn't it? "What does this mean?"

"It means we wait it out and behave ourselves," Hizashi said, which sounded awful but was, he knew, the right thing to do. They were both emotionally compromised, and anything that happened now might turn out to be a mistake once the fog cleared. Hizashi very desperately did not want to be a mistake. A never-was, he could handle, but a mistake? Not that.

Izuku wrinkled his nose. "And everything just... goes back  to normal, after?" He didn't sound happy about it, and against all his good judgment, the rebellious seed of hope that had taken root in Hizashi's heart grew, just a little.

"That depends on you," Hizashi said. Because as much as he'd been trying to blame it on the hormones all day, he knew better. Hizashi didn't fall in love easily, but somehow Izuku had wormed past all his defenses and made a home for himself. It was terrifying to contemplate, but it was a done deal. Hormones or no hormones, he was already Izuku's.

"Just on me?" Izuku asked, too smart not to see the edges of the implication. A backwards confession.

Hizashi's willpower wavered. This might be his only chance, he realized. And maybe it was okay to make one small concession to weakness. So he took Izuku's face in his hands, a slow slide of fingers along his jaw that Izuku leaned into with a helpless hitch of breath, eyes wide.

Hizashi kissed him, soft, and slow and deep, swallowing the gasp that met him. He took his time, savoring the way Izuku leaned into him, the reflexive clutch at Hizashi's wrist. The way Izuku melted for him, scent going thick with arousal. The restless shift of his hips, and the way he bared his throat with a soft whine as Hizashi's fingers brushed the bonding gland beneath his ear.

It would be so easy to roll him over, to take what was being offered. To strip him naked and bite a claim into his flesh. Instead, Hizashi broke the kiss and tugged Izuku back against his chest. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. "If you're still interested afterwards, we can talk," he said. Like there would be a conversation. Hizashi would fold like a bad poker hand and that would be the end of it.

Izuku lay against him, and Hizashi could feel the rapid jump of his pulse. "Okay," he said at length, shaky and winded.

Not a promise, not a guarantee, just a maybe. And for now, that was enough.