Work Text:
It starts with paperwork.
Izuku and Shouto are sitting at opposite desks, clicking away on their computers to finish their reports. Nighteye Agency kept detailed internal records of all of its cases. Every hero was asked to review their pile monthly and send it to the analysis unit where it would get scrutinized by a group of extremely smart people. They would inspect the heroes’ methods of conduct and try to find connections and patterns between the cases.
It was extremely boring but necessary work. Shouto usually did not mind it. They had formed the habit of having their paperwork day on the same day with Izuku. They would give a break and chat for a bit every hour or so, and have celebratory ramen after. Bubble Girl jokingly called it their “paperwork date”. This time though, Shouto was cranky and impatient. He had slight bags under his eyes and he knew his hair must’ve been looking a mess from running his hands through it so many times. Izuku had attempted to cheer him up a couple of times but eventually left him to his own devices with only the occasional worried glance sent his way.
He didn’t sleep well. He had been having the same nightmare for three days in a row.
It’s rare for him to get nightmares these days. Life after the war is... different. Most days Shouto thinks it’s for the better. He patrols with Deku and Lemillion in safer streets. He works joint cases with his classmates without racing for a spot in the Hero Billboard Chart. He grabs tea and cakes with Yaomomo, visits Katsuki in his dorm and listens to him curse the stupid know-it-all in his sophomore chemistry course. He goes to his mom’s house. Sometimes, all of his siblings sit in the kotatsu, even Touya, and his mom smiles.
Some days, though, he wakes up in cold sweat, and he doesn't sleep a wink until the sun shines through his windows. He stops his alarm before it rings and puts on his uniform with a long-suffering sigh. His ghosts follow him into the day hours.
This is one of those days. There’s an uneasiness crawling under his skin that just won’t go away. Still, he’s dealing with it just fine until his latest report comes up on the screen. They wrapped it up only a couple of days ago. He tries to read it impartially, as he would any other report, but his eyes keep going back to domestic abuse and abuse of authority. He thinks of the stupid judge threatening to end their careers as he’s led to the police car. He thinks of the small boy with tearful blue eyes.
Did you know I used to go to Natsu-kun every day, asking him in tears why I existed?
Every one of his coworkers swore that he was a great guy who’s done so much to fight organized crime. Domestic abuse. A little boy with scared eyes shielding his brother from the heroes.
Let us fall together, Enji Todoroki! Come dance with your son in hell!
“Are you still friends with that social worker?” he blurts out.
Clicking stops. Izuku raises his head to give Shouto a quizzical look, then his eyes spark with recognition. “Asahi-kun?” Shouto nods. Logically, he knew he left the kid in good hands, but knowing things and feeling things are entirely different. He doesn’t know what kind of expression’s on his face but Izuku’s face softens. “I can give him a call,” he says. Shouto gives a curt nod in thanks.
“Are you almost done, then?” asks Izuku, a cautious smile on his face.
“Huh?”
“With the reports,” he clarifies. Oh.
“Yes,” replies Shouto, scrolling absentmindedly, “I just need to finish this one.”
There is silence after that. Shouto sighs but keeps his eyes on his screen. Izuku’s clunky keyboard starts up a moment later. Good. He doesn’t really want to talk about it. He’s done enough of that with his therapist. Shouto checks the report one more time. There isn’t anything to add. It’s been finished since two days ago.
The past never dies, little brother!
“Izuku.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you mind if... if I leave now? I need to do something.” Shouto feels guilty about bailing on him, but now that the idea has taken root in his mind, he doesn’t want to stop. “It’s nothing bad,” he adds when it looks like Izuku’s about to protest. “I wanna see Touya.”
“Oh.” His expression goes from skeptical to thoughtful to smiling. “Sure, Shouto. We can have dinner some other time.”
“Are you sure it’s not a problem?”
“Of course,” says Izuku, still smiling. “I’m telling my mom you stood me up, though,” he adds more mischievously. Shouto snorts. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve a friend like him. He quickly gathers his paperwork and sends it, then gets his phone and leaves the room with a final nod in Izuku’s direction. His friend waves goodbye. He makes a stop in front of the lockers to change into his spare clothes and is talking towards Touya’s place in under ten minutes.
Can I drop by? he texts Touya.
His brother did not kill their father after all. After his help in freeing Shigaraki from All for One’s control and bringing him down for good, he had done a brief stint in prison but was eventually released with a long list of parole rules and a fancy bracelet to monitor quirk usage. He’s more pensive these days, quieter, without all of that rage bursting out of him. Shouto hopes that’s peace and not depression.
The thing is, Shouto really likes this version of Touya. He’s kind of an ass but also funny and really considerate. He... gets Shouto. Lets him just be. Whether that means listening to his conspiracy theories or letting him sulk until he feels a bit better. Then they order something, or Touya cooks. And there’s that.
