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It should’ve been an easy mission. Get in, identify the villain, kick butt, get out.
At least, it should’ve been an easy mission, Hizashi scowls behind his wine glass, taking a slow swig of the alcoholic drink in his hand. This would’ve been a lot easier if it hadn’t been his own goddamn husband he’s doing this with.
It’s not that having Shouta here with him will distract him from his job; Hizashi’s a fantastic actor. With his hair down from its usual updo, a pair of coloured contacts, and a slight alteration of his voice, the blond can pass off as a completely different person. Several, completely different persons; this isn’t his first undercover job, nor will it be his last.
Though it may very well be the last one Shouta lets him partner up with, if Hizashi doesn’t get his act together and stop sulking.
For the past couple of weeks, the underground hero had been working hard on this case to track down this villain that has been stirring up trouble in the city. Shouta had managed to scrap together clues as to where a particular crime lord known for smuggling Trigger amongst a multitude of other drugs will be at that night. He has his bet on the criminal attending this party, seeing how there appear to be more than one other notorious villains at this gathering.
His husband had approached him a few days ago to join him in an undercover job, using the excuse that Hizashi has lots of charisma and a way with words that makes people feel easy around him; perfect for information gathering. Hizashi is pretty sure those are just Shouta’s own sentiments about the blond, and the other just wants to see him in a suit, which Shouta of course vehemently denies.
Their plan had been simple, they will come to this party under the guise of partners dabbling in various… shady businesses, and are looking for Trigger samples. Though, the hero isn’t sure why people would want to use that. Sure, it enhances the quirk for a period of time, but the aftermath and withdrawal effects… He grimaces.
Shouta’s shown him some cases of Trigger abuse. It hadn’t been pretty.
Hizashi downs the remaining of the red liquid in his glass in one shot, leaning heavily against the fanciful round bar table, body canted at the hips as he looks through crimson eyes at the bar station some ways away.
Shouta is currently seated at the bar, looking fake-interested in whatever the lady next to him is saying, animatedly waving her hands around as she chatters on and on. He hopes that her jabbering is all that she’s using to gain his husband’s attention, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the case seeing how close her tits are to Shouta’s face.
At least he knows the other man isn’t distracted because, first all of, he is gay as fuck, second of all, if the tensed shoulders and ramrod straight position his back is in, the dark-haired man isn’t very happy with the situation either.
He wonders absentmindedly if he should go over and get Shouta out of his current predicament, use that chance to flaunt his wedding ring that matched with the other man’s own, sans the colours.
The rings are minimalistic in design, the blond’s one made of black tungsten on the outside and gold on the inside, with a thin band of the bright metal showing through on the exterior. Shouta's name is delicately engraved into the metal in a simple and small font. Shouta’s own is similar, but the colours are inverted and it has Hizashi's name instead.
When he bought the predominantly golden ring for Shouta, he’d been nervous that it would be too striking for the other’s liking, so he opted to get a thin but sturdy chain that the man can wear around his neck. That is, if he had accepted his proposal (he did). But the underground hero surprised him one day in their own home when he’d come out of the shower donning their wedding band on his left ring finger, perfectly fitted and standing out against the dark colours of his clothes and pale complexion. The very next day, Shouta came home with a ring that would become HIzashi’s forever. Hizashi isn’t ashamed to admit that he’d brawled like a baby that night – both nights – much to his husband’s confused dismay.
A little smile creeps up on the blond’s face as he eyes the ring on his finger, but is brought out of his musings when a voice speaks up beside him.
“Excuse me, but would you care to share your space?”
The man in front of him is tall, lean in a way that still lets for some tightness around his biceps as he holds two glasses on wine in his hands. Judging from the subtle smirk on his face, he’s come here with a motive.
Hizashi is about to say that no, he is actually waiting for his husband — no, business partner — to return from the bar with his drink, but a peek over the stranger’s shoulder has his tongue tied, words dying on his tongue.
The woman from before is no longer at the bar, but Shouta isn’t alone. Instead, there is a large, muscular man standing close, so close, within the dark-haired man’s personal space, but his husband isn’t making any move to get away. Instead, he seems to be leaning into the other man. Hizashi can only watch with mouth agape as Shouta accidentally makes eye contact with him and instantly those dark irises flicker away, instead turning to the other man.
