Work Text:
Shouta unlocked the door to the apartment, the sound of his husband humming a familiar tune somewhere in the living area.
“I'm home.” Shouta called while toeing off his work boots.
“Huh?”
Shouta walked down the short corridor, opening the door between the entryway and the main area of their apartment, sticking his head around the door, “I'm home.”
“Sorry. Hang on. My cochlear’s are connected to the laptop.” Hizashi fiddled with his sound processors.
The dark haired man hung up his capture scarf, running a hand through his hair as he walked into the living room. He was nearly tackled to the floor by his lover who wrapped him in a tight hug. The blonde's mustache tickled his neck as he nestled his face against it. Shouta held Hizashi in his arms, swaying them side to side, an unmistakable warmth against his neck as a slow kiss was administered to it.
Shouta snickered quietly, “Hi.”
“Hello,” Hizashi loosened his grip on his husband to look at his face.
“What's got you all affectionate this early in the evening?”
“I was re-watching our wedding video,”
Shouta gasped, “Without me?!”
“We can start it from the beginning again,” Hizashi laughed, “I'm only five minutes in.”
“I'll forgive your act of treason. For now.”
“Only for now?”
“Yes. Now, I’m going to change.”
Shouta pulled his arms off his husband, allowing his hands to brush down the others arms, intertwining their fingers so he could shake their hands side to side before walking into their bedroom. Hizashi wandered into their kitchen area, pulling an array of snacks out from the fridge and cupboards, arranging them neatly on a tray. Placing the tray down on the coffee table next to his laptop, Hizashi pulled over the curtains, turning on the various warm lamps that were tucked into the corners of their apartment.
Shouta reamerged from their bedroom, a big fluffy blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape, billowing out behind him as he walked into the living area. Skirting into the kitchen, he filled up his water bottle, downing half of it before topping it up again. Wandering over to the sofa, Shouta begrudgingly took his blanket cape off, throwing it over the back of the worn fabric of the sofa. Perching on the edge of the sofa, Shouta pulled the pin out of his prosthetic's socket, powering off the knee before leaning his prosthetic against the end of the sofa. He tugged off his liner and waterproofing layers that protected his residual limb, draping them over the arm of the sofa for when he’d eventually need to put his leg back on later.
Sitting down next to his husband, Hizashi grabbed the blanket Shouta had brought into the living area, flicking out the soft material to lay it long ways over both of their legs. Even though it was probable Shouta would hog the blanket later. His evidence for this belief? All the times Shouta has cocooned himself in the duvet at night or swaddled himself in whichever blanket he’s currently fond of when they watch television together. Crossing his legs under the blanket, Hizahsi leant forward to grab the tray, pulling it onto his lap so that they could both easily access it while they watched. Shouta’s hand came to stabilise said tray as it balanced precariously as Hizashi rewound the recording, checking over his shoulder to check if his lover was ready to start watching, before clicking play.
The exact date and time they were married flashed across the screen. August 8th, 15:03 and 57 seconds. Various pictures of them flickered, some less flattering than others, namely Hizashi pretending to keep it together, lips drawn tight with tears rolling down his face as he tried not to sob as he walked down the aisle. A clip of Shouta lifting the short veil Hizashi had decided was completely necessary three days before the wedding. A look of shock on Shouta’s face as his newly wedded husband spontaneously decided to carry him down the few steps from the altar to the aisle. There were claims that he shrieked when that happened. Shouta denies this fact and calls it propaganda.
A short clip of them sharing a brief kiss just before pressing down on the handle of a knife to cut into their cake. A two tiered lemon victoria sponge cake, Shouta’s favorite raspberry jam, piped cream flowers sat atop a lemon glaze. Hizashi’s Mum’s recipe that had been passed down to Hizashi. One of the many ways the blonde woo’ed his lover in the past once he’d figured out his peculiar preferences. Both holding a small piece of cake for the other to eat from their hand. A profuse blush spread across Shouta’s face as Hizashi licked at the corner of his mouth to eat the cream that had gotten stuck there. The slightly taller man’s bright laugh as Shouta attempted to hide his face in his suit jacket with little success.
Hizashi’s older brothers and younger sibling had all fought for the title of ‘best person’. Almost, quite literally, ripping each other's hair out before Hizahsi had announced that Nemuri was going to be his ‘best person’ and that they were to be his groomsmen instead. Shouta’s ‘best person’ decision was much simpler. Since he was marrying the best person in the entire world, his next ‘best person’ was his sister, Shoyo. She would be the one to walk him down the aisle, to stand by his side as he was wed to the love of his life, just as he had done for her a few years earlier.
A brief clip from earlier in the day: a side by side comparison of what Shouta and Hizashi were doing at the same time. Hizashi and his groomsmen were having a full blown karaoke party to get the blonde’s jitters out while Shouta was dead to the world asleep getting his hair and makeup done while wrapped up in a fuzzy dressing gown, black cat slippers on his feet and a well loved pink and black book in his lap.
Shoyo swatted at the camera with the fluffy eyeshadow brush she was using to dot an almost undetectable amount of blush to the top of her brother's cheekbone. She lightly brushed a finger over the swipe of colour, smudging it tastefully, unsurprised when Shouta startled from sleep grabbing her wrist and shoving it away from himself. Shoyo muttered something indecipherable to her brother. Shouta slowly turned his head to look at her, cringing as he saw the camera on him in the process, releasing her hand as he whispered something back. Offering his face to her again, Shouta beckoned the camera closer.
