Work Text:
Shouta had known Shinsou Hitoshi for all of six months, he’d been his son for a little over one now, and he thought he had the teen figured out.
He knew that Hitoshi loved cats as much as he did. He knew that his bicycle was his most prized possession, as evidenced by how much he cleaned the damn thing every day. He knew that he didn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but he enjoyed a good cup of sweetened coffee every now and then. He knew that his parents had died when he was young, that he’d been in the foster system, abused and neglected and muzzled for years. He knew that he had insomnia and treasured what little sleep he got. He knew he had chronic pain- headaches and achy arms, to be specific- and he knew that he had depression.
He thought he knew the teen fairly well.
As it turned out, Hitoshi was full of surprises.
It all started one calm, uneventful Saturday afternoon. Hizashi was out shopping with Eri- she needed a thicker pair of boots for the winter, and they were desperately low on groceries. Hitoshi had finished up his homework some time ago and was now puttering around the kitchen, making some kind of snack. He was unsurprisingly quiet as he did so, the only noises being the occasional gentle slam as the cabinet doors shut or the muffled shuffling of his socks against the tiled floor.
Shouta stood after some time, abandoning his grading in lieu of heading off to the bathroom. He rubbed at his eyes, grimacing at the dry, gritty texture. His eyes felt like sandpaper against his eyelids. He leaned over the sink, squeezing two drops of eyedrop medication into each eye. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the medication work its magic, and blinked them open once it did. He let out a small huff of relief and padded quietly out of the bathroom.
He settled back on the couch, cracked his knuckles, and picked up the ungraded stack of essays from the coffee table. He was halfway through marking Ashido’s hero ethics essay (which gave him a migraine just thinking about her horrendous grammar) when he heard a strange noise.
When he turned his head, he found that it was coming from the kitchen. It was a deep hum, almost similar to the hum of the microwave, but it seemed… different, in a way. It moved up and down in tune, like Hizashi’s did whenever he started idly humming under his breath around the house.
But Hizashi wasn’t home, which only left one person.
Sure enough, one of the cabinet doors slammed quietly shut, revealing Hitoshi’s strangely serene face. His headphones were clamped firmly over his ears- Shouta remembered asking why he wore them all the time, only to be told that ”the pressure grounds me, and it blocks out all the outside noise.” His head bobbed in time with the music that was no doubt playing from his headphones. His fingers tapped against the counter, body swaying a little in a funny sort of dance.
It was strange, seeing Hitoshi like that. Shouta hadn’t pegged him to like singing. Granted, his voice, at least from what Shouta heard, was a little ragged around the edges- his voice cracked when he went from low notes to high ones, and sometimes he seemed to skip a beat or two, only to come back quicker moments later. His voice was awkward, like he wasn’t used to singing, but it sounded so genuine and full of joy that Shouta almost didn’t notice the faults in the notes.
Hitoshi must have thought he was still in the bathroom, if he was being so open about humming in the middle of the kitchen. So Shouta let him be, bending over Ashido’s essay again, pretending to grade as he let his adoptive son’s voice wash over his ears like a trickling stream of water.
The song was nice. It was slow and even without the words, Shouta could tell that it was a melancholic tune. Maybe it was something from his childhood? Or maybe it was just a random song on his playlist. Shouta wasn’t sure, and he knew that Hitoshi would be embarrassed if he asked him about it.
So he pushed down any questions he had about the song and tried to focus on grading his papers.
A few minutes later, Hitoshi’s humming came to an end, and a calm silence rang out in the apartment. Hitoshi came over to the sitting area a minute later, a tiny smile on his face, hugging a steaming mug of hot chocolate close to his body. He settled down on the chair diagonal to Shouta and leaned back, draping a blanket over his lap, and closed his eyes.
Shouta looked up every so often to see his foot tapping gently against the carpet, keeping time with the beat of his music. He mouthed along to the lyrics, lips moving so little that he wouldn’t have been able to tell had he not been looking closely.
Everything was calm, and it stayed like that until Hizashi and Eri came back.
