Work Text:
Hitoshi shifted on his feet, staring out at the city below him. Fireworks were already in the sky making his pounding headache that much worse. Unfortunately, he had to be sober tonight but god he wished he could pull out a flask and just take a bit. Just something to ease that sinking feeling that had settled in his chest long ago.
Seven years ago to be exact.
The beginning of senior year.
---
“So you're in 3A now?” Hitoshi asked, his quiet voice almost getting lost in the busy dorm common area. His classmates all flitted by, bringing new bags and suitcases from home.
The one he had spoken to heard him though, turning to face him. “Huh? Not keen on the idea?” They asked, a shit eating grin on their face. One Hitoshi had wished to slap off of them for the past year.
He flipped his head up, the blond hair dropping over purple eyes filled with pride. Hitoshi sneered, not bothering to hide it. “Wondering what god I pissed off to get stuck with so many egotistical assholes.” He responded before he glanced down at the measly one bag the boy had. “Fucks in there? Your makeup?”
Monoma's shit eating grin dropped into something Hitoshi might have called dangerous. If he actually thought the boy could do anything to him. “I can't tell if you're going for homophobia or sexism. I won't tolerate either.” There was an edge to his voice that Hitoshi hadn't heard before.
He clicked his tongue, kicking his legs up to rest on the coffee table. “Neither. I was just going for pissing you off. I may be an asshole but I'm not a monster.” He grinned as Iida passed, his eyes going wide at Hitoshi's posture and bad manners.
Monoma's grin came back as if it had always been there as he grabbed the small bag. “Not that it's any of your business, but these are my emergency rations.”
Hitoshi felt his lip quirk up. “Oh? Gonna share.”
“Ha! You wish, you freeloader.” He glanced around Hitoshi as if noticing he didn't have bags for the first time. “Where's your stuff?”
Hitoshi shrugged. “In my room. Unlike the rest of these idiots-” he waved his hand to the rest of the class in utter chaos. “I stayed the summer in the dorms.”
Monoma huffed, shifting his hand on the bag. “Loser.” He mumbled, throwing a hand up in a dismissive farewell. Hitoshi said nothing else, pulling out his phone.
He didn't realize then how much his feelings towards the pampered previous 2B boy would change.
---
He sighed as he cuffed yet another villain to a lightpole, pulling out his phone. It rang four times before someone picked up, their voice laced with exhaustion. “Location?”
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “2nd and Lane. Who are you? Where's my usual operator?” He asked, tapping his foot in annoyance.
“Off. Just like most people on this godforsaken night.” She mumbled. “I got an officer en route. I also got multiple other heroes so if that's all-”
She didn't wait for a response before she hung up and Hitoshi sighed, tucking his phone away. These goddamn fireworks just kept getting louder as the night moved on. What he wouldn't give for that flask.
“You look like you could use a drink.” The villain in front of him said, suddenly awake from Hitoshi's prior beating. He rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond to the man. He glanced up at the sky, watching the fireworks explode over the buildings.
The sparks raining down brought another memory.
---
“Hitoshi!” Monoma screamed and Hitoshi grunted in response. “Mind giving me a bit of help?”
Hitoshi didn't respond to that either, trying to evade the massive fucking arm of the robot trying to smash him into the floor. Truthfully, he didn't fully trust whether Monoma had touched him earlier. And since they'd get bonus points for being the only one walking out of the training facility, he'd die before he let the blond prick take them from him.
Still, he shot his capture scarf up, wrapping it around a metal lightpost before he threw himself up. He grabbed the back of Monoma's shirt as they moved, getting a gasp of surprise from him. “You fucker!” He screamed, trying and failing in vain to get a grip on Hitoshi's arm.
What he did end up succeeding in was throwing off Hitoshi's balance, leaving the capture scarf digging into his other arm. “Roll.” He ordered, letting go of Monoma quickly. He swung himself up as the boy screeched, managing to pull himself onto the top of the light pole.
He managed to unwrap his scarf right as the entire pole froze up. His shoe got caught in his hurry and he cursed, dropping to the floor without it. “What the fuck?” He yelled and Monoma stared at him with that fucking grin. “I was trying to save your ass.”
“By dropping me from the air?” He asked, shaking out an arm that was partially covered in ice. He shivered slightly but his attitude never dropped. “Yeah right. You were just after those extra points. Unluckily for you, you don't know who's quirks I got.”
Hitoshi rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don't give a fuck who's shit you stole and got a lame secondhand version of. I do care that you just tried to kill me.” He gestured at the still frozen lamppost.
Monoma scoffed. “Please. If that would kill you then maybe you deserved to be in general studies still. A senior and you can't even dodge ice right?”
“A senior and you can't even learn not to be an egotistical piece of shit?” He snapped back. He felt it the moment the bond took hold. That empty feeling that covered his mind and made his tongue go loose in his mouth. That made his hands slack on his capture weapon.
It did nothing for his pure fury though. Using his own quirk on him was another level of disrespect that Hitoshi wished he could beat out of the boy. Bakugo was bad enough until he learned to leave Hitoshi alone. But this transfer from the other class hadn't learned that yet. Hitoshi was going to enjoy making him learn it.
He watched Monoma open his mouth to issue a command before something shook the ground around them. Hitoshi couldn't hear anything except for Monoma's panicked breathing until a chunk of concrete from the buildings around them nailed him in the cheek. It was small enough to not do damage but it still hurt like a motherfucker.