“Hi Hizashi, songbird, by the time you'll be seeing this we will be married.” The camera moved back to capture Shouta's impromptu jazz hands. “You are the most desirable, amazing and wonderful man in the universe and its stars. Thank you for being patient and kind even at the times when I'm the least deserving of it. Knowing you, you're either fucking about because you’re nervous or writing your vows, even though I reminded you serveral days ago and multiple times the day before yesterday and yesterday to write them.” Shouta gave a look to the camera. Amused. As though he knew he was right. Which he was. “Anyways, what I mean to say is, Yamada Hizashi Haru, I love you with every fiber of my being. Each of my atoms sings in a symphony written just for you.” Shouta's eyes zero in on the camera lens, a stare that pierced time with how charged with emotion it was, despite looking blank. “I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Shoyo cooed affectionately at her brother, the camera caught Shouta attempting to cover his flushed face with the robe draped over his shoulders, Shoyo begging him not to in fear of him messing up his makeup. Shouta pouted as he looked up at his sister. Both dissolving into a fit of giggles as he fluttered his eyelashes at her.
Hizashi was sitting at a desk, fiddling with his cuff links as he talked at his younger sibling, who was currently his scribe. No-one in that room trusted Hizashi to not get wet ink the cuff of his shirt, himself included. Left handed problems. His older brothers ran combs through his hair. Golden strands ending just above his lower back. The film zoomed in as they weaved Hizashi’s hair into intricate braids. Silver U pins with delicate paper marigolds and faux pearls were carefully threaded into his hair. A crown of bright yellows and oranges.
Hizashi changed out his piercings, his classic red studs replaced with square cut diamond studs set in silver. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of one of his bracelets. Shaking enough for it to be vehemently obvious. Handing his bracelet stack over to one of his brothers, Hizashi held out his left wrist to him. There was a knock at the door of the dressing room, Shoyo announced her presence before placing a square jewelry box down on the table in front of Hizashi.
“It's from Shouta.” She smiled, “He loves you so much it's sickening.”
Hizashi responded in a sarcastically high voice, “Oh really?”
Picking up the box, Hizashi carefully opened it, moving the delicate tissue paper to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin chain that shimmered resplendently in the room's artificial light.
“Holy fuck.” Hizashi slapped a hand over his face, willing himself not to cry, “Shoyo, help me put it on?”
Hizashi pulled the chain from its box, handing it over to Shoyo, practically melting as the pendant sat just in the right place. One of his necklaces had been missing for a few days. The only one with the perfect chain length.
“Bro's? Get me a Q-tip, I'm gonna cry.” Hizashi called to his brothers.
Hizashi’s eldest brother, Hiaso, helpfully responded, “The fucks a Q-tip going to do?!”
“I don't want to smudge my eyeliner. Just get me a damn Q-tip Hiaso!”
Hizashi brushed his loose hair back over his shoulders, lightly touching his collar bone as he looked at himself in the mirror through a cloud of tears. His eldest brother appeared at his side, handing him a few cotton buds. Hizashi picked up one of the little wooden handles, bringing it to the inner corner of his eye, trying to calm the wave of emotion that was flooding through him.
A thought passed behind Hizashi’s unframed eyes, a wicked smirk settling on his lips. Calling his younger sibling, Hikari, to pass him his phone and the black gift bag that sat with his purse. Taking the phone from his sibling, Hizashi popped an extra button open on his shirt, posing himself in front of the vanity mirror. His mouth, the only part of his face in frame, slightly parted, sultry. A finger to his lip, in what could only be interpreted as a taunt, taking a picture of his reflection.
Shouta was going to be so red when he sent him this.
“Shou's gonna die if you send him that.” Shoyo confirmed his suspicion.
Hizashi laughed, “He better not. I'm not married to him yet.” Reaching into the black gift bag, he pulled out a burgundy velvet pouch, handing it to Shoyo, “Give this to him for me.”
“What is it?”
“Bangle and a signet ring. Gold.” Hizashi pulled out a dark green pouch out of the gift bag, pulling out his own silver bangle, showing it to Shoyo, “Got our initials engraved on the inside of the bangles. The ring’s the same, but on the top, obviously. Shou doesn't like chains, struggles with the clasps, and he tugs at his jewellery, so it's gotta be durable.”
“He's so lucky.”
“No, I'm the one who was lucky. He didn't have to be as kind to me as he was when I chanced upon him outside of school.” Hizashi slipped on his bangle, shaking his wrist, listening to the metal and jewels clink against each other. Warding off any malicious spirits with their clatter. “After all, he's half the reason I’m still here.”
Shoyo gave Hizashi a soft look, giving a quick wave as she was called back to Shouta’s dressing room. That was Hizashi’s cue to send his soon to be husband this jaw dropping mirror selfie. Almost a minute passed before a commotion was heard just down the corridor. The Yamada siblings and Nemuri all laughed. Hizashi couldn't help but read the block capital letter texts Shouta sent to him aloud.
“Hiza’, you wanna say something to the camera for your future husband?” Nemuri asked, camera already rolling and all up in Hizashi’s face.
“Hi Shouta. My starling. When I ran into you at that jazz social, when we were what? Fifteen? I heard that you weren't a nice person. That you were scary and unkind. But, I read in a book somewhere that ‘If anyone wants to know anybody well, they must consider them gradually and carefully, so that they don't fall into assumptions and stereotypes.’ I've never been more glad I was raised to do my own research before believing others blindly.” Hizashi fiddled with the buttons on his shirt again, feeling the smooth gel nail polish on his nails.
“I know this is a lot for a wedding video… but, Shouta, my love, you are, and have been, one of my biggest reasons to continue living. For that I thank you. A- and there's so much I ought to repay you for. Y'know. You were my first real friend. The first person to see past all the loud to the lonely kid I was. Who was struggling and sad.”
Hizashi turned to pick up another Q-tip, dabbing at the corner of his eye again. “I-, a- and I am so aggressively in love with you that it makes me feel violently ill. The nights and days we are apart, I think of you. Every song I play at the station are reminders of you, and that's a lot of songs. I can't wait to have lazy mornings, bathing in the warm sunlight under soft sheets with you. I'm excited to sit beneath our tree, even in the bitter cold of the winter, just so I can cuddle up next to you and listen to you complain about how cold I am. Aizawa Shouta, I couldn't ask for a better life partner. I love you.”