.
.
.
The second time Shouta heard Hitoshi humming, they weren’t the only two in the house.
He and Hizashi were relaxing on the couch, some random HGTV show playing quietly in the background. It was their Friday night routine at this point- after they put Eri to bed, he and Hizashi would lay on the couch for a bit. Hitoshi usually joined them, but sometimes he wound up turning in early, especially if he was tired from training.
On this particular night, he was helping put Eri to bed, having offered earlier, noting how tired he and Hizashi looked after work. Shouta had agreed- the two needed more bonding time anyways, it was only logical.
The TV was nearly muted from how low the volume was. Shouta had stopped paying attention sometime ago, opting instead to run his hands through Hizashi’s freshly-washed hair while his husband rested his head on his shoulder. Hizashi’s hands idly toyed with the blanket draped over them, picking at the lint and brushing it onto the floor. Maybe that was why half of their blankets had holes in them.
Shouta noticed how Hizashi was almost nodding off, head slumped against his shoulder and face pressed into the bare skin on his neck, and was about to reach for the remote, offer to carry his husband back to their room, when a quiet melody floated over the room.
His first suspicion was Hizashi- the man had a tendency to sing wherever he went, after all- but there was no buzz against his neck from his vocal cords vibrating.
The tune sounded… oddly familiar. It was soft, relaxing, and almost… melancholic?
He sat up a little, barely registering how he jostled Hizashi, and listened for the source of the noise. Was someone’s phone going off in another room? The humming sounded soft, too soft to be coming from the sitting room or even the kitchen.
“Is that… Hitoshi?” Hizashi mumbled. Shouta looked down, surprised that he still had his hearing aids in, and thought about it.
That tune… it was the same one Hitoshi had hummed just last week in the kitchen. Only this time, it sounded softer, more like a lullaby than a song that Hitoshi was dancing to.
“I think so,” Shouta said, stretching out his legs. Hizashi blinked, the sleepiness seeming to fade from his dull, sage-green eyes, until they nearly sparkled. He lifted his head off of Shouta’s shoulder and rested it against the back of the couch instead.
“I didn’t know he liked music,” his husband noted, voice quiet enough that they could still hear Hitoshi’s soft humming over it.
“Me neither. He was humming that same song last week, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, in the kitchen. You and Eri were out. I’d never seen him look so peaceful before. It was unusual, but it was nice to see him so relaxed.”
“Huh,” Hizashi clicked his tongue. “He has a nice voice. Is he… is that a lullaby or something? I’ve never heard it before.”
“Really? I thought you might have recognized it,” Shouta frowned a little in slight disappointment, “I don’t want to scare him off by asking him about it.”
“Whatever it is, it’s a nice song.”
“Hm.”
They listened to the tune for a few more seconds before Hizashi rested his head on Shouta’s shoulder again, this time pulling him back so his arms were wrapped around his waist, Hizashi’s body pressed against the back of the couch. They sat, letting the song wash over them, its melody calming even Shouta. He found his eyes drooping shut as the melody picked up once again, the song slightly louder now, and by the time it dropped off, Shouta had fallen asleep.
.
.
.
After that, Hitoshi’s shyness seemed to dissipate a little. He was far more touchy-feely than ever before, didn’t flinch at physical contact unless it was sudden, and sometimes even sought out affection rather than waiting for someone else to initiate it. He let Eri into his bedroom, the room that he’d guarded for so long, refused to let anyone else enter, when she had nightmares.
Eri seemed to notice this change in his attitude, and with it, hers changed too. She was no longer hesitant to wake one of them up after a nightmare, and when she didn’t want to bother them, she simply laid next to them without issue. She’d started calling him “Hito-nii,” an affectionate nickname, and would run to hug him after school was over.
It was really something, to see both of his kids opening up to them after nearly a month and a half of trying.
And, the best part was (which, if asked, Shouta would deny being the best part, but everyone in the household knew otherwise), Hitoshi had started singing around other people.
