Work Text:
Hizashi Yamada was fourteen when he met Shouta Aizawa, the two became inseparable. He was sixteen when he realized he was head over heels for that very same best friend. It was also the same year that they both lost someone precious to them, someone that was only brought up now at the latest of nights between a few too many drinks with heads in hands, but time still marched forward. The inseparable friends started facing rifts of time and work and hero duties that pulled them further away than ever. Yamada complained but never pushed. Aizawa’s work was quiet and inconspicuous. Yamada’s was loud and showy. One day they could be a public couple but not yet. That was the plan, anyways, until a certain loud-mouthed blonde decided that he had about enough of the media’s attention and gossip.
Aizawa listened on his small, hand-held radio, half-hidden in an alleyway waiting for his target. Yamada’s voice had always been a source of comfort, one of the few calming things he had left as an underground hero. Maybe Hizashi couldn’t be right there, rambling away with him, but he could still listen to him every day until his radio silence was over. He could at least tune into that weird electro dance music and wait for the melodic voice’s commentary on all the latest drama that he otherwise cared nothing about.
Well, I’ll tell you, the media gets crazier every day! Just yesterday, I had some guy try stealing my bagel. I was already reacting when I happened to look back and see some other guy attaching something to my equipment. I thought it was a villain! Nope, just the paparazzi and their wild antics to pry further into my private life.
Shouta didn’t recognize the other voice that Yamada was talking to.
I tell you, the line between villain and paparazzi is getting hazier every day, especially after that big proposal between Endeavor and his wife. The media can’t seem to find a big enough story to top that. They are in a frenzy! I heard that a cameraman nearly got himself and two others seriously injured the other day because he wouldn’t stand back during an emergency. I-
Aizawa sighed. He’d had his own fair share of run-ins with the media, though not quite like anything the flashier pros had to deal with. He couldn’t even keep track of how often Midnight had been under their scrutiny. Some things from high school never changed anyway.
Now let me be a hypocrite for a moment if you will. I hear you’re still on the market these days. What’s a good-looking pro like yourself doing without someone on your arm?
Shouta rolled his eyes, slinking to the pavement. It was way past time for his target which means something must have held him up. He doubted it was something as simple as traffic. He’d have to go in and report. What a waste of a good resource. He heard his boyfriend give a weird chuckle.
Oh, you know how busy it can get between the show, the music industry, and hero work. I’d rather just enjoy my time with the people I care about right now.
So there’s no one even in your sights? Well, I’m sure the ladies will be thrilled to hear that! Maybe even the men?
Ha ha, ya maybe...Back to the biggest development tonight, downtown is planning new renovations that will make the sidewalks more accessible for people of different mutation quirks. Ryukyu is joining us tonight to weigh in on the proposed construction.
“Tsh,” Aizawa murmured to himself.
He doubted the actual “accessibility” part of the new plan. Quirks, especially those that manifested physically, were incredibly hard to work around. Between their complex structures, like people being twelve feet tall or covered in spikes, there was also the problem that each quirk was so unique. It would be like making a one-size-fits-all hat for both children and adults. Maybe it was doable, maybe he was being pessimistic, but he knew that the proposed funds weren’t going to cut it regardless. Rich assholes were too busy penny-pinching to give enough for real change like it ever mattered to them in the first place.
He listened to the droning voices a while longer before they changed back over to the weird electro-dance music. He turned it off and rubbed the back of his neck, dropping the small device into his oversized pocket. The closest precinct wasn’t too far, just a couple of blocks by foot, so Shouta decided to take the long route because he might be trying to avoid a certain chief detective that is not going to be happy with the newest update. Also, since his last contact was officially a bust, that meant that the mission was over.
And that meant radio silence was over too.
Shouta stared at the contact on his phone, finger hovering just above the call button. Half of his brain screamed to wait until after the debriefing. The other half screamed that he hadn’t had a proper conversation with his boyfriend for three months. He shoved his phone into his pocket, mentally pouting as he turned at the next street and kept walking towards the station—stupid, rational brain.
