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Shouta had known his husband long enough to know when he was tired. It happened more often than people believed, which frankly shouldn’t be surprising given that he worked three jobs and had the time management skills of Kaminari Denki. He was always volunteering to annunciate an event or handle another case, always doing more than needed, more than he should. There were some days where he ran on little more than caffeine and heavy metal.
That’s why Shouta takes it upon himself to intervene whenever Hizashi stretched himself too thin.
See, he had a mental checklist of all the little signs that denoted Hizashi’s exhaustion. They revealed themselves over the course of the day: the never empty cup of coffee, the occasional escape of the blood-pumping shriek of guitar solos from his headphones, and the way he’s constantly rolling his shoulders, twisting his back, in an effort to relieve some tension.
“Hey! Quit running in the halls,” Hizashi snaps at some first years. They jump at the boom of his voice.
“S-Sorry, sir,” the redhead stammers before grabbing her friend and ducking into the library for a quick escape from their English teacher’s uncharacteristic scolding.
Shouta frowns, leaning out of the doorway of his homeroom. Crankiness is another symptom of Tired Hizashi. “Hey now, I thought I was supposed to be the scary one.”
The grumpy drag to Hizashi’s figure wanes as he perks up ever so slightly. “Yo, Eraser! You still totally are the scary one. I just gave them a gentle scolding.”
“Gentle, my a-”
He’s cut off as Hizashi suddenly wags a finger in his face, tutting in disappointment. “Ah ah ah, watch your mouth. We’re in school.”
Shouta rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns into his empty classroom and waves the other man inside. He settles in at his desk languidly, not bothering to mask his sigh. “Mic, how much sleep did you get last night? You weren’t home when I got in.”
“Ah, that’s just because I had to swing by the police station to give them my report on that assault I was telling you about. No biggie!”
“Hm.” Shouta eyes his husband knowingly, noting with disdain the slump to his shoulders, the bags under his eyes that are ineffectively covered by his shades. “And what else did you do while you were there?”
“Let’s see…” Hizashi hums, clearly stalling for time. “I returned a bunch of paperwork they’ve been nagging me for, I gave some details about missing perps for a few petty crimes, and I agreed to look into a case for Taguchi-san.”
Hizashi rushes to defend himself as Shouta groans.
“It’s not a huge thing, and I’m not even the lead hero on the case! I’m just doing some backup, y’know? And I won’t have to stakeout until next week, so I still have time for our date night. I’ll be all yours then.”
What Hizashi never seemed to quite understand was that Shouta wasn’t concerned about spending time together. It wasn’t like he didn’t care, but he wasn’t selfish enough to demand a night out when it seemed like his husband could collapse any given second and his overworked body would most likely rejoice at the opportunity for rest. It’s that same worry that colors his judgment when he speaks next.
“I don’t care about date night!”
Hizashi freezes and Shouta instantly regrets his choice of words. Unfortunately, he isn’t quick enough to erase the hurt shown plainly across his husband’s face.
“I get you’re not really into these things, but I thought that you’d at least humor me for a night,” he says with a forced levity. There’s a tenseness to his jaw when he smiles that makes Shouta feel absurdly guilty despite his good intentions.
“‘Zashi, that’s not-”
“I’d appreciate it if my husband showed a little more interest in spending time me on our rare night off, especially since I’ve been looking forward to this date all month.”
There’s an internal struggle waging in Shouta over the hurt and disappointment swimming in Hizashi’s eyes versus the bags of exhaustion hanging right below them. Before he could say anything, the bell rang, signaling the start of next period. Hizashi had a class to teach, but he stood there, unwavering, awaiting Shouta’s response.
He sighs; he hates leaving arguments unresolved. “We’ll discuss it tonight, okay? You have a class to teach.”
“Fine,” Hizashi agrees stiffly.
He leaves for class, tension obvious in his form and Shouta spends the rest of the day pondering the best way to defuse the situation.
---
By the end of the day, Shouta decides tact won’t get him anywhere and that honest communication is the best choice here.
That’s why, while Hizashi is showering that evening, Shouta changes into pajamas and gets comfortable under the covers, quite literally settling in for the argument to come. He kills time on his phone, waiting for his husband to get out of the bathroom.
Not five minutes later, Hizashi steps out of the shower, a towel hanging around his shoulders to catch the excess water from his dripping hair. As he digs through his drawers for some clothes, he speaks.
“How come you aren’t dressed? Our reservation is for seven.”
“Because we still need to finish our discussion from earlier,” Shouta says carefully. “Would you please sit down?”
The exhaustion in Hizashi’s form is more apparent than ever as he reluctantly sits on the bed beside his husband. He rubs tiredly at one eye, still looking grumpy but at the very least willing to talk.
“You’re overworking yourself again, ‘Zashi.
“I’m fine, Shouta. I get to sleep in on Sunday, so that’ll recharge me.”
“Mhm, and what about when you have to go out on a stakeout again? Along with going to school in the morning, you’re going to be burnt out again. You need to take better care of yourself.”
Hizashi scoffs. “You’re one to talk about self-care. You’re constantly dead on your feet!”
“And you know what I do about it? I nap,” Shouta explains patiently. “Frequently. So that in the event of an emergency, I won’t be dead weight in a fight.”
“Are you calling me--”
Shouta cuts him off before he can even finish the thought. “No. What I’m saying is, while I don’t always make the healthiest choices, I try to take care of myself however I can. You should do the same for yourself.”
Hizashi abruptly deflates. “I know,” he says quietly. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion, after all. “But people need me, Shouta.”
“You can’t help them if you’re running on empty all the time,” he points out. Hizashi can’t deny the logic.
He flops backwards on the bed with a heavy sigh. His eyes flutter close without his permission, but his mouth continues to move. “But what about our date night? We haven’t had alone time together in weeks, Shouta. I was looking forward to this.”
His husband lets out a thoughtful hum, gently running his fingers along Hizashi’s scalp that would have lulled him to sleep had he been less stubborn.
“We’re sharing a bed,” Shouta says, shushing the blond’s incoming complaints before he can vocalize them. “When you wake up tomorrow, I’ll be right here.”
There’s a long silence before Hizashi scrunches up his face, blowing a half-hearted lip trill. “I guess I oughta cancel those reservations then, huh?”
“I already took care of it.”
“...Seriously, Shouta?” Hizashi cracks open an eye to glare blearily at his husband.
“Oh, shut up. It was for your own good.”
“You owe me a date,” he warns, only half joking. Shouta responds with a kiss on the forehead before leaning over to switch off the lights.
“Goodnight, Hizashi.”
Hizashi mumbles something incoherent before immediately collapsing into a much needed slumber. Shouta presses a kiss to his forehead and follows him into dreamland.