Not loudly, granted, and not always openly, but sometimes as he did mundane tasks or just relaxed on the couch, he’d hum a little tune, bop his head to the music, do a funny little dance.
It was always the same, melancholic song. Hizashi had started to pick up on the tune, humming it sometimes, late at night or early in the morning, always when they were alone.
It was nice. Shouta found that it helped him relax after a rough day. He’d sing it while patching up scratches and bruises from training, or while retrieving Shouta’s pain medication on a bad chronic pain day, or while helping clean up the living room after family movie night. It was better than any sleeping medication he’d ever tried- just a few notes of the soft melody uttered from Hitoshi’s lips was enough to calm his heart and settle his thoughts.
He never imagined himself as being so soft towards anyone but Hizashi, but life just loved to prove him wrong sometimes.
No matter how comfortable he was, though, he never actually sang the lyrics. He kept humming, never truly singing. Of course, that was fine- Hitoshi was allowed to do what he wanted, within reason- but it was frustrating. If he wanted to find out what the song was, he would have to ask him directly and risk causing a regression. If he only had a single line, or even a single word, that would be enough to figure out what it was, but no, he was stuck hearing the same mystery tune over and over and over again without truly knowing what it was about or why Hitoshi was so attached to it.
He figured that the teen would tell him on his own terms, if he ever did. Maybe he could ask about it years from now, when Hitoshi was more comfortable with them, when they didn’t risk scaring him off with any wrong move. But for now, he and Hizashi were left in the dark.
Well, they thought they were, at least.
.
.
.
Shouta woke up to the familiar sound of sniffling outside his door. His sleep was lighter than usual these days, ready to wake at the slightest sound of danger, so it was no surprise that Eri’s little cries outside his and Hizashi’s bedroom door woke him up.
His heart throbbed a little bit for the child. She was coming in less than she had when she first came to them, but every time he heard or saw her, tears streaming down her face, terrified that Chisaki was going to take her back to that horrible facility and torture her, it felt just as terrible as it always had.
He always waited before he went out to check up on her. Sometimes she managed to calm herself down before needing to come inside and would pad softly back to her own room. Sometimes she would decide to go wake Hitoshi instead, seeking his comfort instead of theirs. He always waited at least ten minutes before he would rise from his bed and check to see if she’d fallen asleep and needed to be carried back to her room or whether she was too scared to wake them up. He wanted her to be independent, to learn to come to them in times of need- he didn’t want to force her into doing anything she didn’t want to do or wasn’t comfortable with.
Tonight, though, she seemed to seek Hitoshi’s comfort, her sniffles getting softer as she padded away from the door and down the hall. Shouta waited a minute or two, until he heard the creaking of Hitoshi’s bed through the thin walls and his door shutting quietly, and got out of bed. Hizashi stirred at the movement, stretching his limbs as he let out a quiet groan. Shouta paused, waited with a baited breath to see if he’d fully wake up or if he’d drop back into a deep slumber. Hizashi blinked after a moment, rubbing the grittiness from his eyes, and sat up.
Shouta flicked on the bedside lamp, letting soft orange light filter through the room. Hizashi didn’t like wearing his hearing aids at night, usually opting to sign instead, and that held true when he raised his hands and signed, E-R-I?
Shouta shrugged, signing a quick response. She went to H-I-T-O-S-H-I-S room.
Hizashi nodded. Should we go check on her?
Shouta bit his lip, then nodded, signing an affirmative yes along with it. Hizashi fumbled around, hand blindly reaching for his hearing aids on his night table. He shoved them into his ears and tuned them a bit, snapping next to his ear to check their volume.
“You good?” Shouta asked, keeping his voice low. Hizashi nodded, then climbed out of bed. Shouta followed soon after, trailing behind his husband as they ducked out of the room, padding down the hall as silently as possible.
Hitoshi knew they sometimes sat outside his room if Eri came to him- not always, granted, only when they were loud enough. He would usually peek his head out to see if one or both of them were outside before attempting to help her, but he didn’t do that tonight, so he probably didn’t know they were outside, ears nearly pressed against the wall as they sat down on the carpeted floor.
