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The first time Shouta wakes, it is with a shuddering gasp that cracks his jaw further and sends pain sparking across his skull like firecrackers. He lurches up anyway, his students at his lips, and it takes two nurses to help Recovery Girl hold him down for sedation. The second time, he wakes enough to realise the pain isn't a monster's grasp, hears the fluttering pulse of his heart rate monitor, and rasps through the breathing tube after his students. They tell him they are fine, if only to placate him so that he will answer their questions. He remembers the heroes entrance, a piercing voice through dark foggy desperation, so he answers, and then passes out. The third, an interrogation. Does he remember the villain's point of entry? Identifying quirks of the villains that escaped? Every word their ringleader said for a clue to their next moves? Shouta remembers all of that and more, talks until his throat is parched and burnt, and finally, finally, Recovery Girl chases them all out.
She sits by his bedside and tells him, hesitantly, of the precarious state of his eyes. And he'd guessed, but didn't ask before; he was in no state to help the villain chase, giving information had been more crucial than his injuries. Which would explain why, till now, the world has been a pitch black darkness that light refused to shine through. Eraserhead without his eyesight? Eraserhead without his quirk? Shouta's heart rate spikes, and the heart rate monitor gives him away.
"Now, now, Aizawa sensei," says Recovery Girl, "I'm keeping you here for overnight observation, so have a rest first. I'm sure we'll figure this out tomorrow."
Worrying about a future that is yet a reality is foolish, he supposes. He closes his eyes, and though he is still frightened, his exhaustion drags him to sleep.
~ ~ ~
It is a funny thing to wake up again, to a darkness that is also deathly silent. The pain has dulled to a throb, albeit one that wrapped around his entire skull, and his arms... Well he can feel them, can strain his fingers against the casts, so that's a good sign. What disturbs him more is the silence, save for his heart monitor. If he strains through the bandages that muffle out his surroundings, he can hear… birds chirping? The sort of birds that only made noise at the ass crack of dawn, so it must be early the next day? It has to be, if there is no sound of the police, or the nurses, or any of the bustle of school. Hardly one to stay in bed all day, even after suffering critical injuries, Shouta makes to get off the bed.
"And just what do you think you're doing, hmm , Aizawa sensei?"
Recovery Girl's voice is both a blessing and a curse. He appreciates the company, but has to sink back down onto the infirmary bed like an invalid. Tch.
"Well, sensei, I heard you did a fine job protecting your students..." She sighs. "If only you could've done it more neatly, eh?"
Shouta smiles despite himself, a tweak at the corner of his lips.
"The good news is, I managed to piece together your orbital bone, so structurally, your skull is sound… In fact, all your bones, the fractures, they've all been set back to their rightful places."
"And the bad?"
"It took a lot out of you. The flesh wounds are still raw and there might be some facial scarring. With your arms, they'll need at least a month to recover properly. I'll notify the school, the others will take over your classes"
A month? He didn't have this sort of time to waste, not with all that has happened, the state of the school and its security, the villains rising, and, his students. He knows trauma, the potential for ruin. It wouldn't do to leave them in such a vulnerable state. At very least, he thinks of Tsuyu's frightened face, he could assure them that he isn't dead. "... A week. And I keep my non-physical classes."
"Do I look so cheap as to bargain, sensei?"
There is this exasperated disdain in her voice; Shouta winces. "Two weeks."
Recovery Girl sighs. "This isn't negotiable, Aizawa sensei. The time your body needs is the time it needs."
"Two weeks, and I'll keep the casts on the entire time."
Finally, finally, Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. "That's all I'm getting out of you, I suppose. If. IF you are able to see."
It gives Shouta a jolt. He'd forgotten. Many villains in the past had tried to aim for his eyes, though none have succeeded. This might be the first time in his entire hero career that his reinforced goggles had been broken while on his face. At Recovery Girl's touch, he forces himself to stay still, keep himself steady as layers and layers of bandages are peeled off.
For a brief second, breath caught, he is blind and the world is light. But surely his vision begins to adapt again to the light after such a long period of darkness. The infirmary sharpens into – not focus, but he can make out the familiar white walls, the blur grey of infirmary furniture, Recovery Girl's terse smile.
"I can see," he tells her, and whatever tension melts out of her smile. She starts an eye examination and Shouta answers best he can but something catches at the corner of his blurry vision.
There is a blond flash behind her shoulder. Shouta's spirit lifts on instinct, and is rewarded.
Present Mic sits at the far end of the infirmary, quietly watching. When Shouta raises his cast at him, I'm fine, then lets it droop limply at the elbow, more or less, Mic perks up and leaps off his seat, waving frantically.
"He's been here every chance he had, between the debriefs and the staff meetings. Made so much noise when they wouldn't let him see you, when they let the investigators and the police in first. Refused to leave the school when I told him he didn't have visitation rights." Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. "I feel for him but rules are rules. Such a nuisance."
"Hardly a surprise," Shouta points out. Even in his high school days, when Recovery Girl was new at her post in the school, and Shouta had been throwing himself into every right with the ferocity of a cornered animal to defend his promotion from Gen Ed to Heroics, Hizashi would be sitting at his bedside when he woke. Often he was the one to carry him there in the first place. So of course, Shouta had to return the favour in the following years. And at some point in their budding hero careers, he'd woken up on crisp hospital sheets and found fingers laced together, or Hizashi would come to a soft touch to his hair. He supposes in this circumstance, there isn't the opportunity, but just the sight of him is good. If he's here, if they're letting 'mere co-workers' in to visit, it means the situation is over.