Hitoshi's fist curled as Monoma turned away, staring up at something. He tucked his thumb outside his hand, his fist connecting with Monoma's jaw the next second. “What the fuck?” He screeched, grabbing his jaw.
Before Hitoshi could punch him again, because he was *not* going to risk responding, a loud boom sounded above him. He looked up just in time to see a robot exploding, large debris pieces exploding like fireworks above them. Then, the other robot landed in front of them.
“Oh shit.” They said at the same time before the robot grabbed them both.
---
Hitoshi perched on the edge of the building again, glancing out among the many alleys and streets that filled his route. He had taken over for Aizawa Sensei a few years ago now, which meant his territory to cover was larger than he had expected. His old teacher and mentor had been carrying so much work those years and Hitoshi was glad he could take some weight off his shoulders now.
Especially given that his kinda adopted sister was now a teenager in his class. Hitoshi wasn't adopted by the pro of course, yet he still found himself thinking of the man and his husband as father figures. Every Sunday dinner and holiday outing solidified that. Not that he would ever mention it.
“Siren.” His earpiece buzzed to life and he hissed at the volume. “You're needed two blocks away to the south. There's a hero needing backup.” And with that, she was gone yet again.
Hitoshi grumbled, beginning his run across the rooftops. His pounding feet only made his pounding head that much worse.
---
“Brewing some tea. You want some?” The blond prick asked, tapping a ceramic teacup against his hand.
Hitoshi glowered at him, kicking his legs back onto their usual spot on the coffee table. “No. I don't drink that shit.” He mumbled and the blond shrugged, going back to what he was doing. “Y'know,” Hitoshi started again, “You don't have to act like you like me just because our bitch of a teacher put us on house arrest.”
The blond laughed, the sound grating on Hitoshi's ears. “You talk big for someone who made that bitch teacher a birthday card.” He muttered and Hitoshi's glare only increased.
He didn't have a quip back though so he crossed his arms over his chest, wincing slightly at the way his bandages pulled. Monoma eventually drifted over, sitting beside Hitoshi. “What the fuck?” He asked the boy who just shrugged.
He set the tea on the table, smacking Hitoshi's feet down. “It's the best view of the TV.” He said, grabbing the remote from beside him.
Hitoshi rolled his eyes as the TV turned on, some stupid news channel about heroes that Midoriya must have left on the prior night. Now he and all their class were out on a training excursion while Monoma and Hitoshi were forced to stay behind. It wasn't his fault that the boy had gotten the wrong idea and made them both fail.
Monoma picked up the cup of tea as the news droned on and Hitoshi's stomach grumbled at the sweet smelling shit. “Theres a cup for you on the counter. Get it yourself, lazy ass.” Monoma mumbled into the tea as he took a sip.
Hitoshi's glare turned to confusion as he stared at his classmate. He finally got up when he hadn't had any more information, trekking to the kitchen. Perched on the edge of the counter, just out of view of the couch, was a cup of steaming coffee. In Hitoshi's favorite mug.
---
“Hey, sticky fingers!” Hitoshi called, dropping into the alley nearest to the fight. Phantom Thief whirled around, his eyes widening at Hitoshi. “The dispatch lady said you were in deep shit.” He explained, tucking his hands in his pockets as he approached the sweaty man.
He hesitated for only a second before that shit eating grin came on his face. One that made Hitoshi's blood boil for all the wrong fucking reasons. “Thought she was sending me a pro. Not a homeless man.” He retorted, setting a hand on his hip.
Hitoshi forced his gaze away from the man, looking at the very large and loud fight right outside the alleyway. “What's the hold up? Just knock the assholes out.” Hitoshi said, gesturing to the mob of screaming people.
“Ha. Ha.” Phantom Thief said mockingly. “I don't have any good quirks on hold and you know damn well I'm no match for 6 people quirkless.”
Hitoshi grinned. “You aren't even a match for one person quirkless.”
Phantom Thief ignored him. “If you can get that heavy hitter out of the way, I can get the rest. His damn mask thing won't allow Somnambulist to get through and if I get the other 5 down first, he'll just use them as a punching bag.” He stated and Hitoshi hummed. He wouldn't admit it to the man, but he wouldn't have thought of that. He was always a hit first, think later, person.
“Sure. I'll come to your rescue, princess.” He said and Phantom Thief rolled his eyes, though that fucking grin never left his face. Part of him still wanted to punch it off the man's face. But that other part. That part of him he would never let show again, it wanted to kiss the grin away.
---
“Hitoshi?” Midoryia called, knocking gently on the door. Hitoshi paused, glancing up from his phone to look at the door. He sighed when he realized it was locked, dropping his phone to crawl across his bed.
He opened it slowly yet Midoryia still jumped. “What’s up?” He asked, leaning on the doorframe.
Midoriya hesitated and Hitoshi resisted the urge to thump the boy on the head. Despite being a 3rd year and arguably the most powerful kid in all the school, he had never fully outgrown that timidness around Hitoshi. Not that Hitoshi ever really cared to ease the boy’s worries about him. He was fine being the odd one out of the close bonded 3A. After all, he hadn’t survived the same shit they had the first year.
“A few of us were going to go train.” He said, gesturing down the hall to something Hitoshi couldn’t see. “We were wondering if maybe you’d like to join us to get some extra training in.” He shifted on his feet slightly, that kind grin stretching out his face.
