Work Text:
Shouta eyed the leftover trail of blood brought in by his boot. It was a narrow trickle staining the grey tiles, but the bleeding had stopped by now.
He knew he'd have to clean it up.
It wasn't the first time he or Hizashi had tracked blood outside the apartment. Far from it. However, two of the flats had families, which meant kids, including preschoolers and middle schoolers. If the blood was unavoidable, they were at least expected to clean up after themselves.
He shook his head to turn away from the floor to look at the door.
Home.
He fumbled with the keys along with the plastic black kitty keychain. It turned twice, and the lock gave a satisfactory click.
The air was warm and had the faint flowery scent of detergent wafting through. Hizashi must have done the laundry.
The light was on, but the flat was quiet otherwise. The static from the fridge and Shouta's footsteps were the only sounds.
There was a lump on the sofa. Hizashi was curled up, half buried under the blanket. He stirred as Shouta entered and turned towards the door. He must have been waiting.
“Zashi,” Shouta greeted, “I'm back.”
Hizashi blinked once. “Hey.”
He should have been asleep in bed. Instead, he had dozed off here and was awake now, blinking the sleep away.
He kicked off his boots.
Shouta could feel Hizashi study his gait as he walked in. There was a pause as Hizashi seemed to take in every movement and the way his weight shifted deliberately.
Shouta fought back a tired sigh. He held out his capture scarf loosely and it slipped through his fingers to pool next to the wall.
“You're hurt,” Hizashi decided. Shouta didn't argue and knew that Hizashi would want to see for himself. “Let's get you cleaned up, Sho.”
He got up from the sofa, and the blanket slid to the floor. Hizashi had his hair up in a bun tonight, instead of leaving it down like he usually did. He was wearing a pair of olive green pajama pants, a throwback to Hizashi's university days. Shouta had forgotten they still had it.
Now that he was closer, he could see that Hizashi's eyes were red-rimmed.
The blond pulled Shouta towards the bathroom. Shouta's eyebrows furrowed, but he continued to walk behind him.
“Did something happen during the raid?” Shouta asked. Hizashi looked fine, but that didn't mean he was. Or had something happened to Fat Gum? A civilian, perhaps?
“I'm fine, it went great, actually. No one got hurt. Well- the villain's ears might still be ringing.” Hizashi said, and looked like he meant it.
There was a tug at Shouta’s sleeve, “Sit. Tell me where it hurts.”
Shouta wanted to push further- but.
He sat on the stool.
“Knife nicked my thigh, it's not too deep.”
“Alright.” Hizashi squeezed Shouta’s shoulder, and the warmth seeped through his clothes, staying even when he stepped back.
Shouta got rid of the fabric, it already being slashed through only helped the process. Hizashi filled the silence once he got back, supplies in hand.
“Fat Gum treated us to dinner at that new ramen place. He lost the bet on who'd capture the most villains. Or maybe he just wanted to see Amajiki’s quirk in action again.”
“Amajiki was there for the raid too?” Shouta found himself asking, barely paying notice to the sharp burn as Hizashi disinfected the wound.
Hizashi smiled from where he hovered above, and it lit up his whole face. He was good at it, taking Shouta's attention away from the pain. From anything that wasn't Hizashi.
“Yeah! He was amazing. He managed to capture two of the villains despite his nerves. I can't believe they'll be going to class 2 in a month.” Hizashi's excitement was genuine and contagious. Once again Shouts was reminded why Mic made such a good radio host.
He threw the cloth in the bin and got the first aid kit.
“Wait here, okay?”
Shouta watched him go through the bandages and things, the rustling of plastic and clinking of glass took over till he seemed to find what he was looking for.
“The cut’s clean. Butterfly stitches should be enough.” Hizashi explained, and it mirrored what Shouta had expected. No surprise there.
“Scoot.” He nudged his knee and knelt between Shouta’s legs now to get a better angle. Hizashi had braced one hand on the knee of his uninjured leg, nudging it apart.
His smile turned upward, almost a smirk when he caught Shouta staring.
Shouta felt a blush rise up his chest and neck. Married for eight years, and Hizashi still got him flustered.
He didn't look up at Shouta now and fixated on the wound; his fingers were lean and meticulous. The first aid kit was beside him on the floor.
But-
Shouta's breath caught in his chest. Despite Hizashi's apparent cheeriness, something was wrong.