When Recovery Girl clears her throat, Shouta realised he's missed her last two questions, and turns back guiltily. She smiles, like they're sharing an inside joke, and says instead, "Of course I'd prefer if you stayed for overnight observation –" she chuckles as he tenses like a cornered cat, heckles raised "– but I suppose if you have him to watch over you, I can let you go home."
"I'll ask," replies Shouta, for appearance sake. As if he would be able to rid of him even if he somehow wanted to.
"As if he'd say no when it's you ," Recovery Girl snorts. A pause, then she adds, "Because he's such a good man, of course."
Shouta regards her suspiciously. "He is."
"Well." She turns, to hide her smile, towards Mic. "Let's call that good man over, shall we?"
All at once, Mic is a blur of pinwheeling limbs as he rushes over.
"Shouta!" he whispers in some semblance of being considerate; still, his voice is as loud as a normal speaking voice, and it reaches across the room before him.
"Ah, I best not get in the way of this," says Recovery Girl, shuffling off. She thwaps Mic on the head with her walking stick as she passes him on the way out. "Be gentle, you hear? Nothing too loud, I just stitched back his ossicles."
"Shouta," he says again, a little softer, but there is a funny quake in his voice. Does he really look that terrible? Shouta has to interrupt.
"Mic," he breathes, and it is muffled through the bandages but he winces at the relief heavy in his own voice. Distinctly, he is aware of Recovery Girl bustling in the next room. When he looks back at Hizashi, however, there's a funny look on the man's face. Shouta frowns and squints, finds rubble and dust still in his hair and his hero costume, dirt smeared in dried sweat across his face. Shouta had spent the night in the infirmary, but Hizashi still hasn't had the chance to clean up? Hadn't gone home yet? "It's been a long day… It's good to see you, but I'm just ready for all this to be over."
"[Right.] Eraserhead." Gently, Hizashi shifts his hair for a better look, ostensibly to check the injuries, but his eyes searching for a safe space to touch. Shouta sighs, and leans into his hand. No better way of ridding the ghost of the Nomu's hand in his hair, than replacing it with Hizashi's touch. "Hey, hey, seems like you're all in one piece. [So cool!]"
Shouta rumbles and grumbles but is otherwise content to nuzzle into his hand.
"… Well, hero," says Mic, and there's a funny sort of strained fondness in his voice, "What shall we do next?"
We. If Shouta was the smiling type, if it didn't hurt so much, he would.
Logically, he should stay in the infirmary for further monitoring, and then, because there was no way he'd let something like this stop him from missing class with his students, it'd be easier to get to work because he's already on school grounds?
"Take me home, Hizashi," he says finally.
There is huffed laughter, and the ghost of his touch around the shell of his ear, the only part he can touch without hurting him. "[Of course, my number one listener!]" and then softer, "I'll get the wheelchair."
~ ~ ~
The car ride home is a long and noisy one – Hizashi doesn't usually drive them, and add that Shouta asks for updates on their situation, he ends up driving painfully slow and over cautious – but even then Shouta feels better already. Better still that Hizashi had taken them to his home, instead of the barren apartment Shouta technically still lives in, but not often. He can tell by the radio Hizashi never remembers to turn off, and the the smell of, well, the man himself. Much better than the staleness of his own place.
"I'm taking you right to bed," Hizashi tells him, a soft voice behind his ear as he helps him off the wheelchair. "Unless you need food?"
Shouta's stomach still churns with liquidated hospital slop, and his throat is still sore from the tube they fed him with; he shakes his head.
"[Okay!] Straight to bed it is then! And don't worry, there's no school today, so you don't have to worry about missing class." He laughs like the thought of Shouta stumbling into class all bandaged up is hilarious, but his hands tighten around his shoulders all the same as he leads them to the bedroom. "Don't get any ideas okay? Your off day is for resting. I'll head to school and sort it out. [Trust me, Shouta!]"
"You have to go to school right now?"
Hizashi peers at the clock by his bedside. "School is cancelled, but I've got to go for the staff meeting. I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"
Shouta wants badly to say no, but he doesn't. It'd be selfish. He burrows down into the covers instead, and sulks at the sound of Hizashi starting up the shower so that he can clean up before heading back to school. Before he knows it, he's waking up a few hours later, face on fire, to grope for the painkillers Hizashi left on the nightstand, and to reluctantly stomach some soup, also left on the nightstand, in a thermos. Then he sleeps.
Miracle of miracles, the next time he wakes up, Hizashi is back home, padding around the room in the sweatpants he usually wears to bed. It must be late.
"Hurry up and get in," Shouta grumbles, pushing at the covers with one cast.
"What? What for?" Hizashi pauses, pillow in hand. "Ahh, does Shouta want a lullaby before he sleeps?!" If looks could kill, Hizashi would have been maimed by now. Hizashi laughs, and pats his head. "Silly, I'll just be on the couch outside."
Shouta headbutts the hand away. "Yeah? And how long has it been since you last slept properly?"
"Unlike you, I wasn't stuck in bed the whole –" He falters at the look Shouta gives him. "[Okay, okay! I give up!] Can't get anything past you, can I?! Ahh, my Shouta is so smart! [No?]" He chuckles sheepishly. "You caught me. I slept while you were sleeping, in the infirmary."
"You weren't let in until this morning... Did you sleep outside? In the hallway?" Shouta clicks his tongue. "Typical. Get in."
"I move a lot in my sleep," Hizashi protests, as if Shouta didn't already grouse enough about how he tries to smother him every night. "Ah, Shouta, why are you like this?" His voice is hopelessly fond, and yet he doesn't get into the damn bed. "I might hurt you... it's only logical," he adds, seeing Shouta frown slightly behind the bandages.