Hizashi took a breath, his attention stolen by Hikari who was calling him to sing The Phantom’s part in The Phantom of the Opera duet. A grin settled on his face as he waved to the camera, “Older brother duties, don't even get a day off on my wedding day. I adore you, starling. See you later.” Placing a kiss to his fingers before throwing it towards the lens. Picking up a discarded shawl, Hizashi flung it around his shoulders dramatically as he entered the song.
The video faded into their aisle walks, the main ceremony and vows following shortly after. Cutting to their reception, the camera panned around the room, an aggressive number of blondes concentrated at about five different tables. Almost all Hizashi’s relatives were in attendance. Spouses, young adults and older teens included. A small smattering of coloured hair amongst more neutral dark tones. Shouta’s family. Which really meant: his sister and her husband, the cousins he was close with –and their spouses– and his friends. Of which he had two. Who also happened to be his husband's friends.
The newly wedded pair waited behind closed doors. Fingers intertwined. Connected hands swayed between them gently. Whispering to each other, trying not to giggle at the sheer fact that they were now officially married even though it made them giddy with joy. Shouta was smothering his gorgeous husband with compliments. Pouting as he was forced to listen to Hizashi do the same for him, unable to hide his face with both his hands currently occupied with his lover's hands. Both took a deep breath. Losing all the air they took in as they laughed at how in sync they were. Each of them swore in their mind that this feeling should never get old. Grinning at each other like madmen.
Hizashi had insisted on being, or at least having influence on, the DJ at their wedding. Which meant that he had pre-recorded segments and the playlist for the entire five hour reception. Hizashi looked at Shouta, a thumbs up and a raised eyebrow met with a nod. Clicking the play button on the first track, Hizashi’s voice played through the speaker system, an uproar of cheers from the other side of the doors. Handing off his phone to Nemuri, who had been lurking in the shadows of the hallway waiting to give the cue to get the doors opened for Shouta and Hizashi to make their grand entrance.
The doors in front of them swung open. Both instinctively looked at each other, holding out a pinkie finger, squeezing them tightly before walking out. Entering the currently empty dance floor, Shouta spun Hizashi around a few times, pulling him into a practiced dip and back onto his feet with ease.
Hizashi’s pre-recorded voice spoke, “This is for all the lovers out there, if the time has come and you wanna kiss each other, now is the time to do so.”
Shouta raised his eyebrows at Hizashi, shrugging before hooking his arms around the back of the blonde’s neck. Tilting his head to the side slightly as he brought their lips together. Gentle presses so wrought with affection. Hizashi’s hands pulled Shouta closer, resting on his clothed shoulderblades, thumbs stroking the soft fabric of his dress shirt. Parting to rest their foreheads against each other, snickering as they locked eyes, no doubt looking like cyclops to one another.
The music for their first dance started playing through the speaker system. The warm and mellow tenor voice caressing each English syllable. Somewhere between ecstasy and anguish. Each step of their slow dance was purposeful. Hands delicately clasped together. Torsos pressed together as Shouta’s arm wrapped around the middle of his lover's back. Hizashi’s arm resting atop his. His hand placed tenderly on his shoulder.
As the first chorus played, Shouta sent the straw coloured haired man out through a turn, sliding his hand back against the other’s side. Feeling Hizashi’s weight lean onto his chest. Resting his, neatened, stubbly chin over his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around his husband's waist, a content sigh and sniffle beside his ear as their heads collided with a muted thunk.
A warm feeling spread through Shouta’s chest. A comfortable smile came to rest on his face, softened eyes threatening to tear. He was happy. So inexplicably happy. Unspooling himself from Hizashi’s waist, now standing face to face with his husband, heart squeezing at the dopey smile on the other's face. A single tear track ran down the right side of the blonde's face. Pulling the other man closer to him, Shouta carefully kissed the run away tear.
This sweet affection broke the dam that was Hizashi’s attempt to keep it together. An onslaught of tears fell from his eyes, threatening to ruin his eyeliner and mascara. Almost sobbing as Shouta carefully dabbed at his eyes with a neatly folded tissue, hidden in the depths of his pockets, knowing that Hizashi was prone to crying from extreme emotions. All the while, both continued to dance, albeit, closer together so Shouta could mop up both of their tears as they grinned giddily at each other.
The last two verses were echoes of each other. Accompaniment and vocals grew more intense as Shouta quickly pocketed the, now soggy, tissue to prepare to princess twirl Hizashi. Securely holding the front of his hips as they both bent their knees to prepare for the lift. A quick prayer that neither of them ripped a seam, got dropped or crushed. Hizashi’s hands pressed into Shouta’s shoulders as he jumped into the air. The wavy haired man’s arms strong beneath him as he turned them in a few tight circles.
Sounds of awe and applause from their guests. Shortly followed by sounds of terror and fear as Shouta threw Hizashi further into the air to catch him bridal style. Hizashi wound his arms around Shouta’s neck. Both slightly breathless as he was lowered back onto his feet. Pulling the dark haired man closer to him, Hizashi carefully spun his lover into a shallow dip, feet firmly planted into the ground. Hoisting Shouta into his arms, they reassumed their starting position. Though, their heads now rested on each other's shoulders.
Shouta shivered at an unexpected kiss to his neck. Finding it only fair to do the same to Hizashi. Both taking turns to kiss up the other's neck. Across their jaws until they finally met each other's lips. Each getting to lightly kiss the other before meeting properly in the middle. The music fading into silence in the background.
Hizashi’s pre-recorded voice cut over all the hollering of their guests, “Did you cry?”
Shouta and Hizashi looked at each other, nodding at no-one in particular.
