Archive of Our Own

1.

It happened by accident.

Which, in hindsight, probably should have been obvious.
Most things involving Kaminari happened by accident.

They'd only been dating a few months.
Long enough that spending evenings together had become normal, but not long enough that Shinso had gotten used to it.

Tonight, had somehow turned into movie night, or at least that had been the plan.

The movie itself had been playing for nearly twenty minutes.
Shinso doubted either of them could have explained the plot.
Mostly because Kaminari kept talking through it.

"Okay, but that's not even the worst part."

Kaminari was already laughing.
Not because he'd reached the funny part of the story, but just because he knew it was coming.
Shinso lowered the volume on the television another notch before looking over.

"It should concern you that I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kaminari didn't even hesitate, "Bold of you to assume I know what I said five seconds ago."

"I never started listening," Shinso smirked.

The look of betrayal on Kaminari's face was immediate. "Damn…That's cold."

Shinso shrugged.

Kaminari pointed at him. "See? That's exactly why you're missing the important context."

Shinso rolled his eyes. "There isn't any important context."

"There is."

"There isn't."

Kaminari sat forward on the couch as if this were a matter of life and death, "There is."

Shinso stared at him.
Kaminari stared back.

Then, somehow, Kaminari managed to look offended. "Ugh…you're being very unsupportive right now."

"Of what?"

Kaminari pressed a hand to his chest, "My storytelling."

Calling it storytelling was generous.
At best it was a collection of loosely connected events being held together by Kaminari's enthusiasm.
At worst, it was verbal chaos.

Judging by the way Kaminari immediately launched back into the story without answering the question, it was probably the second one.

Shinso snorted despite himself.
Encouraged, Kaminari launched into another explanation.
Something involving a group chat, a grocery cart, and, somehow, a traffic cone.
Shinso wasn't entirely sure.

At some point he stopped trying to follow the story.
Instead, he found himself watching Kaminari.
The way his entire face got involved when he talked.
The way his hands moved constantly.
The way he somehow managed to tell a story with his whole body.

Kaminari caught him looking and grinned, "What?"

"Nothing," Shinso said.

"Liar."

"I'm literally sitting here."

"Suspiciously."

Shinso rolled his eyes.
Kaminari laughed.

Then, without thinking, reached over and hooked a finger beneath Shinso's chin.
A tiny movement.
Barely anything.
The kind of absentminded touch people used every day.

"You're making a face."

Kaminari’s words barely registered.
Because Shinso had already gone still.
Every muscle locked.
His stomach dropped.
His vision tunneled.
His skin felt wrong.
He couldn't breathe.
He-

The touch vanished.

"Oh."

The word was quiet.
Shinso blinked.
Kaminari was already pulling back.

Concern replacing the easy smile he'd been wearing a second earlier. "Sorry."

The apology came so fast it almost tripped over itself.

"I didn't-" Shinso started.

"It's fine," Kaminari said in a rush.

It wasn't.
The problem was that Shinso didn't know how to explain why and somehow that felt worse.
Because Kaminari hadn't done anything wrong.
Not really.
He hadn't known.
How could he?

The silence stretched.
Then Kaminari leaned back into his side of the couch.
Giving Shinso space.
Not asking questions.
Not pushing.
Just waiting.
Like he was willing to let Shinso decide what happened next.

For a moment neither of them moved.
The movie continued playing in the background.
Some actor was apparently in the middle of a dramatic confession.

Shinso had no idea what was happening.
Beside him, Kaminari glanced toward the television.
Then, with the determination of someone attempting to wrestle a conversation back under control, he pointed at the screen.

"Pretty sure that guy's cheating."

Shinso blinked. "What?"

"The guy," Kaminari pointed again. "I don't know. I wasn't paying attention either."

For a second Shinso just stared at him.
Then a laugh escaped before he could stop it.
It was brief and small, but enough to break the moment.
Some of the tension eased from Kaminari's shoulders immediately.

"Okay," Kaminari said. "Good."

Shinso frowned. "Good?"

"Yeah." Kaminari shrugged. "You looked like you were about to launch yourself through a window."

"I did not."

The skepticism in Kaminari's voice was immediate. "Babe…I've seen cats at the vet look less stressed."

Despite himself, Shinso felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
Kaminari visibly relaxed, like that had been his actual goal all along.

The movie continued to play, but neither of them watched it.
Shinso kept his eyes on the television anyway because it was easier than looking at Kaminari.

Beside him, Kaminari had gone unusually quiet.
Not sulking or upset, he just looked like he was thinking.
The realization was somehow more unnerving.
Shinso had known Kaminari long enough to recognize the difference.

Five minutes passed…then ten…

Eventually, Kaminari shifted against the cushions.

"Can I ask you something?"

There it was.
Shinso had been waiting for it.