"I need all the rest possible, and I sleep better when I'm with you." He lies down with his casts on his stomach, making as much space as possible for Hizashi, then tilts his head towards the space plaintively. "It's only logical that you're worth the risk."
He knows he's won; Hizashi splutters and flusters and turns so red that Shouta can see his flush even through his blurry vision. Carefully, Hizashi shuffles over to the other side of the bed and perches delicately against the headboard.
"What are you doing?"
"Minimizing my potential damage radius."
"You can't sleep properly like that. It'll defeat the purpose."
"But I'm here with you!"
"The purpose," Shouta sighs, speaking slowly as though explaining something to a particularly dense student, "is to get you a good night's sleep in bed."
Hizashi shuffles lower so that he is almost lying down, but mostly slouching heavily. "[There,]" he declares, and to stop and protest, presses up warm against him.
"Good." Pushing his face against Hizashi's shoulder, Shouta finally closes his eyes to sleep.
"You're really troublesome, you know that?" A kiss to his hair. "G'night, Shouta."
~ ~ ~
Hizashi is uncharacteristically quiet in the morning. Without protest, he lets Shouta run through his reasonings.
"My legs are fine, I can still get to my classes," he says, as Hizashi helps him shower, and there is no response but the water.
"1-A doesn't have any practical scheduled with me this week," he tries, and the man only hums in reply as he towels him down.
"I never did much as a teacher anyway," he says finally, casts on Hizashi's shoulder as Hizashi sits on the bed with his underwear ready for him to step into. Shaking his head with a fond, disbeliving smile, he presses a kiss to Shouta's hip as he helps him into his boxer briefs, and not a coy kiss but one atop the scar from their first mission together. Then he... stops. Stays like that with his mouth against Shouta's shower warm skin, breathing in the scent of him. His whiskers tickle and makes Shouta shiver, but even when Shouta puts on cast on the top of his head in question, he still doesn't move.
He stops and still he doesn't say anything so Shouta slides the cast down his blond hair, nudges at his chin gently in the only fond gesture he's capable of, then gets off the bed to fetch his hero outfit. He nearly manages to nudge it off its hanger, before a hand reaches around him, and takes it down for him.
Hizashi wraps his arms around his waist from behind and says, "[hey,]" preppy English, then pauses. "Come home with me tonight." Shouta thinks it's a compromise. They don't tend to go home together, is suspicious, but it'd be odd this time if Shouta were let out alone.
Classes are... Endurable. Where usually Shouta had with his classes spent the weeks before the school festival dropping heavy hints on how to self train. This year's class however doesn't need any sort of prompting, doesn't need much guidance. He informs them know how to book various training grounds, directs the more studious students towards the correct libraries on campus, but otherwise lets them deal with their training by themselves.
By the time school is let out, Shouta is ready to expire. He's at his desk, warm in his sleeping bag, but the words on the papers in front of him swirl. Doesn't help that he's marking the third year papers, whose handwritings have given up long ago.
Most of the time, after the world's fastest shower (Hizashi despairs over the state of his hair, and secretly swaps out his dollar store shampoo with his own expensive one), then a quick dinner (Hizashi tries to sneakily fill his juice packs with hearty soup and that's pushing it, but Shouta humours him), Shouta just barely manages to slide into bed, and is asleep the second his head touches the pillow.
Then he tries to use his quirk for the first time since the attack, and near knocks himself out with the resulting migraine. That night, after the shower and the dinner, he makes it to the couch, and makes it no farther. The human body is amazing, he muses, that it could have every bit of energy drained from it, sitting corpse like against the cushions, but still retain all that aching tension in his neck, his shoulders, the clench of his breath somewhere between his throat and the cavity of his chest.
Recovery Girl was right; a week really hadn't been enough, but he had to know the state of his quirk, his hero abilities. It would be a huge breach of vigilance to be ignorant of himself and his circumstance. There are plans to be made, both the short term of his rehabilitation and the fortification of the school's security system, and the long terms of his hero career. There is work to be done, but all Shouta can contemplate, is whether Hizashi would let him pitch sideways onto the couch cushions, and pass out right there and then.
Speak of the devil, there's a sudden warmth at his side, and then Hizashi has his arm over his shoulders, shifting him until he can press his thumbs into the knots of tension in his neck. Just his touch alone has Shouta shuddering, and the breath that was caught escapes in a content exhale, and then the massage begins in earnest, and Shouta could weep with gratitude.
"Feel good, babe?" It does, so good that Shouta can't even complain about that terrible pet name. "[Good, good]. Hey Shouta, listen, I was thinking, yea? About you – I mean, I'm always thinking about you, but lately, recently –"
And Shouta doesn't mean to tune him out but somewhere between his ramblings and that delicious pressure from his hands making its way down to his shoulders… he starts to drift off into this foggy, pleasure tinged daze. When the support of Hizashi's hands lift suddenly, Shouta nearly falls backward, jerking awake to catch himself at the very last moment.
"Woah, hey there, Shouta, hold on."
Through his sleep haze, Shouta vaguely registers Hizashi fumbling with something behind him, and then the slight, cold touch of metal against his neck. A chain? A necklace? He is distracted when Hizashi kisses the nape of his neck, moustache tickling just slightly. Arms wind around his waist, and he does fall back this time, against Hizashi's broad chest. Hizashi chortles into his hair and Shouta shudders. Hizashi had once said he liked smelling himself on him
"[C'mon Sleeping Beauty!]" In one swift, smooth motion, Hizashi has him cradled in his arms as he stands. "Let's get you to bed.
