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Fighting alongside Shouta is always a treat. Eraserhead and him work so very well together, they always have, and even now, years later, it makes Hizashi yearn for all the things they didn’t get.
But regrets are useless here. After all, they have a villain to subdue.
Hizashi grins wider as he lets out a louder scream, ducking out of the way to let Shouta dive forward at the stunned villains, incapacitating them. They’re a well-oiled machine, and Hizashi only barely resists the urge to offer his hand out for a high five. Unfortunately, Shouta knows him well enough to tell anyway, and shoots him a truly withering glare. Hizashi chuckles and shrugs, turning his attention back to the scene around them.
It seems to be mostly over. Out of the five villains they’d run into, three are tied up or unconscious and Hizashi recalls seeing at least one other run away. Their quirks had been mostly dangerous for their unusual combined strength, but even then, he and Shouta had made quick work of rendering that useless.
Hizashi hadn’t even destroyed the building this time — not even a window, which had to be some new kind of record — he was also pretty sure the worse injuries the civilians had gotten before they’d arrived were bumps and bruises.
It’s a good day, really. A good fight. Not a low-stakes one because no fight ever is, but still, one that lets Hizashi feel more at ease in his own skin than anxious for the next shoe to drop.
Which means he should have probably foreseen what happened next.
Shouta’s the one who sees the last villain first, because of course he is. The man’s trying to run away, but there’s something in the way Shouta moves to intercept him must catch his eyes because he stops and spins around, making a move like he wants to throw something at him.
Hizashi’s moving before he even knows it, tackling Shouta out of the way, but it’s useless. Instead of Shouta being the only one affected, now, they both are.
Whatever the villain’s quirk is, it manifests as a thick cloud of pink-ish dust. It feels a little like inhaling smoke, only more cloying and with a weird sugary aftertaste that makes Hizashi cough as he breathes it in. Where it touched his skin, it sinks in with a shimmer that sends dread sparking through Hizashi’s veins.
It seems innocuous enough, but even after Shouta violently binds him in his capture scarf and hangs him up from a lamp post, the villain looks way too smug for that to be true.
Hizashi falls into step with Shouta easily as they start to canvas the scene, all the while keeping one eye on the captured villains and waiting for the police and medics to arrive.
As they walk, Hizashi very pointedly doesn’t grin at Shouta’s annoyed glare when he starts shaking off the pink dust from his clothes.
"I'd have been fine, you know," Shouta grumbles.
Hizashi shrugs, cracking his back with a loud chuckle. “I know, I know. It was just a reflex, I guess.”
Shouta doesn’t quite soften at that, but Hizashi does. He knows Shouta understands that instinct, that he has the same one, unhappy as they both may be about it.
“You okay?” he asks after a moment, catching Shouta rubbing his wrists again.
Shouta scowls back, staring down at his hands. “Just… itchy.”
Hizashi swallows and reaches up to rub his neck. “Yeah.”
Come to think of it, he’s feeling kind of itchy too. Not anywhere in particular, which is odd, but a more… generalized kind of itch, almost like something is crawling under his skin.
He shudders. God, if that guy’s quirk has anything to do with insects, Hizashi might actually die.
Hizashi risks another look at Shouta. He’s a little flushed, he thinks, but other than that he seems fine.
The itch remains.
“Looks like we’re going to the hospital after all, huh?” Hizashi asks, injecting as much faux-enthusiasm into his voice as he can, and bumping his shoulder against Shouta’s.
“Joy,” Shouta replies flatly.
Hizashi laughs.
Being pro heroes, they’re ushered into a private room, where a very professional nurse orders them out of their contaminated clothes and into the decontamination shower.
She’s waiting after that with non-descript slacks, fingers drumming impatiently on her chart. She takes all of their vitals with an efficiency that would almost leave Hizashi drooling with envy if it wasn’t currently being applied on him.
“So, what’s the verdict?” he asks, pasting on his brightest smile and winking at her. “Are we going to live?”
Shouta snorts and Hizashi pouts back at him before shooting another wink at their nurse, who merely hums back and tells them to wait for their results without looking up from her charts.
Shouta snorts again as she exits the room, and Hizashi pours himself down into one of the hospital’s uncomfortable chairs.
The wait is more boring than anything else. The itching doesn’t subside but it also doesn’t feel worse. Mostly, Hizashi feels a little warm, although he doesn’t think he’s getting a fever; and frankly, the warmth is actually kind of welcome against the chill in this room.
Comparing his symptoms to Shouta’s leads to nothing, and Hizashi kicks back in his chair, musing out loud.
