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Even though they’d been married for close to a decade now, Aizawa had yet to figure out how to be a romantic partner to his husband. Hizashi was just better than he was. He knew the best places to go on dates (almost always to some new cat cafe), bought Aizawa the cheesiest mugs and stupidly expensive coffee even though he insisted his instant coffee was perfectly fine for him. He had always been better at this, and usually, that was okay.
But now Aizawa wanted to be better. For once, he wanted to woo his husband. Hizashi was rarely surprised by his romantic efforts (which usually ended up with burnt food or a blowjob in the middle of their living room). It’s not like he wasn’t grateful or didn’t love Aizawa, he just knew he was a little...romantically challenged.
So when he was listening to Hizashi’s radio show, like he always did when he was out on patrol, and heard him make an announcement about an upcoming original song contest, he couldn’t help but be a little intrigued.
“That’s right, little listeners, I, the one and only Present Mic, want you to write and record an original song and send it in to the show! The winner will get a cash prize, some totally awesome Present Mic themed merch, as well as an interview, live with yours truly! All you have to do is…”
Aizawa let the voice of his husband fade out as the ideas began to flow through his mind. The end of the contest was the day before their tenth anniversary. He gripped his capture weapon a little tighter as he rounded a corner. This, this could be his chance to finally one-up his husband.
All he had to do was figure out how to write and record an original song. In a little under two months. How hard could it be?
Two weeks later, Aizawa was woken up to his phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket. He’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Hizashi to get done with patrol, still in his hero costume. He pulled his phone out from his pocket and pressed decline, perfectly ready to fall back asleep.
His phone lit up again instantly, so he cursed and answered it, finally standing and cracking his back as he did.
“What,” he said, almost tripping over Sushi as he walked through the (now dark) living room, headed towards the kitchen.
“Aizawa Shota,” Nemuri all but purred, voice a bit tinny through the speakers of his phone, “care to tell me why you got a guitar delivered to my apartment?” Aizawa paused, hand still deep inside the box of protein bars he kept on the counter.
“Care to tell me why you opened my mail?” he countered. Nemuri laughed loudly and he held the phone away from his ear a bit to escape the noise.
“I think if one of my best friends gets a massive package delivered to my apartment, the delivery guy was very hot by the way, you missed out, I get mail opening privileges. Now spill, why the guitar?” she asked.
“Hizashi and my wedding anniversary is soon,” he said, taking a bite of his protein bar. He could almost hear Nemuri rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone and couldn’t help it when his lips quirked up into a small smile.
“I know that, stupid, why get him a guitar though? He already has like, eleven of them.”
“Four, actually, and it isn’t for him,” he said, swallowing roughly, he really needed to invest in something that was less like trying to eat literal chalk, “it’s for me.”
“Oh?”
“I’m doing his stupid song contest, thought it’d be a nice anniversary gift. Romantic,” he said. It took about four seconds for Nemuri to start laughing, snorting and giggling like she was having a fit. He sat on the other end of the phone, waiting for her to finally calm down.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “it’s just you want to write a song for Hizashi? Isn’t that more his thing? He’s the one who goes all out on the romantic things, you usually get him practical stuff or like, birthday sex, which is a perfectly valid gift if you ask me,” Nemuri was starting to go off on a tangent, so Aizawa interuppted her before she started talking about her favorite ways to please her partners.
“I know it’s his thing, that’s why I want to do it. He deserves something nice, Nemuri, it’s almost been ten years. I want to finally get him something special,” he said. Nemuri was quiet, softer, when she responded.
“Shota,” Aizawa cringed. She only used his first name when she was upset, “you know he loves you, you don’t have to do something you aren’t comfortable with, he’d gladly take whatever gift you give him and love it.”
“I know he would, but he shouldn’t be the only one who gets stupid romantic gifts and flowers. I can do that too,” he said, voice firm. Nemuri sighed into the phone.
“Alright, but how exactly do you expect to learn how to play the guitar when it isn’t even at your apartment, where you spend exactly all of your free time?”
Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. He couldn’t really bring the guitar home, ‘Zashi would be instantly suspicious of why he suddenly had a guitar. He could go over to Nemuri’s to learn, but that would mean having to deal with her constant jokes. He was about to respond that he would figure something out when she spoke again.
“I actually know someone that can play guitar, maybe they can teach you? Can’t guarantee they’ll be much help on the songwriting front, but the guitar they can do. Want me to set you up?” Aizawa sighed at her suggestive tone.
“Fine, just text me the details,” he paused when he heard the door open and Hizashi’s loud baby voice echo through the apartment as he greeted Sushi. “I gotta go,” he hung up quickly and shoved the phone back into his pocket as Hizashi walked into the kitchen.