Once cosy under the covers, Hizashi spoons against his back, and kisses the back of his neck again. "No rush or anything, Shouta, I'd wait forever if i had to… Just, think about it, okay?"
Shouta hums in reply, but he's already half asleep.
~ ~ ~
He remembers the necklace only the next morning, when Hizashi grins shyly, tugs on it to reel him in for a morning kiss. Then Hizashi tucks the necklace back under Shouta's black coveralls, and putters noisily into the bathroom to finish his convoluted morning routine. His hair alone takes a good twenty minutes at least.
Meanwhile, Shouta… cannot tell what is hanging around his neck. His casts are too bulky to try and fish the necklace out, and anyway, from the feel of it high on his sternum, he wouldn't be able to look down at it anyway. If Hizashi had said anything last night… Shouta can't quite remember.
He pushes at it with one cast, trying to make out the shape of it against his chest. Circular… A ring? His heart clenches. It couldn't be… could it? Why now, after the ten odd years they've been together? Sure they've hit thirty, but – but what? Was this Hizashi's way of asking him to settle down with him? Why him? Hizashi could do a lot better than an unkempt weirdo who sleeps all over the place in neon sleeping bags; he's lived for years secretly thanking his luck that the course of their lives have stuck them together, as students and now as teachers in the same school. Shouta is glad for it, immensely so, but he can find no logical reason that Hizashi would want to… change their status now.
It all becomes clear when Shouta stumbles to the kitchen, in hopes that coffee will clear his head of such wild fantasies, and finds paperwork on the kitchen table. It's his own hero profile, Eraserhead's particulars, and then a request to add Hizashi to his emergency contacts. The only slot available on his emergency contact form is – for a wild moment, Shouta battles the thought of Hizashi wanting to marry his mother just to earn visitation rights. Would've worked too; his mother loved him, and his radio show. Then he sees the papers underneath, a civil union form, both sides filled with Hizashi's large, crammed writing. All that's left is for Aizawa to sign it. He doesn't keep his seal at Hizashi's house, but he has one on his desk at school somewhere. He'll do it then send it out with the school's mail.
And that's exactly what he does when he remembers the papers during lunch break. Hizashi isn't back from his class yet, so he gets All Might to help him stamp the forms, one cast carefully blocking out the rest of it, and then gets the hero to help him seal it into the envelope, and delivered to the school post.
So that's what it was all about. Not a proper proposal, but one of convenience. It must have been a shock, for Shouta to end up in the hospital again, when he'd already become a school teacher. It'd be nice, Shouta supposes, to have Hizashi by his side in hospitals in case anything were to happen. Long ago, he'd changed it such that his mother would only be notified if he were good and dead, to spare her being summoned to the hospital all those times during his more prolific hero days. At his age, to have this routine change, it feels… good. Even if they weren't quite a family, he almost looks forward to having Hizashi exercising that privilege to be by his side.
So that's that, and settled and done with even though what could have been sometimes snags on his ribs, aches just a little bit. He doesn't expect it, when Hizashi brings it up.
"The papers on the kitchen table, didya... clear them?"
Shouta blinks at his choice of words. "Yeah, the day you left them there."
"Well." Hizashi laughs; it's his radio show laugh. "Guess that's one way of giving me your answer."
Is it nervous jitters? The shock of commitment? Shouta crowds him into their bedroom, kisses him onto the bed. It's long and messy, and by the end of it, Shouta is straddled across his lap, nibbling at his bottom lip as his hands tug at his t-shirt. Hizashi gasps into his mouth, then pulls away and arches so that Shouta can pull his t-shirt off more easily. It brings his chest right there in front of Shouta's face, so of course he has to bite and suck naughty red marks down the broad expanse of it.
Huffed laughter, Hizashi's arm fall around Shouta's waist, grasping and drawing until Shouta is sitting flush against his growing erection. "Making it up to me by doing all the work tonight?"
Was he that upset Shouta hadn't told him he settled and cleared the paperwork? "Sure, if that's what you want."
Another laugh, then a hitch of breath as Shouta grinds his hips down. "How rare," he teases, then Shouta occupies his mouth.
~ ~ ~
Hizashi's been acting funny for days, and for all that they're glued together at the hip these days, Shouta just can't figure out what he's done wrong. He tries to make up for it, sticks as close as Hizashi wants, helps Hizashi plan the Sports Festival, and even lets himself be talked into being a commentator with him. Correction, he sits on a computer chair while Hizashi types furiously at his computer, spins a few rounds, makes suggestions where he can, and grunts wordlessly when Hizashi asks him to join him in the commentator booth.
Shouta tries to think of ways to make it up to them, but his hands are tied, quite literally. Maybe… When was the last time they went on a date? Proper dates, that weren't dinners at the oden stall down the road, or ramen three blocks down, sake sipped slowly in a corner booth as their legs knock into each other under rickety wooden tables. Hizashi likes going out, but it's difficult with the risk of people recognising who he is. His casual clothes are very different, that's for sure, but his handsome looks always draws attention, and his voice is unmistakable. Still, when Hizashi asks him out for lunch over the weekend, he agrees.
For once, Shouta is glad when fans interrupt their date. This time it is a small cluster of giggling young women who don't even notice that Present Mic has company, but their eyes are so shiny with admiration, and their pleas so polite and earnest, that Hizashi shoots him a sheepish look of apology.
"I'll wander the mall a bit, so take your time," he tells Hizashi, then buries his face in his scarf and shuffles away in case one of the girls, flinching and turning at the sound of his voice, recognises him.