“What do you think this is? Some kind of illness? That dust almost looked like spores, but I’ve never heard of pink mushrooms… Though I guess with quirks, who even knows, right?”
He laughs to himself, but pouts at Shouta when his friend ignores him.
“Come on, Shouta, any ideas? Don’t leave me hanging!” He reaches out to toe at Shouta’s leg laughing as he overbalances and almost topples out of his chair when Shouta shifts out of reach. “See? Hanging!”
It isn’t really funny, of course, but between laughing or focusing on the uncomfortable itch spreading beneath his skin, Hizashi will always choose laughter.
But since Shouta seems to not want to theorize with him, Hizashi tables the thought for later and starts chatting about his next show instead. He’s planning to organize a listeners call-in session again, and he likes brainstorming themes at Shouta.
Of course, if Shouta had his way, Hizashi’s radio show would probably turn into half-society criticism, half-cat factoids — not that Hizashi thinks that would be a bad thing, but he’s not exactly being paid to do a show for only two people.
Besides, more often than not, Shouta is the one providing cat facts.
He’s halfway through wondering if opening up the phone lines after inviting the new hero “Jetstream” is a good idea — Shouta’s hum and dubious glare seem to hint at a no, and Hizashi would normally agree if he didn’t remember crying when his first caller told him he was their hero — when the door opens and the nurse comes back in, clipboard in hand.
She looks even more tired than before, and Hizashi’s greeting dies on his lips. He exchanges a look with Shouta, and his stomach sinks at finding the same dreadful attentiveness he’s feeling on his friend’s face.
Hizashi licks his lips and pastes on a smile. “So? Are we going to die?”
Shouta starts kicking at him viciously, barely giving Hizashi the time to drag his chair out of the way.
He’s about to retaliate when the nurse clears her throat, bringing Hizashi’s attention back to what she was about to say. She’s not much older than them, but she holds herself like she is, and the annoyance he can see pulsating in her eyes has Hizashi treading very, very carefully.
He hasn’t forgotten what happened the last time they made Recovery Girl mad, after all. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
“If you two are quite done, I have your results here.”
She glares them down like she’s daring them to answer, causing Hizashi to nod mutely. She doesn’t wait for any further acknowledgment before she continues.
Hizashi doesn’t mean to, really. He’s usually very good at listening to medical professionals — especially when it concerns Shouta and not just him — but his eyes keep getting drawn back to the line of Shouta’s throat as he swallows, and it’s very distracting.
How has Hizashi never noticed just how distracting it is?
He still catches snippets of what the nurse tells them, but each one is weirder than the last.
It takes Hizashi an embarrassing amount of time to parse out what the “unwanted physical responses”, “acute response” and “fatal if untreated” all mean.
When he does, Hizashi almost thinks he's hallucinating, but a quick look at Shouta tells him that they both heard the same thing. To anyone else, Shouta might look unfazed, but Hizashi knows him better than that, and can tell that he is very much fazed.
Hizashi tears his eyes away, swallowing.
"So we need to..."
The nurse taps her clipboard and stares back pointedly. "Have sex. Fuck. Do the do.”
Hizashi sputters, looking everywhere but at Shouta. "Right, that." His voice squeaks as he speaks. "Or we die. What kind of quirk is that?"
"It’s actually not that uncommon.” She shrugs and taps her pencil against the chart. “Now, if you need any help, there are procedures arranged for this type of situation..."
She keeps talking and Hizashi zones out again, staring at her lips and ignoring the words that come out. How does she keep speaking so clinically? This is insane. She can’t seriously be talking about them having been hit by some kind of, of sex pollen quirk that will soon make them so horny they’ll actually die of sexual frustration if they don’t have sex soon.
Of course, she didn’t quite frase it like that, but it’s still what she’s saying, and Hizashi’s brain refuses to compute it.
He only tunes back when Shouta grabs his hand and tugs, telling him they're going.
"Going?” Hizashi sputters. “Going where? "
"Home." The 'you fucking dumbass’ is silent but very much clear in the twitch of Shouta's eyebrows, and Hizashi fails at fighting back a smile at the familiar annoyance.
He laughs as Shouta tugs on his hand again, leading them down the corridors toward the entrance. It sounds strangled, even to his own ears. “What about what nurse Kelly said? About…” He waves his free hand. “Our situation.”
Shouta shoots him an unamused look. “You know that’s not her name.”
“And I can’t believe that is what you choose to focus on now.” Hizashi pouts, lengthening his stride to catch up.
Shouta sighs, adjusting his stride as well, slowing down a bit. He’s still holding onto Hizashi’s hand, Hizashi notes absently, and the sight and feel of it are slightly thrilling. It’s impossible for him will his heart not to race.
