Archive of Our Own ^beta

Toshinori sat at a table in the teacher’s lounge buried in essays when someone dropped into the chair across from him. He glanced up, then back down, then up again when he finally realized who it was.

“Hizashi,” he greeted with a slight smile, and the man in question beamed back at him.

“Toshinori my man, what’s up? How’s it going? Having fun grading?” Hizashi tapped his fingers against the edge of the table and Toshinori could hear his leg bouncing beneath it. Right as Toshinori intended to reply, Hizashi continued, “so are you like, you know, doing anything this Friday? Friday night?”

Pausing a moment, Toshinori studied Hizashi, curious. Though he’d begun the conversation looking straight at him, Hizashi’s gaze now wandered around the lounge. It flitted from one item to another as his leg continued to bounce, the sole of his boot tapping methodically against the laminate floor.

“Nothing as of right now,” Toshinori admitted, as was often the case on Friday nights. Most of his evenings were spent catching up on grading, lesson planning, and sometimes reading. He tried to keep busy post-retirement; it was the only way to move forward.

“Cool, yeah, want to go to a movie?” Hizashi looked at him finally, swirling green eyes obscured by his trademark tinted glasses. Toshinori noticed the nervous knit to his brows and found it strange, but decided not to remark on it. As if the momentary pause was too much, Hizashi expanded on his question, “there’s a new American action flick playing and Shou and Nemuri hate that kind of stuff but I know you love it, so I thought, ‘shit, I’ll ask All Might’. I’ll even pay! Popcorn, soda, the works,” he shifted his weight in his chair to lean forward on the table. “So?”

A few things crossed Toshinori’s mind in the onslaught of Hizashi’s offer. First, the familiar sting of being someone’s second choice. He couldn’t blame Hizashi, of course. He was young, Toshinori was old and washed up, of course he would want to hang out with his peers first and foremost. It was easy enough to rationalize it all away as Toshinori tucked the raw feelings into a box and hid it in his heart somewhere. The second was a certain warmth following the sting that Hizashi thought about him at all, or that he recognized a shared interest.

All Might didn’t get to have shared interests, not really. Not since Dave, and California, and the soft evenings of his youth. As a Symbol you had one interest: keeping the peace, and all it entailed. To be known well enough for Hizashi to pick something they would both enjoy was new, and he added it to a long string of new experiences he’d had since starting at UA.

He realized his quiet contemplation had unnerved his companion and offered a smile he hoped was reassuring, “I would be happy to go to the movie with you, Hizashi. Thank you. Don’t worry about paying though, it could be my treat.”

Hizashi grinned and waved him off. “I want to. You can buy us dinner afterward.”

That caught him a little off balance. The movie seemed enough; he couldn’t imagine Hizashi wanted to get dinner afterward. Perhaps they could discuss the movie? That was likely his logic. “Of course,” he finally answered when a bit of the shock wore off. “What time Friday?”

“I’ll look up movie times and text you!” Hizashi stood abruptly, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Despite being the second choice, Toshinori had to admit he was looking forward to it, too.

They met just before 7pm on Friday outside of the teacher’s dorms. Toshinori had chosen a pair of form fitting jeans, a t-shirt, and a dark blue button-up that he left both unbuttoned and untucked for the evening. Hizashi was dressed in his usual, which put Toshinori’s outfit to shame. His jeans were dark and skinny, outlining his slim thighs and legs that Toshinori very much tried to not notice.

The shirt he wore had a sloping neck to it revealing plains of pale skin and pronounced collarbones. Over that was a leather jacket with patches on it, some in English, others in Japanese, and the jacket looked far more worn and soft than the one he had with his uniform. He wore his hair down and it looked freshly washed, still damp and curling along the ends. It was pulled into a half-bun that looked like an afterthought.

Toshinori realized too late he was staring, a curious look passing over Hizashi’s face before it was gone and replaced with a smile.

“I like the shirt, Toshi my dude,” he said as he gently grasped his elbow and began leading him across the campus, “untucked and everything, you’re really letting loose.” The hand on his elbow dropped after a moment and Toshinori finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Ha! I suppose, though if this is what constitutes letting loose these days then things really have changed.”

He caught the side-eyed look Hizashi gave him, along with the quirk of an amused smile as they walked together. Hizashi’s hands were in the pockets of his jacket, and Toshinori’s idled awkwardly at his sides before he hastily shoved them into his own pockets. They walked in a companionable quiet until they were off-campus.

“I thought we’d take the train,” Hizashi pointed out as he started heading to the closest station. “Four stops, and we’re practically at the theater!”

“That’s fine,” Toshinori could do with the walk. Summer had come and it was a beautiful day, even as the sun began its descent beneath the horizon. Blue skies gave way to orange and reds as the day waned. A light breeze buffeted them, warm and comforting. Toshinori liked the summers now more than he had in the past. His body ached a little less fiercely, his limbs loose and his mood high. Midoriya seemed to respond to it, too. He’d been sharper than ever in their mornings together and Toshinori wondered if the sun and good weather was in part to thank.

“Good weather,” he said absentmindedly as they swiped into the station and headed for the correct platform.

“Absolutely fantastic,” Hizashi agreed with a grin, “you look like you’ve gotten a bit of sun recently, too. Looks good.”

Warmth bloomed in Toshinori’s chest at the compliment and he was certain the blood was running straight to his burning cheeks. The way Hizashi said it made it sound so genuine and fond and stirred up uncomfortable feelings. He’s just being kind, Toshinori assured himself, despite chancing a half-glance in Hizashi’s direction to meet his gaze. The corners of Hizashi’s eyes wrinkled as he offered another, slightly tamer but no less genuine smile.

“Th,” he coughed, winced, waited for blood and it didn’t come, so he cleared his throat, “thanks. I’ve been trying to enjoy it while I can, of course. The older I am the less fond of winters I get.”

“Yeah, patrols are a bitch and a half in the winter that’s for sure!” They boarded the train and found seats. “Walking around at two in the morning in the pouring rain isn’t fun for anyone. Shou is as pleasant as a wet cat. He’s quiet about it, but he definitely seethes. I feel sorry for anyone who runs into us on those nights.” Hizashi leaned against him and shot him a grin.

“I remember nights like that, the rain sucks when you’re up in the air, too.” He could almost smell the rain when he recalled it, cold and stinging as it battered his face on long winter nights. Now, he enjoyed it a little more when he could sit inside and read, though it was soured at times by the memories. He should still be out there helping people, but his body had given up. Patrols and hero work were left in the capable hands of heroes like Present Mic and Eraserhead, and would continue to be left behind to their students after that.

Hizashi said something and he missed it, too caught up in memories of rain and cold and bitter winds. “I’m sorry, Hizashi, what did you say?”

“Nothing, you just had a weird, faraway look on your face for a second.” Toshinori glanced over and saw a look of concern. Guilt dogged him. He should pay more attention and stop getting so lost in thought.

“I’m sorry.”

“Pfft, don’t apologize. As long as you’re okay, it is okay,” Hizashi bumped their shoulders together playfully.

Their stop came and they disembarked, winding through the streets to arrive in front of a small theater. Hizashi held the door open, much to Toshinori’s surprise.

“What? I’m a gentleman. My parents raised me right.”

Toshinori caught the next round of doors and Hizashi gave him an appraising look, “the gentleman to put all others to shame,” he said as he walked through the door with a grin. Toshinori followed.