Hitoshi sighed, running a hand through his hair. If it was anyone else, Hitoshi might assume they were calling him weak. Midoriya wasn’t that type of person though. “Yeah. Sure. Let me get changed.” He said and Midoryia’s grin widened.
Hitoshi rolled his eyes, shutting the door to get ready quickly. By the time he had finished dressing into his simple tank top and sweats, the class was already ready. Well, the few who had decided to get up at- he glanced towards the clock, his eyes narrowing. 10. Damn. He thought it had been earlier.
“Too plain to have actual nice clothes?” Monoma said from behind him and Hitoshi suppressed a shiver.
Hitoshi glared at him over his shoulder before glancing at Midoriya who led the group of 6. “So concerned about my outfit. How long you’ve been ogling me?” He asked, following at the back.
Monoma grinned that fucking grin, his eyebrow raising. “You got the muscles for that tank top.” He said before he rushed to catch up to Ochako. Hitoshi’s steps paused for half a second but that was long enough for Monoma to notice and shoot the same grin back over his shoulder.
Hitoshi was going to punch that boy.
---
“Got him?” Hitoshi asked, tightening his capture weapon’s hold on the overgrown buffoon.
Phantom Thief nodded, holding up a hand. Hitoshi could see his face pinched in concentration, sweat beading across his forehead. He didn’t respond and Hitoshi doubted he could. The man had little experience with mental quirks, clearly. The man in Hitoshi’s hold squirmed and he grunted, placing a foot to brace himself as he tightened it again. Too big of fucking wrists for the cuffs.
The man struggled again and Hitoshi rolled his eyes before he swung his foot up, connecting it with the side of the man’s neck. He was out instantly and Hitoshi grunted at the dead weight now in his scarf. He quickly unwrapped it from himself, keeping it around the villain.
He left him, walking over to the one that Phantom Thief had under his control. He shot a look at Phantom Thief and he nodded. The light came back to this villain's eyes and Hitoshi stepped down onto his jacket to prevent him from immediately moving.
“What’s your name, idiot?” He asked and the villain blinked more of the haze away. “Might as well tell us now and save you a question down at the station. Getting into a brawl in the middle of the street on new years isn't a very smart idea.” He gestured to the piles of fireworks they had managed to douse before they lit. “Would’ve blown your face clean off.”
The villain finally seemed to clear his haze and went to respond but Hitoshi took hold quickly. Instantly, the haze came back, his eyes glassing over. “It would have helped the officers if you had let him speak.” Phantom Thief said, walking over.
Hitoshi shrugged. “Why would I want to help them? Much easier just to keep the fucker down like this.” He rolled his neck, feeling a few pops run down it. “We’ll need to wait anyway. Can’t do anything without the cuffs around the lot of them.”
“I guess.” He mumbled, taking a drink of the water at his hip. He held it out for Hitoshi and he warily eyed the rim, still wet with Phantom Thief's saliva. He shook his head quickly and the man shrugged, putting it in his waistband again. “Thought you worked the other holidays.”
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “Now you know my work schedule?” Phantom Thief raised an eyebrow and Hitoshi couldn’t help the small chuckle that then brought the shit eating grin back. “Yeah. What about it?”
Phantom Thief shrugged. “Thought our class was throwing a new years party.”
“They are.” Hitoshi said, leaning against the nearest wall. His calves were already killing him from his training the night before. “Why aren’t you there?”
“I was only with 3A for that year. I don’t need to mess with all of them.” Phantom Thief said easily. “Why aren’t you there?”
Because I thought you would be. Hitoshi wanted to say but he bit his tongue. “The last event I attended by the class ended up with me getting my hair half burnt off.” He said, not mentioning what else had happened at the last event.
Phantom Thief just nodded which made Hitoshi’s heart sink. “Can’t say I remember much about that night. I was pretty drunk.” Hitoshi nodded with him. “I just can’t hold my liquor, I guess.”
---
“Kaminari, it’s not a shot!” Iida shouted loudly, flicking his hand through the air. He paused, turning to Hitoshi. “It is just cider, right?”
Hitoshi grinned, shutting his eyes as he sipped on his own glass. “Of course it is, Iida.” Midoryia said with a sigh. “You know that the legal age is 20.”
Bakugo huffed. “Why’re you accusing us of doing illegal shit, attempted murderer?”
Iida sputtered and Midoryia tried to jump in to defend the class president. The couch shifted beside Hitoshi and he cracked his eyes open to see Monoma lounging beside him. In a fucking shirt that might as well have been vacuum sealed to his body. While he’d give the boy crap for being weak, he had to admit he had a nice form. Especially his biceps.
“Hey Hitoshi.” Ashido called and Hitoshi's gaze shot to hers. “Have anything you want to watch? Don't think we've ever asked you.”
“That's cause I don't care.” Hitoshi said, tapping his finger on the plastic cup. Ashido rolled her eyes, scrolling through channels as the room continued growing louder. Midterms were officially over which meant cider and celebration according to Yayorozu.
He turned back to Monoma who had tucked his legs up onto the couch, cupping his cider like it was hot choclate. “What’s up with you?” Hitoshi asked and the boy didn't respond. Hitoshi kicked him and he jumped, the cider barely avoiding spilling on him. “Fucks up with you?”
“Nothing.” Monoma muttered. “Just family shit.”