“Is something the matter?”
Hizashi returns his attention to the stranger who’d approached him, mouth dry as he struggles to find the right response. Seeing Shouta with another man, an attractive one at that, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, even if he knows it is an act and not for real. But that doesn’t mean he has to like seeing his husband let another person stand so close to him, put an arm around his shoulders, mouth whispering what is probably flirtatious words and filthy promises. But judging from the hulking man’s attire, he has to be pretty high up the ladder in the underground to stink so strongly of confidence and riches.
Petty feelings or not, Hizashi needs to maintain his part of the mission, and the white-suit clad stranger seems to be yet another a perfect target.
“Nothing at all,” he smiles brightly, gesturing with his gloved hands for the man to take the space beside him. As he graciously accepts the wine glass the brunette passes him, he very nearly drops it when he spies how the ostentatiously dressed man with Shouta holds onto the dark-haired man’s hand, fondling it as his lips move soundlessly. When the blond focuses on Shouta’s hand he realises he is caressing the ring seated around his husband’s finger.
Rage begins to bubble from within his chest and his grip on his fragile stem of his glass tightens. As annoyed as he gets about this development, nothing stabs his heart more than seeing Shouta, his Shouta, slip his hands out of the other’s grip, removing the golden band around his finger with his thumb and index finger with a smug grin upon his cleanly shaven face. Hizashi’s heart drops with the ring when the underground hero tosses it aside like it is nothing more than a balled-up receipt. The ring haphazardly bounces off the table top, the sonorous metal hitting the ground with a resounding noise that travels all the way to Hizashi’s ears.
It really shouldn’t hurt this much. He’s done missions like this with Shouta before, years ago. There isn’t any reason for him to feel this way.
Except there is, and Hizashi stares listlessly at his own ring, debating if he too should take it out. The metal feels inexplicably colder without its partner on his husband’s hand, and HIzashi tries to ignore the spreading chill that the band has left on his heart. He clenches his fist, and instead he turns up his charm tenfold, reaching up to playfully pat the brunette’s cheek.
He feels gross like this.
Out the corner of his eyes he can see Shouta looking his way with a frown etched upon his features, but he shoots the other a dull stare, and let his attention be drawn away by the stranger, but not before Hizashi recognises the hurt in his husband’s dark eyes. ‘But who cares, right?’ the blond thinks bitterly. ‘We have a job to do.’
He puts on his sweetest smile.
“So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”
“You didn’t have to create such a scene, Hizashi.”
Shouta trails behind him as they both enter their shared home, and Hizashi doesn’t have to turn around to see the look of disappointment on the other’s face.
Their mission had gone off without a hitch. The man he’d been talking to had given him the information he needed to move on to the final phase of the mission, which was to call for their back-up team to raid the place. But for a price.
“He gave me what we needed, Shouta. I don’t know why you’re so hung up about this.” His tone is flat, exasperated as he finally turns around to look at his husband, brows furrowed as he pulls his blond hair out of its slightly mussed ponytail.
“And there is no better alternative than clambering all over him like a—”
Shouta cuts himself off before he can say it, but it is enough for anger to flare up within Hizashi. His next words come out cold, low and filled with all the emotions and betrayal he’s been feeling all night. “Like what, Shouta?”
The other man doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the wall beside Hizashi, looking as though his words surprised even himself. Finally, he breaks the silence between them with an unsteady voice.
“I… I didn’t mean that, ‘Zashi. I’m sor—”
“Do you know what hurts the most, Shouta?”
All the hurt, all the fury comes bubbling out in a fit, one that Hizashi doesn’t bother acting that he’s in control of himself. He hesitates slightly, but eventually he violently tugs their wedding ring off his finger, and lets it drop on their floor, the loud clattering of the metal as it bounces and rolls off somewhere striking them both through their hearts in the heavy silence.
“It’s the fact there was zero hesitation on your part to pull that stunt off.”
Tears are beginning to well up in his eyes, sticking to his lashes and blurring his vision, but Hizashi doesn’t break eye contact, glaring at Shouta with all the feelings of betrayal he can muster. “It was all an act, I know that you’ll say that. But how little does our marriage mean that you can pull that off without a second thought, let that guy hold you like that?”