With Hizashi below him and the stark, bright white light of the bathroom above, it was clear that his eyes were not just red. They were bloodshot, eyelids puffy and significantly swollen.
Hizashi was quick with sticking the stitches on; his hand was steady, his voice didn't shake as he continued to talk about nothing, still cheery. How many times had he put on this show for Shouta?
He felt the worry start in the pit of his stomach and pushed it down. He had to be calm. It wouldn't help if he panicked.
“Anddd you're done,” Hizashi threw him a grin. His voice was still hoarse, and Shouta had brushed it off as sleep before, but now he wasn't sure.
Hizashi had been crying; that much was obvious. He'd have to be blind to miss that. He had been crying hard, going by how swollen his eyelids were. It was downright impossible to ignore from this angle.
What the fuck had happened?
He reached and brushed his thumb under Hizashi's eye, it was tender and warm to his touch. His thumb dragged across and brushed away the strands of hair from his face. He could tell it was bad, whatever it was. It must hurt him to blink.
“Zashi,” Shouta said, now serious, “Sunshine. What's wrong?”
Hizashi's smile cracked. He got up wordlessly and just kept the box back on the shelf. He washed his hands and let the sound of the tap fill the room. He didn't answer.
Hizashi then looked back at him and waited, his stance expectant, and Shouta found himself following him to the sofa. He didn't panic, he'd trust Hizashi to explain.
Hizashi sat cross-legged on the sofa and pulled Shouta to sit in front of him. Shouta mirrored him, but kept his injured leg to the ground. Their knees brushed.
“You remember, when I said my agency needed those insurance papers after that incident last week?” Hizashi asked.
Shouta nodded. He did remember it, Form 6-a, already filled out and approved.
Hizashi continued, “You said it was in the blue folder, inside that safe you bought.”
Hizashi let his head rest sideways on the cushion and looked straight at him like he expected Shouta to put it together.
“Was there a problem with the Policy?” Shouta asked, not unkindly.
Hero work was stressful, after all. The little things piled up. Hizashi had three jobs already, that's why Shouta did the paperwork.
“No. That went perfectly. But you never told me that you updated your will last October, and you-” Hizashi paused, swallowed, like he had trouble getting the words out.
Shouta blinked. He didn't think Hizashi would have cared about that. He hadn't changed much, but maybe it had bothered Hizashi.
Shouta pulled the blanket over their laps.
“I can change it back, if you want.” He offered.
“It’s not that... Shouta. I found the letter. Tucked inside the will.” Hizashi said.
Letter?
Shouta felt his brows furrow, feeling completely out of his depth, before it clicked.
That letter.
Because there was only one letter that could have done this much damage. He felt his hands go cold, and the air around them suddenly felt like it was charged with static.
He had written it after the raid.
He had written it, had left the envelope in that baby blue folder, and then had kept it in the safe. Ice cold dread settled into his stomach along with shame at his own stupidity. Because, fuck, how could he have forgotten something like that?
“I wasn't snooping,” Hizashi added as if he was compelled to explain. Like that was what Shouta would be worried about.
“I went to file the insurance back after I reached back after patrol. And it just fell. It had my name on it. I thought it might be important, like instructions. Because we both know I’m shit with policies and stuff.” Hizashi gave a dry laugh.
He reached under the pillow and removed a pale envelope. Then unfolded it, only fumbling a little.
The sight of it felt like a punch. The scrawl was shaky, like it wanted to pour out of the paper.
He knew the words, not the exact phrases he had written, but he knew it. He had written them, after all. He knew it was raw, completely unfiltered, and maybe even selfish.
But no reason to hold back once he was dead, right?
“I didn't even think it would be something like this, Sho.”
Hizashi turned the paper towards him and held it over the air till Shouta picked it up. Like he wanted Shouta to read it. And Aizawa Shouta wasn't one to deny his husband. Not when it mattered, anyway.
The paper was creased, black ink pooling into spots like he had pressed the pen into the paper too hard.
Hizashi
If you're reading this, I might not have made it back home. I know the file is a lot. The insurance, wills, documents... You really hate the paperwork, I know. But it can wait.
I just need you to know that I wouldn't give up without a fight, I would have tried everything to come back to you Hizashi. And if that failed, in the end I wasn't brave, I was terrified. I don't know if you remember, but I woke you up tonight. You smiled when you called my name and god, I've never loved you more. You light up my world, sunshine, and I would have given anything for this moment again, to hear your snore down the hallway, to just see you laugh again.
