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Shouta cursed for the fifth time in as many minutes. He was dragging his feet in the direction of his and Hizashi’s apartment and mentally bracing himself for the scolding he was about to receive.
It was supposed to be a routine patrol. Not that it excluded any problems that could arise but the last thing he expected was to stumble upon a drug deal where the villains were armed with knives, with one of them having a quirk that turned his arms into knives. He stopped the transaction but now he was limping half across the city (he really needed to readjust his patrol routes to be closer to their flat) with a knife in his upper thigh and multiple lacerations on his shoulder.
Hizashi was going to bite his head off.
—
Hizashi had a really nice evening. He finished grading the quizzes, the setlist for the Friday’s show was ready and he was chilling with a cup of tea and a book he meant to finish like half a year ago. Shouta texted him an hour earlier that the patrol was quiet, so that was another worry off his head. Of course, he would always worry to some extent but after so many years it was useless to be scared shitless everyday when one of them was on the routine patrol.
That’s why, when he heard the door opening at midnight, just three hours into Shouta’s shift, he was immediately flooded with dread.
He stood up from the couch and went to the genkan, where his husband was supporting himself against the wall, smearing the blood all over their egg-shell white paint.
“Don't give me that look,” Shouta said through gritted teeth.
“What look, Shouta? The ‘you should've called me instead of dragging your injured ass across the city’ look? Or ‘you should've called an ambulance, you idiot’ look?” Hizashi snapped. He could feel his heart in his throat and if it weren’t for the fact Shouta needed medical attention - and from the looks, a lot of it - Hizashi would be already panicking. Seeing Shouta’s pained expression cooled him down and his gaze softened. He pursed his lips in a thin line and went into an action mode.
He came up to his husband, hands hovering over his form. “What happened and where can I touch you?” He asked, none of the annoyance from moments before present.
“Knife in the left thigh and lacerations on the right shoulder. Rest is ok,” Shouta panted, clearly barely keeping his eyes open. Hizashi prayed to the gods he didn’t lose too much blood. He gingerly held him under the good arm and directed him to the bathroom, where he sat Shouta on the ridge of the bathtub. He disappeared for a moment only to come back with stacks of grey towels that he spread all over the floor. They’d known too well what a mess it was to remove dried blood from the tiles. He exited the bathroom again and came back with their Pro Hero-issued first aid kit that was thankfully replaced just a couple weeks ago and full of supplies.
He decided to handle the knife later. He unzipped the suit and carefully slid it off Shouta’s shoulder to inspect the damage.
The lacerations on the shoulder looked absolutely nasty, bleeding all over Shouta’s back. His gaze flickered to his husband’s face.
“Not. A word,” Shouta mustered.
“Not saying anything,” Hizashi replied, annoyed again. “Those are gonna need stitches.”
It was an old song and dance, nothing they hadn’t done before. Granted, Hizashi had a bit more experience sewing his husband up, even if he hated that fact. He took the gauze and antiseptic and started carefully clearing the wounds. Shouta didn’t even hiss; his pain tolerance was, frankly, terrifying.
He gently cleared all the lacerations and ordered Shouta to turn, so he had an easier access. He picked up the surgical needle and sat on the ridge of the tub behind him. Slowly, ever so carefully, he pushed the needle through the skin and made quick work of sewing it up, finishing off neatly.
He recleaned the next, still bleeding, laceration and started suturing it when Shouta spoke up.
“I’m sorry I got injured,” he said quietly.
Hizashi sighed. “Starlight, I… I appreciate it. That’s not what I’m mad about. You should’ve called me. What if someone jumped you on your way back? What if you bled in an alley?”
Shouta stayed still as Hizashi pushed the needle but the man could tell his husband wanted nothing more than to hunch.
“You’re not alone in this, Shouta,” Hizashi said quietly.
Shouta simply nodded and Hizashi had to swallow down another sigh. He’d known of Shouta’s issues with depending on others since high school and despite the progress his husband had made, there were still times when he didn’t want to bother others. In his mind, calling Hizashi to come to the other side of the city was more of a burden than having him patch Shouta up in their bathroom. Hizashi had given up on trying to understand his husband’s logic a long time ago, as he knew it was irrational and Shouta, despite his best efforts and years of therapy, couldn’t help it. He just wished he didn't do it in such dangerous situations.
After finishing stitching up the laceration, and covering it with gauze, he leaned in and tenderly kissed his good shoulder. Now that the anger subsided, all he felt was relief that his husband came back from yet another patrol alive.
“I don’t deserve you,” Shouta mumbled under his breath, so quietly Hizashi wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it. But he did, and he wouldn’t stand for it. He started pressing soft kisses to Shouta’s back.
“You don’t have to deserve me, Starlight,” he whispered between the kisses. “Love is not something earned.”
As much as he wanted to continue this, continue lavishing his husband in love and affection, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
He got off the bathtub and reached for the medical scissors to cut material around the knife. He grimaced at the sight. Thankfully, it seemed that it didn’t go in too deep but he was making Shouta visit Recovery Girl in the morning either way.
After carefully removing the knife and putting on the pressure on the wound for some time, Hizashi mixed soap with water in a small bowl and took the clean cloth to clear the wound with sure, meticulous movements.
“This one’s gonna hurt,” he warned as he picked up the new needle with a thicker thread. Shouta nodded and Hizashi noted that he was gripping the bathtub to the point his knuckles turned white. Hizashi bit his lip. Maybe they should’ve gone to the hospital, if only so Shouta got some proper painkillers. He knew Shouta would never agree to that but that thought didn’t leave Hizashi as he started stitching the wound up.
Within a couple minutes, Hizashi was admiring his handiwork.
“Will I live, doctor?” Shouta asked jokingly and Hizashi bit back a snarky reply. He guilt tripped Shouta enough as it is.
“Only with the service of the best nurse in the country,” he replied instead, sending his husband a cheeky wink to which Shouta replied with a weak smile. He helped him out of his uniform and set on clearing him from all the dried blood. It didn’t take long until he was dressing Shouta up in his most comfortable pyjamas and setting his husband on the couch, both too wired to go to sleep yet. Hizashi was quick to provide him with painkillers and was in the kitchen boiling water for the chamomile tea when he heard a quiet thank you from the living room.
“Anytime, baby, anytime,” he replied with a soft smile, handing Shouta the cup. He just hoped Shouta wouldn’t take him up on the offer too often.