They bickered for a moment at the ticketing counter, much to the frazzled employee’s chagrin. Not only did she seem to recognize exactly who she had in front of her, but from her face Toshinori could tell she didn’t know how to resolve their payment dispute. Eventually, Hizashi won out when he stole Toshinori’s credit card off the counter and tucked it into his back pocket, offering the clerk his own.

“You’re playing dirty, Hizashi,” Toshinori grumbled, cheeks flushed and a little out of breath just from trying to wrestle his card back from him before it slid into the pocket and was lost.

Hizashi responded to the accusation with a wink and hammed it up with the clerk to try and ease her discomfort about what she had just witnessed. Yes, two grown men - two heroes! - had just fought over who would pay for movie tickets. At the thought, Toshinori couldn’t help but smile and when Hizashi noticed his face softened a fraction into something Toshinori didn’t quite understand.

The same warmth from earlier crept into his chest and onto his cheeks again, but before he could think too much longer on it Hizashi had his arm and tugged him over to the snack counter.

“Do I get my credit card back now?” Toshinori glanced at the pocket, Hizashi’s pants tight enough to see the outline of it.

“Nope, Mighty Man, that is mine until we go out to dinner. Then maybe I’ll let you pay. Do you want snacks? Do you like popcorn?”

Toshinori’s eyes roamed over the options. His dietary restrictions were a pain in the ass sometimes because he wanted to say yes and stock up on snacks to share. Popcorn seemed the least offensive, “sure, popcorn would be fine. I won’t eat much though.”

Hizashi ordered a large anyway, foregoing the butter which Toshinori’s stomach would thank him for later. He ordered a soda for himself and a bottle of water for Toshinori and paid for it all. This time, Toshinori didn’t put up a fight. Instead, he resolved to say thank-you through where ever they ended up at for dinner. He’d buy the whole restaurant, if it made Hizashi smile.

They made their way to their seats and Toshinori remembered why he rarely went to the theater: the seats were not made for a man over seven feet tall. He worried he would block the view of whoever sat behind him.

“Come on, let’s go to the back.” Hizashi motioned with his head, arms full of goodies, and headed straight up the stairs to the back of the theater. It certainly eliminated one of Toshinori’s worries, but they still sat in the middle of the row and his knees were pressed to the seat in front of him. Hizashi, having set down the popcorn and deposited the drinks in cup holders, finally seemed to take in the situation.

“Damn, long legs huh?” Hizashi was not a short man either, but he still managed to fit somewhat comfortably in the seat. “Would you rather we sit on the end?”

“No, this is the better view. I’m fine, I just apologize in advance if I end up kicking you.”

He felt Hizashi shrug beside him and realized belatedly that their upper arms were pressed together over the shared arm of their seats. “I think I can handle a few misplaced kicked, but if you get uncomfortable we can move. I doubt the theater will fill up.”

Toshinori wondered how often Hizashi came to see movies like this, because he was right, the theater didn’t fill up. There were perhaps a dozen more people who scattered among the seats before the lights dimmed and the previews started. Toshinori sipped his water then felt Hizashi nudge him, tilting the popcorn in his direction. Toshinori delicately scooped some into his hand and shot Hizashi a thank-you smile in the darkness.

Hizashi’s swirling green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as they were trained on Toshinori’s face, and he was grateful for the darkness that hid his blush. Everything seemed to have an edge to it that evening and Toshinori was worried he would topple right off of it and ruin whatever growing friendship they had. Errant touches, blushes, and Hizashi’s likely-innocent but friendly comments shouldn’t stir up a fire in his guts like they were tonight.

He was never more grateful for a movie to start, despite being all too aware of the gentle press of Hizashi’s arm against his.

At some point during the movie Toshinori’s legs began to cramp, uncomfortable in their current position. He tried to shift in his seat in a way that wouldn’t be disruptive, but somehow his knee still knocked straight into Hizashi’s and he hissed out of embarrassment more than pain. In reply, Hizashi rested a hand briefly over Toshinori’s knee and glanced at him before he turned back to the movie.

The hand remained for a long, lingering moment as Toshinori settled. Then it was gone. It was very difficult to focus on the rest of the movie because the theater suddenly felt a bit stifling.

Thankfully, Toshinori was spared anymore awkward incidences the rest of the movie. It finished, the lights came up, and he caught himself watching Hizashi stretch in his seat. Past the jacket and his shirt, he caught a slip of pale skin as Hizashi reached his arms above his head and let out a soft, pleased noise when his shoulders popped. It was gone just as quickly as he sat up and Toshinori dug himself out of his decidedly unfriendly thoughts.

“What did you think?” Hizashi asked as he stood and Toshinori followed suit, grabbing the nearly empty popcorn container and his bottle of water.

“The story was a bit jumpy, but I appreciated the work that went into the action. Having lived so much of our own action on the streets, I like being able to get lost in the fantasy of it where victory is assured.” He liked stories where the good guys won. There was too much of the opposite in the real world.

They chatted amicably about the film. Apparently Hizashi had paid more attention to the soundtrack than Toshinori had and went on a long explanation of the significance of one of the songs. Toshinori listened attentively as they made their way back to the train and toward the school once more. Dinner was still on the agenda, as Hizashi helpfully reminded him when they were two stops away from home, and Toshinori assured him he knew a place.

It took going by the campus to get to it, but the evening was still warm and the walk pleasant. The restaurant in question was small, lit by Edison light bulbs and boasting a rustic interior that Toshinori thought Hizashi might appreciate. It had come to mind as Hizashi shared his observations on the movie soundtrack because the few times Toshinori had eaten at this particular location, the music always caught his ear.

To continue their competition, he used his long stride to get to the door first and opened it, allowing himself a sly little smile as Hizashi walked in. They were seated promptly, the restaurant occupied but not full, and they had a good view out the windows onto the street.

Hizashi, full of enviable ease despite almost always needing to move, leaned back casually in his chair as he perused the menu. “There’s a lot of avocado on this menu, that’s impressive.”

Toshinori laughed, “one of the few habits I picked up in California that I can’t quite shake. I know it is considered the food of ‘hipsters’,” he used air quotes and English to get the point across, “but I don’t really care. I’m old enough to allow myself a few selfish vices.”

“More than a few, honestly,” Hizashi said as he peered at Toshinori over the top of his menu, “in my opinion you’re allowed however many selfish vices you want. Also, you’re not that old.”

“You have no idea how old I am. I’ve certainly got at least a decade and a half on you, Hizashi,” he returned the look with a pointed one of his own. Then he regretted it, because Hizashi’s brows knitted together and though he couldn’t see his mouth behind the menu, he had a feeling he was frowning.

“What?” He finally asked, hating the slightly defensive note in his own voice.

“You’re not that old,” Hizashi repeated with a shrug and returned to the menu. Toshinori picked his up as well even though he already knew what he was going to order. There was a pesto avocado sandwich he was partial to, and he would eat half and take the other half home for a treat the next day.

They put in their orders, Toshinori encouraging Hizashi to get whatever he wanted because it would be his treat, and settled in with drinks. Hizashi got a cola, sticking with the American theme of the evening, while Toshinori sipped water.

“Read anything good recently?” Hizashi asked, the earlier tension gone and his easy smile back in place.

“Nothing particularly interesting, mostly texts on teaching. I have a lot to do to catch up to the rest of you in that regard.”

“You’re already more studious than me, man. I just winged it with the materials that were left over and sometimes I still feel in over my head. But y’know, they’re just kids. Good kids, for the most part, too, so they make it a little easier.”