So if you're reading this because my luck ran out- I'm so sorry Zashi. Please know I tried. I fucking tried.
I know it's a lot to ask, but don't let me be the reason you stop smiling. Remember that I love you, I will die loving you. And I'll love you after that.
Yours,
Shouta
He hadn't even considered Hizashi finding it, let alone reading it like this. Shouta didn't like to linger on his own mortality, and he never thought he would have to look into Hizashi's eyes again if Hizashi ever did read it.
Shouta had fucked up before, but this probably took the cake.
“What were you even thinking?” Hizahsi said, pulling Shouta away from his thoughts.
He had expected his anger, an outburst, ever since he realised what letter Hizashi had meant, but it still caught him off guard. Enough to jerk back, the blanket pulling when he did.
Hizashi's eyes caught the movement. His hand reached out towards Shouta, but he thought the better of it. He then breathed in, then out. The exhale felt dragged.
Shouta dug his nails into his palm, hard enough to almost draw blood.
Shouta deserved it. He would take it. He could see it from the toll it took on Hizashi's face. Like he just had his heart shattered into little pieces.
“I'm not mad- I mean, I was fucking livid, but I'm not mad anymore. It feels like I've gone through the five stages of grief already.” Hizashi continued, voice steadier now. He brought a hand to his eyebrow to rub at his forehead.
Then softer, “I’m not mad at you, Shouta. At myself, maybe. That I didn't find it sooner.”
Shouta uncurled his fingers and watched the red crescents etched into his skin.
“It was a long time ago.” Shouta tried.
It was from a year back, not that long a gap. But the memory felt like it was from a different dimension completely, something that didn't fit in this life they'd carefully carved out.
“I called you after I found it,” Hizashi said. “You had your phone switched off, I knew that. I knew you would be fine. But then I just started, I don't know-” he laughed. It came out choked.
He stared at the ceiling before looking back at Shouta.
“I just couldn't stop,” Hizashi admitted. He didn't say stop what.
Shouta's mind leaped in trying to fill in the rest for him. Thought around for the right combination of crying, worrying, reading, and grieving. It didn't feel like it was enough.
“You should have used the comms,” Shouta said, swallowing the sharp taste of guilt.
“Yeah...” Hizashi agreed, and it made the burn in his chest even worse. “I should have. Longest three hours of my life, Sho.”
Hizashi sounded calm now, despite everything. Hizashi had read it, broken, and had somehow pieced the broken pieces of himself together in the hours he waited for Shouta to return.
Shouta looked at Hizashi's hand which was lying on his own lap, making little gestures as he spoke.
“You apologized for trying, and-” Hizashi continued. “I'm a Pro-hero too, did you think I'd blame you? That I’d doubt you weren't fighting tooth and nail to come back home? Because I don't. I know you would.”
Hizashi looked away, “You don't have to apologise, or hide. Not for something like this. Some fucking husband I am, I should have realised it sooner.”
Shouta reached and gripped Hizashi's arm, tugging once, and Hizashi turned back to face him. His husband's apparent guilt seemed to force Shouta's tongue to finally move.
“Hizashi, I'm fine now. I'm not leaving you.” Shouta said, words slow but clear. He kept his grip firm to make the intention sink in. He’d reassure Hizashi the rest of the night, the rest of his life, if he had to.
Hizashi pulled his hand away, but brought it to Shouta’s cheek. He tucked the hair behind his ear, very gently.
He then gave Shouta a look, the one that meant Shouta was full of bullshit. A glare and slightly raised eyebrows, but it was still tender. So very full of love.
“You’re fine now, I know that,” Hizashi repeated. “But you were so scared, baby.”
The words were unexpected, hit like a bucket of water poured over him, and Shouta flinched, closed his eyes.
“It was after that mission at the pier, wasn’t it?” Hizashi continued, like he already knew the answer.
“You didn’t have a scratch, but something was off. You never wake me up, but that night you woke me up just to say you were cold.”
He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted iron, but he didn't deny it, couldn't deny it. He didn't think Hizashi would remember, much less make the connection, but Hizashi never failed to surprise him.
“And I- I was so stupidly relieved you were uninjured that I just went back to sleep. I should have known something was wrong. Instead, I was sleeping-” Hizashi’s voice went up at the last word. “-while you wrote this alone.”
He felt the dread and heat reach his face.
“So what happened? What freaked you out this much?” Hizashi asked now.