His scarf is Hizashi's scarf he realised after a while, because he is surrounded by his scent and the smell of his aftershave. It makes him want to kiss him; he wraps the scarf tighter around his face and quickens his pace.
What would make most sense is the music shop that sold the headphones that Hizashi was eyeing, but Shouta's feet bring him outside a jewellery store instead. If he got a ring, then Hizashi should get a ring too, right? It didn't have to mean anything.
The moment he steps inside, and the preppy sales girl quakes at the sight of him, wild hair and bloodshot eyes peeking through the bandages, he is filled with a deep sense of regret.
"I need to buy a ring for someone –" At once, suspicion lifts off her face, replaced by the glee that one can't help but feel at the sight of a gruff single man braving the store to buy a ring for a significant other. She might even have cooed at him. "– but clearly, that was a mistake, considering my condition." He spins on his heel to exit, but already she has closed the shop door behind them. She appears to have a mutation quirk in form of grey black skin and large curling horns, but there's no ruling out super speed. Shouta briefly considers activating his quirk and risking the headache in attempt to escape.
"Don't worry, sir!" She claps her hands together, then crowds him such that he has to step further into the shop. Once she's satisfied with his position in front of their shiniest display, she turns to him with that bright salesgirl smile. "We'll do everything we can to help you find the right ring, even with your circumstance!"
Well. If it means she'll do all the work, he supposes he could suffer this a while. "I need a ring," he tells her, "for my... Partner."
"Of course, sir! What kind of ring are you looking for?"
"... A nice one."
"How nice?" She squints at him.
Shouta thinks of the solid weight of it against his sternum. Once, he'd peered into the bathroom mirror close enough that his forehead near hits it. The ring, he discovered, was an intricate knot of some gleaming black material. It's hard to Imagine Hizashi picking it out, running the risk of being recognised as he terrified the salesgirl to find the perfect ring. Perhaps she had recognised him. Then he'd have to come up with some sort of cover wife. Or, he'd deny that it was a present all together, since he was buying a typically mens' sized ring. How troublesome. "Very nice."
"Engagement ring nice?" At his loud snort of denial, she squints harder. "Then what's the occasion?"
I nearly died again, and Hizashi got tired of waiting outside on stiff benches and empty hallways, so a ring was the most convenient option. "He gave me one."
When he offers no further information, she tries, "Well okay, how long have you two been together?"
"Ten years."
"Ten –" Her brow furrows. "Ten years, but not an engagement ring?"
"I said that already."
"Of course, my apologies." She bites her lip, as though this pains her more than it does him. He really, really doubts it. "Okay, let's start with the basics. Does she have any quirk that the ring has to accommodate for?"
Ring size isn't a problem. Shouta has been privy to Hizashi's hero costume specs for years, including his gloves. But his quirk? Or his job for that matter? "A regular shaped ring will do. It has to be... Sturdy. And non-conductive. He works with... Machines."
"Well, we have these silicon rings that have been a trend lately." From beneath the counter, she retrieves a tray, lined with black felt, studded with rings.
As Shouta stares down at the bands of rubber... rubber bands... he's glad his hands are in casts, or he might be tempted to loop one around his finger and twang it at her. "Maybe something less... Play date."
She stifles a laugh and slides a next tray over. "Ceramic?"
"Wouldn't it shatter with one solid punch?"
She makes a face, does he punch his machines? but takes this in stride too. "Carbon fibre, then?"
The rings are a sleek black, and many intricately corded. "Oh. I think that's what he got me."
She brightens but when Shouta doesn't react any further, she slides the tray hesitantly away. "Wood then? Not the ones with metal inlays, but perhaps – these?"
The variety is stunning, from intricately carved works of art, to simple smooth bands. He dismisses the fancy carved ones, and then the simple, plain ones that wouldn't suit Hizashi at all. That leaves him with… Full wood, inlaid with precious stones. One in particular catches his eyes, a deep, dark wood that glinted in the light, as though there was some sort of star dust beneath its surface.
"It's ebony, bentwood. Inlaid with crushed meteorite," she tells him, when he asks. It sounds promising, and though his cheeks already pinken, he tries very hard not to think of Hizashi as –
"Out of this world, isn't it? Good for partners who are your world," she informs him with a knowing smile, "or if they remind you of stars."
Hiding his face in his scarf, Shouta narrows his eyes at her. "Must you?"
She beams. "It's my job, sir!"
And she does it very well, considering she talks him not only into the ring, but a plush velvet case, with its pale gold ribbon the colour of Hizashi's hair. He even lets her tuck the case into the deep pocket of his sweatpants.
When he finally returns to the cafe he left Hizashi at, he finds the man sitting alone and frowning terribly.
"Where have you been?!" Hizashi demands. "You disappeared for half an hour, and I couldn't even call you."
"Right, well." The ring case feels like it is burning through the fabric of his sweatpants. "It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't – fine. Fine, whatever, come one, let's just go."
Shouta lets Hizashi drag him off, preoccupied. The problem now is how to deliver the ring. With the casts, he can't even put it on his finger. The case remains in the sweatpants which he kicks to a corner of their wardrobe so Hizashi doesn't find them.
~ ~ ~
People mistake Hizashi's brash personality as air-headed a lot of the time, but the fact of the matter is, Yamada Hizashi, Present Mic, Voice Hero, DJ extraordinaire, is an extremely clever man. It isn't just his love of music that he'd decided to split his time hosting radio shows, reaching out to the public in a different way in the Era of All Might.