The worst thing about police stations was the people. The second worst thing was the coffee. Shouta could smell both of those things as the bell rang above, and he stepped inside. He wouldn’t speak too ill of the cops, at least not all of them. Actually, his current team was more cooperative than most pro-heroes he had been assigned to work with. Still, there was something about the majority of the uniform-clad officers that made him re-evaluate the meaning of law and order. These days, most officers who joined were either pro-hero dropouts or quirkless want-to-be heroes which wouldn’t be a problem if the circumstances didn’t also give them a complex. There wasn’t enough therapy to go around these days for that.
“Well looked what the cat dragged in!” A man with a beer gut and a five-cent personality hollered from behind his desk. “Done already? We didn’t expect you back this early.”
“It’s been three months, Kent.” Aizawa turned to see the chief, Kenji Tsuragamae, standing in the office doorway. “You wouldn’t make it three minutes out there.”
“Aww, chief. I was just messing!”
Shouta tried not to roll his eyes as he walked over to the chief’s office, eyes scanning over the other officers hard at work on the phones or scanning over documents. His eyes landed back on Kent. The man pouted and Shouta was reminded of the annoying kid from Charlie and Chocolate factory that fell into the chocolate. He couldn’t remember the name. Hizashi would know. He could ask him later. Yes, he could talk to him now. He cursed his brain again. He should have just called earlier. This train of thought was not helping. He needed to focus on work first, calling his boyfriend second.
“Come in, Eraser. We have some debriefing to do. I’ll try to make it quick.”
The door shut behind Aizawa with a click and he made his way to the overused chair that become something comfortably familiar in the police station. How many times had he discussed plans with the chief? Shouta wouldn’t say he was an open person, not about work, not about his personal life, not about his relationships. That didn’t mean that no one knew. The chief and the faded red chair knew a lot more than what he would normally admit to. Late hours, hard work, and bad compensation would do that to people. Shouta didn’t mind too much. After all, at least Kenji didn’t usually pry.
Today would be one of the rare exceptions.
“What happened to our contact, Shouta? I can’t imagine that he’d just no-show with no cause.” The chief sat down, lukewarm coffee sitting in front of him more like a movie prop than an actual beverage.
“There was a lot of heat in all directions. The scene felt too close to a setup. Cold feet and bad information are what I gather, but I could do further investigation.”
The chief held up his hands. “No, he was a good resource for the time we had him, but we’ve got everything we need for our next operation. Putting too much pressure could potentially create more problems. We’ll review some of your past interactions and decide if what we have is worth taking action on now or handing off to the higher-ups. The next phase of the operation may require more resources than we currently have available.”
Shouta smirked. “I think Kent could take them.”
Kenji cringed, eyes closed tight as he rubbed a hand over his head. “Please, I have enough to worry about without Kent.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
He was not sorry, and the situation was not fine, but that was a problem for another time. Shouta made a note to get the chief some decent coffee the next time he came. Every visit, the chief seemed to grow more exhausted. He did the best with what he had. He was one of the best to work with. He knew when he was at capacity and what his team could handle. Shouta would consider the man more competent than half the pro-heroes he knew. That didn’t mean higher-ups weren’t constantly giving the team more than they could handle.
The next two hours were full of planning, reviewing, and offhanded remarks about shitty coffee. The two worked much like they always did, pulling out maps, marking high-risk areas, pinpointing areas of interest, and reviewing profiles of involved persons. Grudge work. That’s what it was referred to. The part where the inner team put their heads together to come up with a plan that they would get no credit for if it worked and all the flack for if it didn’t. That was just part of working undercover. Shouta didn’t mind…It was still better than dealing with the press.
Kent even went out and got the team donuts.