Toshinori smiled a bit at that, “you have an easy way about you, you know that, Hizashi? I think that helps. I’m, ah, less so I think. I’m improving but sometimes I’m at a loss after so many years of doing my own thing. I don’t think I fully realized when I took the position what it meant to agree to shepherd young heroes into the field.”

After all, he’d worked alone for so many years. Sure, he had his team at the agency, and for a time he’d had Nighteye helping, but at the end of the day he had the final say because the only thing at stake was something he had built. At UA that wasn’t the case. He had to share the load, and if he messed up it tended to impact other people differently than doing hero work.

When he was a hero, the only person who really ended up hurt was him and that was acceptable.

He startled out of that train of thought when a hand rested gently over his on the table. Toshinori’s gaze was drawn to Hizashi’s face immediately. “You had that look on your face again,” Hizashi said, voice soft.

“Ah, did I? Silly of me, I apologize. Sometimes I get lost in thought.” He swallowed around the sudden nervousness that bubbled in his throat, because Hizashi’s hand remained warm and comforting over his own and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Sated, at least for the moment, Hizashi squeezed his hand and pulled back. “Do you have any traveling planned before the school year picks back up?”

The shift in conversation was a welcome one and they talked comfortably through dinner until the check arrived. Toshinori instinctively reached for his wallet to pull out his credit card only to remember it was still housed in Hizashi’s back pocket. He immediately grabbed the check and held it to his chest, eyes narrowed at his dinner companion.

“Can I have my credit card back, please?”

Hizashi seemed to consider it, tapping his finger against his chin, a grin tugging at his lips. “I suppose you did let me pay for the movie.”

“Yes, and agreed that I would pay for dinner,” Toshinori reminded, though he knew it wasn’t necessary. Hizashi was teasing him and it was a strange feeling. It made his chest light and he couldn’t help his own budding smile in response to his antics.

With a loud, dramatic sigh, he reached back and retrieved the card. He handed it over, their fingers brushing as Toshinori took it and tucked it into the container with the check. Their server came and took care of it and soon enough they were out the door and back into the cooling evening air. Thankfully it would be a short walk back to the school.

“You know, this was fun as hell,” Hizashi looped his arm through one of Toshinori’s and leaned into him. They hadn’t had a single drink, but Toshinori’s head still spun pleasantly at the attention. “You had fun, right? I wasn’t too obnoxious? Shou always gets on me for talking too much.”

“Aizawa seems the type to prefer quiet companionship,” Toshinori patted Hizashi’s arm where it was curled around his own, “I like it all, you didn’t talk to too much, and yes, I had fun.” He had, really. For all of his worries leading up to the evening, the event itself was pleasant. Maybe the weather helped, maybe it was just the companionship, and maybe it had the slightest bit to do with the warm bubbly feeling in his chest when Hizashi tilted his head just so to peer up at him from the tops of his glasses.

He was close enough to kiss. Toshinori shut that thought down immediately and snapped his gaze back ahead of them, nearly tripping on uneven pavement.

“Woah, hey, careful now,” Hizashi laughed, but it was pinched, and Toshinori worried for a fleeting second that Hizashi somehow knew what he was thinking. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, just a bit clumsy. Sorry.”

It was Hizashi’s turn to pat his arm, “it happens.” His voice had returned to its normal timbre, and for that Toshinori was grateful. They walked quietly back to the dorms, still arm-in-arm until they got close to the building. Then Toshinori gently took his arm back with a smile as he swiped his ID to unlock the door.

To his surprise, Hizashi hopped forward to hold it open, eyes dancing. “After you,” he motioned and Toshinori couldn’t help but snort as he walked by. They were two for two.

An elevator ride took them to the second floor and they lingered in the hallway that would lead to their respective apartments.

“Well -”

“I-”

They both paused and laughed nervously, realizing they’d spoken at once. Hizashi nodded to Toshinori, “you first.”

“I wanted to say I had a good time. Thank you for the movie, and for letting me pay for dinner.”

“I think that’s the first time anyone has thanked me for letting them pay,” Hizashi grinned, “but I had a good time, too. We’ll do it again sometime, yeah?”

There was that warmth again, curling slowly through him, lingering beneath his skin. “Of course, I, ah, yes, I would like that very much.” He fidgeted, the space between them not enough and somehow too much. Toshinori wasn’t sure what to do with his long limbs, despite the desire to close the distance, to touch Hizashi casually on the arm or the shoulder much like he did all the time.

The moment passed, though. He waited too long, doubt drowning out the warmth as he swallowed around it and nodded. “Goodnight, Hizashi.”

“Night, Toshinori,” Hizashi smiled, seemed to hesitate, then turned and walked down the hallway to his apartment.

**

Hizashi was rudely awakened Saturday morning long before his alarm or any school obligations. The source was Nemuri, perched on the arm of the couch where he fell asleep watching television after he and Toshi parted ways. She was dressed in her hero uniform, a flush high on her cheeks, eyes bright as she licked thoughtfully at a spoonful of yogurt.

His yogurt, Hizashi thought with a roll of his eyes as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Couch night, huh? Your date with All Might went that well?” Nemuri watched him from behind red-framed glasses. Hizashi reached for his own on the coffee table and placed them back over his eyes, the world returning sharp and bright.

“It wasn’t a date,” he groused, wishing it had been, wishing he’d had the guts to say as much. But sometimes Toshinori seemed too fragile, and he feared ruining the friendship that they had in his pursuit of more.

“Dinner and movie, right? That’s what you said in the text chain, before you ignored us for the rest of the night. I broke in here just to make sure you were alive, though I sort of hoped to either find All Might here with you, or you not here so I could assume you ended up in his bed.” She grinned, wickedly, and Hizashi hated the way his neck and face began to heat.

“You’re both terrible, you know that? Terrible people. Toshinori is a perfectly nice man who doesn’t deserve your deviancy.” He huffed and swung his legs off the couch onto the ground.

“Oh, so you did read our texts,” Nemuri’s eyebrows rose as she ate another bite of yogurt. “Seriously though, how did it go?”

“Fine, good even. It was fun, I had fun and I think he had fun,” he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, “I can’t read him, Nemuri. One minute I think maybe he’s as interested as I am and the next he’s staring off into space like he’s recalling some unpleasant memory. I don’t know what to do with that!”

She scooted from the arm of the couch to sit beside him and set her yogurt aside. He realized up close that her suit was torn in a couple of places, and she had a cut on her cheek. A typical night on patrol, he supposed. “From the sound of it, whatever you did was just fine if you both had fun.”

“I’m already thinking about another date,” he admitted, then stopped, “fuck me now I’m saying it! That’s unfair to him. I have to tell him it is a date if it is going to be a date.” He tossed his hands up in the air and threw himself back against the couch cushions. “But I don’t want to tell him it is a date.”

Nemuri patted his leg, “you’re cute when you’re smitten, but I think you’re over thinking things. Hang out with him again; gods know he could probably use someone pulling him out of the apartment and away from the students more often. Hang out and see where it goes.”

He huffed but nodded, “fine.” Then, Hizashi leaned forward and grabbed the yogurt and spoon off the table, triggering a wrestling match with Nemuri that ended with him cleaning yogurt out of the couch cushions.

**

“Bowling?” Toshinori laughed, startled by the suggestion. “I haven’t been in well over a decade. I actually can’t recall the last time I really played. I’ve done events at bowling alleys for charity and the like.”

Hizashi fidgeted in front of him, always moving, gaze drifting even as it eventually returned to Toshinori’s face. “I like it, sometimes. I don’t go a lot but it can be a fun night. The one I go to has music, and karaoke if that’s your thing.”