Maybe there’s more to it. He knows his brother still feels guilty about some things that went down between them. He suspects that clouds Touya’s actions, makes him indulge him more than he would their other siblings. Or maybe he’s just bad at articulating his feelings like Shouto is. Either way, it helps, and Shouto really hopes Touya’s willing to let him crash for a few hours.
He needs to see him. Just to cool down for a bit. He needs to see the white hair and healing scars.
sure, but you gotta be quiet
That works perfectly. Why? Shouto types back, curious.
keigo’s sleeping
Ok, I can be quiet.
you have your key?
Yes.
That’s another thing that’s different. Keigo. He’s always where Touya is, these days. Shouto was just as surprised as everyone else when they learned that Hawks and Dabi were... a thing. Before betrayal and flames and a bloody, messy confrontation that possibly changed the course of the war. What’s more surprising is they actually seem to have moved past that. They live in a flat on the top floor of a 5-story building in downtown Musutafu. A flat with a small balcony, lots of books and a freaking kitchen nook. Shouto doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t resent them for it, like Natsuo does and he’s not waiting for them to crash and burn, like Fuyumi is. It’s just kind of weird.
The walk passes in a blur and soon enough Shouto is standing in front of a yellow building. He takes the elevator and opens the door with his key, trying to be as quiet as possible.
He hears the low sound of TV coming from the living room. He wasn’t expecting Touya to wait at attention but a hello would’ve been nice. He toes off his boots and walks to the living room. The sarcastic quip on the tip of his tongue dies when he takes in the view in front of him.
Keigo’s sleeping literally on top of Touya. They are sprawled on the couch and hopelessly entangled, with Keigo’s face buried on Touya’s chest and his wings peeking from the hand-knitted blanket that’s covering most of him. It must be muffling the TV enough for him to sleep. Or maybe it’s like white noise to him. Shouto could never truly comprehend how Keigo’s feathers worked the few times he tried explaining it to him. Touya has his phone in one hand and the other one’s absentmindedly drawing circles in Keigo’s back. The whole scene is so domestic that Shouto considers just turning back and leaving, because it somehow feels more embarrassing than if he walked in on his brother making out with the hero. But Touya hears him approach. He gives him a brief, underwhelming nod in greeting and returns to watching TV as if this is a regular occurrence.
Shouto gives a huff that’s half exasperated and half a laugh. So they’re just ignoring the giant bird-man in the room? He can do that. Touya raises his finger to his lips in a mute hush gesture in response and waves his phone in the air. Shouto raises an eyebrow. Touya remains unimpressed. He’s really gonna make him text in the same room, isn’t he?
You could mention he’s sleeping ON you.
Touya’s phone doesn’t vibrate, but the screen lights up. He rolls his eyes when he reads the text.
you didn’t ask
besides it’s not my fault
the idiot fell asleep
Shouto snickers.
So you admit the cuddling was deliberate?
shut up and watch tv sherlock
and for the love of god change the channel
Shouto snickers some more when he sees the slight blush on Touya’s cheeks. He takes pity on him though, so he grabs the remote control from the coffee table and sits on the armchair on the other side of the couch. There is some kind of teen drama playing, now that he’s paying attention. It looks very dramatic. Touya makes an impatient hand gesture. Shouto briefly thinks about leaving it on to spite him but then decides that it’s not worth the torture. He finds the rerun of a detective show he occasionally watches. Touya vetoes. They settle on a cooking show.
ugh you killed the spinach lady
She’s just boiling them?
just boiling them??
she’s blanching them you heathen
or attempting to anyway
she’s hopeless
What’s blanching?
that spinach will haunt me
google it I don’t feel like explaining basic kitchen terms today
you call that seasoning????
Ohh, so that’s blanching.
I thought it was some kind of cleaning product.
Touya laughs, a low, rumbling sound. It makes Keigo stir, but Touya’s hand moves to play with his hair and he settles again. Slowly, Shouto feels himself unwind. The sun drops lower in the sky, painting the living room in reds and oranges. The TV becomes comforting static.
do you want tea? fuyumi dropped off some of that fancy herbal stuff
Do you want some too?
I’m good
Shouto moves to the kitchen on silent feet. He flips the kettle on and starts looking through the cabinets. He takes a sip after letting the tea steep for a bit. It is indeed good tea. Momo would approve. It washes away the last remnants of the nervous energy thrumming through his veins and he takes his first full breath in three days.
He returns to the living room, cradling his blue mug carefully. The show’s almost over. The music soars dramatically as the clock counts down the final minute. Keigo mumbles in his sleep and shifts. Touya shushes him, putting the phone down to more comfortably pull Keigo towards himself. There is something extremely protective in his posture. Shouto catches a glint of worry in his gaze before it starts to feel like snooping and Shoto averts his gaze.