Honestly, he was a little surprised it had taken this long.

Shinso let out a slow breath…"You're going to ask anyway."

"Probably."

At least Kaminari was honest.
Shinso rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
For a second he considered telling him not to.
Considered pretending none of this had happened.
But Kaminari had noticed, and somehow pretending felt more rude than telling the truth.

"Fine."

Kaminari nodded once, then paused.
Long enough that Shinso started to wonder if he'd changed his mind.
When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.
Like he'd been turning the question over in his head for a while before deciding to ask it.

"How should I touch you?"

Shinso stared.
Of all the questions he had expected, that hadn't been one of them.

"What?" Shinso asked, the word barely more than a whisper.

Kaminari shrugged one shoulder, "I did something you didn't like."

The words were simple.
Matter of fact.
No guilt or defensiveness.
Just an observation.

"I don't want to do it again," Kaminari said nervously.

Something uncomfortable twisted in Shinso's chest.
Because that wasn't how these conversations usually went.
Usually, people wanted explanations.
Reasons.
Justifications.
Usually, the focus became why.
Kaminari didn't seem interested in why at all.
Only what.

"What do you mean?" Shinso asked.

Kaminari frowned slightly, like he was trying to figure out how to explain something obvious.

"I mean..." He gestured vaguely between them, "Everybody's got stuff."

That was not where Shinso had expected this conversation to go.
Kaminari continued before he could respond.

"Some people hate being startled."

He held up a finger.

"Some people don't like being hugged."

A second finger joined the first.

"My mom will actually commit murder if you touch her feet."

Despite himself, Shinso snorted.

"That's a real thing," Kaminari said pointing at Shinso.

"I'm sure it is."

"It is."

Kaminari settled back against the couch and his expression softened.

"What I'm saying is..." He hesitated. "I don't really need to know why."

The room suddenly felt very quiet.

"I just need to know what you're okay with."

Shinso looked down at his hands.
For a long moment, he didn't answer.
Because he wasn't entirely sure how to explain something he'd spent years avoiding.
How to put words to reactions he barely understood himself.

And somehow, through all of it, Kaminari stayed patient.
No pressure or expectations, just waiting.
Like whatever answer Shinso gave would be enough.

"I don't know.”

When he finally spoke, the admission felt pathetic.
Embarrassing, somehow.
Like he should have an answer.
Kaminari was quiet for a moment.
Then he nodded.

"Okay."

Shinso blinked. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Kaminari shrugged. "We'll figure it out."

Like it was that simple.
Like learning him wasn't a burden.
Like he intended to stay long enough to try.

2.

By the time they reached the apartment building, Shinso was regretting every decision that had led him here.

Not because he didn't want to see his dads.
And definitely not because he was worried about his dads liking Kaminari, that had never been the problem.

The problem was that all of them knew each other.
Aizawa had taught Kaminari.
Yamada had unofficially adopted him sometime during first year.
Between the two of them, they probably knew every stupid thing he had done between the ages of fifteen and eighteen.

Shinso wasn't sure how anyone was supposed to move past that.
It was hard to imagine Aizawa looking across a dinner table and seeing Kaminari as anything other than one of his students.
Harder still, to imagine Kaminari acting like anything other than one.

If this had been anyone else, dinner would have been simple.
Awkward, maybe, but simple.

Instead, he was about to spend an evening watching everyone pretend this wasn't different now, which somehow made more weird.

Beside him, Kaminari looked completely relaxed, which was irritating.

"You know," Kaminari said as they waited for the elevator, "most people are excited when their parents like their boyfriend."

Shinso glanced over, "Most people didn't grow up with Aizawa."

"Fair."

"And Yamada."

Kaminari considered that for a moment, "Less fair."

Shinso narrowed his eyes.

Kaminari grinned, "Yamadad loves me."

The elevator doors opened.

Shinso stepped inside, "I hate that nickname."

"You hate all my nicknames."

"Because they're terrible."

"You wound me."

"They're terrible," Shinso repeated.

Kaminari looked entirely unconvinced.

A few minutes later they were standing outside the apartment door.
Kaminari adjusted the dessert container in his hands.
Shinso briefly considered turning around and leaving.
Unfortunately, Kaminari noticed.

"You know," he said, "normal people don't look like they're heading to their own execution before dinner."

"I'm not nervous," Shinso said stubbornly.

"Sure," Kaminari said skeptically.

"I'm not."

"Hitoshi."

The use of his first name felt suspiciously like being called out.
Shinso frowned.

Kaminari's smile softened. "They're your dads."

That was exactly the problem.
Before Shinso could come up with a response, Kaminari reached over and knocked.
The apartment door opened almost immediately.

Yamada appeared before either of them could say anything, "Hitoshi!"

A second later Shinso found himself pulled into a hug.

"Pops."

"You took forever."