He let himself be pulled into a hug, tucking his face into the crook of Hizashi’s neck.
“How was patrol?” he asked, twisting a bit so he could look up at his husband.
“Ugh, boring as ever, didn’t see a single villain or get to use my quirk at all. Which I guess is a good thing. I was thinking about getting Thai food for dinner, you want your usual?” he asked, resting his chin on top of Aizawa’s head.
“Sounds good to me, I have papers I should go grade while we wait for it to get here,” he grumbled, still not letting go.
“Why don’t we go shower instead?” Hizashi asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Aizawa snorted and finally pulled away.
“You go shower, you’re the one that stinks,” he smirked, fighting back a laugh at Hizashi’s indignant squawk. He tried to walk out of the kitchen but stopped when Hizashi grabbed at his capture weapon, reeling him back in.
“All right, fine, go start the shower, I’ll join you in a sec, I need to feed Sushi before he decides to rip up the couch again,” he said. Sushi meowed happily at the sound of Aizawa getting his dinner ready.
“Fine, you big softie, don’t keep me waiting long,” ‘Zashi said, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, lips lingering over the spot that made Aizawa shudder. Then he was gone, all but sprinting towards the shower, laughing at the blush that crept up Aizawa’s ears.
Once he was sure Hizashi was in the bathroom, he pulled out his phone. He had about seventy text messages from Nemuri, which he didn’t read, and one from a number he didn’t recognize. He opened that one before setting Sushi’s food bowl on the ground.
It read, ‘Hey! This is Takami Keigo, Nemuri said you needed someone to teach you how to play the guitar? I’m free pretty much anytime after 6 if that works. Let me know if you’re interested!’ Aizawa frowned at the message. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Nemuri had probably mentioned him before, but he couldn’t be sure.
He typed a quick response to let him know that he was still interested and they quickly set up a standing time, four times a week at 6:30. He hoped that would be enough. Lastly, he texted Nemuri to tell her he would come by tomorrow morning to get the guitar and to quit texting him.
He walked back towards the bathroom, smiling softly at Hizashi as he sang along, just a little too loudly, to what he called his “sexy shower time playlist.” The love song was a good idea, he was sure he’d pick up the guitar in no time and that he would blow Hizashi’s mind.
Hizashi had been significantly less than thrilled when Aizawa said he was going to extend his hours on patrol after school a few times a week. He’d actually pouted, saying they already didn’t get any time together and Aizawa almost said fuck it and gave up on his entire plan right then. He forced himself to ignore ‘Zashi’s sad tone.
He almost said fuck it again when he knocked on the door of his new guitar teacher and was greeted by the, now number two, pro-hero Hawks. He was still in his hero costume, just like Aizawa was, crimson red wings fluttering behind him.
“Seriously?” he asked. Hawks laughed, pulling Aizawa inside so he could shut the door.
“When Nemuri said she had a friend who, and I quote, desperately needed to learn to play the guitar, I wasn’t expecting Eraserhead to show up at my door,” he teased, walking further into his apartment. Aizawa paused at the door, in the middle of taking off his shoes.
“You know who I am?” he asked, a bit surprised. Usually, the pros weren’t too aware of underground heroes if they didn’t actively work together, and Aizawa had made a point to stay far, far away from anyone in the top ten, hell top twenty heroes.
“Of course I do, I make a point of knowing every pro hero,” he winked. Aizawa just stared at him. He looked back at the door, guitar case heavy in his hand. He could do this, for Hizashi.
He sighed and padded forward, trying not to slide on the hardwood floors as he did so. He followed Hawks towards the living room, trying not to look too shocked at the massive apartment in front of him.
Almost everything was red, the walls, the couch, and chairs, even the shades on the lamp that stood in the corner. Everything was a different shade, and it all seemed to fit together, but it was a bit much for his taste, but he figured he wasn’t one to talk since his apartment was covered in cat hair and ruined furniture thanks to Sushi’s frequent temper tantrums.
“So how do you want to do this?” Aizawa finally looked back at Hawks when he was done taking in his surroundings. He was pulling a guitar, also red, off of its place on the wall. Aizawa gripped his case a little tighter, a tad bit embarrassed at the beat-up acoustic and case he’d managed to get on eBay.
“Just teach me how to play. I’m on a time crunch,” he said. He walked forward, finally opening his case and pulling out the instrument. It was covered in scratches and old stickers for different pro heroes. Aizawa had ripped off the Endeavor ones and covered a few of the more beat up spots with some leftover Present Mic stickers he found in Hizashi’s junk pile on his end table.