Hitoshi hummed, not sure how to respond to that. His family was so fucked up that he had taken to avoiding them all together. “Good luck.” He mumbled before adding, “If you ever want to talk about it, let me know. I may be a shit responder but I can listen.”
Monoma hummed, not anything else. Hitoshi moved slightly, just enough to touch the other boy. He wasn't sure why he did it but by the time he thought about it, Monoma had already relaxed into the touch. “Thanks.” He mumbled. Nothing sarcastic or egotistical about it. Just a simple thanks.
Hitoshi only hummed.
---
10 pm and Hitoshi could feel blisters forming on the back of his heels. He hadn’t even thought that *maybe*, just maybe, he shouldn’t try to break in the new boots Aizawa had given him for Christmas. Now, he was suffering for it and for all the idiots still doing shit with 2 hours till midnight.
He cracked his neck, sighing at the pops that followed. He should have listened when Yamada warned him not to take the long shift. 8 to 4. Most hero shifts were at most six hours for the daylight heroes. Of course the nighttime ones had to cover more time to let the heroes in front of the camera shine.
He was only two hours in yet had almost passed his usual number of idiots in cuffs. Most weren’t actually that dangerous. Deciding to use the excitement of the night to try to get a few bucks from a purse or trying to break into the stores that closed early. Second they used a quirk though, Hitoshi had permission to knock them the fuck out and move on.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he walked along the sidewalk and he pulled it out. Aizawa's contact flashed across the screen along with multiple other messages he hadn't even realized had come in. Aizawa was his only exception to his do not disturb function.
“I'll make sure we leave a bottle for you when you swing by in the morning. Which bottle?”
Hitoshi rolled his eyes, shooting back a quick message of just red wine. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he grunted, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Watch where you're going.” They said, shooting him a glare.
He rolled his eyes, continuing on his patrol. He was used to not being recognized. It was better for him as a nighttime hero anyways. Though there was one time he had debated going flashy for his costume.
---
“Hey, asshole.” Hitoshi mumbled, raising a hand in greeting. Monoma glanced up from his phone, nodding. “Want some of that tea?” He asked, grabbing his mug out of the cabinet.
“Are you brewing a new pot of coffee?” He asked and Hitoshi closed the cabinet, staring back at him. “What? It will be a late night.” He said, shrugging.
Hitoshi hummed, getting a mug out for Monoma as well. “School or family?”
“Both?”
Hitoshi chuckled, popping a pod into the maker. He made sure it was in place before he turned back around to face Monoma. He propped his elbows on the countertop, tipping his head. Monoma took a moment before he put the phone fully down. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow and the blond responded by dropping his head directly onto the counter.
Hitoshi couldn't help but chuckle, clicking his tongue. “That bad huh?” He asked and Monoma groaned loudly. “Well, my folks have all but disowned me. Kicked me out the second the dorms were up and ready. Only time I've heard from them is when they want something.”
“Want something?” Monoma questioned, tipping his head so he could see Hitoshi.
Hitoshi shrugged. This had become a sort of normal for them now. Sharing random crap or just sitting by each other. He still hated the shit eating grin but the boy had done it less now. Hitoshi could tell it was simply a way to fit in like the opposite to Hitoshi's issues.
“Groceries.” Hitoshi explained. “Or more usually, to dress up for their dinner parties. Sit still and look pretty type shit.”
Monoma grinned though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “That must have been torture for you. Shutting your trap.” He sat up slightly, groaning at the movement. “Definitely not the pretty part.”
Hitoshi rolled his eyes at the obvious jab though his stomach flipped slightly at it. As if Hitoshi could ever actually believe he looked anything different to a depressed plain faced teenager. “You ready to talk about your shitty home life?” He asked, changing the subject.
“Not much to say.” Monoma said with a shrug. “My family is struggling with the idea of me not continuing the bloodline. Souring our genes with being gay.”
Hitoshi laughed, turning around to jump onto the counter. He leaned his head back against the low resting cabinets, staring at the ceiling. “Not laughing at you, asshole.” He said quickly. “Just about the situation. I mean- look at you.”
Monoma flicked Hitoshi's arm and he laughed again. The room fell into silence again and Hitoshi crossed his arms over his chest, shutting his eyes. The coffee dripped slowly before Monoma broke the silence again. “Why do you dress like a hobo? Surely it's not just idolization of the old man?”
“Part of it.” Hitoshi said with a shrug. “Mostly though, it's easier to blend in if I look normal. I can get information if people don't think I'm a hero.”
“And you're too lazy to dress up.” Monoma added getting himself an eyeroll in response. Hitoshi jumped off the counter, moving over to grab the coffee pot. He took it off, making sure the little bit of a drip was wiped up.
He poured the mugs, watching the steam rise up slowly, warming his cold fingers. “You could pull off a bunny suit like Miriko.” Monoma mumbled and Hitoshi's hand slipped on the coffee pot.
He cursed, managing to catch it but it clipped the edge of the mug. The mug shattered on the floor and Hitoshi danced away, the hot coffee burning his feet and legs. “Shit!” Monoma yelled, jumping up from his chair.
Hitoshi set the coffee pot on the counter with shaking hands as he grabbed the paper towels, trying to wipe at the skin he knew would be burned. “Sit your ass down!” Monoma yelled, grabbing Hitoshi and swinging him back up onto the counter.
Hitoshi's brain froze at the show of strength as Monoma grabbed the hand towel, running it under the kitchen sink. He turned back around, dropping it on Hitoshi's lower legs. “Get it all off. I got the floor.” He said, taking the last hand towel in the kitchen.