“Let’s go home. We can figure it out there.” Shouta arches his eyebrow pointedly. “Unless you’d rather wait for ‘nurse Kelly’ to arrange something for you?” Shouta’s lips twist into a mean grin. “But there’ll be paperwork.”
Hizashi shudders in half-faked horror. “God, no, let’s not.” He’s trying his hardest not to assume Shouta is proposing what he thinks he’s proposing, dread and a sick kind of excitement pooling in his stomach, and focusing on their familiar banter helps more than Hizashi would like to admit.
As he processes what Shouta just said, he almost misses a step. “Wait, how do you even know about that?” Shouta picks up the pace, tugging Hizashi along and forcing him to hurry to catch up.
“Shouta!!” Hizashi shouts, feeling a little breathless at Shouta’s avoidance of the subject. “Have you done this before?!”
Shouta doesn’t reply, of course, leaving Hizashi to stew in his own thoughts, his throat suddenly very dry and very tight.
The trip home is increasingly uncomfortable. Hizashi remembers almost none of it, the itching under his skin having graduated to a frantic kind of warmth that had him twitching in discomfort more than once in his borrowed clothes.
Shouta’s seen better days too, the both of them gathering many concerned looks from the taxi driver they’d had the good sense to call for. Hizashi can’t imagine how bad public transportation would have gotten.
He feels like he’s getting sick, only instead of the fever making him drowsy, it’s making him very, very hyper, like he wants to jump out of his skin.
And horny.
So fucking horny he could die — which, according to nurse not-Kelly, is apparently the point of this quirk.
It should be funny, because their lives, what even; and they’re heroes, they’ve been through worse than this but instead, it is terrifying and terrible.
Hizashi doesn’t want this — or rather, he does, but not like this. Not because of a quirk they can’t control, where their other option is a clinical appointment with a stranger Hizashi would feel very, very awkward about.
Getting home is still a relief. Hizashi’s hands shake as he unlocks the door, and he feels some of the tension leave his shoulders as he steps past the threshold.
‘This is a safe place’, his mind seems to whisper. ‘Nothing bad can ever happen to you here.’
Shouta closes the door behind them quietly, and they move toward the worn sofa in tandem, even if they haven’t discussed it yet.
As they settle there, Hizashi takes a moment to breathe and look around their home. It looks the same as it had this morning — slightly messy, but mostly well-lived in, with Shouta’s dirty coffee mug still on the table rather than in the dishwasher — and Hizashi smiles before looking down at his lap.
Shouta’s hand is still trapped in his, he notices belatedly, and his heart gives an odd lurch. Maybe he should let it go, but the contact eases the roaring in his chest, and Hizashi doesn’t want to see what happens if he lets go.
Instead, he squeezes Shouta’s hand, and Shouta squeezes back.
Being the first one to speak, to break this weighted silence between them, feels very much like taking a leap of faith, and Hizashi takes a deep breath to prepare himself for it.
His knees jump a little, and he can’t make himself look at Shouta right now — he isn’t sure he’d be able to look away again.
Hizashi swallows, and tries to force himself to sit still. “Okay, so we need to talk.”
Shouta shuffles closer. Their knees are touching now, and that does more to ease the frantic energy spilling from every corner of Hizashi’s body than any conscious effort he’d made before.
Hizashi breathes in and out again, as deeply as he dares.
It’s not even the first time they’ve sat this close together — heck, they’d been in much closer contact not so long ago when Hizashi had foolishly tackled Shouta out of the way of this dumb attack — but it feels different.
More charged.
Hizashi swallows again. His hand twitches where he’s holding Shouta’s, and when Hizashi dares to sneak a look toward Shouta’s face to see what he’s thinking about — always a much safer bet than waiting for a reply — Shouta’s eyes are dark and bottomless.
Hizashi blinks, mind going blank with want for a second before he wrenches it back from the edge.
“We don’t have to do this together if you don’t want to.”
Shouta snorts and looks away, leaving Hizashi simultaneously bereft and feeling like he can breathe again as he breaks eye contact.
“What, you gonna call back nurse Kelly and beg for her help?” Hizashi asks, purposefully dubious, and he snorts again when Shouta glares back viciously.
Hizashi sighs, thumb caressing idly the back of Shouta’s hand. “I just didn’t think you’d want to…”
This is the wrong time to try to untangle the mess of pining and hurt and love Hizashi has always felt for Shouta, but Hizashi can’t help but want to. He never does.