“You big saps!” Hizashi’s disembodied voice declared, “Well, I hope your noses aren't blocked and you can still breathe, because…” the recording paused for dramatic effect, “It’s Big Apple time! If you know it, come dance it. Fifteen seconds to get on the floor. Go!”
“You put the Big Apple on our wedding playlist? Is this why you insisted I wear my spats for our first dance?” Shouta asked in disbelief.
“Yes.” Hizashi swallowed nervously, “Is that not okay?”
“No, no, it’s more than okay. C’mon!”
Shouta grabbed Hizashi’s hand pulling him beside him in the circle that was forming as Hizashi’s voice counted down. Shoyo and her husband stood beside them, a couple hasty compliments tumbling out of both of their mouths regarding their first dance. Hizashi’s mums, Hiaso and Hikari rushed onto the floor. A few blonde relatives shrieking in panic as the last few digits were dramatically drawn out.
The sound of the big band played over the speakers. A fast four bar introduction, dancers in on the last eight count. The unanimous sound of shoes striking the floor, echoes of clapping hands, cheering and yelling. Boisterous laughter as they pretended to brush an imaginary hard day's work off their clothes. A shoe falling off, picked up by their dance partner and waved in the air like a prize they’d won at a fair.
Pairs ran to form the human arch. Shouta leading Hizashi under the arms of their guests, other dancers following close behind them. All scrambling into the forming parallel lines, clapping in unison at the music's command. Two lines merging into one as each dancer performed turn Charleston's. Egregious amounts of energy radiated from the group. Wide smiles on their faces. Eyes bright with a joy so pure it was infectious to those watching.
Shuffling to the left. A pause. Shuffling to the right. A pause. Hands coming up to eyebrows as they pretended to search for something in the distance. Hiaso decided to entirely commit to the bit by throwing himself onto the floor causing an uproar of laughter from all. Hikari did their best to get their embarrassment of an eldest brother off the floor and out of the way.
Shouta and Hizashi positioned themselves further forward, other pairs just an arms length away as they began the swingout into an airstep sequence. Delicious momentum as the dancers synchronized with each other. The next beat a beautiful mess of limbs as Shouta assisted Hizashi in jumping over him. Others doing scorpion kicks or A frames. Some classic dips and turns thrown in by the less experienced dancers.
Hizashi quickly linked arms with Shouta, leading the other pairs of dancers in a line as the last few bars of music played. All freezing as the last chord was stuck. Hizashi looked at his husband out of the corner of his eye, noticing him looking back. Once tamed hair now wild, breathing hard, a flush over his cheekbones and an adorable dazzle in his eyes. That stupid smile that told the blonde just how the other felt. Cherished for who he is. Who he will be.
A chorus of cheers and applauding hands. The muttering of dancers complementing each other's skills. Thanking each other for the dance, despite many pairs having known each other for over a decade, Shouta and Hizashi included. The dark haired man wrapped his arms around his lover’s lithe frame, feeling the vertebrae of his back as he squeezed the other tightly. Burying his face into the crook of the other's neck.
Hizashi draped his arms over his husband's shoulders, forearms crossing over each other as he swayed them gently. A hand came to cradle the back of Shouta’s head, firmly stroking the dark locks of hair, as the blonde tilted his face to place a curt kiss to the other’s cheekbone.
“Are you okay?” Hizashi whispered, “Husband of mine.”
Shouta made a bashful noise, before attempting to bury his face further into Hizashi’s neck. Undoubtedly getting the minor amount of foundation he had on onto the collar of the blondes shirt.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet lover. Where’s your face gone?” Hizashi asked quietly.
The man in his arms loosened his grip slightly, timidly lifting his head from the comfortable shoulder on which it rested.
“There you are.”
“Songbird?”
Hizashi moved his hand to cup Shouta’s face. “That's me. Are you okay?”
“I- I think so? Just a little overwhelmed,” Shouta’s voice wobbled slightly, “I'm gonna cry again, I can feel it.”
“Lets get sat down, we can always vanish into a dressing room for a bit. My personal jesters-”
“Your siblings?”
“Well yeah? What else are they good for?”
Shouta raised an eyebrow at Hizashi, causing them to both dissolve into a fit of giggles as the blonde guided his husband to their table. Pushing the seat underneath the dark haired man as he sat down. Hizashi pulled a chair up next to Shouta, threading their fingers together, squeezing tightly.
Due to Nemuri being Hizashi’s best person, this meant that the entire party had the delight of hearing about all the newly wedded couple’s awkward teenage dating history. Including the fact that both of them messaged her after their first kiss, positively gushing about how much they liked the other. Nemuri read a few direct quotes from screenshots she’d saved just for this occasion.
“One of my favorites of Shou’s reads: ‘Kayama, I think I’m going to die. I don't understand these weird sensations and I hate it. Yamada is the most amazing person to ever exist. He comes close to overthrowing cats in my ranking of important things and people. I’d give up salted liquorice to have him for the rest of my life.’” Nemuri pauses, “For those of you who don't know Shouta super well –though I’m sure Hizashi has talked to all of you at some point about him– Shouta’s three most favourite things are: cats, salted liquorice and quiet time. Now, Shouta,” She walked over to the seated couple, microphone in hand, “where does your dearly beloved husband sit on your list now?”
Shouta unburied his face from his hands, a bright flush nipping at the tips of his ears, responding instantly, “He and cats are equal.”
Hizashi tilted the extended microphone towards himself, speaking in a serious tone, “Guys, I think he’s in love with me.”
A sarcastic ‘no way’ from somewhere amongst the laughing guests.
“And now it's time to embarrass Hiza’.” Nemuri said playfully,
Her quick glance at Hizashi told him exactly which text she was going to read, “Nemuri. No. I beg.”