Finally finished for the night, Shouta rested back in the chair. The wooden back barely cushioned was still nicer than some of the places he’d been sleeping the last few months. He closed his eyes as he folded his arms.
“Getting comfy now, are we? Don’t you have someone to get back to?” The chief teased.
Shouta kept his eyes closed as he let out a huff. “I’m going to miss the quiet. Gotta soak it in now.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence, the silence of knowing that the world was still turning, that people were waiting for them, that they had done good work.
“It’s getting pretty serious with you two by now, isn’t it?”
Shouta shifted in his seat, rubbing his eyes into a bleary state. “I guess. We haven’t really got to talk, you know.”
Kenji nodded. “My partner and I had a similar issue. They were in the media at the time. Kind of hard to work around, but they were worth all of it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant being with them.” He looked Shouta in the eyes, expression growing serious. “I’d give up anything to go home to them.”
“I get that.” Shouta nodded uncomfortably. He had missed Hizashi, his optimism about the world and heroes and the good they did. He missed the late-night rants complaining about everything from fashion trends to popular gossip. He…He just missed him. A lot. All of the time.
“How did Yamada take it when you told him about the radio silence?”
“Well, he’s always tried to understand, even if he doesn’t like it. He’ll be overjoyed that it ended quicker than expected.” Shouta looked out the window. He wouldn’t have this conversation with many people, but it was nice to have at least this one outlet. “I know that I’m the one making him wait. I think it's always that way, though. I feel like I’m always just catching up.”
“I don’t think he sees it that way, and I’ve seen the way he treats you.” The chief tapped against his chest nervously. “I think he’d wait forever if you asked it of him, honestly.”
“Maybe,” was the only thing Shouta could think to say.
He got up, arms stretching ungracefully towards the ceiling. “Well, I’m about to go deal with my loud Cockatoo. I’ll have my cell on me if you need anything.”
“Same here. Say hello to Yamada for me.”
Shouta nodded lightly as he walked out, leaving behind the dingy office.
Their apartment was dark from the outside which would have been deceiving to outsiders, but Shouta was more than familiar with Hizashi’s habits. Half the time he was ruining his eyesight working by lamplight. The reporters were becoming worse, and Hizashi hadn’t managed to scrape enough together yet to get a better security system. Shouta unlocked the door and made his way inside, looking around to see the new additions since his leave. There were scattered poster projects on the table, leftovers on the stove, and paint that would definitely come out of their deposit splattered on one wall.
There was a light further down, and Shouta knocked on the wall twice as he turned, a small signal. He heard a clang and a flutter of papers as a figure popped out of the bedroom door, tackling him into a wall. Shouta didn’t mind at all as long, skinny fingers ran through his hair that he was just noticing was actually quite knotted. He doubted the loud blonde minded as he slipped his hands around his waist, pulling him in closer.
“I’ve missed you.” He whispered, lips grazing his own as he spoke.
“More than words can express, love.” The hands fell from his hair, one now snaking to the back of his neck while the other held the man’s forearm. “Are you okay?”
Of course that was his first question. It was another habit they’d subconsciously made. Always, after every mission. He made sure that Sho was alright. Sho made sure Zashi was alright. It only made Shouta fall that much deeper in love with the man, the man who cared about him more than anything. He thought about it as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Hizashi had on his pink sweatshirt (honestly, who could say who actually owned it first.) The sleeves pushed up just over his elbows. He looked almost as exhausted as Shouta felt.
“I’m okay,” he whispered back, slipping out of the clasp on his forearm, fingers intertwining. “A bit tired.”
“I hear you.”
They untangled all but their fingers as they made their way to the bedroom. Shouta slipped out of everything but his underwear, snuggling up under the covers where his boyfriend was already making himself comfortable. He wrapped his arms around the man, fingers digging into the soft clothes, soaking up the warmth. Hizashi was out in moments, much to the surprise of Shouta.
He must have been exhausted.