Shouta looks away. The line of his throat as he swallows is once again mesmerizing and Hizashi can only close his eyes to protect himself from it.
It doesn’t help.
Shouta’s hand curls into a fist in Hizashi’s. “This isn’t about want. We’ve been hit with a quirk, and this is the logical next step so we don’t both die of sexual frustration.”
Hizashi whimpers at the words ‘sexual frustration’ coming out of Shouta’s mouth, bending down to hide his face against his knees.
“I can’t believe you’re talking about logic when we’re about to have sex!” he whines, words muffled by the scratchy fabric of the hospital slacks they’re still wearing. “Where’s the romance, Shouta! where’s the —” love. Hizashi bites it back just in time and replaces it with a “seduction” he hopes is smooth.
His heart pounds as he waits to see if Shouta realized his blunder but luckily, it doesn’t seem so.
“We were hit with a quirk,” Shouta points out. He sounds so very poised still, so very much himself, and it is so at odds with the way Hizashi can feel himself starting to split at the seams that he can’t help but feel a little jealous.
He pouts, twisting his head to look up at Shouta. “I know, but still.” From this angle, Hizashi has a perfect view of the line of Shouta’s jaw. He hasn’t shaved yet and Hizashi can’t help but wonder how it would feel to touch it — to lick it.
The thought makes him impossibly warmer and he has to adjust himself in his seat. Would it burn, if —
“Okay, okay, so just so we’re clear... You’re okay with this.” Hizashi gestures between the two of them, cutting off his earlier thought by springing up in his seat.
Shouta’s expression barely shifts. “Yes.” So laconic, Hizashi bemoans. “Are you?”
There are no words for how okay and not okay Hizashi is with this, but he nods. “I’m okay. Just” He squeezes Shouta’s hand. He’s still caressing the back of it, and his skin feels impossibly soft under his thumb. “We’ll still be friends after this, right? because I don’t —” have that many “— want to fuck us up and—”
Shouta surges forward and kisses him.
Hizashi’s brain blanks out as he kisses back. It’s like a storm, powerful and electrifying, and Hizashi is helpless but to let himself be pulled along.
Hizashi could keep kissing him forever, he thinks, and just like that Shouta withdraws.
It takes a second for Hizashi’s brain to reboot and he chuckles nervously, licking his lips. Can he taste Shouta on there? God, he can’t believe they’ve just kissed.
“Wow. I mean, okay, right, I’m taking that as a yes, of course, Hizashi you’re my best friend forever nothing will ever do us part.”
It inches too close to wedding vows territory and Hizashi wants to die, but Shouta only shakes his head. He seems so much better composed than Hizashi, and it is very unfair — his cheeks are flushed though, and his lips look red and swollen and shiny. Hizashi’s stomach thrums with want, and he swallows thickly.
“You’re an idiot.” Shouta snorts, and doesn’t say anything else, but Hizashi feels his worry unwind in his chest.
Yeah, they’ll be okay.
He licks his lips again, and grins when he catches Shouta’s eyes tracking the move.
“So, how do we do this?”
They move to Hizashi’s bedroom. Mostly because it’s the closest one, but also because Hizashi knows he has made his bed more than once in the past month, and more importantly, he keeps lube in his bedside table’s drawer.
Being here makes everything feel more real though, and Hizashi has to pause to take a breath.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” Hizashi laughs. “Just — You know.”
Shouta hums in agreement. His head tilts to the side a little, and with a sigh, he tugs on Hizashi’s sleeve, pulling him forward.
This kiss is slower but no less heated, and Hizashi feels himself melting into it, the world turning hazy around the edges with warmth. His hands find their way under Shouta’s shirt and he palms his stomach until Shouta gasps into his mouth, his fingers tightening almost painfully into Hizashi’s hair.
“Fuck,” Hizashi breathes when they part, and Shouta chuckles in amusement.
“That’s the idea.”
Instead of giving an answer, Hizashi kisses him again.
He can feel that this kiss is different almost instantly. Shouta kisses back with a fervor Hizashi had never dared to dream of, and instead of staying in his hair, his hands dig into his back, his neck, his arms. They are so close Hizashi feels the heat of his body like a line of fire on his skin, and yet it is not close enough.
It feels like it could never be.
It’s the quirk talking, part of Hizashi’s mind whispers, but he’s too far gone to care. Shouta said yes, he agreed, and he is, evidently, as into this as Hizashi is.
His heart soars as he licks his way into Shouta’s mouth, pouring all the words he cannot say into the kiss until he feels his lungs about to burst for lack of air.