Shouta knew he had been affected by that incident, that much was obvious. He didn't need Hound Dog to tell him that, but having Hizashi pull the evidence so clearly-
“I don't…” Shouta searched his mind for the words to explain that night. He'd blocked that memory out for a reason. He didn't even know what to say first, whether to revisit the raid, the beam, or the water.
His fingers tugged at the wedding ring around his neck. The metal band was warm, familiar. He remembered gripping it at the pier too, remembered thinking he'd die gripping it.
Hizashi didn't interrupt, just watched him while he tried to find his voice.
“I don't know where to start.” Shouta got the words out, frustration creeping in.
“Okay, yeah. That’s alright.” Hizashi smoothed the blanket over Shouta's leg and squeezed his knee.
He held Shouta's gaze for a moment. “Should I ask something more specific? Would that make it easier?”
“No, I just-” Shouta bit his lip. He tried again. Why couldn't he just fucking say it? Just. Say it.
“It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be fine. It was fine.” He could hear his voice waver, but he steadied it.
Hizashi hummed, he didn't speak, and green eyes watched him patiently. He drew circles into Shouta's hip absentmindedly, like he wanted to help coax the words out of him.
Heat seeped in through the jumpsuit fabric at the touch, and Shouta felt the warmth where their legs were pressed together. And he inexplicably found himself leaning forward.
Something in him already knew, had decided, that he wouldn't be able to get the words out while looking at his husband. Not without breaking.
There's a surprised huff when Shouta buried his face in Hizashi's shoulder without any warning whatsoever. But Hizashi took it in stride, straightened his legs, and pulled Shouta into his lap, wrapping an arm around him.
“Go on,” Hizashi said. Shouta felt the ghost of his breath against his forehead.
And there was no point in holding back, was there, now that the cat was out of the bag. He was surprised at how easily the words came out now, against the solid warmth of his chest.
Familiar arms braced around him. When he didn't have to face Hizashi's judgment and could let his eyes fall close instead.
“The raid went well. I was nearly finished, just tracking down a guy who got away. Then a support beam fell over me. I wasn't hurt, but-” He took in a shaky breath and fisted his husband's shirt. The shirt was soft against his knuckles, worn out from use.
“I was trapped. I could hear the waves. Feel the water starting at my feet. I couldn’t lift the beam- it wouldn't move. I couldn't even sit up.” Shouta tried to explain. Piece together the memories of sea-salt, broken nails, and that unforgiving pressure trapping him.
“I couldn't reach my comms from that angle. There wasn't any backup, just cops at the scene, but I wasn't at the scene. I was stuck there for forty minutes, I think. It felt like more.” Shouta took a breath.
“It was all rock, so I couldn't claw my way out, though I tried to. The tide would wash over, and it burned my lungs every time. I had to time my breaths.”
He didn't say he was waterboarded, essentially, but he knew Hizashi got the meaning anyway from that soft choked off sound he let slip.
“And soon that wouldn’t be enough either. The waterline would have reached my head, and holding my breath wouldn’t do shit to stop me from drowning there.”
The hand stilled and stayed in place. Hizashi wasn't moving anymore. He couldn't guess his expression, what he was thinking.
Shouta took a steadying breath and opened his eyes, clear. “I was so sure I’d die, Hizashi.”
Hizashi didn't flinch at the admission, like he had been expecting this even before he had put the letter and the pier together. He just pulled him closer, tucked his chin over his head.
“So that's what you meant then, when you said you were cold,” Hizashi whispered, almost to himself.
Cold. He had been healed, dried, and dropped back by a friendly paramedic. But it hadn't done shit for the cold he could feel in his bones, or the fact that he had felt like a dead man walking.
He suddenly remembered that desperation he felt when he was finally back home, which had made him shake Hizashi awake. Which hadn't stopped when Hizashi had thrown a warm arm and tucked the blanket snug over him. Hadn't stopped until he poured everything he had left into that letter so he could breathe once more.
“I should have woken you up again, should've told you I felt all wrong,” Shouta confessed. He ignored the pressure behind his eyes, because god, why didn't he?
Hizashi hummed in agreement. He stayed in place, hovering and making no indication to move away from Shouta’s side.
The desperation rose. And then it clawed into him till he couldn't ignore it any longer. Shouta straightened to look at Hizashi again. He needed him to understand.