“Oh nice, you like Present Mic? His radio show is one of my favorites, I listen to almost every show!” Hawks said, making grabby hands at his guitar. Aizawa smirked into his capture weapon as he handed it over, his chest filling with pride at Hawks’ blatant fanboying over his husband. It didn’t seem like he knew the status of their relationship, which he was relieved at.
“Yeah, I like him. I listen to his show when I’m on patrol, helps pass the time.”
“Right? Heroes support heroes and all that,” Hawks smiled, already twisting the knobs of his guitar, tuning it. He would strum the chords every few seconds until something made him stop and move on.
“So, why the sudden interest in guitar?” he asked. Aizawa fiddled with the ends of his capture weapon for a moment before clearing his throat.
“I figured Nemuri would have told you that already, she doesn’t know when to shut up,” he said, not bothering to keep the fond tone out of his voice. Usually, he feigned indifference, but it didn’t seem necessary when Hawks already knew they were close.
“My husband,” he continued, trying to gauge Hawks' reaction at the words. He didn’t flinch, just kept fiddling with the knobs of his guitar, so Aizawa continued, “our ten-year anniversary is in a little under two months now. He loves music so I thought…”
Hawks looked up at him finally, obviously satisfied with the guitar. He strummed idly, playing a few simple notes.
“You wanna write him a love song, don’t you?” Hawks grinned. Aizawa just nodded, ducking further into his capture weapon.
“Alright, well, I guess we should start with the basics. Come sit over here and I’ll show you how you’re supposed to hold it and we can work on hand placement and a few other things.”
Aizawa fought down the urge to scoff. How hard could it be?
The answer was very hard, it could be very hard. It was nearing four hours later and Aizawa had only just managed to play a simple chord. His fingers were aching, almost blistered from the constant plucking, and he had a godawful crick in his neck from bending over for so long.
“You did good! If we keep at it like this you’ll be able to play a song in no time!” Hawks said, helping Aizawa strap his guitar back into his case. He felt dead on his feet as he struggled to bend down and put on his shoes. Once he had them on, Hawks held the case out to him. Aizawa shook his head.
“I need to keep it here, I don’t want Hiz - I don’t want my husband to see it at home. It has to be a surprise,” he said. Hawks set the guitar back against the wall underneath his own.
“Say no more. Same time on Wednesday?” he asked, wings stretching high as he stretched his arms over his head. Aizawa nodded once before walking briskly towards the door.
Once he was safely out of Hawks, fucking Hawks’ , apartment, Aizawa pulled his capture weapon as far up his face as he could, checking his messages as he walked towards the train station. Maybe Hizashi would still be up if he got home quick enough.
“ Fuck, ” he cursed. He had over fifteen missed calls from Hizashi and a ton of messages. He scrolled through them quickly as he walked.
Hey! You almost done with patrol? 7:34 p.m.
Shotaaaa don’t ignore me!! 7:50 p.m.
Hey, seriously, call me back, it’s late. 8:00 p.m.
Baby, are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you. 8:32 p.m.
Sushi’s worried about you. I’m not, I know you’re fine and your phone is just dead or something. 8:46 p.m.
Shota, seriously, where the hell are you? 9:14 p.m.
Call me when you get this, okay? 9:34 p.m.
Shota, I swear to God, if I find out you’re in the hospital and that’s why you haven’t called me back… You better be okay. 9:47 p.m.
Shota please, I’m really worried. You said the patrol was only an extra hour or so. 9:56 p.m.
“FUCK,” he cursed, much louder this time, causing a few people around him to glare or look at him with concern, as his train finally arrived, his phone cutting off, the battery finally dying before he could respond. He looked at the clock at the front of the train and groaned. It was nearly 11. Hizashi was going to kill him.
The train couldn’t have gotten home any slower. He all but sprinted off the platform and down his street. He reached his apartment quickly, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached his door. He could hear Mic yelling at someone and he cursed again, fumbling with his keys. He finally got the right key out just as the door swung open and he was pulled inside. The door slammed quickly behind him and before he could blink he had an armful of Hizashi. He was walked backward until his back hit the wall opposite him, almost crushed by the weight of his husband.
“Sho…” he breathed, trembling against him. “I was so scared, why didn’t you call me back?” he whispered, fingers tangling in the capture weapon around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.
“I’m sorry, I only just checked my phone, I tried calling you back but my battery died. I got home as quickly as I could,” he apologized, stomach-churning with guilt. He ran his fingers down Zashi’s back, trying to calm him down.
“Don’t do that again, you idiot,” Hizashi said, finally pulling back. Aizawa blinked, startled at the tears on Hizashi’s face. He wiped them away with the pads of his still sore fingers, wincing a bit at the contact. This got Hizashi’s attention, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his fingertips, red and raw.