“Are you okay now, Eri?” came Hitoshi’s soft voice, so low that it barely registered even for Shouta. He knew that Hizashi wouldn’t be able to hear from this distance, even with the help of his hearing aids and the thin walls, since he was still groggy from lack of sleep and had probably tuned his hearing aids sloppily, so he translated Hitoshi’s words to sign.
There was a whimper from inside, high-pitched and desperate. The bed creaked as someone, or maybe both of them, shifted.
“No? Okay, what can I do to help?”
“C-can you sing?”
There was a pause, then: “Sure. What song do you want to hear, Eri?”
“Can… can you sing that one you always sing?”
“What, the one I hum around the house?”
“Y-yeah. Please?”
“Of course. C’mere, get under the blanket. You’ll be warmer.”
Shouta’s heart warmed as he translated for Hizashi. Hitoshi was such a good older brother. He was so, so proud of him and all the progress he’d made.
There was another pause as the two situated themselves. Shouta dared a peek through the crack of the door, watching while he held his breath. The nightlight on Hitoshi’s bedside table was turned on, the soft glow just bright enough so that he could make out their features. Both brother and sister were huddled under Hitoshi’s fluffy grey blanket, a present from Midoriya to celebrate his adoption. Hitoshi held Eri close, rocking her, rubbing her back through her nightgown in slow, calming circles. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and began to sing.
”He doesn’t fight crime, or wear a cape.
He doesn’t read minds, or levitate.
But every time my world needs saving, he’s my Superman.
Some folks don’t believe in heroes, ‘cause they haven’t met my dad.”
Shouta ducked back before Hitoshi could notice. Hizashi shifted beside him, his mannerisms telling Shouta that he could hear Hitoshi’s soft tenor voice through the walls.
”He loves his workshop, and rock ‘n’ roll.
He’s got a hot rod, and a heart of gold.
You could say he’s a man of few words, but he talks a lot within.
And even though I’m a little taller, I still look up to him.”
There was a momentary pause, the bed creaking a few more times, before Hitoshi began to sing once again.
”He built me a house, in the arms of a tree.
He taught me to drive, and to fight, and to dream.
When he looks in my eyes, I hope he can see,
That, my dad’s a hero to me.”
And, oh god, if that didn’t bring tears to his eyes. A quick glance at his husband told him that Hizashi was feeling the same way. Tears were already streaming down his face. Hitoshi’s voice in combination with the song was just… indescribably beautiful. He couldn’t put words to his feelings.
”Rust ridden fenders, and, doors full of dings.
Somehow he can fix, about anything.
I didn’t think he knew how to cry, ‘till our dog died that year.
He doesn’t always say I love you, but I can hear him loud and clear.
He built me a house, in the arms of a tree.
He taught me to drive, and to fight, and to dream.
When he looks in my eyes, I hope he can see,
That, my dad’s a hero to me.
Yeah, my dad’s a hero… to me.”
Things were blissfully silent for a moment. Hizashi shook with silent sobs, reaching out to grab Shouta’s hand. Shouta rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, soothing him with calming gestures even though his own tears were streaming down his face and collecting into a small wet patch on the carpet. Hizashi lifted shaky hands up to sign, That was… really something.
Shouta let out a shaky, breathless laugh, wiping at his tears with his sleeve. Things in the bedroom were silent, save for Eri’s near-silent breaths and the gentle, rhythmic creak of the bed frame.
“Hito-nii, what- what’s that song called?” Eri asked, voice barely audible. Her breath shook with shaky sobs, though they likely weren’t left over from her night terror.
“It’s… it’s an old English song,” Hitoshi said, carefully choosing his words, “it’s called ‘Not All Heroes Wear Capes.’”
So that was the name of the song. Shouta would definitely be looking that up in the morning- or, at this rate, in a few hours.
“It’s so beautiful,” she sniffled, “I didn’t know the words were so pretty, Hito-nii.”