He doesn’t remember taking his shirt off, or Shouta doing the same, but they must have because the next time they come up for hair, Hizashi shivers to feel the air on his bare skin.
He kisses his way down Shouta’s throat, sucking bruises into his skin against his pulse point until Shouta’s grip on his arms tightens, pulling him closer still.
Shouta’s leg slides between his and Hizashi gasps at the friction.
The heat in his veins is now a raging wildfire, and it would be uncomfortable except that Shouta is there and his touch is cool against his skin.
“What the hell,” Hizashi breathes with a laugh, pressing trembling kisses to Shouta’s sweat-slick skin. “How do you feel so good?”
Shouta just grunts and presses them closer. They’re still wearing their trousers but the fabric feels suddenly simultaneously far too thin and far too thick. Shouta’s dick is hard and hot against his leg, and Hizashi shifts until he’s pressing his dick against it instead.
It’s so good he loses his mind a little, lips falling to Shouta’s again in a searing kiss that leaves him breathless again.
It’s over quickly after that. They rut against each other once, twice and Hizashi comes with an embarrassing moan, Shouta following suit soon after. The weight of his body as he tucks his head against Hizashi’s neck so sudden it almost sends Hizashi overbalancing before Shouta rocks them both back.
They’re silent for a moment, gasping for breath, until Hizashi catches sight of the untouched bed and starts laughing.
Shouta groans against his skin, causing Hizashi to shiver and press an open-mouthed kiss to his temple. Shouta’s hair is sweaty and tangled, but it feels soft under Hizashi’s fingers.
“What?” Shouta grunts out eventually.
“Nothing.” Hizashi tries to stop laughing, but everything feels too funny right now — Shouta’s grumpiness, the fact that they both came in their pants like horny teenagers and the bed, just in reach. “Just…” He nods toward the bed, lips twitching as Shouta’s gaze follow his.
“I see.” Shouta’s lips quirk up in amusement too, and Hizashi can’t resist the urge to kiss that grin away.
“Think that did it?” Hizashi asks when he withdraws, rocking back on his heels a little. He can’t quite decide what to do with his hands and settles for patting Shouta’s hair again.
He’s not sure if he’s hoping for a yes or a no, but he still feels the itching in his veins. The fire feels banked for now but not extinguished, and Hizashi bites back a frustrated moan as he lets himself fall on the bed, pulling Shouta down with him.
“What the fuck even is this quirk?” Hizashi whines, arranging himself until he’s sleeping cross-legged on the bed.
Shouta shrugs languidly. “I don’t know.”
“No, seriously, Shouta, this isn’t how the human body works, men are not built for multiple Torgasms like this!” Hizashi points at his dick, already filling up again. “this is not supposed to e a thing outside of like, porn!”
To his surprise, Shouta bursts out laughing, collapsing against him.
“This isn’t funny,” he whines, except that it kind of is. God, they are absolutely living something straight out of porn.
Already, as if it senses his thoughts, the heat beneath Hizashi’s skin picks up again and he finds himself shifting closer to Shouta once more. Kissing him feels easier each time, and Hizashi has the fleeting thought that he isn’t sure how he’s meant to give it up after, before he pushes it away and far out of his mind.
If here and now is all he has, Hizashi’s going to enjoy it.
“Okay, okay,” he says, gasping for air when he starts to crawl over Shouta’s lap. “These,” he points at their clothes, rumpled and stained around the crotch, “need to come off.”
Shouta moans in agreement before grinning, a sharp flash of teeth that makes Hizashi’s stomach tighten with heat.
The next instant, his stomach is swooping for a wholly different reason as Shouta flips them around, pinning Hizashi to the mattress in a move that chases all the air out of his lungs.
Hizashi lies there, dazed, for a moment, watching Shouta kick off the last of his clothes roughly before his brain catches up with the program and he shimmies himself out of his own pants.
This isn’t the first time they’ve seen each other naked — between their jobs and simply living together, incidents have happened — but it is the first time Hizashi has been allowed to look.
Heat simmers and roils beneath his skin, but still, Hizashi takes a moment to just look.
Shouta is… Beautiful isn’t the right word, but it is all Hizashi’s heat-addled brain can provide. The thickness of his arms, of his thighs, the dark areolas of his nipples, perking up at Hizashi’s touch so wonderfully, the trail of fuzzy dark hair Hizashi tangles his fingers into as he lets his fingers graze down and down…
And his dick, too. Shouta’s dick is beautiful.
His mouth runs dry.
Shouta bucks up against his touch and Hizashi wraps his hand around him, twisting his wrist up and down and twirling his thumb at the head, spreading thick pre-come around.