Hitoshi set the damp towel on his legs as Monoma ran a hand through his hair, collecting everything into a pile. What the fuck was wrong with his beating heart?
---
11. 5 hours until he was home free and could collapse in his sad hero funded apartment by himself. He would give anything for these last hours to go by faster than a boat rowing upstream down the rapids.
His earpiece crackled back to life and he debated not responding to it. To take five minutes where he wasn't actively patrolling or fighting or eavesdropping. Five minutes to just sit in his own misery of why he had skipped that damn new years party. Not that he had needed too since the asshole had decided to wind up on the streets as well.
He finally clicked the earpiece, getting the dispatcher's annoyed voice. “Took you long enough, Siren. I have a report of fireworks gone wrong 2 blocks from your location. Reports say that a fire quirk is involved so ensure there is no explosions.” Then she was gone again, the static fading from the earpiece.
Hitoshi was on the move again to the location transmitted to his watch the next second. He twisted his weapon around a lamppost, shooting himself forward before he grabbed onto the next with his hand, swinging around to land on top.
“Showoff.” He could practically hear Monoma grumble and his damn heart fluttered at the thought of the other man's voice.
He shook his head, dropping down in front of an apartment complex. “Baby! Please! You need to calm down!” Someone yelled, held back by another person. In the center of the commotion was a young kid, who couldn't have been more than 6. They were smack dab in the middle of fireworks, one already lit.
“What’s the kid's name?” Hitoshi asked, stepping up to the frantic woman.
“Mitsi.” She said, not even paying him any mind. “Baby, come here!” She yelled and he watched as the girl's flaming hand caught yet another firework.
“Misti! Do you want some ice cream?” He yelled and gazes turned to him in confusion. He ignored them as the little girl looked over. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Straw-” Before she could finish, Hitoshi had the hold and her flames vanished. He ran in, the others still in a state of shock as he wrapped the girl in his scarf, kicked the unlit fireworks to the side, and raced out, praying to whatever fucking deity was out there.
A loud boom shook the street and people screamed before it shot straight up into the sky. The other started sparkling an array of colors falling back to the pavement. Hutoshi sighed, wiping off the embers on his pant leg. He set the girl down, dropping his hold on her. “Strawberry icecream?” He asked as she blinked away the haze. “That’s a nice flavor.”
She stared at him for a second before her face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “It's the bestest in the whole world!” She yelled as the woman ran over along with the man who had been holding her back. He could still hear the sparkler one behind him and the roman candles exploding above them.
“Mitsi!” The mom yelled, wrapping the girl into a tight hug. “I told you not to go near the fireworks!”
“But they're so pretty!” The little girl argued.
The dad stopped Hitoshi as he went to go. “Thank you. Are you a hero, sir?” He asked, grabbing his wrist gently. He removed it when Hitoshi actually paused and turned to face him.
“I am. I'm also going to need to confiscate those fireworks that are left.” He said and the man's face fell. “If I hadn't been here, it's very likely your daughter and many people here would have received extreme injuries and burns.”
The man nodded. “I know. It's just that- these weren't cheap. You see, I had to get some from out of the country and I-” Hitoshi raised an eyebrow and the man sighed. “Yeah. Alright.”
Hitoshi got the rest of the fireworks without incident, tucking them into his capture weapon as a makeshift backpack. The nearest station was only a block or two away which meant he was walking.
And in walking, he got to thinking.
Their relationship was fine after that. They'd joke. They'd jab at each other. But then they graduated and they only saw each other at reunions. After all, a daylight and nighttime heroes' schedules never intersected. Why would they plan for meeting up when all they were was old classmates?
Hitoshi had gotten good at ignoring it. That want for something more in life. He was just fine being a hero. He didn't need to worry about dating or anything like it. Even if seeing the snippets in newspapers of his classes dating escapades had his stomach in knots. Always searching for that shit eating grin.
Reunions and parties were simple. They were both added to the class late, so no one minded them sitting off to the side as the closer bonded people talked. They'd laugh and mock each other. Then when it was over, Hitoshi would go home with that familiar pain in his chest.
Except for that one night. Almost a year ago. The exact reason he had avoided all class reunions.
---
“Shinso!” Monoma said, his voice already slurred with alcohol. Hitoshi groaned, shoving the man's face away as he tried to drape himself over Hitoshi. “It's been so long.” He whined, pushing against Hitoshi's hand.
His skin was warm under Hitoshi's skin and Hitoshi quickly pulled his hand back, shoving it into his pocket. Screw that dumbass feeling that wanted to haunt him whenever he saw that grin. The alcohol made it look so much more like that late night version. Which crinkled his blue eyes in a way that if it was anyone else, Hitoshi might call cute.
“Hey, Shinso!” Midoriya called out, waving from across the room. Hitoshi cast a look at the now pouting blond beside him before he walked to Midoriya. “Took the night off for us?” He asked, handing a glass over.
Hitoshi eyed it warily, swirling it around. “Yeah. Might as well use some of those vacation days.” He shrugged, taking it sip. It stung his throat only slightly, clearly not a high alcohol content. How the blond had managed to get drunk on this was beyond him.
“Please!” Kaminari said, bouncing over. “We all know you probably only took today off. How many of those vacation days have you wasted this year?”