“Shush, you subjected yourself to this. And so it reads: ‘Nem! I kissed Aizawa. Help. I have to go on air in half an hour and my lips still feel like they are on fire. He’s gorgeous. I feel so right with him. He doesn't mind if I'm loud or quiet. He just cares that I’m me. He manages to soothe all my fears. Lifts me out of my lows. Nem, I think I love him. Like for real. I don't want anyone besides him.’, which was shortly followed by a tasteful keyboard smash.”
Shouta sat slack jawed looking at his husband, tears had run tracks down his face. Asking quietly, "I made you feel that way?”
“You still make me feel that way. Every day, every minute, every second we’re together,” Hizashi’s voice wobbled as his face twisted in an attempt not to start crying again, “and even in the rare times we’re apart.”
The dark haired man scooted their chairs closer together, wrapping his arms around his husband, “I love you so much, songbird.”
“I love you too, starling.” Hizashi felt fingers brushing his cheek as he realised a tear had ultimately escaped from his right eye.
“You heard it here folks,” Nemuri announced, “they are sickeningly in love with each other." Smiling sweetly at the hugging couple despite the absolute daggers both were glaring at her.
—
Shouta and Hizashi were a warm tangle of limbs underneath the fluffy blanket Shouta had brought into the living room. Both looked at each other's reflections on the laptops black screen as the video came to an end. The previously half empty tissue box had been completely emptied. The freckles across the bridge of Hizashi’s nose and his cheeks were accompanied by splotches of pink, not dissimilar to the spots of a cheetah.
Dreading the thought of moving from the bundle of warmth, Shouta sighed begrudgingly, leaning forward to grab his eyedrops off the coffee table. The excessive amount of tears he sheds watching their video should be illegal. Attempting to resettle back into their previous contortion, failing miserably as it felt completely wrong, unhappily sitting up instead. Shouta administered his eyedrops as Hizashi’s neck cracked loudly enough for his lover to look at him with concern.
HIzashi rubbed his hands together, fingers cold, enjoying the domestic quiet. The sort of quiet that felt safe. Laced with something that went beyond love and care. It hung in the air so tastefully it tasted like syrup on the tongue. Looking at the ebony haired man, the pinnacle of a human furnace, Hizashi sat up, scooching closer to him.
Taking the moment of opportunity as Shouta leant forward once again to place down his eyedrops, the back of his ragged t-shirt riding up slightly, Hizashi curled his frigid fingertips against the warmth of the other's lower back and waist. Shouta yelped, body attempting to move away from Hizashi’s cruel grasp, a shiver wracking through his body.
“How are you so cold!?” Shouta whisper shouted, slightly breathless.
“Meh hands weren't under the blanket.” Hizashi spoke, slightly congested.
“Oh my sweet god. Move your hands.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why does that sound like a threat?”
“Because it is.” Hizashi moved closer to his husband's ear, whispering, “Now, remember, you asked for this.”
Hizashi slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Shouta’s sweatpants. Fingertips finding the elastic edges of the other’s boxers, tucking his fingers underneath the fabric, the backs of his fingers pressing into his lover’s quads. Shouta buried his face into the blanket he was holding, the barely visible tips of his ears pink with a flush, breathing fast. Hizashi swore he could feel electricity jumping underneath the other's skin. Though that might just be the goosebumps.
Shouta turned his face out of the blanket to side eye Hizashi, “I am so mildly upset with you right now.”
“Only mildly upset? What else are you feeling then?” The blonde teased, toying with the fabric that pressed his fingers against the other's skin.
“T- That this is really hot but there’s something else I want to do with you first.”
“And what’s that, lover?”
“I want to dance to our song…” Shouta looked at Hizashi, a longing sweetness behind his eye.
Hizashi picked up the change in mood, quickly smoothing the leg parts of his husband’s boxers back down, “Always. C’mon, get your leg on.”
Shouta quickly pulled on his liners, slotting the pin of his prosthetic into its slot, powering on his knee. Turning on one of the bluetooth speakers in the living space, Hizashi waited for the device to give its chime, opening his music app to click on the wedding playlist. It had been pinned at the top of his playlists for the last 18 years. He loved this playlist so much that he’d taken the time to burn it onto a physical CD for his car.
Stumbling slightly as his hip tried to give out on him, Shouta grabbed onto Hizashi’s arm, the blonde looked at him with concern as he helped him right himself back onto his feet. The wince Shouta gave didn't go unnoticed as his hip popped loudly. Confirming that his husband, was in fact, alright, Hizashi clicked play, quickly turning off his phone’s display before tossing it onto the sofa.
Shouta held out a hand to Hizashi, asking him for the dance. His lover’s slightly less cold fingertips delicately landed in his palm. Stepping closer into the other’s space, the dark haired man wrapped his arm around the other’s back. The weight of Hizashi's hand on his right shoulder was as he always remembered it to be. His husband’s forearm rested comfortably against him.
Both swayed side to side.
An easy transfer of weight.
Slowly turning in a small circle. The warm lighting of their living space casting delightful shadows across their faces. The silhouette of a dancing couple visible on the curtain to the outside world. Anyone walking by their apartment estate would know that the couple on the ground floor were hopelessly enamoured with one another.
Shouta leisurely spun Hizashi a few times, pulling him back into a side by side hold. Unsurprised when the blonde did the same to him. Enjoying the feeling of falling into a dip, knowing he wouldn't be dropped, a trust so blind it should be considered dangerous. Hizashi was the only person Shouta was more than willing to give up control to.
Hizashi felt Shouta fall back into leading, easily picking up on his cues, winding up side by side in a sweetheart hold. The curly haired man’s elbow pressed into his upper back, sending him back out in a lazy turn. A quiet “up, up,” cue and Shouta’s waiting arm. Hizashi swung his legs up off the ground, leaning heavily into the arm tucked around his upper back as his husband caught him in a bridal lift. Leaning his head onto the other's shoulder as he was cradled by strong arms. Cherishing his lover’s soft singing of foreign lyrics.
