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Shouta curses as he stumbles through his door, one hand clamped to his head. The blood feels thick and sticky, which is good, because it means the bleeding’s slowing down and the cut is a shallow one. On the other hand, it means he has to shower tonight, which isn’t great as it’s already 3am.
At least, he reasons as he tries to lock the door with his wrist- the other hand is also covered in blood, and he’d prefer to do as little cleaning as possible- he brought the bastard down. Though he might have to get a tetanus shot for his trouble.
It’s only when the key turns that Shouta realises he didn’t have to unlock the door to get in. Which begs the question, who is in his apartment?
The lights are on, which is a good sign- most thieves wouldn’t alert suspicion in such a stupid way. Come to think of it, most thieves wouldn’t open the door with a key.
Shouta thinks he may know who is in his apartment.
Even so, he lightens his tread, and tries to avoid the bits of whatever-the-fuck his cat has scattered all over the floor. It’s not red and doesn’t look like it’s ever been alive but. It’s still a pain to clean up.
He staggers into the couch, stubs his toe and screeches before he can stop himself.
Instantly, Shouta freezes, knowing that if there is someone in here with him, he and his fucking head wound are at a distinct disadvantage. Luckily, it appears his visitor didn’t hear him somehow- further confirming his suspicions- and he continues through his apartment and into the kitchen, from which a very strange banging is coming.
It’s not in any sort of pattern- like Morse code, or even a signal- it’s just. Loud. Now knowing perfectly well who is in his kitchen, uninvited, at 3am, Shouta grits his teeth and kicks open the door.
In all their time together, Shouta has seen Hizashi do some weird things. When they were at U.A., he backflipped out of a window to impress a girl and snapped his ankle. After getting certified (and getting slightly tipsy) Hizashi stuck icecream cones to his chest and mimed along to Madonna. Only last week, he had entered the staffroom, only for Hizashi to barrel towards him, shrieking at the top of his voice “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me!”, then apologising because he got the “wrong person”. Shouta still doesn’t know who he was aiming for.
But this has to be one of the most ill-timed stunts Hizashi has even pulled.
Hizashi shoots him a grin, still over-enthusiastically hand-jiving to whatever he was playing through those obnoxiously big headphones he wears. His hair is down and flying around his face. Shouta refuses to acknowledge how cute that is.
Instead, he waves his blood-drenched hand at Hizashi, who shoots him a look of concern while butchering the can-can. For a brief second, Shouta wishes the villain had knocked him out after all.
Especially since Hizashi is now attempting to body roll.
Shouta rolls his eyes, and tries to ignore him; no mean feat, considering he has to avoid Hizashi’s (very high) kicks every few seconds. Eventually, Hizashi’s song ends, and he pulls his headphones around his neck, leaning against the counter and panting. Shouta raises a single eyebrow (something he does not practise in front of the mirror, no matter what Hizashi and Nemuri say), and continues to scrub the remainder of his blood off his hands. At least his head’s stopped bleeding.
“That looks nasty.” Hizashi tells him between pants.
“It is.”
Hizashi looks worried now, Shouta notes with a stab of irritation and fondness. They’re usually one and the same when it comes to Hizashi.
“Need any help washing the blood out? Y’know, from your hair?” Hizashi offers, his breathing returning to normal now he’s finally still.
Shouta shrugs, keeping his poker face intact “I won’t drag you away from your…dancing.”
The pause makes Shouta’s opinion on the ‘dancing’ painfully obvious, but Hizashi still asks “What did you think?”, enthusiastic as always.
Keeping his poker face intact, Shouta says before he can stop himself “You have the dance moves of an angel.”
Hizashi nods seriously “It’s all in the body rolls. You have to watch out for the body rolls.”
Finally blood free, Shouta dries his hands on his costume- it’s almost laundry day- and asks the question that has been weighing on his mind ever since he entered the kitchen “Any reason why you were dancing- badly, I might add- in my kitchen? Or was it just for kicks?”
Hizashi has the decency to look faintly embarrassed, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He avoids Shouta’s eyes.
“My keys must’ve fell out my pocket. Or I left them at U.A., or whatever. But you told me where you keep you spare, so after patrol, I just came here.” Hizashi grins guiltily “I had to borrow your shower too. And your clothes.”
“And the dancing?”
Hizashi shrugs and laughs and shrugs again. “I had a bad day. You should try it yourself.”
“I’ll pass.” Shouta says, unwinding his scarf and shaking out his hair, more out of comfort that out of vanity. Though, with Hizashi around, it might be a little out of vanity. The blood still clotted within the black mess probably ruins the effect though.
Ignoring him, Hizashi unplugs his headphones and puts on a song Shouta doesn’t know, one with a slow build-up and what sounds like guitars. He grabs Shouta’s wrists and drags him into the centre of the tiny kitchen, pulling his limp arms in tandem with his own as the music speeds up. Hizashi moves his non-existent hips experimentally to the beat and grins widely at Shouta, who stays straight-faced and limp.
“Don’t be boring, Shouta.” He complains, beginning to jump as some sort of English singing begins, forcing Shouta to bounce slightly with his momentum.
Shouta grinds his teeth. Hizashi wants him to dance? Fine. He can dance.
He pulls his arms inwards and Hizashi yelps as Shouta dips him, his golden hair trailing over the floor Shouta always forgets to clean.
“How come you get to lead?” Hizashi complains as Shouta pulls him back up and spins him, before remembering those are the only two ‘dance moves’ he knows.
“Because I’m better at dancing.” Shouta says, letting Hizashi pull their conjoined hands into a fucked up version of the hand jive, making an effort to jump in time with Hizashi now. His breath is already ragged.
Hizashi pouts, letting go of Shouta to return to his terrible rendition of the can-can (It’s not even in time, for God’s sake), leaving Shouta jumping like an idiot.
For once, he doesn’t even feel embarrassed.
He watches Hizashi yell along to the music, and barely has time to pity the neighbors before Hizashi insists he learn how to ‘body roll’- if what Hizashi’s doing can be called that.
For once, he stops feeling exhausted.