Hizashi gets a little lost in it, in watching Shouta react as Hizashi touches him. He gasps and moans, quiet even in this, but it’s a different kind of quiet.
The best kind of quiet, where Hizashi can still read everything Shouta thinks on his face as he bites his lip.
“That’s it, come for me,” he whispers, too aroused to feel self-conscious at his words. Shouta bucks up again, stomach and thigh straining as he arches up on the bed, and Hizashi bends down to kiss him hungrily as he spills over his fingers.
His own need feels so pressing it hurts, hissing when Shouta finally, finally touches him. It is impossibly good and Hizashi’s heart feels too big for his chest, racing so quickly it’s a wonder it hasn’t killed him yet.
He comes so quickly he feels dizzy with it, and collapses back half on Shouta with a breathless laugh.
The rest of the day — night? — falls into a haze of pleasure and heat. Hizashi loses track of time and everything that isn’t his body and where it meets Shouta’s. It’s brutal in a whole new kind of way, frantic like Hizashi has never felt before and so good Hizashi loses his mind a little.
The quirk retreats as surreptitiously as it had arrived, leaving them panting and sticky with sweat and other fluids, too tired to do anything but collapse on the bed.
“Fuck,” Hizashi says, staring up at the ceiling. Shouta’s hair tickles his neck and for some reason that detail makes him want to laugh, even though he doesn’t think he even has the energy for that.
Damn, but he’s already feeling sore in places he didn’t know it was possible to be sore in.
Shouta’s breath puffs out in what might technically sound as a laugh against his chest. He’s warm there, and this shouldn’t feel comfortable because Shouta is heavy and his chin is pointy, except that it really does and Hizashi never wants to move again.
He manages to drag his eyes away from the ceiling and back to Shouta’s face, half-obscured by his hair, and his heart seizes with fondness.
Even as exhausted and limbless as he feels, it is the easiest thing to twist his head and kiss Shouta again.
He’ll blame the lingering effects of the quirk if Shouta says anything, Hizashi thinks guiltily. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but this might be his last chance to kiss Shouta, his only chance to hiss the man he loves without the haze of want that came with that quirk and has only now lifted.
Hizashi can’t let that chance slip past him, and he hopes Shouta will forgive him.
No, he knows Shouta would forgive him, which perhaps makes it worse, a dull ache behind his lungs that has nothing to do with how breathless Hizashi still feels.
The kiss is nothing more than a lazy press of their lips, them sharing breath for a moment longer. Shouta kisses him back lazily, already dropping off, and Hizashi laughs, mirth quicksilver-bright in his veins.
Time grows soft and golden, and Hizashi finds himself unwilling to move for a while, Shouta shuffling closer. They’re both still naked but for now they don’t feel cold yet, and while Shouta’s already dozed off, Hizashi finds that his mind won’t let him.
He remembers what they did in fever-bright flashes of heat and skin, and he finds his fingers lazily trailing up and down Shouta’s bare back. He left some marks there, small desperate scratches that end in red fingernail indentations, and he can feel the marks Shouta left on him tingle pleasantly in sympathy.
This wasn’t really real, a one-time — okay, multiple times — thing brought on by a hellish quirk which effects could have ended in disaster, but still, somehow, Hizashi can’t bring himself to regret it.
He knows the faces Shouta makes as he comes now. The images are imprinted on his brain, and Hizashi cannot stop grinning.
Eventually, though, he comes down enough to start feeling cold and uncomfortable, and he hoists himself off the bed, padding his way quietly toward the bathroom, wincing all the way.
He selects one of his fresh towels — much fluffier than Shouta’s, which is why those always end up going unused — and wets it carefully before treading back to the bedroom.
Shouta hasn’t moved, his mouth half open as he drools open the mattress, and Hizashi is overcome with such a rush of fondness he has to pause for a moment to let it settle back in his chest.
Shouta doesn’t stir as Hizashi carefully wipes him down as best he can, and then himself. The sheets are dirty and rumpled, but Hizashi’s burst of energy is spent, and he doesn’t care for the long and arduous task of changing them.
That can wait until they wake up, he decides, and crawls back into bed.
Shouta migrates toward him instantly, and Hizashi grins as he draws up the covers over them, tangling their legs and wrapping Shouta’s arm around his chest.
Like this, all Hizashi can really hear is Shouta’s quiet puffs of breath and the steady thump of his heart against his back, the most soothing lullaby he could ever ask for.
He does not remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up, light filters in through the blinds and Shouta has left.
But not gone, Hizashi realizes when he hurries out, half-dressed, and stumbles into the kitchen.