Shouta carefully lowered Hizashi back onto his feet, feeling his lithe arms that were wrapped around the back of his neck, his own hands coming to rest on his husband’s waist. Leaning their foreheads together. Bodies slotted against each other in a way that could only be described as fateful. Shouta tilted his head to the side to kiss Hizashi’s neck. A few light presses as chapped lips racked across his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
Hizashi threaded a hand into dark hair, mindfully tilting the other’s head back so they were face to face again. Leaning his face close to the others, the arch of his nose tapping his lover’s in question. A soft sound leaving the blonde as Shouta allowed their lips to meet. Shivering as a warm tongue swiped across his bottom lip.
Both thinking a variant of: Yeah. This is love. He’s mine and I’m his.
Shouta jumped slightly as Hizashi playfully bit his lip. A quiet whine that could have been mistaken as electricity static left the curly haired man. Hands coming to scratch at the nape of his husband's neck. Toying with the fine baby hairs that clumped in golden whisps. Reluctantly breaking their kiss as their song faded into silence, both taking laboured breaths as they relished in the way they could still leave each other breathless.
Shouta spoke quietly, “So, I’ve been thinking… that maybe it's time we tell Class 2-A about us being married.”
“Not that I'm opposed to the idea,” Hizashi paused, “But why?”
“They keep asking me if I like women with long blonde hair.”
Hizashi burst out laughing, “W- Well, they’re half right, aren't they?”
“I can't exactly say ‘I like men with long blonde hair.’ to my teenage students, because then they'll try to get us to start going out. Or worse,” Shouta playfully grimaced, “All Might.”
“Oh, hell no. You are my husband. I'm not lettin’ no bag of bones steal you from me.”
“Hizashi. That’s mean. All Might doesn't deserve that. Even though it's true.”
“I’ll buy him a pastry or something, he has the most outrageous sweet tooth.” Hizashi commented, “Anyways, how and when are you planning to tell Class 2-A?”
“They want me to teach them more choreographed social dances. And some want to learn air steps.” Shouta took hold of Hizashi’s hands, “I need my most trusted follow for air steps.”
“You want me to come teach with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I want that. Then, when they ask why you’re my follow. Why you trust me. You can tell them.”
“Okay,” Hizashi smiled, “I can do that.”
“You’re so perfect. I’m lucky to have you.”
“Oh pish. I’m lucky to have you.”
“How about, just hear me out on this: we’re both very lucky to have each other."
Hizashi leant their faces closer together, nuzzling their noses together like rabbits, “Agreed.”
Shouta tugged Hizashi closer to their bookshelf, letting go of one of the other’s hands to pick up an ornately carved wooden picture frame. Although slightly faded from being in partial sunlight, the picture was just as colourful and bright as the memory it represented. Hizashi, short veil and all, sat behind the wheel of his orange MX5 convertible. The hardtop down and his signature sunglasses on. Shouta perched atop his matte black, with hot pink accents, Kawasaki Ninja 650cc. His suit jacket and pants changed out for his worn riding leathers and boots. The silver guardian bell Hizashi had gifted to him when he’d bought the bike reflected the camera’s flash from where it hung.
Both vehicles had bright bunches of yellow marigolds and hot pink spray roses wrapped in white tulle attached to them. The respective groom's favorite flowers. The visor of Shouta’s helmet was flicked up, the slight rotation of his head making it obvious he was looking at his husband, eyes telling a similar story. Hizashi was clearly in the middle of saying something, mouth slightly open and an arm reached over the side of his car. His fabulously decorated nails reflected the light in a way that made him look like a sorcerer. Gosh they were cool in their twenties.
“And they said we were crazy for getting married at twenty.” Shouta muttered noncommittedly.
“They sure did.” Hizashi briefly left his lover's hold, grabbing his phone from the sofa to take a picture of the picture.
“What are you doing?”
“Gotta’ have evidence for the kids. They’re gonna ask for it.”
“Hizashi,”
“Mmh?”
Shouta held up his left hand, wiggling his fourth finger aggressively, the neat stack of gold shimmering.
“Oh yeah, true.” Hizashi paused, “But we look so cool!”
“We were so cool.”
“We are still cool, thank you very much.”
—
Hizashi stacked his rings onto his fourth finger. His silver bangle joined the rest of his bracelets on his left wrist. Having retired from hero work, but still teaching at UA and at the radio station, Hizashi had a fashion crisis. Worse than he did in high school. And believe him. Those were bad fashion times. His mother’s photo albums from that period haunted him. Needless to say, he was still figuring out what normal highschool level English teachers wore to work.
Pulling on a pair of straight cut black dress pants and a dark green t-shirt. Braiding his hair back into a single dutch braid. Wandering into their bedroom, taking his cochlears from their charging station, nestling them behind his ears. Magnet and sound processing unit completely exposed for the world to see. Hizashi slipped on his prescription sunglasses, throwing his signature leather jacket over his shoulder as he walked into their living area.
Quickly gathering his laptop from where it had been forgotten the night before. Haphazardly tossing its unwound charger into his work tope bag. Hizashi swore he was forgetting something. Laptop? Check. Charger? Check. Textbook? Check.
“Shou’ what am I forgetting!?” Hizashi called to the entryway of their apartment.
“Your cochlears?” Shouta asked loudly.
“No. They’re on.”
“Your tea?”
“No, that's been drunk.”
Shouta stuck his head round the door, “Did you pack your spats?”
“That’s today!?”
“Yes, ‘Zashi.”
“One second.”
Hizashi scrambled back into their bedroom, flinging open his wardrobe, noting the apparent lack of a shoe horn. Pulling a tan fabric drawstring bag from his special shoes shoe rack, Hizashi opened the bag, checking that both shoes were in the bag. Grabbing an extra pair of socks from one of his drawers, he shoved them into the drawstring bag, pulling it tightly closed.