“You looked so peaceful, Zashi. And I felt so fucking guilty knowing I wouldn't have made it back. That I was going to leave you alone-”
“Don't.” Hizashi’s eyes were serious. “Don't worry about me. And don't you dare feel guilty, Shouta. I'll be fine.”
Hizahsi then gave a smile, and it was a broken little thing. But he held it anyway, like he wanted to prove his words.
“Just worry about coming back, okay? Don't worry about the rest, baby.”
Hizashi, his perfect, lovely husband, was still being brave. He'd cried for hours, grieved for hours, and held himself steady because he knew Shouta had been scared. Yet here he was, despite all the evidence, telling Shouta he’d be alright, he'd survive it. He'd be fine, even with both of them knowing otherwise.
Telling him not to worry, like Shouta didn't know exactly how much it took him to not ask Shouta to stay, to never scare him like that, to never leave him.
Still smiling. Somehow, Hizashi was still smiling. Mic kept smiling. The world could end ten times over, and Hizashi will still find a reason to smile for Shouta.
The knot in his chest was too much. Hizashi was holding him, but the space between them still felt wide. Too fucking cold.
Shouta crashed into Hizashi and kissed him.
The kiss was hot, messy, and completely desperate. Hizashi's skin tasted like salt. Shouta let his fingers tangle in the blond hair and tugged at the strands.
Their nose crashed and his stitches pulled sharply but he didn't care. Shouta just wanted to be closer.
His body moved before his thoughts could catch up. He was up on his knees now, straddling Hizashi and felt Hizashi's waist pressed to his inner thighs. He cupped his face, thumbing at his cheekbones like it would be the last thing he did.
“God, Sho.”
Hizashi pulled away to breathe, looking dazed with pupils blown wide and black, but Shouta didn't wait. He used this opportunity to press his lips over the warm skin of his temple.
Brushed his lips over each of his puffy eyelids, only slowing down for this movement.
Hizashi’s breath hitched under him, his grip warm.
Shouta pressed closer and pushed Hizashi back, feeling the solid muscle of his chest. Felt his heartbeat jump under his fingers. If he were to drown, so be it, then. He'd drown in Hizashi.
Hizashi caught himself with his elbow. He stilled Shouta's hand that tugged at his waistband, feeling the bare skin and muscles of his back pulled taut.
“Wait.” Hizashi tilted his face up to break away from the kiss. His lips were red and swollen, shining. “You're gonna pull your stitches.”
His voice was raspy and sent a shiver down Shouta's spine. Shouta kissed him again, biting at his lower lip now.
“Don't. care.”
Hizashi sat upright, all the while not breaking from his mouth. Shouta felt Hizashi's arms fit around his back, snug.
“Let me take you to bed,” Hizashi said, and his arms tightened around him. He lifted Shouta before he could answer.
The room swayed, flipping his stomach.
Shouta wrapped his legs around him, tightened his legs around Hizashi's waist. His heels dug into the firm muscle of his ass, urging him closer.
Hizashi had a smile all soft and knowing, and Shouta wanted to kiss it off his face, missing it already. Never mind that his lips had left Hizashi's seconds back.
They'd reach the bedroom within a minute, right. He mouthed at his neck instead, sucked in a bruise. Felt Hizashi’s pulse ran wild.
He bit at the skin after, letting his tongue lap over the bruise.
“Fuck,” Hizashi swore lowly.
Hizashi lowered him onto the edge of the mattress, and the sheets felt cool and crisp against his heated skin. The light from the hallway lit up the gold of his hair like a halo, making Hizashi look ethereal, like an angel.
Shouta's fingers fumbled at Hizashi's shirt, hands brushing against the thin chain that hung there and the simple silver ring dangling against his chest, still warm from his skin.
The shirt came off and joined his own clothes that were thrown unceremoniously across the floor. And Hizashi was finally over him, pressing Shouta into the softness of the mattress.
He could feel his hair spread over the pillow, dark streaks splayed across, except for strands that stuck to his neck with sweat.
“You look so pretty, baby,” Hizashi whispered into his ear, and it sent a whole new wave of arousal and need through his veins.
“Get on with it,” Shouta demanded, voice rough.
Hizashi squeezed above his knee, grounding him. He felt fingers press into him, already slick with lube. Shouta's hand grabbed the cream bedsheet and he let his head roll over the pillow, feeling the coolness against his flushed cheeks.
Hizashi added another finger and stretched him, and the pressure made his toes curl. The air over his bare chest was cold, making him feel strangely exposed without Hizashi's weight over him.