It wasn’t, but Toshinori knew it was Hizashi’s and he realized he wouldn’t mind seeing him sing.

“So? How about Saturday night?” Hizashi pushed, and Toshinori had a hard time saying no to the gently excited look on his face. It had been two weeks since their last time out and if he was honest, he was looking forward to going out again.

“Sure, Saturday night is fine.”

“Great! Good! We’ll meet at four outside the dorms.”

“It sounds like a plan,” Toshinori replied, nearly slipping and saying ‘date’, which made his heart skip a few beats. The last thing he needed to do was make that mistake and watch the soft thing growing between them crumble before it even got a chance.

Hizashi left the staff lounge and Toshinori returned to his tea and his grading just as Aizawa slid into the room, sleeping bag in hand.

“Going bowling with Hizashi, huh?” Aizawa said it in passing as he made his way over to the couch and tossed his sleeping bag down. “You two seem to be enjoying each other.”

Toshinori choked on his tea and sputtered, scrambling to grab a napkin which he held to his face as he coughed into it. A familiar metallic tang hit his tongue and he closed his eyes against it as he spat blood onto the napkin. Once he settled himself he turned to respond to Aizawa only to find the man buried in his sleeping bag, quietly snoring.

Saturday came, and with it a new wave of nerves. Toshinori spent more time in front of his bathroom mirror than he wanted to admit, lamenting his legs that were too long, his gaunt cheeks, and his sharp chin. He’d chosen a t-shirt for bowling because the past few evenings had been stifling hot even after sunset, but a look at his skinny arms made him reconsider.

Why was he fussing anyway? He knew this was just an outing between friends. There was no point in putting on a show because there was no one to woo. Crossing his arms over his chest he stared at his shadowed eyes in the mirror and frowned. If he believed any of that, why was there still a spark of hope in his chest that maybe it did mean something?

To soothe his battered self-confidence, he tossed a short-sleeved button-up on over the t-shirt. The sleeves managed to cover most of his upper arms at least and it was light enough that he could get away with it. His hair was a loss, but he ran his fingers through it anyway to try and tame it as he walked out of the bathroom.

He met up with Hizashi outside of the dorms as usual, but this time when he saw him his mouth went dry. Hizashi had leaned into the streak of warm weather they were having and dressed down into a tank top promoting a band with a low sloping neck that left very little to the imagination. Hanging just below the v of the collar was a bauble on the end of a necklace that appeared to have moss and dried flowers in it.

Like Toshinori, he opted for jeans. It was warm, but not warm enough to wear shorts all night.

The grin Hizashi offered him as he approached was less bright, more keen. He looked like he knew something and Toshinori wondered if his surprise at Hizashi’s outfit had been obvious on his face. He immediately glanced away and tried to ignore the flush of his cheeks.

“I like the shirt, Toshi,” Hizashi said, reaching out to touch the design screen printed onto it. “It is the band I told you about last time, the one from the movie soundtrack,” he sounded surprised, brows furrowed, “did you buy this after the movie?”

Toshinori glanced down at Hizashi finally and shrugged, “I uh, I bought the soundtrack and listened to it again. The t-shirt came with it.” It was half-true, anyway. He had bought the soundtrack, but the t-shirt had been an additional add-on at a discount for buying the physical CD. “I like your necklace.”

“Oh, shit, yeah!” His face broke out into a grin, “Nemuri bought it for me, found it online. The guy who makes them lives in the states, in the Pacific Northwest. The moss,” he lifted up the necklace to bring it closer to Toshinori’s face, “and the other dried plants are ones he picked up from there. I thought it was cool, having a piece of another part of the world around my neck.”

It was cool, Toshinori decided, if only because Hizashi’s enthusiasm was contagious.

Together they made their way to the bowling alley. It was further away than the theater had been, settled in a district popular with tourists. The alley itself seemed well kept, mocked up with neon lights running along the lanes and what appeared to be a cyberpunk theme throughout.

Given he was out of his depth, he left it to Hizashi to get them settled, though they once again argued about whose credit card the tab would go on. Hizashi won out, even though he let Toshinori keep his credit card this time, and offered his card to the young man at the desk.

Toshinori considered it a small miracle that they had shoes his size as they made their way to the lane they’d been assigned to. They chose their respective balls and Hizashi put their names into the computer so they could start.

“You want food or anything?” He asked after they had tossed the balls a couple of times. Toshinori was frustrated with another gutter ball and nearly missed the question before he turned and shrugged.

“Sure, I’ll go order. I’m not doing any good here anyway.”

“Alright man, get the vegetable tempura! Then when you get back maybe I’ll show you a thing or two.” Hizashi smiled, though the way he said it made Toshinori’s thoughts veer in an uncomfortable direction. So he nodded and walked off, exhaling slowly through his nose as he ordered food. He got tempura, per Hizashi’s request, along with a basket of edamame, and some dumplings. Once the food was ordered he walked back to the lane with two drinks in hand, a water for him and another soda for Hizashi.

He set them on the table behind their lane before he stepped up to the ball return, since it was his throw again. This time, Hizashi was beside him, observing.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, so Toshinori did. He walked up, swung his arm back, and released the ball down the lane. It was too hard, and at an angle, which left it rolling straight into the gutter.

“Damnit,” he hissed, not particularly enjoying being bad at this, especially in front of Hizashi who had been doing quite well for himself.

“Okay my man, I’m going to give you some pointers. First, look where you want to throw the ball, not at the ball while you’re throwing it. Second, there are marks on the lane, aim for those. Pick up the ball,” he motioned to the returned ball and Toshinori picked it up.

“You’re shoulders are bunched up and you’re acting like you want to use the ball in a Detroit Smash, as opposed to sending it down a lane to hit some pins. Relax,” and with that, Hizashi reached up and pushed down on Toshinori’s shoulders. He nearly dropped the ball, but recovered quickly. “Now hold the ball like you’re about to throw it.”

Toshinori once again followed the instructions and was rewarded with a hum and Hizashi’s firm hands touching his arm. “See, you want to keep your arm straight when you let the ball go. Right now you’re bending your arm slightly. Keep it straight and you should be golden, okay? Now try.”

He took a steadying breath that had more to do with the heat rushing through his body and less to do with throwing the ball before he stepped up and tried to remember what Hizashi had told him. Looking at the marks on the lane instead of at the ball, he kept his arm as straight as he could and released the ball.

It tumbled down the lane and still veered to the left, but it clipped the two outer pins and they went down.

“Yeah!” Hizashi shouted behind him, bordering on too loud as the people in the lanes around them winced. Toshinori couldn’t care about that, though, because Hizashi’s hand was on his lower back, his other squeezing Toshinori’s arm encouragingly. “See? Keep working at it and you’ll be wiping the floor with me in no time.”

He doubted that, of course, because Hizashi was good and even did some fancy footwork before every release. Toshinori kept trying throughout the night, adjusting his stance, remembering to keep his arm straight between bowling breaks that involved Hizashi’s excited chatter and the food they’d bought.

After three rounds, Toshinori started to feel it. His side ached, as did his shoulder, and it must have been obvious because Hizashi closed out the game. “I think we can wrap it up, unless you want to do karaoke?”

“I think I’ve had enough excitement for tonight, I’m afraid,” Toshinori offered him his best apologetic smile, “and I think if I were to try and sing we’d get kicked out of this place.”

“Are you telling me All Might never got down with karaoke?”