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “None of your business sparky. Not my fault that us nighttime heroes have to carry you limelight's weight.” He retorted though it was with none of the usual venom he gave to people. Their relationship had at least evolved above that.
Kaminari scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned on Midoryia's shoulder. “How's teaching going?” He asked, poking the freckled cheeks.
Midoryia huffed, running a hand through his hair. “We weren't that big of issues, right? Like none of them have any sense about them. I had to explain how to write your name at the top of all your work!” He said, speaking faster as he went. “It's insane! I had one student almost kill another in training simply cause- I don't know why still!” He threw his hands up. “Not to mention the slang they keep throwing out. What the hell does any of it mean?”
Kaminari patted his back in support before he pushed him away. “Let's get you another drink.” He said as Midoriya continued to ramble.
“Bye Shinso!” Midoryia called before he went right back to mumbling.
Hitoshi sighed, glancing around the room. Truthfully, he wasn't close to that many here. Midoriya and his friend group had sort of accepted Hitoshi back in highschool, but aside from the class group chat, he hadn't actually spoken to any of them recently.
So he turned back to the only person in the room who understood his plight. “Monoma.” He said, walking up to the red faced mess of a man.
The years had only made the man more attractive. Which Hitoshi hated to admit. He didn't outwardly look that strong but there was something about his stance and the way he held himself, even drunk, that showed he knew what he was doing. Not to mention the hard jawline and eyes as blue as the damn ocean that complimented his blond hair.
Hitoshi was a stereotype falling for a blond haired blue eyed boy who looked like he had been flown in from America. He didn't actually know where his family originated as they didn't talk much personal stuff. Not since Monoma had cried to Hitoshi about his family fully cutting him off when he graduated.
“Shinso.” The man said, that goofy grin on his face. “Took you long enough to come say hi to your biggest fanboy.” He laughed at his own joke, his glass held tightly in one hand.
Hitoshi eyed it slightly before he downed his own. He was too sober to deal with all this noise. “Biggest fanboy huh? Must be hard competing against yourself.” He joked, no longer giving the small joke, (was it a flirt), much thought. Monoma had been doing them ever since that damn bunny suit joke back in school.
“If more people knew you existed, I'm sure you'd have a fan club.” He said, leaning on his arm. His hair fell over those eyes and Hitoshi had to resist the urge to push it behind his ear. Instead, he readjusted in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “You're hot, Siren. Like- Eraserhead hot.”
Hitoshi choked, coughing into his hand. It took him a moment to suck in a breath as those eyes just watched him. Serious without a hint of joking. Hitoshi knew it was all a joke though. “Eraserhead hot? That's an insult.” He finally managed to say.
Monoma stared at him a second longer before he groaned, taking another sip of the drink. Hitoshi hated that his eyes trailed the blond's adam's apple as it moved before his eyes landed on Monoma's tongue, licking his bottom lip. He turned away, glancing at the bartender who seemed to be starstruck at the number of heroes in the rented out bar.
“Hey.” Hitoshi said and the man didn't look his way. Figures since he was in his civilian clothes. Which weren't too far off from his hero clothes so maybe that wasn't it. “Can I get a drink?” He asked but the man still didn't notice him.
Monoma lazily dropped an arm, tapping on the counter. Immediately the bartender's gaze shot over before he scurried to respond. “Phantom Thief. What can I get for you?” He asked, his eyes wide in amazement. No doubt Hitoshi would have to make sure the footage from the night was scrubbed and not shared everywhere by this fanboy.
Monoma nodded towards Hitoshi. “Get Siren a drink.” He said, the slur leaving his voice only slightly. The bartender seemed to notice Hitoshi then, his eyebrow raising in confusion before he nodded and grabbed the bottle he had been using.
“Something stronger than that.” He said, sliding his glass across the counter. “On the rocks. Just get me drunk.”
The bartender looked at Monoma who shrugged, the grin still plastered to his face. “Trying to forget something?” Monoma asked, as the bartender got to work.
Hitoshi huffed. *Yeah. That stupid ass feeling your grin gives me.* He thought. Instead, he nodded. “Maybe I want to forget seeing your ugly mug.” He held his hand out as the bartender slid a drink over before turning to deal with more interesting heroes.
Monoma sighed, pushing the hair from his eyes. His gaze lingered over Hitoshi before they dropped to his glass. They moved back up and Hitoshi could feel his hair stand on end. “How long does it take you to get drunk and tell the truth?”
Hitoshi grinned. “The truth? What do you want to know?”
“How many?” Monoma asked again and Hitoshi swore all traces of his glassy drunk gaze were gone. Replaced by those piercing blue eyes.
The answer was four drinks of whatever the hell the bartender kept pouring him. Four drinks and the cold night air of the rooftop of the bar. He could finally breathe away from the rest of the class, simply letting the breeze carry over him.
Monoma was beside him, leaning on the metal railing. Their arms were just close enough to not brush against each other, though Hitoshi could feel the warmth radiating off of him. He was tempted to ask if the man had stolen Bakugo's quirk with how warm he seemed to be but didn't. He didn't want to ruin the moment.
As it stretched longer with the class below their feet getting louder and louder, something settled into Hitoshi's chest. A pit that had been festering for years locking itself away. This was simply how it had to be because of who he was. A man who couldn't even name what that feeling was that was eating at his insides.