He couldn’t say anything. How many nights of sleep did he lose when Hizashi was on patrol? Too many to count anyway. He scooted closer, listening to the heavy, soothing breaths. He breathed in deeply. Hizashi smelled like laundry detergent and coffee. He was home. God, he was so happy to be home. He never wanted to leave.
He never had to leave.
“Hizashi,” He sat up, shaking the other’s shoulder. “Wake up for a second.”
“What’s wrong, Sho?” the sleep-ridden voice asked, already turning over. “Are you okay? Bad dream?”
Shouta felt out of control of his mouth as he stared down. Blonde hair splayed out on the pillows, green eyes, full of love and concern looking up at him.
“Sho, you’re freaking me out,” Hizashi said, sitting up now. “Are you sleep talking again? Because that was a weird phase I’d rather not go through again.”
“My eyes are open.” He rolled them for effect. “I just…”
What did he want? His mouth opened, words failing.
“Marry me.”
“What??”
Well, that wasn’t what he meant. “We should get married.” He said again, this time less firm. “If you want to.”
“Sho, where is this coming from.” Hizashi reached up, brushing dark tendrils of hair back. He reached over, turning on the small bedside lap. “Did something happen while you were undercover?”
Shota shook his head, embarrassed eyes falling downward. “I just missed you. I missed us, like this. I missed going to bed together and having someone to come home to.”
He looked up and got annoyed with the tears forming in his eyes. He pushed on though. “I want to be with you. Maybe it can’t always be like this, maybe it’ll be different, but I always want to come home to you.” He thought about Kenji’s words. “I would do anything to make sure I got to come back home to you.”
Hizashi sat in stunned silence, the declaration filling the room with a near physical warmth.
“Oh, uh…well this is awkward. One sec…” He leaned over, yanking a cardboard box and riffling through. He pulled out a box. “Um, it’s a necklace. Because you said- you said you didn’t want to deal with the media and this is, like, more subtle? Like our little secret, ya know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You kind of beat me to the punchline, though.”
Shouta watched as Hizashi fumbled the box open, still rambling. “I mean, it’s fine. SHIT, I mean yes I’ll marry you. Shit, I meant to say that, I just got worried because I’m half asleep. Sorry, no, this was supposed to be romantic. Like, I was gonna serenade you and everything I swear-”
“This is perfect.” Shouta helped him clasp the chain around his neck.
“Oh, well…” Hizashi smiled. “Ya, you’re right. It’s perfect just like this.”
“You didn’t even have to beat up the paparazzi.” Shouta snickered.
“Ha, ha. I suppose you’ve been tuning in then, my little listener.” He gave him a peck on the lips. “My favorite listener.”
“Always so smug.”
“Part of my charm, so I’m told.”
Shouta hummed.
“You literally just woke me up and asked me to marry you. I think we can agree I’m charming.”
He laughed at his own joke and Shouta couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he leaned into his fiance’s shoulder.
“Hey Sho, does this mean we are going to start telling people?”
Shouta closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Ya.”
“Wow, you love me more than you hate the paparazzi. I feel special.” He clutched at his chest dramatically.
“I just want the other radio hosts to stop trying to set you up with other people.”
“Aww, you’re jealous. How cute.”
“Shut up, Hizashi, or I’ll take it back.”
Shouta smiled as Hizashi’s laugh shook through him. He felt his body finally begin to relax as they sank back into bed.
“Wow,” Hizashi pondered to the ceiling. “Just…wow. We are really doing this.”
“Ya,” Shouta nodded, heavy lids closing. “And I got to ask.” He smirked.
“Didn’t realize it was a race,” he joked, yanking up the covers and tucking them around Shouta’s shoulders. Shouta shifted as he struggled to turn off the lamp. “But I’m glad you asked. I was so nervous.”
“I’m glad you wanted to ask.” He paused. “I love you. A lot, ya know.”
“I love you too, Sho.” He whispered to the now sleeping figure, giving him another quick peck on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”