Work Text:
Shouta wakes up slowly. The lingering feeling of warm tranquillity is slow to fade. On mornings like this, Shouta doesn’t want it to.
It’s rare that he wakes before Toshinori; even rarer that he gets to stay and appreciate it. Usually one or both of them has some early morning commitment. More often than not it’s because Shouta has to attend to one of the problem children. Other times it’s Toshinori driven to rise, either by restlessness or pain - sometimes a combination of both - leaving Shouta with a murmured reassurance that soothes him enough to slip back into unconsciousness.
Today, Toshinori is still. The only movement is the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. The sunlight, bright and brilliant, seems to light up the mess of golden hair. Even the ever-present shadows that line his face seem fainter in the morning glow. Shouta’s heart swells with affection.
He never imagined caring for this man as much as he does now. These days, the thought of his life without Toshinori in it feels unbearable. A far cry from the disdain he'd felt when Nezu first hired him. It’s hard to believe things could change so quickly. Shouta wouldn’t have it any other way.
He shifts to better see Toshinori’s face. He always looks most relaxed when he’s asleep. Not completely at peace - Shouta doesn’t think he’s ever seen Toshinori unaccompanied by the weight he always carries. It’s a part of him at this point. Ingrained down to his very being. But, asleep in the early hours of the morning, he looks the closest thing to peaceful he can ever get. Shouta is content with that much. Toshinori deserves peace, after all he’s sacrificed for the world.
He’s struck, sudden and fervent, by the urge to reach out and touch him. Prove he’s real. It’s illogical. Toshinori is in front of him, whole and well. He shouldn’t need any more proof than that. But still his heart twists with anxiety.
Logic says he shouldn’t be. There are a significant number of reasons Toshinori shouldn’t have made it this far. The devastating injuries he’s suffered, his inability to recognise his own limits, Nighteye’s vision. All that and more. Things that should only confirm to both of them that this endeavour of theirs is pointless. Yet for once Shouta finds no comfort in logic. It doesn’t begin to measure up against the assuaging warmth of Toshinori’s presence. Logic has never been reliable when it comes to him. Another reason they shouldn’t make so much sense. Another peculiarity that only makes him feel more fond. More certain that this - them - is right.
The urge to reach out hasn’t faded. He aches to brush a thumb over the sharp bone of Toshinori’s cheek. To reassure himself beyond a shadow of a doubt that Toshinori is beside him, and will continue to be. He also knows that, if he reaches out, then Toshinori will wake. He always does. Hypervigilance is par for the course as a hero, and it doesn't go away with retirement. In Toshinori’s case, he thinks it’s only gotten worse. He’s never been one to accept inaction. Ironic that he can never find for himself the peace he strives to create. He’s done so much for the sake of the world and always left himself out of the equation. The scar at his waist - twisted and impossible to ignore - is proof enough of that.
Shouta doesn’t reach out, no matter how much he aches to. He lies very still and counts each wondrous breath Toshinori takes. One after the other, steady and uninterrupted. It’s such a mundane sight. Decidedly unremarkable, yet the most beautiful thing Shouta could hope to see.
Something wonderfully tender grips his chest, strong enough to make his own breath falter. It’s impossible to deny the strength of what he feels for Toshinori. Not anymore. Not when so much of him depends on his light.
It’s a strikingly ordinary way to accept that he’s in love. Not out of desperation or fear or any other earth-shaking event. Out of warmth and mundanity and comfort. It’s the right way, he thinks. As simple as a quiet morning.
For a long moment, Shouta does nothing but revel in the knowledge. Savours the certainty, settling deep within his chest. A feeling he never wants to forget. A feeling he never thought he’d want.
Toshinori sleeps on, oblivious to his internal revelations. Shouta holds back from reaching for him, welcoming him into the luminous glow of joy he feels. There’s no point in disturbing his sleep. It’s hard enough to get him to sit still long enough to sleep properly as it is. Still, the feeling surges until it becomes too much for Shouta to hold within himself.
The words escape him in a rush, soft and reverential. “I love you.” It doesn’t matter that Toshinori isn’t awake to hear them. There’s time enough for Shouta to say it to him properly. Time enough for them to find their way to something resembling peace.
He lies there for what feels like hours. The gentle glow of dawn brightens into daylight, strong and persistent. The usual sounds filter in one by one - birdsong, faint voices. Shouta lets it wash over him. None of it is enough to pull him from this moment. Not even the tempting lure of extra sleep.
Toshinori’s eyelids flutter. Shouta’s heart jumps to his throat, anticipation sparking in his chest. Slowly, the gleaming pinpoints of blue reveal themselves. A mesmerised breath escapes Shouta’s chest against his will.
Toshinori smiles, lazy and warm. “Morning.” His voice is a honeyed rasp. Shouta wants to lose himself in it for the rest of eternity. “Sleep well?”
Shouta smiles, matching Toshinori’s in warmth. “Yeah,” he says, soft as the serenity in his chest. “You?”
Toshinori hums, eyes drifting closed. “Well enough.”
Meaning his sleep was largely undisturbed by pain or unpleasant dreams. One of the better answers. Shouta’s glad he chose not to wake him. Such a thing is rare for Toshinori.
Nothing is stopping him now, though. He moves closer, pressing a kiss to his lips as he threads purposeful fingers through his hair. Toshinori meets him with a contented sound, draping an arm over his side. It’s wonderfully domestic. Shouta almost wishes it could last forever.
They break apart slowly. Shouta keeps his eyes closed, drinking in the warmth of Toshinori’s touch and letting it fuel his bravery. “I love you.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath. Shouta opens his eyes. Toshinori stares back at him, awestruck. So he says it again. “I love you.” Simple and clear and honest. A truth that makes his heart swell.
Silence, drawn-out and astonished. Toshinori reaches out. He rests a hand on Shouta’s cheek, light and disbelieving. “You…?”
“I love you,” Shouta says again. As many times as it takes.
A breathless laugh escapes Toshinori. "Shouta," he says, soft and reverent. He presses their foreheads together and Shouta laughs with him, euphoric.
Maybe this is peace, he thinks. Quiet confessions and Toshinori’s laughter and time that belongs to them alone. If that’s as much as they’re granted, Shouta will treasure it.
The sunlight warms his skin as he relinquishes himself to Toshinori’s arms, delicate and firm. It doesn’t compare to the blaze Toshinori’s next words, so achingly tender, ignite in him. “I love you, too.”