‘Shut up,’ the small rational part of him thinks, ‘shut up before you say something you truly regret.’
“Is all this an act too, Shouta? Did you even care?”
He can hear his husband’s breathing hitch slightly, his stable expression starting to crack.
First came the slight twitch in his brows, then came the trembling of his lips.
Before he knows it, the underground hero’s features changed into one of utter hurt, facial muscles twitching as he tries to hold back what Hizashi can see to be tears in his eyes.
‘You made him cry,’ the voice in his head speaks. ‘You don’t deserve him.’
“He…” Shouta swallows before he can continue, trying to maintain as much of his composure as he can with his eyes red and teary like that. “He was one of the higher ups in a major crime syndicate, even if he hadn’t helped with the mission it could be huge for future investigations.”
Investigations this, mission that.
It’s always about the job.
“I don’t want to know why you let him touch you, I don’t fucking care about that. I want to know how much our love means to you, Shouta!”
By the end of his statement, Hizashi is yelling, fat tears spilling over and cascading down his face in streams as his voice raises and cracks. The dark-haired man’s breathing is coming out a lot more staggered now, chest heaving under the black suit he has on, eyes not focused on anything in particular. With every second the man doesn’t respond, the voice hero can feel his heart crumbling into nothing.
It hurts. It hurts so much because he fucking loves Shouta so, so much. Has loved him for nearly 15 years. Has the other grown bored of him? Tired of him? Is he too annoying for Shouta to want to keep around?
So many questions on the tip of his tongue, but Hizashi doesn’t want to know the answer to them.
He’s ready to grab his car keys and leave for a bit to hopefully clear his head, but a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist before he can do so.
“I… You— This… You mean the world to me, ‘Zashi.”
The weak whisper of his husband's uncharacteristically meek voice stills the blond’s breathing, red-rimmed eyes wide as he watches how his husband’s shoulders quake, dark curls falling around his head, hanging forward and obstructing his view of the other’s face.
“I fucking love you so much, Hizashi. I—”
He chokes on a sob.
“— I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please don’t…”
Shouta doesn’t complete his sentence, but Hizashi knows what he is trying to say. In a stunned silence, he reaches out to cup the underground hero’s cheek through the dark mass of hair, tilting his head back up to face him.
He is met with a tearstained face, the man’s body wrecked with barely contained sobs.
In his 15 years of knowing Shouta, he’s only ever seen his husband cry a handful of times. And most of that were in the earlier years of their relationship, when Shouta is still learning to cope with his job, feelings, nightmares.
But this is the first time he is the cause of those tears.
Hizashi pulls the shorter man into his arms, enveloping him in a tight embrace as he whispers apologies again and again into his ear. He lightly runs his fingers through the curly trusses, shushing the other as he too mutters apologies after apologies.
‘Sorry for making you cry.’
‘Sorry for removing their ring.’
‘Sorry for making you feel like I don’t love you when you mean everything to me.’
“I love you so much, I don’t know what you want me to do to prove it.” The muffled voice of his husband against his shirt only makes him cry more, loud sobs wrenching their way out his throat as he buries his face in Shouta’s shoulder. He feels gentle hands rubbing comforting circles into his back, cradling his head.
All the negative emotions, all the pain and betrayal is instantly dispelled with one gentle kiss on his temple, one utterance on how much Shouta loves him. And he reciprocates those gestures.
“We’re such losers,” Hizashi chuckles weakly, pulling one of Shouta’s hands into his, feeling the concrete evidence of their bond on the other’s ring finger beneath his own appendages. Shouta only snorts at his words. “Whose fault is it that made me one of you, then?”
Hizashi laughs freely, tears still steadily flowing down his cheeks. He leans his forehead against the shorter man’s, relishing in their proximity and intimacy of this moment. “Mine, probably,” he squeezes Shouta’s hand affectionately. Shouta huffs, but there is a tender smile on his face. “I guess we losers have to stick together then.”
Hizashi grins and places a chaste kiss on the other’s lips.
“Yeh. I guess we do.”