Or at least, Shouta's tries to remind himself of this, when Hizashi bodily drags him by the collar towards the commentator booth.
For whatever Hizashi's planning, it turns out… alright for the most part. At first. He doesn't have to say much, and for all that Hizashi's praising him as the teacher of 1-A, he doesn't lay out his identity as Eraserhead to the public, instead calling him Mummyman or Bandages. It's good press, he supposes, that the teacher of the scandal class shows himself to be well, up and about despite his injuries. And impatient as he is, Shouta wouldn't put it past him to start… forward planning for the next disaster. It makes sense, he knows, to build a more relatable, compassionate homeroom teacher, because 1-A was sure to attract more trouble before the year is out… but it still doesn't stop him from elbowing the man in the ribs to defend Bakugou. And Uraraka as well.
He doesn't expect it to turn into a fight, when the festival is over, and they're standing with Hizashi's bed between them.
"[So?!] Let the media think what they want! Let the audience think what they want." Hizashi pulls himself straight, with the authority of the Voice Hero, media sensation. "If the school insists on displaying the quirks of our tiny listeners even before they get a chance as surprise potential in the field, then the least I could do is help them keep some sort of secret. The girl with her face and her quirk will always be underestimated! It'd serve her better if she learns to take advantage of it."
"And Bakugou?"
"If the people want to assume that the boy is simply loud and angry, then let them! He's smarter than most, he'll know how to handle himself."
"Right, it's the loud ones that always have something up their sleeves." Shouta prickles with irritation. "Deception, of course, that's what you're good at. I forget which one of us is the underground hero."
Hurt flashes across Hizashi's expression, before it turns to anger. "Oh right, like I'm the one who's been leading us on all this time!"
"What? What are you even talking about?!"
"Fuck, you're so –" Hizashi glares at his chest, then grabs a pillow and stalks out of the room.
"Where are you going?!"
"If I can't kick your ass out of me bed, I gotta go myself, don't I?!" And with that, he slams the bedroom door behind him, leaving Shouta in the dark alone.
~ ~ ~
Always busy with something.
Shouta had thought with the removal of the casts, that there'd be chance then to apologise. Or ask what to apologise for, because it seemed that Hizashi was actually angry at something else, though he can't quite tell what. Then there's the matter of the ring. Shouta needs to… Not propose, but just, give him the ring like one would, presenting a gift that no ulterior connotation whatsoever. But there are exam papers to write. And a weakness in his arms that have to be rehabilitated. And his quirk's been affected by this round of injuries, so he needs to deal with that too.
Cementoss is more than happy to comply with the latter. He spends an hour a day, idly rolling hard, dry cement in his hand like it's putty, as he grades papers. Shouta sits by his side, stopwatch in hand, and times how long he can keep his eyes open, cement block falling into Cementoss' hand in its mangled state, solid. Then, he has to time how long his quirk takes to recharge. Technically, he doesn't have to, can reactivate his quirk immediately for a good… two seconds, before the blinding pain knocks him out. This takes over Shouta's free time, and by the end of the day, he's exhausted.
And Hizashi… hasn't been hovering like he used to. Greets him when they pass in the hallways, and takes them back to his apartment every night, but there's a weird tension between them that hadn't existed before. Shouta has noticed too, that Hizashi has taken to fingering the ring around his neck when they're in bed together, just sleeping, giving it cautious tugs. When Hizashi pills at the ring, Shouta pulls back. Whatever the state of their relationship, like hell he's going to let him take it back.
He is tempted to wear the ring once or twice, but on which finger? Not the ring finger, surely. As for the size – there is new scarring on his fingers that hasn't settled yet, and he's not sure yet what they'll look like after, but he's pretty sure they'd fit. And his hero costume never had gloves, so Hizashi didn't have the luxury he had that day in the jewelry store. Had to sneakily figure out his ring size and everything. Shouta had suspected once, because Hizashi had gotten into the habit of lacing their fingers together more often, pressing their fingers to his mouth absently, that he'd been thinking of... proposing. The weight of the word makes him wince. As does wedding. As does marriage. Commitment doesn't. It isn't an issue of that, but.
Maybe he was wrong in assuming it was any sort of promise. Maybe Hizashi's given up on it, gave him the ring as a gift instead. Shouta wouldn't blame him. Hizashi, despite the brashness, is an old fashioned man, likes his cassette tapes and his large vintage style headphones and the same style of sunglasses for years with no end in sight. Got him a traditional ring that hadn't been in style for years with the advent of fads that catered to mutation quirks. If he wanted an old fashioned, traditional wedding, or hell, even a partnership with any sort of stability, he isn't going to find it in a hero who can't even avoid risk at a teacher's desk in one of the most secure schools in the country.
And now all this fighting. It feels like their relationship has been pulled so tight between them, that soon it's going to snap. Dread sits heavy in the pit of Shouta's stomach, but worse still, he can't do a damned thing about it.
~ ~ ~
One evening, Shouta sits at the kitchen table, marking papers, and Hizashi sits on the floor at their coffee table, marking papers, when usually they would sit together, annoying him more than the terrible scripts before him – when pain takes a white hot poker to his temples.
To be quite honest, Shouta had thought himself over these near fatal injuries. When Hizashi and him had graduated and entered the field, it'd been the time of All Might's rise. Eraserhead chased the villains that tried to hide in the shadows away from All Might's glare, and Present Mic dealt with the clusters of villains before they could form a real team. And then at All Might's peak, it got quiet. They went to teaching and this, this should never have happened.