“What happened?” he asked, steering Aizawa towards the couch, already running off to find their first aid kit. Being pros, it wasn’t uncommon for one or both of them to come home bruised or bloodied or both.
“Just some lowlife with a weird quirk, acid, or something maybe. I only touched him for a second before I got my quirk in,” he lied, hoping his husband didn’t notice the way he couldn’t look him in the eyes when he said it.
“Well let’s get you bandaged up and then we can go to bed. Tomorrow’s a school holiday, so we can sleep in,” he said, already working on bandaging up Aizawa’s blistered fingers.
“I’m sorry I worried you, I promise I’ll make sure my phone’s charged fully before I go out on Wednesday,” he promised, stomach flipping over again. Hizashi smiled up at him and brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear.
“It’s okay, let’s just get you fixed up,” he smiled, leaning up to press a small kiss against his mouth, then his cheeks, and finally his nose. Aizawa blushed, leaning into the comforting touch of his husband, stomach still churning with guilt. This is all for Hizashi, Shota, don’t blow it now.
~
Aizawa was stressed. He had three days left until he had to submit his stupid song to Present Mic’s radio show, and it was nowhere near finished.
His lessons with Hawks had continued, and he’d been extremely careful to update Hizashi at every chance he had, keeping him up to date with how the “patrols” were going. The blisters kept getting worse, and he could tell ‘Zashi was starting to get concerned, but he just kept telling him he was fine, he was just dealing with some underground stuff for Tsukauchi that he couldn’t talk about just yet.
And he was finally starting to get almost good at guitar. The blisters on his fingers were slowly forming calluses, which Hawks said was a good sign, and he could play some pretty simple melodies, which Hawks said was great.
So here he was, three days before the contest deadline, sitting on Hawks’ couch as he struggled to come up with literally any semblance of a song he could send into his husband’s radio show.
“As much as you want to, Eraser, you can’t scowl and force a song to write itself,” Hawks drawled, leaning back against his wings. Aizawa glared at him, unable to stop his quirk from activating in anger. He groaned in annoyance, blinking and rubbing at his eyes.
“I know that . I just don’t know what to say.”
“That’s easy! Just say how you feel.” Aizawa glared at him again.
“If it was that easy, I’d be done with this stupid thing already,” he grumbled. He pulled a hair tie off his wrist and pulled his hair back, annoyed that it kept falling into his face.
“Well, let me ask you this, what do you love about your husband?” Hawks asked, tilting his head to the side a bit. Aizawa’s fingers stilled over the strings of the guitar.
“His voice,” he said, surprising himself when it seemed like the words were pulled out of him. “He can be loud, and so obnoxious, but I love that about him. He balances me out, pulls me out of myself when I start to get lost.” Hawks motioned for him to continue, typing something out on his phone as Aizawa spoke.
“He wears the stupidest clothes,” Aizawa smiled fondly, thinking of the horrible yellow monstrosity of an apron he liked to wear while he cooked dinner. “He has the strangest sense of style, but I can’t really talk considering I wear the same thing every single day.”
“He was never a cat person, but he became one for me. He doesn’t care that I sleep an insane amount and drink all our coffee and never buy more,” Aizawa paused, sucking in a deep breath.
“He never left me behind, even though everyone said he would, even though he probably should have,” he said quietly, voice buzzing with high school bullies who were always convinced that Hizashi would get tired of him and his deadpan personality.
He looked up, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes. Hawks was grinning at him again.
“What?” he asked, tired of that same stupid grin that was always on winged hero’s face.
“Nothing, nothing, just sounds like you already have a song right there.” Aizawa blinked. Maybe he did.
It was the day before their anniversary, and Aizawa finally, finally had a complete song. He knew it wasn’t the best, but given the time crunch, he hoped it would at least be something he felt comfortable turning in. He’d hidden his guitar deep inside the guest bedroom closet and he planned to go over to Nemuri’s and record it later that night after he got home from work and while Hizashi went on patrol.
He opened the door to his apartment, leaving his shoes by the door to go change into some normal clothes. He stopped, surprised when he saw his husband still sitting on the couch, hands clasped tightly around a cup of tea.
“Zashi? Aren’t you going on patrol, like, now?” he asked, confused. Hizashi just set down his cup, not looking at Aizawa.
“Zashi?” he asked, walking forward hesitantly. He stopped when he reached the coffee table, scooting the cup out of the way so he could sit in front of him. He reached out to touch him on the shoulder and blinked when Hizashi moved away from him.