He didn’t question it before but napping at random hours is more of Touya’s thing. Maybe Keigo’s working too much? Is he having nightmares? Shouto wants to ask, feeling bad that he didn’t before. He steals a glance at Touya. He hasn’t moved, his phone still discarded on the couch and his attention wholly on his boyfriend. Shouto waits, debating with himself if he should say something. After stewing on it some more, he decides to let it go. For now. Keigo’s sleeping soundly and the least Shouto can do is leave him to it. He makes a mental note to check on Hawks later in the week. Decision made, he gives his attention back to the TV.
Don’t try to be a hero all the time, a voice that sounds like Ochako chides in his head. He takes a sip of his tea and makes a conscious effort to relax again. Is this what Izuku’s been doing the whole day? He should get him something good next time. Maybe some mapo tofu. He yawns, which makes him realize how tired he is.
His phone buzzes just before the winners are announced.
what’s with the thinking face?
Nothing.
I was thinking about something that’s bothering me but I think I found a solution.
ok
sure you don’t want to talk about it?
Yep.
Have you seen Natsu lately?
Touya raises an eyebrow but lets him change the subject.
not since his practical exams started
They should be done by now if Shouto’s not mistaken. Maybe they can do something over the weekend. He pulls up their sibling group chat and shoots a text. He hears commercials take over the TV but Touya doesn’t bother him about it, so he leaves it. He checks some of the other chats he didn’t get around to reading over the last couple of days. He yawns again.
A shuffling sound makes Shouto look up over his phone at the couch. Keigo’s stirring. He chirps and moves one of his wings, making the blanket slide down. Shouto catches his brother smiling softly. The sun’s almost down now.
He discreetly snaps a picture. For blackmailing purposes, of course.
Keigo stirs again. He seems determined to come back to the land of the living this time. Shouto watches his feathers rustle as he slowly comes to.
“Hey,” says Touya, voice low and soothing. Keigo makes a soft coo in return, raising his head a little.
All of a sudden, his wings sharpen. A metallic sound cuts through the living room as he moves into a crouch over Touya. His head whips lightning fast to Shouto, who feels the temperature spike and drop on the two sides of his body in a panic. He feels a shiver run down his spine when Keigo’s pupils contract into slits and his eyes pin on him. Then he blinks, and his pupils dilate again. “Shouto?” he asks groggily. His hair is a mess. There’s a red mark over his right cheek where he was plastered to Touya’s shirt a second ago.
Shouto releases the breath he was holding as steam. “Hi,” he says apologetically.
“Hey, kid.” Keigo's wings relax. He slumps back again, knocking the air out of a disgruntled Touya. “Did I really sleep through you comin’ in?”
Shouto shrugs. “Touya told me to be quiet.”
“Did he now,” says Keigo, amusement clear in his voice.
“Get off me, birdie,” says Touya grumpily. “I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“But I’m so warm,” Keigo whines, voice slightly muffled as he wiggles closer to Touya, who glares at the top of his head but doesn’t make a move to stop him otherwise. Shouto doesn’t know why Touya even bothers. He’s not fooling anyone.
“Wha' did I miss?”
“Not much,” says Shouto. “Did you know they use squid ink to make black pasta?”
“Black pasta? 's that a thing?”
Shouto never had it himself, so he makes a noncommittal hum. Keigo turns around to face him, a thoughtful look on his face. The position pushes his wings toward Touya’s face without any space to go. “How does it taste, though? Like, you know, actual ink?”
“Have you ever tasted actual ink?” asks Touya judgementally, straining his neck to keep feathers out of his mouth.
Keigo snorts. “Good point.” He turns back to Touya, elbowing him in the process. “Have you tasted actual ink?”
“Get off me,” says Touya again. Keigo laughs. He moves to sit up but detangling his limbs from Touya’s takes them another minute and more bickering. Shouto watches the whole exchange with amusement.
Later, when he’s on the train going home, his stomach full and his heart lighter, he thinks about the picture again. He pulls it from his gallery. It’s an intimate picture. Everything about Keigo is soft, the tip of his wings drooping to the ground in a crimson cascade. His arms are lax but secure around Touya. Shouto couldn’t catch Touya’s smile in time, but he can still see the fondness in his expression, his gaze unfocused and calm. The severe lines of his face are softened by the dusk and the man in his arms.
He smiles despite feeling like he’s intruding again. It’s a good picture. He’s glad he captured it. He sends it to his mom on impulse. Then he texts Izuku to let him know he’s feeling better and to ask him what he wants for a compensation dinner.
The past never dies, his brother shouted once with a deranged smile. But it did, thinks Shouto. It did and now flowers are finally blooming on the ground it lays.