His orbital floor has healed with thick scarring, such that the nerves right above his brow were easily pinched, causing massive headaches. This isn't quite the surprise it should be, neither shocking nor devastating. His elbow still creaks where it had disintegrated. The pinky on his left hand is numb from when he'd been young and not quite as apt at hanging from his scarf. One knee is so thick with scar tissue that he'd have issues with mobility in his later years. Injuries, serious ones, crippling ones, are a fact of being a hero, but.
But it should be, Shouta thinks hazily over the white lightning in his temple, vision blinded, because shock or devastation would really have distracted from this pain.
If Hizashi intended to leave him, Shouta thinks pettily through the pain, he sure as hell couldn't leave now. Something about the pity that makes his stomach turn.
Bile hits the back of his throat.
Just barely he makes it to the kitchen sink, activating his quirk if just to get his hair out of the way. So his hair is clean as he loses his breakfast, but the sudden spear of pain makes his knees buckle. He barely catches himself on the sink. His quirk deactivates and vaguely he thinks of how troublesome it'd be to get vomit out of his hair. Then panic sets in. His knees have started to quake. Sweat slides down his face, or is it tears? He opens his mouth wide to gasp, but no sound comes out, all there is is harsh breath and pain and pain and –
There is a hand in his damp hair, gently combing it back. And then the pressure lifts from his shoulders and from his knees, though slowly but surely he sinks to the floor. He doesn't land on the cold tiles, doesn't knock against the kitchen cabinets, but is instead supported by a sure, firm warmth. Faintly, he registers the low, rough timbre of Hizashi's voice, can't quite make out what he's saying, but it relaxes him all the same. Tender and sore, the pain begins to seep away.
Shouta cracks an eye open. Sure enough, Hizashi is all around him, stroking his back and mumbling encouragement into his hair. "Did I... Throw up on you?"
"Uhm, no?" Hizashi squirms out of one side of his cardigan, the side with the suspicious damp patch on the front. "Well, okay, you may have drooled on me a little but, hey! Nothing I haven't done to you before."
Hero hazards. When they were young, they could hardly go a month without one getting poisoned, or another being gassed, and the results were always nasty. They both cringe.
"Fuckin' heroes," Shouta grumbles under his breath.
Hizashi laughs, a full bodied one that Shouta can feel. "Hey, hey. We made it through all those other… mishaps. We'll make it through this too."
"Yea, you're right, okay." Somehow, it sounds like Hizashi is talking about something more than being vomitted on. It's like whatever it was between them had snapped, but with the realisation that this, supporting each other through the worst of times, is more important than any strange, unsaid squabble. Shouta… doesn't want to deal with this covered in cold sweat and his own stomach acids. "C'mon, get up. You stink."
"And whose fault is that?!" Hizashi hoists the both of them up, one arm around his waist to stabilize him. "Take responsibility. Come shower with me."
~ ~ ~
It would seem that they've reached a new sort of equilibrium, so of course after school one day, Hizashi getting the mail and trailing behind him, of course it has to blow up in his face.
"[SHOUTA!]" he booms, his quirk activated – Shouta winces, the whole apartment block must have heard that, and turns to scold him – only to have Hizashi plow right into him. They hit the back of the couch, and tumble right over it, Shouta just barely managing to stick an arm out and make sure they land on it, instead of missing it all together.
"What are you –" he starts, but Hizashi isn't listening as pins Shouta to the couch cushions, chanting Shouta, Shouta, louder and louder until Shouta has to erase his quirk. He catches Hizashi's face in his hand, slipping once as Hizashi surges forward to kiss him, before he can hold him still. "Yes, Shouta, I'm Shouta, what are you going on about?"
"[You said yes!!]" Knees braced at either side of him, Hizashi leans forward to kiss him again, nips his bottom lip sharply, and tries to lick into his mouth.
It is all very distracting, but Shouta is still so confused. Reluctantly, he backs away, taking a deep breath to calm himself when Hizashi tries to chase his mouth with his. "To what?!"
"[ME.]"
"Well, yes, more often than I should," Shouta replies, and still doesn't understand. He has half a mind at this point, to haul the man off to his bedroom, and give in to all this enthusiastic making out. He hasn't had a chance, after all, to make use of his newly freed hands there yet.
"Oh." His words make Hizashi falter. "Are you... Have you had second thoughts?"
"About what?!"
"About what?!" Hizashi repeats, but ten times louder, and more offended. "Shouta, Shouta I love you, but why are you like this. Shouta, my love, my honey, do you want to marry me or not?!"
"WHAT." Shouta blusters. "Are you – are you proposing to me?!"
"What the hell, I proposed to you weeks ago. And I thought you rejected me - apparently not, but you still haven't answered me! I've been proposing to you for weeks." Hizashi throws his hands up, exasperated. "What did you think the ring was about?!"
"Rings don't go around necks!"
"Your hands were in casts!"
"And then after?!"
"You wouldn't let me take it off you!"
Okay, that one was his fault; Shouta flushes. "I like its weight," he mutters, around my neck, on my chest, near my heart,but Hizashi doesn't hear.
"And it's not like you were gonna wear it anyway!"
"Of course not," Shouta scoffs, "it'd interfere with work. And I don't want anyone speculating about my personal life." Hizashi's face falls, an indignant flush blooming dark across his cheeks. Shouta huffs at the sight of it. "If you weren't so noisy, you would've heard. I like it where it is."
Hizashi gapes at him, wordless for once. Shouta bears it a good two seconds, before he bucks the man off him, and clambers off the couch. "Wait, let me get something."