Why was Hizashi taking so long?
“Zashi, move.” Shouta growled, his voice breaking on the edge of a whine.
“You have to relax,” Hizashi said, his tone patient but edged with strain, fingers stilling inside him for a moment. “You're too tense.”
He wanted to snap at him to continue, that he liked the burn, that he could take it all and more.
“It's fine.” Shouta managed. Sure, Hizashi was right, he was too wired up and he knew that, but-
He breathed out anyway, unclenched deliberately, and let himself focus on Hizashi's fingers, the thick scent of the room, Hizashi's voice as he continued to breathe out little encouragements every so often.
Hizashi finally pushed in and the fullness was overwhelming. Shouta was already leaking, trapped between them both. Finally.
His patience paid off. He felt the warm press of lips over his face, his neck, as Hizashi started the pace.
“You with me?” Hizashi asked, words pressed into the skin where his neck met his jaw.
“Y-yeah.”
The sounds of their shared breathing fill the room. The sound of skin on skin and Hizashi’s grunts and Shouta's sharp exhales mingled. The occasional sound of their wedding rings clinking joined them.
His nails dig into Hizashi's back, gripping harder than he'd usually let himself be.
“Slow down, Sho.” There wasn't any real command behind it, just concern.
His eyes burned, stinging from the intensity and the emotions swelling unchecked.
Shouta didn't care. He had craved this exact thing since last October, almost a year. He just didn't know how to ask then. Didn't know this was something he still needed.
He felt alive.
The room was filled, completely theirs. Their little corner of the world.
Hizashi started thrusting faster, deeper, and Shouta gave himself to the pleasure and relief. His breathing evened out, inch by inch, until the noise in his head dulled to something manageable.
His vision blurred, softening the edges.
He felt wetness on his cheek and Hizashi’s blurred face was already looking at him. His bun had golden strands falling apart at the sides. They framed his face so prettily.
He threw an arm over his face to block the tears as they pooled at his temples, and took in a shaking breath, finding himself matching Hizashi's pace again, hips rolling deeper.
“It's alright.” Hizashi nudged Shouta's arm back down and left his own arm caging Shouta's head. His muscles flexed. “You don't have to hold back.”
Shouta nodded, not trusting his voice for anything more than breathing, the lump in his throat was too thick for that. He let the tears flow into his hair, not like he had a choice, not really. Hizashi didn't make it a big deal, probably for Shouta's own sake. But he pressed a kiss to the side of Shouta’s eyes, right over the salt and wetness.
Hizashi didn't slow, like he knew that would be worse. Like Hizashi already knew it was the only thing holding him from falling apart completely.
And finally, finally, Shouta clenched around Hizashi, muscles seizing and his thoughts went blissfully numb.
He was distantly aware of Hizashi's grunt, going still and nails digging into his shoulder, filling him completely.
Shouta let his eyes stay closed, lashes damp against his cheeks. The room was silent except for the sound of their shallow breaths, air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
He felt at peace, body loose and heavy. Floating.
Hizashi stayed on top of him for a moment, then a while. The weight shifted, and there was the sound of the nightstand drawer opening, some shuffling.
Shouta scrunched his nose.
“Cute,” Hizashi murmured fondly. Shouta was too spent to glare back.
“Eighty percent of this drawer is your stuff,” Hizashi observed, lifting a jelly packet that's lived there for a month now.
“Mmh,” Shouta answered, barely more than a sound. “Since the rest of the house is all yours.”
Hizashi huffed under his breath, nudging things aside before pushing the drawer shut.
“You’re so mean to me, babe.”
He felt Hizashi wipe him down gently, his stomach and thighs, then pausing to trace his fingers around the knife wound. It was an angry red, pain flaring from the exertion but it wasn't bleeding. The stitches were still in place.
Shouta turned his face into the pillow, voice thick with sleep. “You love me anyway.”
The laugh that followed was warm and helpless. “Course.”
Hizashi settled in beside him and threw a comforter over them both.
“I'll wake you up, next time,” Shouta promised, unprompted, and the words disappeared into the quiet of the room.
There was always a next time. Being Pro-heroes pretty much guaranteed it, and the alternative there won't be was much, much worse.
Hizashi reached over, clicking the lamp off, and the room settled into darkness as he tangled his foot with Shouta’s in silent acknowledgement.
“Go to sleep, Sho.”
He let himself drift.