He didn't have a chance to name it. Not before Monoma did. “You're hot, Hitoshi.” He said and the usual words seemed different this time. Laced with his first name. A name Monoma had never used before. Still, he didn't let the difference show. It was probably just a slip up.
“Oh yeah?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Is it the stubble?”
Monoma sighed. “God damn you.” He said, his voice weaved with another thing Hitoshi couldn't name. “How many times do I have to hint for you to get the message?” He asked and Hitoshi glanced over to see his hands white on the railing.
Hitoshi frowned, trying to think past that perfect drunk haze to figure out what Monoma meant. “What do you-” he tried to ask before his words were cut off.
Cut off by lips pressing to his, fast and strong as hands grabbed at his waist and all he could do was grunt in surprise. Then the hands and the lips were gone and Hitoshi's drink had smashed to the street below. “That fucking message.” Monoma said sharply, panting slightly.
Hitoshi stared at him, his brain working at a snail's pace to figure out what had just happened. What the fuck had just happened? “Am I drunk or dreaming?” Was all he could think to say.
Monoma's lips quirked up into that half smirk, his chest still rising and falling with each breath. “Dreaming?” He asked and Hitoshi's heart soared with the way he said it.
His brain finally caught up. Monoma was drunk. Very god damn drunk and Hitoshi was as well. That was the only reasoning behind what the fuck had just happened. Because fuck if the prettiest (hottest) goddman man Hitoshi had ever seen felt the same. Because Hitoshi was just- Hitoshi.
“I need to sober up.” He managed to mumble, shoving himself as far from that goddamn railing as he could. He must have been dreaming.
If he had accidently passed out by a candle on the couch and caught his hair on fire, that was an issue for future him. Future him who wasn't battling with a thousand different emotions. For a him who could actually stop touching his lips.
---
Hitoshi paused, staring up at the sky yet again. 11:30. 30 minutes until he could bid this god damn year away and forget everything that had happened in the first few hours of it. That drunken god damn kiss that he had run out on. The next morning text from Monoma asking if he had any memory of the night before. Because of course the blond had been black out drunk when he kissed Hitoshi.
He must have seen someone else in Hitoshi's place. Hitoshi was a lot of things. He was not a man who people fawned over or talked about and definitely not a man fit for Phantom Thief. The hero who constantly captivated people everywhere with his showmanship and mastery over multiple quirks.
He paused when his earpiece crackled to life again, this time the dispatcher telling him about a drug trade 4 blocks away. He had to be grateful he guessed. The larger scale groups he had been watching for a few weeks had decided to take the night off. Drug trades were always an easier time than waiting and gathering intel for hours.
He turned in that direction, using his weapon to shoot himself back onto the roof despite the bystanders yelping at the suddenness of it. He took off running the second his feet hit the rooftop, letting the wind push away all the thoughts from a year prior. He was a hero. He shouldn't be distracted by a dumb kiss right now. Like he had been every single day since.
He stumbled on another jump, cursing as he rolled through it and continued to his destination. He arrived quickly enough, dropping down an alley away. He ran a hand through his hair, tucking the weapon up like a scarf. He jammed his hands into his pockets, rolling his shoulder forward as he slumped.
He walked into the alley, keeping his eyes shifting between the floor and the two men sporadically. “Hey!” One of them shouted when they saw Hitoshi approaching. He met their gaze for a second before his eyes jumped away and a hand came out to scratch as his other arm.
The first man's hand turned into rocks, much like Red Riot's. Hitoshi paid it no mind, continuing to walk to them with a slight stagger. The second man grabbed the first by the shoulder. “Its just a junkie looking for a hit.” He said, shaking his head.
“I can- I can pay.” Hitoshi said, adding gravel into his voice as his hand continued scratching. This wasn't the first time he had pulled this act and it probably wouldn't be the last. “Just a- just a little. To tide me over.”
The first man clicked his tongue. “We got nothing for you. Keep moving.”
Hitoshi did not, though he did pause when he was within range of the men. “I can pay. I can pay.” He repeated a few times.
One of the easiest things about his disheveled experience was how quick it was to drop into this persona. “How much you got?” The second man asked before the first shot him a look.
Hitoshi had assumed it was buyer and seller. The way they spoke though told him this was something more. Maybe a dealer and a supplier? “Any. I got it all. Cash- cash.” He muttered.
The first groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Don't you know better than to go interrupting people then shining money in their face?” He took a step towards Hitoshi again, his fist turning into a rock again.
The second stopped him once again. “Sell him some. Might as well get a new buyer in this part of town.” He coached the hot headed one.
Hitoshi’s eyes flashed at the bag that the man pulled out, a powder of some hue of blue inside. The fact he didn’t recognize it immediately made his skin crawl. More god damn paperwork for him to do. “How much do you want?” He asked, making sure the question was directed at the level headed one. He was the one with an unknown quirk.
“How much do you have?” The hot headed one said and Hitoshi didn’t take hold of the bond he felt.
He shook his head, trying to itch faster. His arm was starting to hurt at this point. “Aren’t you in charge?” He asked and the other one raised an eyebrow.
Hitoshi didn’t even need to wait for a sound to leave the man’s lips before he grabbed the hold. The hot headed one didn’t even realize his friend was about to respond. “I’m in charge round here!” He yelled and Hitoshi sighed. He grabbed hold of his bond as well.
“Drop any product and money you have on you.” He said and leaned back against the wall as they complied. He glanced down at his arm, now with red tracks running up it. He should try to stop by the station with these two to at least wash his hands. “Put these on.” He said when he noticed them waiting for more instruction.