The ribbon's a bit squashed, but the box is so distinctly shaped that Hizashi shouts, "Is that a ring?!" before Shouta even makes it across the living room back to him. Bright red, Shouta pitches it at him, and it bounces off his forehead. He catches it on the rebound as Hizashi squawks and clutches his forehead, then quickly falls to one knee.
"Sh-Shouta?!"
"Shut up, let me, one of us should do this right."
Perched on the couch, Hizashi's hiding his face behind his hands, which would make this easier, him not seeing the blush that Shouta can feel staining his ears and his cheeks and, god help him, down his neck as well, except Hizashi's green green eyes are peeking through them, staring right through him in a way that made something in his chest ache… no, no, this was good, easier, better to stare into those eyes that always grounded him, makes the terrible, awful words he's saying flow out that much simpler.
"It has to be you. It can only be you. I know we haven't been the best lately, I haven't been the best to you, but through all of that – I never once thought of letting you go. I was going to fight for you. We've been together for half our lives, and it has always been you, Hizashi. Marry me?"
And Hizashi is – crying. Big fat tears spilling from his glassy green eyes as he starts to sniff. "What the hell," he chokes out, "That's so unfair! I was supposed to be the one to propose, and you're the one who's supposed to be crying like this!!"
And – and there's the dramatic flair Shouta's be waiting for. He can't help but laugh when Hizashi flings himself at him, tackles him in a giant hug, and then wails loudly, all wet and gross against his neck. They're sprawled on the floor at this point, trapped between the couch and the coffee table, but Shouta doesn't care, tangling his fingers into Hizashi's golden hair, kissing sloppily at the tears on his face. "So is that a yes?"
"It's a –" Hizashi pulls back suddenly, lip jutting out in a pout. "Wait, no, no, you gotta say yes first, I asked first!!"
Shouta gapes, then tries very hard not to grin. He wants to win this. "You asked badly! I got down on one knee!"
"That's – that's cheating! You didn't give me your answer!"
"Look, just let me put this goddamn ring on you!"
And it takes them a while, a wrestling match that tumbles they both of them into the bedroom, breathless with laughter and then something else. If it were Shouta, he'd say Hizashi said yes first, when he'd distracted the crying man with his mouth, and then slipped the ring onto his ring finger. But Hizashi would deny this, claim Shouta said yes first, around the second or third time Hizashi uses the ring around his neck to pull him in for a searing kiss. It's taken them a while, but they get there eventually, sticky and sated but twined tightly around each other anyway.
~ ~ ~
When Shouta drifts slowly awake, snuffling against Hizashi's chest, of course the other man is already awake, and of course he has his hand held above his head, displaying his ring proudly. The sight of it, a reminder of his actions last night, makes Shouta flush and sulk.
His pillow quakes in a chuckle. "[Good morning,] my grumpy husband of mine!"
Shouta sulks a bit longer, then grumbles back, "G'morning... husband."
This has Hizashi laughing even harder.
"What the hell," mumbles Shouta, wrapping his arms tighter around Hizashi's bare chest before he is dislodged, "are you laughing at."
"[You!]" Hizashi crows and boops him on the nose. He laughs more as Shouta squirms away and tries to bury himself further into the covers, until only one eye can be seen peeking out and glaring at him. "I can't believe you didn't realise. Isn't it only logical that I propose to the one I love?"
"I thought you'd be more..." Shouta sticks a hand out of his cloth burrito to wave it around haphazard. "... Dramatic."
"Hoh?" Hizashi smirks, leaning back onto the blanketed lump that is his husband. "I can do that too, if you want. Show up in school in a white wedding dress – since you're always in black, right? Drop down on one knee in front of the school, ring in hand, shouting with my quirk so that all the world will know my love for you –" he pushes back against him, one hand clutching his chest, the other tossed out dramatically. "[Shouta! I love you! Please marry me!!]"
"Please," says Shouta, horror dawning in his voice, "do not."
Hizashi cackles.
"Wait," says Shouta suddenly, stick his head out of the covers and propping himself up on one elbow. "When did you get the ring?"
Stricken by the sudden turn of events, Hizashi sputters and tries to shove him back under the cover. When it doesn't work, he buries himself in the bed and tries to hide even as Shouta begins to tug the cover off.
"You were with me the entire time." One arm goes around Hizashi's neck, and wrestles him close. When Hizashi tries to thrash free, attempts to burrow into the pillows, Shouta nips the nape of his neck sharply, and as he yelps, says against his skin, "And when you weren't, you were in school. How'd you find time to escape and get this?"
Hizashi goes still with defeat beneath him. "... I didn't," he confesses.
With his free hand, Shouta sweeps the hair away from Hizashi's face, and although his face is still hidden in the pillows, the red of his ears are revealed. Shouta presses a kiss to one. "Then when?"
"... My birthday."
"Your birthday? You bought me a ring on your birthday?"
"Don't make it sound like that! I turned thirty right, and I thought really hard about it but all I wanted was you –" Shouta's eyes widen as he realises where this is going, and he tries to stop him but it is too late, Hizashi, red face popping out, voice slowly climbing louder with nerves, cannot be stopped, "– to be mine but more than before becauseI love you."
"How can you say such things?" Shouta demands. It is the sappiest, most awful thing he's ever heard. His chest might burst.
"Because they're true!" Hizashi sticks his left hand out to swipe at him. "Duh!"
"Well I love you too, but you don't see me – stop that!" Shouta snatches that hand out of the air, only to press a kiss to his fingers, ring between his lips. "You'll be my undoing," he grumbles, but at Hizashi loud, unabashedly triumphant laughter, Shouta can't find it in himself to care.