Hitoshi laughed a little, a short, breathy gesture. “I guess it is a pretty song, yeah.”
“Why do you sing it so much?” Eri asked, voice timid.
Hitoshi paused for a moment, most likely thinking over his words. “My dad- my original dad- sang it to me before he died. It’s always reminded me of him, and for a long time… for a long time, it was hard to listen to it.”
“Then why do you sing it?” she asked, voice a little stronger as she gained the confidence to ask more questions.
Both Shouta and Hizashi waited for the answer. Hizashi’s hand squeezed Shouta’s, long, spindly fingers weaving between Shouta’s shorter, rougher ones.
“I guess… I guess it’s not so sad, at least not anymore. It’s been a long time since he died- almost eleven years. It… to be honest, it reminds me of Yamada and Aizawa.”
Shouta’s breath stuttered. Surely… surely that couldn’t be it, right?
“I mean,” the boy continued, “sure, I still get sad hearing it sometimes, but… to be honest, I barely remember my dad. They’re more like my parents than anyone else has ever been. I love them so, so much, and I can’t say it out loud yet, so…” Hitoshi sniffled. “So I guess this is my way of saying it without really saying it.”
Eri hummed, pausing to think for a moment. “That’s really cool, Hito-nii.”
“You think so?” Hitoshi let out a shaky sigh, “I think it’s a little lame.”
“It’s not lame, Hito-nii,” Eri protested, “you love Daddy and Papa, right?”
“As much as I love you, Eri,” Hitoshi confirmed. More tears pricked at the corners of Shouta’s eyes, threatening to spill out once more. He’d… he’d never heard him admit that before, never heard the words come out of his mouth. Hitoshi never was a very verbal person, after all. Just hearing that that was his way of letting them know he loved them… it unlocked something warm in Shouta’s heart, something that warmed him from the core all the way to the tips of his extremities.
“Then it’s not lame,” Eri confirmed, confidence in her tone as she spoke, “it’s really pretty. Do… do you think you can teach it to me sometime?”
“Of course, Eri.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. In the morning, though- you need to get to sleep. It’s almost five, and we have to go out shopping tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Eri said, the word punctuated with a deep yawn, “can I sleep with you?”
“Of course. C’mon.”
A soft pair of footsteps approached the door. Shouta and Hizashi barely had time to scramble to their feet before the door creaked open, Hitoshi’s head of fluffy purple hair peeking out.
“Oh,” his eyes widened, and he shifted uncomfortably. Shouta’s heart dropped into his stomach. “H-how much of that did you hear?”
There was dread in his tone- was he afraid of them being angry with him? Tears streaming down his face, Hizashi lurched forward, pulling Hitoshi into his arms.
“We love you so much, Hitoshi,” he whispered, voice choked up, into Hitoshi’s hair. Hitoshi stiffened, hands freezing in midair before they settled on Hizashi’s back.
“We really do,” Shouta confirmed. Hitoshi’s eyes darted over to Shouta, then melted, face softening. Tears rolled over his cheeks, dripping onto Hizashi’s t-shirt. He clenched the fabric between his hands and sobbed into Hizashi’s shoulder. Shouta awkwardly fiddled with his hands for a moment, then decided, ’Ah, fuck it,’ and stepped forward to wrap his arms around both his husband and his son.
“We love you more than anything, Hitoshi,” Shouta whispered, words spoken right next to his ear. He wasn’t normally one to say that out loud save for a select few occasions, but something about the current moment felt special enough for him to utter those words.
Eri tiptoed into the hallway soon after, arms coming up to wrap around Shouta’s waist, and pressed her body into his legs. Shouta reached a hand down to pet her head, sift through her soft white locks. She squeezed her arms and buried her face into Shouta’s leg, her horn pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants.
The family stood there in each others’ arms for what must have been an hour. Shouta let himself take in the moment while it lasted for half an eternity, and in the hallway, with several pairs of arms wrapped around him, his own draped around his husband and son, Shouta was finally at peace.
He knew what the song meant now, and he would never doubt that Hitoshi loved them again.