“All Might, maybe,” he ignored the sinking feeling that the memories of his boisterous youth brought. “I still wasn’t good, I just had a better grasp of how to win over a room then. Now? I’d probably frighten people.”

He glanced at Hizashi who had another curious look on his face, an occurrence becoming more common, but no less befuddling the more time they spent together.

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” the words seemed to surprise Hizashi as they came out of his own mouth, but he doubled down, “first of all, anyone who thinks that is missing the point of karaoke and can go fuck themselves. Second, I bet you’d be amazing if you let yourself just be, you know? That’s part of the fun of karaoke. I’m not a good singer, I’m just loud, but when I commit myself to it and have fun? Then everyone has fun.”

Hizashi stepped in closer, a frown on his lips, “you shouldn’t have to be worried about what other people think. If you want to do something, you should do it. You don’t have to cater to the world anymore or put on a show,” he paused, “and you don’t have to do karaoke if you don’t want to, but if you wanted to, don’t let what other people think stop you.”

“And what about what you think?” Toshinori asked impulsively, regretting it the moment the words were spoken.

“What I think?” Hizashi tilted his head.

“About me,” Toshinori swallowed around his nerves as he forced himself to keep looking into Hizashi’s bright green and curious eyes, “what would you think about me?”

“I think the world of you,” Hizashi replied softly and reached out to rest a hand on his chest, over his heart, “a lot of people do, y’know? And hell, man, if you were happy and full standing in front of a bunch of people doing karaoke then I’d be happy, too.”

They were a little too close for comfort now, reminiscent of their walk back to the dorms after the movie and dinner. The desire to lean in and close the distance between them was there again, another impulse, this one more easily controlled.

“All Might! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here! Can we have a picture? An autograph?”

Of course, the moment was broken as a young man and presumably his date, a blushing young woman stood near them.

“And Present Mic! Wow!” The young man beamed, and Hizashi stepped away from Toshinori with an apologetic look.

They turned and engaged with the couple, along with a few others who finally approached now that the proverbial door had been opened. Both Toshinori and Hizashi posed for photos and signed autographs until the small crowd died down and retreated back to their respective lanes.

“I think,” Toshinori began, flustered and tired and not quite sure what else was buried under those two feelings, “I would like to start our trek home.”

“Hell yeah,” Hizashi answered, though he looked energized by the attention, flushed and attentive.

And young. Gods, what was Toshinori doing with someone so young? What was he thinking, when he thought about kissing him, especially here in public? In front of all these people? It would have been an embarrassment to them both, one that their friendship may never recover from. He steeled himself to face the reality of the situation as they cleaned up their area and walked their shoes back to the front desk to close out the night.

The evening was balmy as they stepped outside and Toshinori wondered if there was going to be rain later that evening. Hopefully they would make it back to campus before the worst of it. As they walked, Hizashi put his arm through Toshinori’s in what was quickly becoming a familiar gesture. He wished he could be as free with his affections at Hizashi was.

“How’s your arm? You looked like you were in pain earlier.”

“Ah, old bones, old wounds. I’ll recover. If anything, it has inspired me to get back to weight training. I shouldn’t let a bowling ball defeat me.” He took a little pride in the laugh that bubbled up out of Hizashi’s chest.

“I’m picturing the headline now, ‘All Might taken down by sprained shoulder’,” he snorted and leaned into Toshinori a bit, which caught him off guard enough that he stumbled and Hizashi pitched forward.

Thankfully, despite his tired arm, Toshinori’s reflexes were still as quick as ever and he grabbed hold of Hizashi around the waist and kept him upright. He caught a flash of a smile before Hizashi leaned fully into his side, Toshinori’s arm still around his waist from where he’d caught him.

“Thanks,” Hizashi murmured, and Toshinori noticed his cheeks were flushed.

“Are you alright? Did they spike your drink?” Toshinori huffed out a laugh, “or perhaps you overdid it bowling, hmm?”

He tried to ignore how nice it was to have Hizashi’s warm body pressed into his side as they walked, or that he had yet to move his arm from around his waist. What was he doing? What were they doing? Because this seemed to have tipped over some sort of line and Toshinori wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” and then Hizashi straightened and Toshinori pulled his arm back and shoved his hands in his pocket, disappointment prickling beneath his skin.

“Sorry, I feel like I took a few liberties there, I’m,” Toshinori frowned at the ground as they walked, “sorry.”

“Liberties? You kept me from falling on my ass, there’s no liberties,” Hizashi scoffed and jostled Toshinori’s arm, “it is okay, you know. You don’t have to apologize for touching someone.”

Toshinori’s heart leapt up into his throat and his guts twisted uncomfortably. He continued to walk but was pulled to a stop by a hand on his arm.

“Toshi?” Hizashi sounded worried and guilt nipped at Toshinori’s heels. He’d ruined a perfectly good evening, probably, all because he lingered when he wasn’t welcome. “Hey, Toshinori, All Might,” at his name, he finally met Hizashi’s gaze.

“I’m serious man. You should know by now I’m a pretty affectionate guy, okay? And you know, maybe I liked having your arm around me. I’m just worried I’m going to chase you off or something, but I think I’m starting to realize you think it is you while I’m standing here thinking it is me and in reality we’re both being silly,” he smiled and squeezed Toshinori’s arm.

What Hizashi had said earlier came to mind. “If I want to do something, I should, like you said earlier?”

“Yeah!” Hizashi looked pleased, but Toshinori’s heart clenched in his chest. Wanting and taking were not things a Symbol got to do. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to want something, or in this case someone anymore. Maybe he had never known. He knew his face must have fallen because Hizashi’s mirrored it, concern written across his features.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he insisted softly with a tug on Toshinori’s arm. He acquiesced, noting with the taste of bitterness in his mouth that Hizashi did not loop his arm through his again as they walked.

They made it back to the dorms and the familiar hallway after a quiet train ride. The whole time Hizashi fidgeted with something - his necklace, the hem of his shirt, his own fingers. It seemed like he wanted to burst but didn’t know what to say or how to diffuse the energy that surged through him, and Toshinori let it alone. If he spoke, he’d probably make whatever had passed between them worse.

In the hallway Toshinori bid a quiet goodnight and turned to go only to be pulled gently to a stop. He turned, confused, before a surprised sound escaped him when Hizashi wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down for a tight hug.

After a moment of hesitation he returned it, arms sliding around Hizashi’s waist to pull him closer. Hizashi responded by squeezing him tighter before he released him and stepped back, Toshinori’s arms falling away to allow it.

“I had fun,” Hizashi said with an impish smile, “especially the bit where I crushed you at bowling.”

“You certainly had the advantage,” Toshinori replied, tension easing, their banter a balm for his frayed nerves, “but perhaps I’ll train up and come for you, hm? Be the Symbol of Bowling.”

“In your dreams, All Might. You can’t be good at everything.”

“Perhaps not,” Toshinori admitted, “but I had fun too. Goodnight, Hizashi.” He turned to go once more but Hizashi stopped him again, this time with his voice.

“Wait, Toshinori,” and Toshinori turned, “do you want to come in for tea or something?” He looked nervous, bouncing in place on the balls of his feet.

“Thank you for the offer,” Toshinori appreciated it, more than he could probably say, “but not this time. It is late, and I’m afraid you’ve tired this old man out.” He didn’t trust himself to go into Hizashi’s apartment, not with the pressure of the hug still lingering, or the ghosts of all the other touches the night had wrought. He could only allow himself so many selfish indulgences in a single night, after all.