He tossed them the cuffs as he pushed himself off the wall, staring down at the pile of blue baggies and the very small pile of cash. Whatever they had been doing, Hitoshi must have arrived before they could sell any of it. That at least helped somewhat with his paperwork problem.
He turned to the hot headed one, ensuring the handcuffs were on behind his back. He felt the bond break as soon as he heard the other yelp in pain. Hitoshi groaned in annoyance, jabbing a sedative into the hot headed one’s neck. He tried not to use them but one unknown quirk was enough.
He dropped and Hitoshi dropped the bond right as the level headed one’s gaze shot up. There was a trail of blood by his shoe and Hitoshi hissed in empathy as the man moved his foot off of a very rusty nail. “That looks bad. You good?”
The man’s eyes narrowed and Hitoshi sighed. He hated the smart villains the most. Those who might not know his quirk, but still knew better than to just say anything. “C'mon. Not going to play along?” He still tried to goad the man into speaking.
He dodged right as a blade embedded itself in the wall, previously invisible. Ah. Ah shit. “That was just plain rude. How about we just calm down.” He said but the man didn't. He crept around, more of a limp than anything.
Hitoshi swung his capture scarf out, catching it on the man's leg. He screamed in rage as Hitoshi ripped his leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor. “Finally done?” He asked before he watched the man mime throwing something. He didn't dodge the invisible blade in time and he jammed his teeth into his bottom lip to stop from screaming out.
He pushed himself forward, nailing a kick to the man's head before he dropped. Multiple knives appeared beside him and Hitoshi groaned in annoyance. Course. Of course he should have told them to drop weapons as well.
He glanced to his arm, eyebrows twisting in annoyance at the wide graze that covered the shoulder. The knife hadn't embedded itself in him but the cut was deep enough that he needed to go in for it. Which was just more goddamn paperwork for him because fuck him.
The blood dripped down his sleeve and he hesitated before he just ripped it off all together. He wrapped the spare fabric around his arm, tightening it to the point it hurt. He grabbed the cuffs, slapping them over the man's wrist before he paused.
A broken nose. Lovely. More fucking paperwork.
---
“Hitoshi?” Monoma's voice came through the door, softer than usual. Hitoshi stiffened, pausing in his stride. He quickly shut off the treadmill, grabbing his towel to wipe off the sweat on his forehead. He shut off his stopwatch as well, watching the door carefully.
It rattled again as Monoma knocked. “Hitoshi, I know you're home. Midoriya texted me your work schedule.”
Hitoshi groaned, the idea of just ignoring the other man going out the door. He had successfully avoided him for the past six months and he wasn't about to ruin that. Not when he still couldn't get that goddamn night out of his head. Not when he still had the damn recording of them sitting at the counter saved on his phone. All other traces of that night were gone. Except for that video.
Hitoshi didn't open the door. Instead, he turned, opening his window and dropping off of the fire escape. It was easier to think when he was Siren instead of Hitoshi.
---
11:50. Hitoshi ran across the rooftops, grateful that the cops had taken the two men into custody quickly. It meant he could tend to his shoulder away from everything and maybe get some peace from the damned fireworks that set his headache pounding. That sent his mind reeling from seeing Monoma earlier in the shift.
He just had to keep telling himself that it was different. That while they were Phantom Thief and Siren, nothing from their past mattered. Even if the talk from that night had deepened the pit that he had learned to live with.
He paused to inspect the wound before something flashed in the corner of his eye. He spun around, searching for whatever it was as he grabbed at his scarf. The rooftop was empty except for him and there was a feeling that made every hair on his body stand on end. A footfall behind him and he spun around again.
His eyes met familiar blue ones, piercing into his very being. The blond hair caught on the city light, further highlighting the way it framed his features. “Hitoshi.” He said slowly and the name further sent shivers down Hitoshi.
He had set the scene. They weren't Phantom Thief and Siren. They weren’t even Shinso and Monoma. They were Hitoshi and Neito. On a rooftop with a cold breeze and fireworks behind them. Like it had been almost a year ago exactly.
“Neito.” He mumbled, the name feeling heavy on his lips.
Neito took a step towards him and Hitoshi didn't back away. Even as he got closer and closer, his features growing sharper in the bursts of fireworks around. Hitoshi's breaths came in shorter bursts before he forced them to stay even. Stay still.
He was a foot away now. Inches away now. Hitoshi could feel his warm breath chasing away the cold breeze. Had he copied Bakugo's quirk again?
“Push me away.” Neito said, his feet planted.
Hitoshi wanted to. He wanted to shove against Neito and escape back into the night like he had done six months ago. He could make some dumb excuse and go down the stairs like he had a year ago. He couldn't though. Despite the fact he could, he couldn't.
Neito grabbed Hitoshi's hero costume, bunching it in his fists. “Push me away!” He screamed and Hitoshi felt him shake in anger.
Hitoshi didn't. In a flash, Neito's lips were on his again as fireworks burst into the sky. Hundreds of fireworks exploding at once over the city, the moon at its peak. Screams and shouts rang out but Hitoshi didn't hear them. It had all gone silent the moment those eyes had met his in the night.
He didn't push away this time. Instead, he deepened the kiss that had been building in him for 7 years. From that first coffee on the counter.
They were the only ones in the world at that moment. And he wouldn't have it any other way.