“I can’t do this, Sho,” he said, still not meeting Aizawa’s eyes, voice unnervingly quiet.
“I don’t understand,” Aizawa said slowly. Finally, Hizashi looked up at him, eyes red and face tear-stained. Aizawa sucked in a breath, ready to ask a thousand questions that died on his lips when Hizashi spoke again.
“You’re hiding something from me, and god,” he laughed, a bitter and horrible sound that Aizawa never wanted to hear again, “I have to know what it is, but I also don’t want to know at all.” Aizawa opened his mouth to protest, again, but was cut off by Hizashi, who seemed to finally be able to talk, voice quickly rising in octaves.
“I don’t know if it really is some case like you say it is, or if it’s something else. I don’t know,” he stood up, running his hands through his hair, still down and floating around his shoulders instead of gelled up in its usual style.
“Maybe you met someone and -” This time Aizawa cut him off.
“Zashi no, no. I swear it isn’t that,” he said, rushing to his husband’s side. Hizashi grabbed at his arms, holding him still.
“Then what is it, Shota? Please, just tell me what’s going on, I never see you anymore, we barely text or call and when we do you only ever talk about patrol, even at UA you don’t seem to actually want to talk to me. I have to know what’s going on or I’m going to go crazy.”
Aizawa blinked. Once. Twice. Fuck it, he thought.
“Just. Wait right here, I’ll be right back,” he said, already sprinting towards the guest bedroom. He threw open the door, not bothering to stop it before it slammed against the wall, not bothering to see if it made (another) hole in the wall. He opened the closet and tore through the blankets and suitcases he’d piled on top of his guitar case, dragging it out with a grunt. He set it on the bed and quickly pulled out the instrument, slinging it none too gently over his shoulder.
Once he had it settled in his arms so he could play, he started to gently strum the first chords of his song as he walked back towards the living room. Hizashi looked up at him, confusion evident on his face, mouth already open to ask a question, when Aizawa started to sing.
He wasn’t going to act like he was a terrible singer. Hawks had beaten that thought out of him the second he’d heard his voice. Apparently he had “the raspiness of a god I’m telling you.” He slowly walked forward as he sang, ignoring the blush creeping across his face, the way Hizashi brought his hands to his mouth, the way his legs shook underneath him.
There are so many things to say
So many words that could describe you
But even to this day
My favorite is the way you…
You never leave me behind,
even though you’d be fine without me.
You love me when I’m sad, annoying, and angry.
You’re loud, but I’d never change a thing,
Your laugh, the way you sing a little-off key
Because you know it makes me smile,
when you act oh so silly.
We balance each other out,
In a way that still scares me.
When I can’t find the words,
you always speak up for me.
Somehow you still love me
And I’m not sure how I caught you.
But I’ll never let you go, no, because...
There are so many things I could say
So many words to describe you.
But even to this day,
My favorite is that I love you…
Aizawa stopped strumming, letting his voice trail off as he did. He blushed, setting the guitar on top of the coffee table as he spoke.
“I wrote that for our anniversary, I know it’s a bit on the nose,” he scratched at his hair, a little self-conscious, “but I was planning on submitting it to your radio contest. I didn’t think I’d win or anything, but I thought maybe you might like it and I - mmph” Aizawa was cut off mid ramble when Hizashi dove at him, capturing his lips in a frantic kiss.
He kissed back just as passionately, tangling his hands in his husband’s hair, pulling him closer until there was no space between them. After a minute, he pulled back, still breathless from singing and now this, and gasped against his mouth as he rested his forehead against Hizashi’s.
“Happy anniversary,” he mumbled, lips still ghosting over Zashi’s. He looked up, surprised to see him crying.
“Hey, hey,” he said, wiping the tears away quickly, “was my singing really that bad?” he joked. Hizashi gasped and shook his head.
“No, no. I loved it, I loved it so much, I love you so much. I love you Shota,” he said, kissing him again.
“No one has ever,” he hiccuped a bit, “no one has ever written a song about me,” he said, voice soft.
“I’m sorry I worried you and lied to you,” he said, tangling his fingers into the soft fabric of Hizashi’s t-shirt. “I haven’t been going on extra patrols. I was taking guitar lessons,” Hizashi giggled, probably at the idea of Aizawa learning something new without being forced.
“I can’t believe you wrote a song about me, Shota. You love me, you romantic bastard,” he teased. Aizawa groaned.
“Of course I love you, why else would I put up with learning how to play the guitar from fucking Hawks of all people,” Hizashi squawked, his quirk flaring a bit at the mention of the pro heros name.
“YOU LEARNED HOW TO PLAY GUITAR FROM FUCKING HAWKS?”