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Hizashi jerks an accusing finger at the raven-haired man.
"I thought ya said this was 'local'."
"It's very local," Shouta agrees coolly.
The blond throws his hands and head up and back in frustration, palms already reaching to cover his scrunched eyes, intent on (not-so carefully) scraping out the sand wedged between his eyelids.
He huffs. Local he says. Local.
"Yeah, sure, and Bob's my uncle!"
Though he can't see very well, the splinters of light that escape between the jagged, exposed space of his palms reveal Shouta tilting his head, eyebrows somehow raised and narrowed all at once.
"It's an expression, Sho," he clarifies, then spits out, "This ain't LOCAL in the slightest!"
"I did what you wanted. I got us a vacation."
"Shouta,” he hisses out the name in a drawl, lips jutting out in a pout as he goes, “I meant a day off. Like, ya know, a day to the park? To the beach? Somethin' simple?"
Extracting his palms from his face, Hizashi crosses them over himself in a shaky embrace, before tossing them out again to gesticulate.
"We're both very busy men! With very busy lives!"
He emphasizes 'busy' with both hands, chopping the air hard enough to be a caricature of the usual ones that Tensei's younger brother does in their classes.
Shouta's lips twitch upwards. The man - traitor that he is - seems on the verge of laughing, a very rare feat that Hizashi would punch a fist up into the air for, if this were any other case. He seems to think better of it when the irritation sharpens in Hizashi's voice.
The blond continues ranting.
"But ya booked us a ticket from Japan to-- no no no, not even to our local neighbours surroundin’ us, like Taiwan or South Korea-- and worse yet, it's not even Asia, either, but you--”
Hizashi pauses, hands rising up to muffle his mouth. He ponders on whether or not he'll be able to reel his quirk back in. He's always had good quirk control, prided himself on it, but this time's different.
Instead, he casts a fleeing glance at the beach around them.
It’s empty; time itself seems to have pushed everyone else out, slowing to a crawl in the wake of their absence, because it sure seems like the sun hasn’t risen or even fallen from where they’re positioned. Hizashi would suspect they’d been here for hours, if the watch Shouta had gifted him for his birthday just a few weeks prior weren’t firmly clasped to his wrist, madly shaking its head in the form of a newly-developed tanline (killer!) and a dream telling him that it’s roughly 4 pm.
A really, really good dream.
Still, it’s empty.
And time’s a wasting.
He shrugs internally. Decides to roll the dice, take his chances. Nobody’s here, after all. And Shouta can simply shut him up if he so pleases.
Clearing his throat - very gracefully, Hizashi would tell you, while Shouta would compare such a loud action being akin to that of a garbage disposal, the liar that he is - he closes off with, "You decide to take us to CALIFOR--?"
His words are cut off as his husband's hair raises up, the familiar feeling of Erasure washing through him as he chokes and splutters.
(Ah. Well, he never said Shouta couldn't take him up on his offer...)
Through his choking, to Hizashi’s utter dismay, he can see the exact moment his husband smirks just to go, "You like America, don't you?"
When Hizashi is yet to respond - on account of still hacking up a storm in disbelief, fist pounding on his chest - Shouta's concerned eyes simply squint and go, as he shrugs, "It's only logical."
He tries to think of when exactly Shouta would have had the time for this.
Between the 20 or so kids he has to wrangle 24/7, attending U.A meetings, maintaining the dorms, teaching, grading, his nightly patrols, taking care of the cats (and Hizashi) and most importantly, taking care of himself, there's...
Hizashi’s thoughts promptly hit a brick wall when the only thing that comes to mind is his own schedule.
Holy shit, Aizawa Shouta, he thinks fondly. The man that you are.
The only thing Hizashi can say, when he’s no longer a foot away from choking on his own spit and falling into the sweet curb of death, is a quiet rasp of “You’re so stupid. I love you.”
Shouta’s eyes soften despite the dark. The corners of his mouth tilt upward.
"As do I," he murmurs. His voice settles into something teasing as he adds, "Even with your dramatics."
Hizashi feigns a gasp right before his body tackles Shouta's to the sandy floor, the two breaking out into loud, protesting laughter.