Rushing back through the various doors to their tiny genkan, Hizashi sat down with a thunk, hurriedly pulling on his work boots. Shouta smiled down at his husband. A small part of him proud at the blonde’s choice to show off his cochlears. The rest of him knew it was wise not to comment on it until they were back in the apartment later that evening. Hizashi stood up, giving himself a quick once over in the small mirror hung on the wall by the door.
“Ready?” Shouta asked, handing over the car keys to the other.
“Yeah. Wait. Show me your hands.”
Shouta presented his hands to his lover. His left hand’s fourth finger held his wedding band, engagement and eternity ring. His right hand pinkie finger his signet ring. Shouta pulled back the sleeve on his right arm to show his gold, slightly bent out of shape, bangle.
“Happy? Husband of mine.”
“Yes,” Hizashi tilted his head down to look up at Shouta, a smitten smile on his lips, “Let’s go.”
The drive to UA was quick, the traffic lights all seemingly in their favour. Sharing a quick kiss in the car after parking in the staff parking lot. Both bounding up steps in a more than agreeable mood. Class 2-A had an absolutely feral kind of energy about them, the excitement and chatter about what Aizawa was going to teach them later in the day. Not yet knowing their English teacher would be making a permanent guest appearance.
Hizashi taught his first two periods before his planning period with a contagious level of joy. His first period year three students were completely unphased by his inexplicable behaviour and joined in with his chaotic whims. Which meant his newer, year one students were entirely confused when he had them learning the words to an english song to sing to a karaoke backing track by the end of class.
Shouta managed to teach 2-A’s homeroom without much fuss. Deflecting the questions about the ring on his right hand pinkie finger as he wrote on the chalkboard. Claiming to have ‘forgotten’ to take it off after an event at the weekend. Feeling slightly self-conscious about the rings that seemingly weighed heavily on his left hand. He kept that hand in his pocket or hidden as much as possible. Shouta didn't want to be the one to explain them to his students. At least at first. Him and Hizashi being married shouldn't change the way their students view them.
Key word: shouldn't.
To say he wasn't worried about telling them, would be an understatement. But, there were certainly a few of his kids who could do with some reassurance that being queer isn't illegal or wrong.
Shouta cracked a small smile at the chalkboard as he heard the class rejoice at his monotonous announcement that they would start learning airsteps this afternoon. A few sounds of intrigue as he offhandedly mentioned that someone would be joining the class to help teach. Reminding them that they had to get as much of their work done as they could in the study period and turn it in before lunch or otherwise he would change the afternoon lesson plan to heroics drills. Shouta laughed internally at his lie. He would never give up the chance to teach a new generation of dancers air steps. Let alone give up the chance to teach them with his husband.
His favorite and forever follow.
Shouta walked into the gym, about five minutes before the end of the lunch period, smooth shiny floors reflecting the bright overhead lights that hung from high ceilings. He rolled his eyes affectionately as he faintly heard ‘Stompin’ at the Savoy’ playing from one of his students' phones. Sitting on the lowest level of the uncomfortable plastic bleachers that all UA students had been subjected to at some point, Shouta lifted his capture scarf off his shoulders, placing it down next to him alongside the black drawstring bag that held his spats. Pulling up his pant legs slightly, he lifted his prosthetic onto his left knee, pulling the zip of his boot down before tugging it off his prosthetic foot.
Opening one of the pouches on his utility belt, Shouta dug for his spare screwdriver, moving his sock out of the way before efficiently changing the angle of his prosthetic ankle. A small permanent marker line, he’d drawn onto the metal, acting as his guide. Righting his sock and shifting his prosthetic off his left knee, he leant forward to undo the zip of his other boot, toeing it off shortly afterwards. After tucking his screwdriver back into his utility belt and neatly lining up his boots against the bleachers, Shouta pulled his shoe bag onto his lap, taking out his majoritively black leather spats that had dark pink accents. Good leather lasted years if taken care of well, and god knows, Shouta would tend to he and Hizashi’s spats like they were made of gold, purely because these were the ones they wore on their wedding day.
Producing a shoe horn from the bag, Shouta manhandled his prosthetic foot into the right position to get the shoe on, with only a little more effort than putting a shoe on should take. A small amount of relief filled him as the foot complied with his wish. Leaning forward to pull the laces tight. Not that he could feel if they were tight enough. Not that it mattered if they were too tight. Only if the shoe went flying was it going to be a problem. Putting on his left shoe with little to no fuss, Shouta connected his phone to the gym's speaker system, watching as his students excitedly got into pairs as a lower BPM track came on.
Hizashi poked his head into the gym, confirming he was in the right place before spotting his husband. Shoe bag slung over his shoulder, practically skipping towards the dark haired man. Hizashi slid onto the bleacher, sitting on the other's left side so he could easily see him in his peripheral vision. A quiet ‘hey’ and ‘hi’ passed between them. Quickly unzipping his boots, Hizashi pulled his tan and dandelion yellow spats from their bag, slipping them on. He shrugged off his sleek leather jacket so that he could comfortably lean forward to tie his laces. Noticing the way his companion leant forward with him, Hizashi turned his head to look at the other, allowing his hands to fend for themselves against the laces.
“You okay?” Hizashi asked quietly,
“Mmh.” Shouta wrung his hands together, anxious.
“It won't change anything. Telling them. If anything, they’re gonna’ be more upset that they didn't figure it out sooner.”
“We’re not exactly a conspicuous couple, ‘Zashi.”
“Still.” Hizashi checked that he had successfully tied his laces, extending a hand to his husband, “Wanna’ warm up then?”
“Yeah.”
Shouta took the blonde's hand, leaning into it slightly as he stood, giving himself a second to adjust to the change in ankle position.
“Put something faster on, man.”
Shouta scoffed lightly in disbelief, “Do you have a death wish?”
“If it's death with you. Yes.”
Unlocking his phone, Shouta scrolled through his playlist, “How does ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ sound?”