“Oh, okay, yeah, no, that makes sense. Cool. Well. Sleep well, okay? And uh, we’ll hang out again soon?” Hizashi nodded then turned on his heel and headed back to his apartment. Toshinori watched him disappear into it before he returned to his own, exhausted on multiple levels.

**

“He didn’t want to come in for tea,” Hizashi complained from the floor of his apartment. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, Nemuri behind him on the couch snacking on some sort of candy, Shouta curled up on the opposite side scarfing down noodles.

“My, what an absolutely tragedy,” Nemuri ran the fingers of one hand through his hair and he leaned back into it with a sigh.

“He’s impossible. He practically vibrates whenever I get close to him, I can’t even imagine what is going through his mind when I actually have the gall to touch him, but he’s still so, so,” Hizashi didn’t have the words for it and instead groaned and turned to bury his face in Nemuri’s leg.

“I wish you both would figure it out, watching you make eyes at each other is obnoxious,” Shouta chipped in between bites of noodles. “Have you considered, I don’t know, telling him you’re interested?”

“I practically did! I practically threw myself at him!” Hizashi knew it wasn’t quite the truth, but in the moment with Toshinori looking so skittish, he might as well have been tossing himself at him.

“Practically,” Shouta repeated with a snort.

“Shou be nice, Hizashi is in love,” Nemuri cooed, and Hizashi turned his head to scowl at her.

“I’m not in love,” he bit out, “but it is fucking All Might, you guys. What if I come out with it directly and he decides he wants nothing to do with me anymore?”

“Have you met him?” Shouta asked and Hizashi could hear him roll his eyes, “he doesn’t have a contemptuous bone in his body when it comes to anyone at UA. He might turn you down, sure, but he’s not going to start ignoring you. He’s a grown ass man, so are you.”

“But he didn’t come for tea,” and for Hizashi, that seemed to be a sign. Maybe the offer was made too soon? Maybe the night had been too much? Maybe he had just been tired like he said. Why did this have to be so hard?

“Darling,” Nemuri began, “I don’t like it when Shouta is right but I think he is this time.” Shouta grumbled something from his corner and Nemuri appeared to ignore it. “You’ve gone out a couple of times, you both see each other almost every day, you’re friendly, and he’s friendlier to you than most. It might be time to have a conversation with him about it.”

Hizashi sighed loudly because he, too, hated to admit when his friends were right. Especially when they were right about something he didn’t want to do.

“You’re both the worst,” he groused.

“We know,” they answered in unison, and Hizashi wondered if he could put them up for adoption and find friends who would enable him instead.

**

“Toshinori!”

Toshinori turned to a familiar voice calling his name and saw Hizashi jogging down the hallway to catch up to him. “Afternoon, Hizashi,” he smiled.

“Would you like to come over for tea tonight?” Hizashi appeared a little out of breath and Toshinori puzzled over it, along with the offer.

“Ah, sure, I suppose that would be nice.” They hadn’t hung out since the week before with their bowling trip, after which Toshinori turned down a very similar offer. “I’m learning the new grading system with Aizawa this evening, but I could stop by after that? Say around eight?”

“Perfect, yeah, cool, I’ll make sure the tea is decaf,” Hizashi offered him a lopsided smile, “I’ll see you then.” He darted off and Toshinori watched him, confused.

“About time,” Toshinori jumped and turned to find Aizawa lounging in a doorway, swathed in his sleeping bag, a gel pouch hanging out of his mouth.

“Sorry, what?”

Aizawa snorted and shuffled off, disappearing into the staff lounge. Toshinori was left to wonder what exactly had gotten into everyone. He glanced around for hidden cameras and finding none, made his way out of the building to meet with Midoriya.

He turned up in front of Hizashi’s apartment door just after eight, delayed by the strange experience of learning a new online grade book. The grade book itself was a huge improvement to the one they had been using and Toshinori found it far more user friendly. The strange part came from the oddly cheerful disposition of the man helping him learn it. It was unsettling. Aizawa shouldn’t be cheerful.

Knocking, the door opened a few minutes later to a dressed-down Hizashi. He wore shorts and a tank top, hair pulled up high on his head, glasses on the tip of his nose. A smile broke out across his face and he stepped back, motioning inside.

“Come on, the water is boiling. I’ve got decaf green tea if you’d like, or I’ve got some other flavored teas.”

Toshinori toed off his shoes and shut the door behind him as Hizashi headed toward the kitchen. “The decaf green is fine, thank you.” He wound his way around the couch and sat down, looking at the room. There was a large flat screen television mounted to the wall and beneath that an entertainment stand that had some sort of gaming console, along with haphazardly stacked blu-rays.

In glancing further around the room he saw bookcases full of all sorts of titles and a number of framed and signed concert posters along the wall. Before he could continue his sweep, Hizashi came into view holding two mugs. He set one on the table in front of him.

“I put just a dash of sugar in, I hope that’s alright,” Hizashi grimaced, “force of habit.”

“It is fine,” Toshinori typically took his tea plain, but a little sugar wouldn’t hurt too much. He picked up the mug and inhaled before he took a testing sip. It was definitely too hot, so he set it back down as Hizashi sat beside him on the couch.

“How’s your day?” Hizashi set his tea beside Toshinori’s on the table and leaned back into the couch cushion.

“It went well, I think. I appreciate the new grading system, it is a little simpler for me to navigate than the last one. I’ll have to thank Nezu for approving it,” he smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, not quite sure what to do with his body as he sank back into the couch. Hizashi sat distractingly close.

“Great.”

Toshinori frowned and turned slightly on the couch, “everything alright?” It wasn’t like Hizashi to be clipped like that and he noticed he was a little red in the face. “Hizashi?”

Hizashi took a deep breath and then turned, tucking one of his legs beneath him with the other off the couch. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Those words never tended to herald anything good and Toshinori felt a bit ill. “Alright.”

“I want to go on a date with you.”

The statement hung in the air like a leaf caught in a draft, floating but unable to land. Then it landed, full force, and nearly knocked the air out of Toshinori as he wheezed and then coughed, but managed to suck in enough air to keep from having a fit.

“Shit, Toshi, I didn’t mean - fuck, you know, it is fine if you want to say no, right? I just had to tell you. I’m sorry, look, I hope this -”

Toshinori, unable to speak quite yet, reached up and placed his hand over Hizashi’s mouth, shaking his head. He finally found his voice and his hand dropped, Hizashi watching him with his hypnotic eyes. “Those were not the words I was expecting, Hizashi. Forgive me for my reaction. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Good surprised, or bad surprised?”

“Surprised,” Toshinori offered as he sat back, turning on the couch to try and mirror Hizashi. “Good surprised, I suppose, since I had similar thoughts.”

Hizashi’s entire face relaxed into a shy smile at that. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Toshinori repeated with a soft laugh before he glanced down at the couch cushion, running his fingers over the fabric. “To be honest, I’ve wondered about it since we went to movie but just assumed I was reading into things.”

“You weren’t,” Hizashi reached out and put a hand on Toshinori’s knee, leaning forward toward him. “I guess we’ve both been a bit ridiculous about it, huh? I didn’t want to bring it up because I really like hanging out with you, man. It wasn’t worth potentially losing that.”

“Ah, I confess I had similar reasons for staying quiet.” He hesitantly rested his hand over Hizashi’s where it lay on his knee.

“So can we just count the last two times we’ve hung out as dates? Making this date number three?”