Shouta’s still there — which is stupid, of course, since they live together — and he hands out Hizashi the first cup of coffee he always hates that he needs to wake up.
Shouta’s eyes crinkle with a smile as Hizashi thanks him, and the angry distress in his chest settles.
Shouta was right — they’re fine. Great, even. It is, in fact, almost like nothing ever happened.
Nemuri grins dangerously at him, straddling her chair backward as she slams half a dozen shot glasses in front of them. They’re so full they overflow a little, but Nemuri doesn’t seem to care as she splits them up and downs her first one, smacking her lips and slamming down the empty glass on the table.
Her eyes glimmer with an unholy light as she says, “So, you slept with Shouta.”
“Mmh-mh.”
She snorts, index finger trailing around the edge of her drink as she eyes him coyly. “Wanna talk about it?” She wiggles her eyebrows before winking salaciously, and Hizashi groans, burying his head into his crossed arms and pulling his own drink closer blindly.
The table smells like cheap beer and sticks like it too, but it’s probably what he deserves.
“No.”
He really doesn’t, actually, but somehow he still finds himself downing his shot before starting to talk.
“I just… I know this was only because of the quirk, but it also kind of felt like more? To me? And I thought it’d be awkward after and it’s not, only that makes me awkward — is it awkward? You saw us, did we look awkward to you? Should we be feeling awkward about this?”
Hizashi frowns, blinking down at the now empty shot glass Nemuri had shoved into his hand.
“Wow, I really just used the word ‘awkward’ way too many times, haven’t I?”
Nemuri nods, shoving another glass at him. She’s ordered more already, even though Hizashi is already feeling the effects of the two he’s just had on an empty stomach — worrying over Shouta’s feelings or possible lack thereof is not, as it turns out, conducive to having much of an appetite.
“You did. It stopped feeling real at some point, actually.”
Hizashi snorts, shaking his head. “Thanks, I guess?”
Nemuri rolls her eyes at him and sips at her last shot. It looks kind of ridiculous, actually, but Hizashi rather thinks that’s supposed to further her point.
“Okay, so consider this.”
“Huh-uh.”
“A novel idea: maybe you should tell Shouta that you want to date-date him. For real.” She punctuates every word with a pointed glare that makes Hizashi whimper a little. “You guys already live together, and now you know that you’re sexually compatible.” She wiggles her eyebrows, clearly laughing at Hizashi’s suffering. He regrets ever telling her anything.
“I really don’t see what’s stopping you,” Nemuri continues, slamming her empty glass face down on the table.
Hizashi sighs, playing with his own empty glass so he doesn’t have to look at her, or worse, remember just how compatible he and Shouta were.
“None of this happened because of feelings, though. It was just logical.” His heart aches at the words, but they’re still true.
Nemuri snorts, rolling her eyes again. “Shouta?”
“Shouta,” Hizashi replies, helplessly fond.
“Right.” Nemuri shakes her head, tsking. “Of course he said it was logical to sleep with you.” Her amused glare tells him exactly how ‘logical’ she finds this, and Hizashi’s treacherous heart twinges with hope. “But tell me one thing — do you think he’d still have said the same if it was me or god help us, anyone else?”
Hizashi opens mouth to say yes, of course, but…
His mouth falls shut with a soft click.
Hizashi feels a little sick having to think of Shouta sleeping with someone else, making those noises and faces under someone else’s touch, but...
But would he? Would he really?
The nurse had mentioned protocols, and Shouta had hinted at knowing them before. Hizashi had forgotten in their hurry to get home, but he remembers now.
He licks his lips. they taste like alcohol. “Nemuri, do you think…”
“That Shouta’s also in love with you? Meh, who knows with that guy.” She sounds fond, and also very, very mocking.
Hizashi’s heart rises in his throat. “Nemuri, please.”
She sighs, leaning back in her chair and cracking her back.
“Look, I don’t know what goes on in Shouta’s mind. I do know that you’re his best friend, and that he hasn’t let anyone get as close to him as you have. Is that love? I don’t know, and I'm definitely the wrong person to ask, as you well know—” she winks and Hizashi’s cheeks flush red — right, Nemuri doesn’t do romance, “but it’s still something.
“Also communication is an important part of every relationship, and you should absolutely talk to him before you make a huge deal out of this and try to run away to Canada or something to hide in shame.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Hizashi lies, even though he’d spent the last few days considering how hard it would be to change his name and leave behind everything so he didn’t have to face Shouta again.
“Sure you wouldn’t.” Nemuri’s fingers drum against the table and she heaves a long sigh. “Just talk to him — you’ve been pining for ages, and this is getting ridiculous.”