“James P. Johnson. Over 200 bpm, you play a dangerous game, good sir. Are you sure you can handle me?”
Shouta rolled his eye, a small smirk on his face, “As always.”
Clicking play on the track, Shouta ignored the cacophony of complaints from his students as he cut the previous song in half, turning off his phone's display before shoving it into a secure pocket. Some pairs were attempting to dance to the new music, quickly realising how deceptively fast the jaunty piano was, watching in awe as their homeroom teacher and their English teacher matched each other perfectly step for step. A few jaws dropped as Mic was sent through a series of fast turns, entirely unphased, only pushing his sunglasses up with his free hand. A few fingers pointing towards them accompany whispering voices.
“Is Aizawa Sensei smiling!?” Kaminari asked not so discreetly.
A hand was slapped over his mouth to shut him up as the entire class realised that Aizawa had laughed at his remark. A sound they had never heard before.
Shouta swung Hizashi into a close hold, pressing their chests close together as they swapped their footwork for the lazy stepping of a jig walk. A few more sounds of shock as Mic’s upper body was almost entirely free of tension, leaning his weight onto Aizawa, arms flailing about sillily. Both of them loved this step because of how stupid you could be while doing it. Unsurprisingly, they both giggled quietly, only loud enough for each other to hear. Hizashi took his husband's right hand, sending him out into a swingout, grinning even more as he noticed the students looking between each other and them at their change in role. The blonde's moment of leading was quickly over as Shouta turned him a few more times before he was guided into a sweetheart hold.
“Do you want to do the bridal lift or our normal big apple trick?” Shouta asked.
“If we're gonna’ teach ‘em tricks, we better show them our best.”
“Do you want to dip me?”
“Wedding dip?”
“Yes. I trust you.”
“You won’t let me forget it if I drop you. Will you?”
“You won't drop me. Stop doubting yourself.”
Shouta left no room for further conversation, sending Hizashi under the arch of his arm before changing his footwork to follow, handing over his right hand to his blonde. Quickly finding Hizashi’s groove, the dark haired man copied his spontaneous scissor kicks. Show off. Hizashi switched into eight count footwork, doing a few swingouts before turning Shouta out of the sequence with a Texas Tommy. Turning the curly head twice, feeling him fall towards the floor, both pairs of hands gripping each other securely, killing his momentum just a hand’s length away from the floor.
A few terrified curses escaped their students. Hizashi smiled smugly at his lover as he pulled him back up onto his feet, following his lead as he was led through a similar sequence of swingouts, a hand coming to his waist to boost him as he jumped over Shouta’s head. Landing with flair before being swept through a few turns as the song began to end, winding up leaning against Shouta’s side, a hand on his chest and over his shoulder as they waited for the last chord to finish ringing.
Shouta pushed Hizashi back onto his feet, standing shoulder to shoulder facing their students like nothing happened as he fumbled with his pocket to pause the track that had decided to start playing.
“I have so many questions.” Kaminari blurted.
“In due time.” Aizawa stated decisively, “Allow me to introduce your guest teacher,” he gestured to Mic, “You all know him.”
“Why Mic Sensei though?” Mina asked,
Kaminari gasped, “He said to wait to ask questions, Mina.”
“Kaminari, it's fine. You can ask questions now.” Aizawa shushed, “He’s my follow. That's why.”
A collective pause filled with squinted eyes and raised eyebrows. Only one pair of knowing purple sleep deprived eyes looked at them expectantly.
“That explains nothing!” Iida exclaimed.
Shouta looked to his left, catching Hizashi’s eye, tilting his head to say ‘now or never.’
“We’re married.” Hizashi announced. His right hand grabbed Shouta’s left hand to show the bling he put there to the class alongside his own left hand. “That’s what he means.”
Shinso raised his eyebrows, a ‘you really just did that, respect.’ look on his face.
A series of very confused faces flicked between the two men as they processed the information.
“You’re gay?”
“Somthing like that.” Aizawa responded, which got a few more confused sounds from their class.
“Since when!?”
“Married eighteen years.” Mic said, "Dating twenty-one years.”
“You got married at twenty?”
“Yeah,” Mic affirmed, “Wanna’ see a picture?”
A collective yes.
Hizashi fished his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the picture of a picture he’d taken just a week prior, turning up his brightness before turning the screen around for the class to see.
“You ride motorcycles?”
“Not anymore.” Aizawa shook his head, “I was in the semi-professional league for a few years though.”
“Why are you wearing a veil? Isn't that like a girl thing?”
“Felt right to wear one. Also, it’s a piece of tulle? Why's it gendered?” Mic asked, a handful of thoughtful hums meeting his question.
“Anyways, to answer your question: Why is Mic here? He's here because I trust him and he trusts me.” Aizawa clarified.
“As he said,” Mic doubled down on the point his husband was trying to make, “Trust is the first building block for airsteps.”
“Get into pairs.” Aizawa did a shoo-ing motion with his hands.
Shouta turned to look at Hizashi. The blonde peered over his sunglasses to look at him. Tilting his head and raising an eyebrow in question. Shouta let out a sigh of relief, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically as he nodded his head, running a hand through his hair. Hizashi slung an arm over Shouta’s shoulders leaning on him comfortably. Quickly checking that none of their students were looking directly at them before turning Shouta’s head to place a quick kiss to his widow's peak. Laughing as a hand swatted blindly at him.
Safe to say. Hizashi was right. The class was only upset about the fact they hadn't figured it out sooner. Much to Class 2-A’s delight, he promised to come and help teach airsteps when Aizawa had deemed they had done enough training. Shouta and Hizashi were more than happy to give another jaw dropping performance when asked by the class to dance again at the end of the class period. Happily answering questions about role-swapping mid dance, the names of steps and when they’d learn them. Both of their souls warmed as the class filtered out of the gym with smiles on their faces. After all, it's impossible to dance without a smile making its way on your face.