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Izuku flinches, tense, when he sees a person a few roofs away, the teen already coming up into a crouch that will make it easier to get away. He's been vigilanting for a couple of months now and he's more than aware of when to be cautious and when to be relaxed.
The simple answer is to always be cautious.
But then he notices that the person is Eraserhead and he's instantly torn. Because this hero doesn't chase him, not after that first time, and never tries to call Izuku a villain or scum or stupid or anything else awful and familiar. No, he glances at Izuku with considering eyes, like they're weighing him up - not analysing, not trying to pick him apart, because it's different from that. It's more... checking him over. Almost as though the hero is reassuring himself that Izuku isn't injured or about to collapse or something, which is new. And kind of terrifying. It's been a long, long time since anyone has even come close to caring about Izuku, to being genuinely concerned over him, and he isn't quite sure what to do with the realisation that Eraserhead seems to be beginning to get close to that kind of mindset.
And so, both despite and because of that, Izuku doesn't dart away once the hero reaches his roof, rolling to an easy stop a good ten metres away.
"Hey kid." They've never talked before today, beyond a few passing quips or unanswered questions, and Izuku freezes. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to care as he casually strolls to the roof edge and plops down with a groan, now only two or three metres from the teen's side. It's not quite uncomfortable, but it's on dangerous ground already. Well, at least Izuku has a decent knife in his pocket, fingers folded around the handle already, that should be sharp enough to cut through whatever fabric-metal alloy that capture weapon is made of. And damn, wouldn't he like to know more about the mechanics of the support gear because what little he's seen of the hero using it has been fascinating, and Izuku's internal debate between some kind of secondary Quirk effects against a Quirk-based process during the production of the capture weapon has been going strong. The way that Eraserhead's hair floats with using his Quirk does suggest that there might be some kind of triggered latent recessive Quirk gene, but then why wouldn't the hero also use that telekinesis on other objects or people around him? A recessive Quirk, whilst incredibly rare to trigger, doesn't often have stringent limitations and impacts on its actual usage. Not one like only being able to affect his own property at least. That leaves Izuku with-
"-Eraserhead, but I'm sure you already know that. Got a name I can call you by, kid?"
Izuku doesn't startle. He doesn't. Instead, he tenses up again, head tilting to face the hero, eyes glinting from the shadowed eyeholes in his silver kitsune mask. He pauses, taking in the man's lax posture, the only energy to be found there is the minimum level of attention, of constant vigilance, that Izuku has noticed in all underground heroes and a few limelights too. It's the level expected. Which, in turn, makes it somewhat less of a threat.
"N- no' really," Izuku manages. Talking isn't something he honestly does a lot of at the moment, hasn't been for years now, and sometimes his voice just refuses to come, scraping over his tongue like grazing a palm over rough concrete. It's... uncomfortable. Grating.
"Hm. Fair enough kid."
Oh. Is it really that easy? But yes, apparently it is, as they end up sitting there in silence, actually quite comfortably so, watching the bright lights and distant sounds of the city below them, the movement of late-night commuters and the occasional shadier character who, from their view, never seem to be up to something right now. Which means they have to be left alone.
Eventually though, the hero speaks up again, still with that low, almost droning tone of voice, a tinge of something smooth and gentle beneath that Izuku can barely distinguish but still wants to relax at the sound of. But that would be foolish, so he stays relatively alert as the hero reaches into the mass of his capture weapon and pulls out- Oh. A sandwich?
"You can see it's unopened, but check all you like. You can have half if you want. Well, you can have all of it, but I figured you'd prefer to get to choose your half and then I could start eating before you, just to prove it's safe." And that honestly isn't too bad of a deal. Izuku still wants to say no, but he's painfully aware of his own body. Aware that he hasn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, aware that he's exhausted and a bit chilly, aware that for some reason, good or bad, this hero is trying to earn some level of trust from him.
And Izuku wants to give that trust. He can't and won't, he knows, but the desire to have even a little bit of faith in this random adult that he has seen save and protect and awkwardly comfort several people is strong. Scary.
So, as a compromise to himself, Izuku watches siltenly as Eraserhead deposits the sandwich pack halfway between them, the pro retracting his arm without pause or fuss, yet still telegraphing every movement, and then the man goes on again,
"I got cheese and onion because most people don't mind it; only logical- shit. Wait, kid, you don't have any allergies, do you? You going into anaphylactic shock on a rooftop won't be good for either of our healths." And Izuku doesn't miss the connotations of that (why would Eraserhead worry about Izuku having an allergic reaction and maybe having to catch him if he fell? why would Eraserhead be hurt by him hurting?) yet finds himself shrugging all the same. Eraserhead, taking that for the negative answer that it is, simply nods in return before leaning back on his hands, face turned towards the barely-there stars above them, bright and beautiful in the darkness of two in the morning.
And before he can talk himself out of it, Izuku darts a hand out to snatch up the little triangular box, then assesses it with keen eyes and roving fingers. All of the plastic closures are intact and none of it is messy or out-of-place enough to suggest that it's been resealed at any point. It looks... safe. The problem with that is appearing to be safe might be exactly the trick.
But then he reminds himself of watching Eraserhead from above as he comforted a victim of something awful, as he gave her dignity and reassurance and safety, looked after her until both the police and a friend of hers arrived. He had protected her in every way he could. It had been so much more than most heroes bother with. Surely that man wouldn't be one to slip some kind of sedative in a teenager's sandwich? Hence, throat tight and heart a tattoo against his ribs, Izuku carefully peels back the lid of the box, hearing the little snap of the glue or whatever that keeps the packaging sealed with no small amount of relief, and takes half a moment before taking out the left-hand half. Then he changes his mind, still cautious, and delicately tears the left sandwich in half, then does the same to the right, and keeps some of each before gently depositing the remaining two halves between them again. Maybe it's overkill, but it gives him a little bit of comfort. And judging by the lack of glare or confusion, Eraserhead isn't bothered by it. Rather, he offers a nod (an approving nod, it looks like, but surely not) to Izuku and takes back the proffered sandwich remains, easily biting into one, chewing and swallowing, then going for a bite of another. No hesitation, no question, just letting Izuku know they're safe.
It's more than he expected the hero to do. Than he expects anyone to do for him, ever.
Deeming it safe now, Izuku begins to eat too. Well, he takes one small bite, savours the flavour of seeded bread and creamy filling, takes his time in chewing and swallowing, then waits another few minutes before eating more.
"Than's."
"Of course kid."
Before he can truly realise it, he's devoured both parts of his sandwich, letting out the occasional contented hum under his breath because it might only be a basic cheese and onion sandwich from one of the local convenience stores, but it sits comfortingly heavy and warm in Izuku's stomach, an anchor and a balm, and he finds himself with the smallest of smiles when Eraserhead leaves. Maybe... Maybe if they meet up like this again, Izuku will dare to ask Eraserhead about his Quirk or capture weapon.
~~
Of course, they do meet up again. Several times over in fact, until it becomes regular, routine, multiple nights a week. They begin to break up gang fights together; Izuku will steal Eraserhead's coffee and hack his phone to send him memes or information; they will prank the local police officers together; Eraserhead will give him food and weapons and hair ruffles, even through his hood. Izuku gains someone to trust. Someone who, after three years of knowing each other, will officially become his Dad.