It hurts to hope, but Nemuri’s right. Hizashi’s spent too long keeping silent over this, and now that they’ve slept together — enthusiastically and more than once — it feels kind of stupid to hang onto his old ‘what if this ruins us’ fears.
Hizashi’s done everything but confess at this point, and Shouta’s still there, still his best friend, still the first person he wants to see when he wakes up and the last he wants to see before falling asleep.
It suddenly feels very stupid, being afraid of his rejection.
Instinctively, Hizashi’s fingers snap to the clock, high up on the wall.
It is later than he’d thought, but if Hizashi leaves now, he might catch Shouta coming back from patrol before he collapses onto his bed. His hands shake as he swallows, staring back at Nemuri.
“I —”
She rolls eyes. “Go!”
Hizashi catches Shouta as he’s toeing off his shoes in the entrance way. By now, Hizashi’s feeling almost sober, though nervousness and excitement more than make up for it. He’s had to swallow back screams five times on his way back, and he definitely scared off some pigeons with his cut-off shouting along the way.
He still almost brains him with the door when he yanks it open, but that’s really just a very small, very tiny detail.
Shouta looks up at him, bleary-eyed and unshaven, and stares judgingly as Hizashi whines and rubs his forehead, where the door hit him.
Shouta’s hero costume looks like it always does — that is, it’s impossible to discern if it’s clean or not — but there’s something matted in his hair that Hizashi hopes isn’t blood.
He is still the most beautiful man Hizashi’s ever seen.
Shouta pauses, toes halfway to pushing his shoes out the way. He frowns. “Shouldn’t you still be with Nemuri?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean I was but she said, and I thought —” Breathe, Hizashi reminds himself, willing his heart to slow down on the racing at least a little. “Do you want to sleep with me? Again?” he blurts out.
Something that almost looks like hurt flashes in Shouta’s eyes as he flinches backward, so slightly anybody else might have missed it.
Hizashi’s veins freeze with panic. “Wait no, shit, fuck, that’s not what I —”
Hurt shifts into amusement in Shouta’s dark eyes, and tension Hizashi had barely noticed was there unwinds from his shoulders.
Hizashi nearly collapses in relief. “You’re mean, why are you so mean?”
Shouta grins. “Hizashi. Breathe. What did Nemuri tell you?”
It’s unfair how well Shouta knows him and how easily he can get Hizashi to calm down.
Hizashi doesn’t know what he’d do without it. He hopes he never has to find out.
“I — okay so look, you can’t get mad, okay?” Hizashi wrings his hands nervously. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
Shouta arches an eyebrow and sighs, his eyes twitching in what would be an eye roll on anyone else. “I promise.”
It’s a lie, of course, because Shouta is a petty, petty man who’d have no issue going back on his word if Hizashi had truly done something to be mad about, but Hizashi will take it anyway.
He thinks — hopes — that this isn’t one of those times.
He swallows, and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Okay. So, erm, look, it’s…” He looks at Shouta again and catches his eyes, and his throat dries up. Words have never been so hard for him, and Hizashi swallows again. Why is this so hard? I love you. They’re just three words.
Three little words, so simple.
I love you.
Why are they so hard to say??
“I love you too.”
“What?” Hizashi’s eyes widen and his head jerks up. In his surprise, he slips backward with a yelp, and is caught at the last minute by Shouta’s scarf, wrapped tightly around his middle.
God, but Hizashi kind of hates where his thoughts go at that, because Shouta is strong and that scarf is very, very durable and Hizashi wouldn’t be able to escape it if Shouta were to try to keep him there — and okay, he really does need to stop thinking about this now.
And then Shouta’s words really register and he gapes.
The fact that he’s still technically hanging in the air mid-fall is an afterthought. Forgotten already. Who fell again? Not Hizashi.
“You what?”
Shouta lets him fall with a pointed glare, the scarf slackening so suddenly Hizashi doesn’t see it coming.
Hizashi pouts, scrambling up to his feet and grinning at Shouta’s red cheeks. “Aw, come on, I thought you loved me?”
Shouta replies dryly, “Maybe I changed my mind.” There is something almost fragile in his eyes despite the easy teasing, and Hizashi allows his grin to soften as Shouta pulls him the rest of the way up.
He shifts hold onto Shouta’s hand so they’re holding hands properly. He likes Shouta’s fingers. They’re good fingers. Strong and steady and thick.
Smirking, his heart full to bursting, Hizashi raises Shouta’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to those fingers. “I love you,” he repeats.
And this time, when they stumble into the bedroom, Hizashi remembers everything.