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Shinsou Hitoshi didn't usually sleep in. When he slept alone, when Izuku was out on patrol or working, the nightmares clung like cobwebs and made him long what little sleep his insomnia allowed to waking up in a cold sweat, reaching for the capture weapon that wasn't around his neck. There was a reason he owned that fuckass green sleeping bag, and it wasn't for nothing, even if most of the underground heroes continually referred to him as "Mini-eraser" even after three years and the sleeping bag didn't help the fact at all.
On any given day, Shinsou got up at roughly three in the afternoon. His shifts started at seven, ended at five- am- and Izuku's ended at midnight, and he left at two, but the idiot picked up far too much overtime pulling people out of trouble. He'd never really lost that heroic streak, the one that made him into a vigilante, the one that let him burn bright enough to defy the system that turned itself against him.
But today, he woke gently, evening light pouring through their open window. Warm weight cushioned his left side, and he turned his head slightly, smile playing over his lips. His boyfriend was pressed against his side, arms around his waist, head in the crook of Hitoshi's neck. His breathing was rhythmic and even, green curls falling around his face. He always looked so calm when he was asleep, face open, the little stress crease that lived between his eyebrows disappearing completely. Hitoshi lifted a hand and carded through Izuku's hair, pushing in out of his face and thumbing over the prickly fuzz of the undercut the hero had maintained since his vigilante days.
That's when they'd met, alone at night in a back alley. The vigilante Kuro had appeared out of nowhere, sitting across from Hitoshi where he sat outside the back door of his apartment complex, muzzle firmly strapped to his face. Their signed conversation started halting, and when it became clear Hitoshi wouldn't risk taking the muzzle off, Kuro vanished.
But he came back.
Night after night, he returned, and he brought conversation and quiet company that made the tightness in Hitoshi's throat a little bit looser. Once, Hitoshi had been locked in his room an unable to make it out the door, and the boy had still, somehow, managed to find his window and break the lock. His apartment was on the fifth floor. To this day, he had no idea how he managed to get up there.
But something in Kuro's life had spooked him, the fragile trust Hitoshi had been building with him shattered, and Kuro stopped coming around- but not before dropping a file as thick as an exercise book onto Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa's desk- breaking into the police station to do it- containing enough evidence to put every single one of Hitoshi's foster families, past and present, into jail.
Which, like, what the fuck.
Then he got fostered by Eraserhead and Present Mic, and he was distracted by- literally everything about that. Aside from being his favourite hero, he'd also heard plenty about Eraserhead from Kuro, and so it was about then that he found out why the vigilante had vanished so suddenly and without warning.
Eraserhead and a group of underground heroes, plus Kuro and another vigilante, were working on a case with a yakuza group, and it had gone well and truly to shit. Kuro blamed himself for one of the heroes getting badly injured, and had apparently vanished for a few days and was avoiding Eraserhead and all his hero contacts like the plague.
He didn't see or hear from Kuro again for a year, until after the sports festival, when someone- someone being Izuku- dropped a small black cat charm on his windowsill. After that, it was back to radio silence until the Shie Hassaikai raid. He was interning under Eraserhead since he'd only transferred classes after the festival, but he'd been hanging back, and apparently Kuro had been busy himself. The vigilante had bounced up to Eraserhead, practically vibrating with nervous energy, accompanied by another vigilante, Morphine- a blonde girl in a school uniform, armed to the teeth with knives. She'd recognised him immediately, if "OHMYGODS KURO-CHAN IT'S YOUR ALLEY FRIEND!" was anything to go by. Kuro had frozen, thrown an apology at Eraserhead, then pulled down his visor and vanished into the darkness, Morphine dashing after him with a "Goodbye Alley-kun, Eraserhead!"
Kuro had ended up fighting Overhaul, but Hitoshi didn't get to see him in the hospital. So imagine his surprise when Kuro and Morphine appeared a month later, both in UA uniforms and looking mildly irritated, if you looked at Kuro, and absolutely ecstatic, if you were to glance at Morphine.
But as rocky as it had been, Izuku's path through UA, he still kissed Hitoshi on the roof of the dorms when the other boy asked him out. He still graduated with everyone else, with his sister Himiko and his oldest friend, holding hands with his boyfriend. They were alive.
Izuku stirred against Hitoshi's side, gripping him a little tighter. Hitoshit smiled softly and ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair again. Izuku opened one eye, deep emerald green pinning Hitoshi. "Mmf. Time'sit?"
"Uhhh..." Hitoshit reached over and hit the clock next to their bed several times, with aggression. It lit up, barely, showing 1:32 PM. "Half past one."
"Fuck, it's late." Izuku sat up, relinquishing Hitoshi and blinking sleep from his eyes. Shinso made a sad whining noise, mourning the loss of warmth. Izuku threw him a fond look. "Shut up, you're already awake."
"And I would like to remedy that, please and thank you." he mumbled, making grabby hands for the slim-built hero. Izuku rolled his eyes and got up, because he was cruel and heartless, and Hitoshit rolled over so he was facedown. "Himiko, both your parents, and Eri are coming over for dinner. I know you forgot, even though it's written in red marker on the fridge, so get up and help me, won't you?"
"FUCK." Hitoshi sat up. "I did forget. Ugh."
"Called it." Izuku laughed, and gods, Hitoshi could get drunk on the sound of his laughter. It was like running water, not sharp or forced, pouring over you like soft summer rain. He sat up just to watch his smile curve the corners of his mouth and crinkle the corners of his eyes.
He joined Izuku in their kitchen, capture weapon draped over his shoulders for no reason other than the comfort. He settled behind Izuku, who was making toast, resting his chin on Izuku's head. One of their cats, Bastard, wove around their ankles, and Hitoshi crouched down so the cat could climb into his scarf. He stood up, stretching, then jumped up and sat on their bench.
Watching their brightly lit kitchen, the warmth of the afternoon seeping into Hitoshi's bones, he was content. The kid with the villain's quirk and the quirkless kid had found a home, surrounded by the walls they'd built out of resilience and defiance and love.
They were alive, and not just alive but winning, and that was all that mattered.