“Ha! I guess, I don’t see why not,” Toshinori glanced up at Hizashi and smiled. “In retrospect they certainly seem like dates.”

“Good, because that means it isn’t crazy that I want to do this,” he leaned forward toward Toshinori, a hand on his knee for balance while the other came up to cup his cheek. He pressed their lips together in a soft, dry kiss that nearly knocked Toshinori backward in his surprise.

Hizashi leaned back a little, “okay?”

Toshinori chased his mouth in answer, slotting their lips together again. Hizashi laughed into it, mouth sliding open and tongue drawing along Toshinori’s lower lip. He tipped backwards, pulling Toshinori with him so that they ended up sprawled on the couch. It took a little shifting to make sure he wasn’t crushing Hizashi beneath him, but once he found a comfortable position he brought their lips together again.

It was a simple, tender thing. Hizashi was not a rough kisser. He was slow and languid and easy, his lips parting to let Toshinori’s tongue brush against his in a way that pulled a soft groan from both of their throats. Toshinori indulged, letting a hand slide up to rest against the side of Hizashi’s face as he brushed his thumb along his temple, then down over the warm rise of his cheekbone, stroking and touching.

Hizashi’s hands were a little more bold. They rucked up the back of Toshinori’s shirt and smoothed over the skin of his back. Finally they parted, Hizashi below him, his hair a mess around his head almost like a halo. Toshinori couldn’t help himself as he closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, sharing breath, sharing space.

“I got to kiss All Might,” Hizashi teased, breath tickling Toshinori’s cheek, “that’s a teenage dream fulfilled.”

“Oh stop,” Toshinori couldn’t help but laugh as he lowered his head to Hizashi’s shoulder, hiding his face and the blush he knew was there. “Please, it is hard enough working at UA knowing how many of you were fans.”

Hizashi’s fingertips trailed up his spine, then soothed back down it. “Sorry, I promise after we kiss like twenty more times I’ll maybe get passed it.” Toshinori could feel his grin as Hizashi pressed a kiss to the side of his head. They stayed like that, basking in each other’s warmth and weight until Toshinori’s leg started to cramp and he had to shift positions.

“You should stay for a while,” Hizashi said suddenly, hand flat and hot against the skin of Toshinori’s lower back, “like maybe the night.”

“Hizashi,” Toshinori laughed, “that’s moving a bit quickly.”

“Heeeeeey, I didn’t mean it like that! I swear! I just, I don’t know, I don’t want you to leave yet.” His tone was laced with an anxiety Toshinori could understand on some level. He too felt that if he left the room then he would step outside and wake up from this lovely little dream and they would be back to dancing around each other with no resolution.

“I’ll stay for a while,” he conceded, “perhaps put a movie on?”

**

Hizashi considered it a victory when Toshinori agreed to stay for at least part of the night. They had rearranged themselves on the couch, though Hizashi insisted Toshinori remain sprawled atop him despite his voiced complaints.

“I’m much larger than you, I don’t want to crush you,” Toshinori said with a frown, even as Hizashi’s arms went around him and pulled him so his head was tucked beneath his chin. And if Toshinori’s legs were too long for the couch, well, all the better reason to bend and tangle their limbs together to make it work.

In the end Hizashi won, Toshinori’s comforting weight atop him, pressing him into the cushions. At some point during the movie he noticed Toshinori had fallen asleep, his body going slack after a solid hour of tense little shifts Hizashi chalked up to nerves. The movie continued to drone in the background, volume low and subtitles on, though Hizashi hardly paid attention to it.

Who cared about a movie when he had the Symbol of Peace in his arms dozing with his lips gracefully parted, head on his chest? He noticed in sleep that Toshinori’s breathing was wheezy and he wondered idly just how far his injury went. Not that it mattered. He ran his fingers through Toshinori’s hair and admired the way his sharp features softened while asleep.

Toshinori deserved this, perhaps more than anyone. To be at peace, to be comfortable, to be held. Hizashi’s heart nearly burst with the thought that it was his arms that got to provide that, his fingertips that gently traced the long, taut line of Toshinori’s neck, his lips that got to brush against the heat of his forehead where it rested near his jaw.

The movie credits rolled and the screen went dark, leaving nothing but dim lamplight to paint the picture of Toshinori sprawled in his arms. Eventually his eyes drooped and despite his intense desire to burn this image into his memory, Hizashi soon gave in to sleep, too.

For as long as it lasted, anyway, before he was rudely awakened by the distinct sensation of falling. He hit the floor with a grunt, grateful he’d left his glasses on the coffee table because otherwise they may have been a casualty in whatever war he’d woken up to. As his hazy mind shook awake he glanced around and noticed a rumpled and confused version of All Might on his floor.

Oh, shit, that’s right. He grinned as the evening’s events returned to him and didn’t care when he grabbed his glasses and found Toshinori regarding him with a strange look.

“I’ve accidentally knocked us off the couch and you’re grinning?” His voice is rough with sleep and Hizashi kind of likes the rumble beneath his words.

“You seem to be forgetting the very important fact that the only reason you could knock us to the ground is because you fell asleep in my arms in the first place and damn, that’s amazing,” Hizashi’s grin widened as he clamored to his feet and reached out a hand. “Come on, up you go. Let’s go to bed.”

Toshinori’s hand froze midway in its journey through the air, eyes widening. “I, ah, shouldn’t I go home?”

Hizashi closed the distance and grabbed his hand, hauling him up. “Only if you absolutely want to, my dear sleepy man, because it is a god awful hour in the morning and it is much easier to just fall into bed then to trek down the hallway.”

“Only if it isn’t an imposition.”

“All Might, my dude, I’ve been trying to get you into my bed all night so it ain’t an imposition,” he laughed and leaned up to steal a kiss, because that’s something he got to do now. Kiss Toshinori. “Up to you.” To make his point, he brushed past him and made for the bedroom door. He paused just inside the room and waited, smiling to himself when he heard footsteps approaching.

“I suppose it makes the most sense,” Toshinori said as he stepped into the room, “I’ve already fallen asleep here.”

“Exactly,” Hizashi yanked back the covers and flopped into bed, joined soon after by a far more cautious Toshinori who carefully settled under the blankets. “C’mere,” Hizashi encouraged as he rolled to his side, then pushed and moved Toshinori until Hizashi had him spooned, caught against his chest and wrapped up in his arms.

He nuzzled his face against the back of Toshinori’s neck and felt him shiver. “Comfortable?”

“Quite,” Toshinori murmured, voice soft and already drifting. Hizashi had a mind to be worried, but he felt Toshinori’s hand find his and squeeze. They fell asleep again, this time far more comfortably than before.

**

Toshinori woke first, limbs loose and mind blissfully free of nightmares and shadows. Surprisingly they’d managed to remain in the same position all night, Hizashi wrapped around him like a blanket. Or maybe a very affectionate octopus. There were a number of items warring for his attention as his mind came back to itself. Toshinori needed to pee, he needed to eventually get up and get back to his apartment to take his morning medication, and most of all he realized he needed to somehow break out of Hizashi’s grasp without waking him.

First things first, he carefully squirmed out of Hizashi’s arms. The man behind him made a soft, sleepy sound, but once Toshinori was free he just rolled over and settled back into a deep sleep. His first task was successful. The second he took care of rather easily once he found the bathroom. The third, he decided as he glanced back into the bedroom on the way to the kitchen, could wait until tea was made and he could gently wake Hizashi up.

With a plan in place, he continued his journey to the kitchen and set up the electric kettle. Whether it was the contentment blurring his senses, or the fact he had not quite woken up yet, the voice behind him startled him far more than it should have.

“I’m disappointed you’ve got clothes on.”

Toshinori spun and looked into the living room to find Nemuri sitting on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other. She already had what appeared to be a cup of tea in her hands and sipped it delicately.

“Do you often break into Hizashi’s apartment?” Toshinori had to ask as he glanced back at the kettle.

“Yes,” Nemuri beamed, “though it isn’t really breaking in when he keeps his spare key stashed above the door frame. That’s like asking for someone to come in.”

“I see,” Toshinori didn’t, really, but had a feeling he was only scratching the surface of the strange friendship between his three colleagues.

“You two get yourselves sorted, at least?”

“Sorted?” The kettle boiled and he shut it off, preparing tea for both he and Hizashi.

“You’re both obvious to everyone except yourselves,” Nemuri shrugged, “glad someone finally said something.”

Toshinori was, too, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. “Well, yes, we’ve gotten ourselves sorted. I’d like for us to get ourselves further sorted this morning, if you wouldn’t mind.” He turned to her with two mugs of tea in hand, “in private, if possible.”

She grinned and put her hand to her forehead dramatically, “I suppose I ought to leave you two to it.” Then she stood and took her own mug to the kitchen, before heading back out and to the door. There Nemuri paused and turned back to look at him, a serious look on her face, “take care of him, All Might.”

He nodded, “of course.”

Nemuri left, the door clicking shut behind her and Toshinori slipped into the bedroom. He set one mug on the nightstand near Hizashi, the other cradled in one hand as he reached out with the other to brush some hair out of Hizashi’s face.

He withdrew his hand and sat there for a moment, sipping his tea and enjoying the quiet of the morning. Hizashi’s chest rose and fell with every breath, lips parted and face relaxed. It seemed cruel to disturb him so he didn’t. Toshinori merely watched, wondered, and thought about this still-fragile thing between them.

When his tea was finished and Hizashi’s had no doubt grown cool, he finally reached over to shake him awake.

“Mm, Toshi?” Hizashi mumbled, reaching for his hand and bringing it to his cheek, holding it there.

“I made you tea, you should drink it before it gets cold. I need to go back to my apartment and take care of a few things.” He quietly cursed his broken body, but knew if he didn’t pull himself away now to take care of business it would set the rest of the day on a slanted path.

Hizashi seemed to wake up a bit more at that, bright green eyes blinking open. He brushed his lips to the back of Toshinori’s hand and then released it, pushing himself into a sitting position. Toshinori’s eyes drifted over Hizashi’s shirt, rumpled and a bit askew from sleep, all the way up to one of his cheeks which was red and lined from where it had pressed into the pillow. He was a sight, and Toshinori wasn’t quite sure what to do as his insides coiled with long-abandoned desire.

How did someone like Hizashi even spare a second look at someone like him? He inhaled sharply when Hizashi leaned over and kissed him, soft but insistent, leveraging his weight to try and push Toshinori onto his back. He allowed it, tilted his head a little and opened his mouth to press his tongue into Hizashi’s. Everything choked to a stop though when Hizashi gave a lazy roll of his hips right into Toshinori’s, causing Toshinori’s hand to snap out and curl in Hizashi’s shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss and shook his head, “I need to go take care of things,” he repeated, breathless and trying to ignore the look of concern on Hizashi’s face.

“Too fast?” He asked, and Toshinori sighed and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Sort of,” he admitted, his heart pounding. “Maybe. But I’m not making up an escape. I really have to go for half an hour or so, but I can come back.” Toshinori thought to invite Hizashi to come with him, but feared subjecting him to his tedious morning medical routine.

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” Hizashi stole another soft kiss, “sorry for going too fast, I just wish you could see yourself right now.”

A few self-deprecating descriptions came to mind, but in light of the look on Hizashi’s face he decided to save them. For some reason Hizashi saw something in this body he didn’t and it left him with that familiar warm feeling growing in his chest.

They parted, with a few more kisses for good measure, and Toshinori returned to his apartment to walk through his routine. He did go back to Hizashi’s after that and they spent the morning together, holding and kissing and being, Toshinori trying to burn every sensation into his memory.

Of course they parted and came together many times after that, each time chipping away at Toshinori’s old armor. Every time he thought it would end, Hizashi doubled down, pressed closer. In turn, there were times Hizashi shied away and Toshinori found a new courage within himself to pursue him regardless. They fell together, twisting lazily in orbit around one another, and proximity alone made Toshinori’s social circle grow.

Aizawa hung around late into the quiet evenings grading with him, companionable if quiet. Nemuri had a tendency to let herself into Toshinori’s apartment as much as Hizashi’s now, and he could find her rummaging through his fridge and complaining about what he kept stocked. And at the center of it all was Hizashi, a bright, blazing sun, shooting him wide smiles from across the hallways and grabbing his hand whenever he thought no one was looking.

They lay together one evening in Hizashi’s bed, naked and tangled. Toshinori was flushed, still trying to make his lung cooperate as the last tingles of pleasure danced across his skin. Hizashi watched him with hooded eyes and a soft smile, fingers buried in Toshinori’s hair, rubbing at his scalp.

“I went overboard on the hickies,” Hizashi admitted, his free hand reaching down to swipe over a number of bites and bruises along Toshinori’s collar. He shuddered under the attention, pressing his face into Hizashi’s shoulder.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled into warm, salty skin as he placed a kiss on it.

“That’s good, because I don’t think I could stop even if you wanted me to,” Hizashi leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling. “You should hear the sound you make whenever I make one.”

“Oh, I do. Over and over again,” Toshinori chuckled, “it is ridiculous.”

“Well, I happen to like it,” Hizashi retorted as he glanced back at Toshinori and reached up to run the pad of his thumb along the line of Toshinori’s nose. “I like all the sounds you make.”

That quieted Toshinori’s mirth as he nudged into the touch. This was the longest he had been with anyone since Dave, and the soft affections still caught him off guard. How could Hizashi like him so much, with the monstrous scar on his side hidden only by the artful drape of his body atop Hizashi’s? Or the way he sometimes twisted in the sheets at night when nightmares got the better of him. In quiet moments like this the doubt crept in and chased away the warmth, leaving him wondering when this would end, just like everything else.

“Toshinori,” Hizashi’s voice came from above his head and he glanced up and offered a half-smile.

“Hizashi,” he answered, voice catching in his throat. Hizashi rolled him, pushing him onto his back and into the bed as he leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You know you’re stuck with me now, right? Like, there’s no way I’d leave. You’ve fallen into my trap, whether you like it or not,” Hizashi leaned his head down to press a kiss under Toshinori’s jaw and Toshinori relaxed beneath the attention, marveling over Hizashi’s ability to pick up on his dark and frustrating thoughts.

“It isn’t even your choice anymore, really,” Hizashi continued, mouth brushing along the line of Toshinori’s neck, voice vibrating against his skin. “You leave when I say you leave, hmm?”

Toshinori shivered as teeth lightly scraped across his collarbone. “So what I’m saying is, you’re going to have to get used to me, if you haven’t already. Whatever doubts you have in your head can get ejected out into space for all I care because,” Hizashi paused at his chest and gazed up, forcing Toshinori to tilt his head at an angle to meet his gaze, “they have no bearing here. It is all about me, after all,” he grinned, and then his clever mouth trailed lower and Toshinori’s fingers curled in the sheets with a soft gasp.

He supposed for now he could live with that. Gladly.