"We're five minutes early," Shinso said, rolling his eyes.

"I've been waiting by this door all day."

"No, you haven't."

"You can't prove that."

Across the entryway, Kaminari held up the dessert container. "Yo, Yamadad."

Yamada immediately pointed at him, "You."

Kaminari pointed one finger gun back, "You."

"I told you not to call me that," Yamada said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You laughed."

"One time."

"That's all the encouragement I need," Kaminari’s face broke into a wide grin.

Yamada looked delighted.
Shinso pinched the bridge of his nose.

From somewhere deeper in the apartment, Aizawa's voice drifted into the hallway. "Stop encouraging him."

"I'm not encouraging him," Yamada called back.

"You are."

Kaminari leaned toward Shinso. "I'm definitely calling him Yamadad again."

"I know."

"And Dadzawa."

Shinso frowned, "I know."

Kaminari looked entirely too pleased with himself and stepped into the apartment.

"Yo, Dadzawa, what’s up?"

A long silence followed.
Shinso closed his eyes.
Yamada immediately started laughing.
Aizawa appeared in the doorway a moment later, coffee mug in hand.

His expression was completely flat. "You know I can still fail you."

Kaminari looked horrified. "Holy shit, can you?"

"No."

"Oh, thank god."

Yamada laughed harder.
Even Aizawa looked vaguely amused.
Which was deeply unfortunate.

Yamada eventually reached over and stole the dessert container out of Kaminari's hands.

"At least tell me you didn't buy this at a convenience store."

"Wow." Kaminari said, looking offended.

"That's not an answer," Yamada retorts.

"It came from an actual bakery."

"We'll see."

"Pops," Shinso said.

Yamada pointed at him without looking away from the box, "You stay out of this."

Kaminari immediately looked smug. "See? Yamadad loves me."

"I blame both of you equally," Shinso deadpans.

Before Kaminari could respond, Aizawa took a sip of his coffee. "Are you all planning to stand in the doorway for the next hour?"

The question was directed at everyone.

Unfortunately, Yamada answered first. "Maybe."

"Move."

"See?" Kaminari said quietly. "Dadzawa missed me."

Aizawa looked at him. "No, take your shoes off."

Kaminari gasped. "Hitoshi, did you hear that?"

"I heard it."

"He didn't deny missing me."

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose.
Yamada laughed so hard he nearly dropped the dessert.

Aizawa eventually succeeded in getting everyone out of the entryway.
Mostly because he refused to leave until they did.
Yamada disappeared into the kitchen with the dessert.

And somehow, a few minutes later, everyone ended up around the dining room table.
Shinso wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.
One moment everyone had been standing in the hallway.
The next, Yamada was setting food down in the middle of the table while complaining about a producer.

“...and then he told me the segment needed less energy."

Aizawa looked up from his coffee, "That's reasonable."

Yamada stopped mid-step, "It is not."

"You host a morning radio show," Aizawa said.

"Exactly."

"People are trying to wake up," Aizawa said, looking exhausted by an argument that somehow hadn't existed thirty seconds ago.

"They should wake up faster."

Across the table, Kaminari nodded solemnly. "I think you should've challenged him to a duel."

Yamada pointed at him immediately. "See? He gets it."

"Please don't encourage him," Shinso said.

"It's too late for that," Aizawa replied.

That felt unfair, mostly because he was right.
Yamada laughed and slid another dish onto the table.

"See? Dadzawa gets it."

Aizawa closed his eyes.
Kaminari looked delighted.
Dinner started shortly afterward.
Or at least Shinso assumed it did.

The conversation never really stopped for longer than a few seconds.
One moment Yamada was talking about a producer.
The next, Kaminari had somehow turned the conversation into a story about a rescue from last week.
Shinso still wasn't entirely sure how.

One minute they were discussing radio segments.
The next, Yamada was telling a story about a pigeon.

"I swear it followed this guy for three blocks," he said.

Kaminari immediately sat forward. "No way. That's a grudge."

Yamada nodded. "Exactly."

"It remembered him," Kaminari stated.

"It absolutely remembered him."

"It kept hopping after him," Yamada continued.

Kaminari looked horrified, "That's hilarious."

"The guy was terrified."

"He should've been."

Yamada pointed across the table like he'd just won an argument. "Thank you."

"They remember faces," Kaminari said.

"Exactly."

"I've read that somewhere."

Yamada stared at him for a moment, "Kaminari, I had you in class. I don't think I ever saw you read anything voluntarily."

The look of offense was immediate. "Wow….That's not true."

"How did you pass?"

Kaminari opened his mouth.
Paused.
Then pointed accusingly across the table.

"That's not the point."

Yamada laughed. "Interesting that you didn't answer the question."

"Rude," Kaminari muttered.

Yamada looked entirely too pleased with himself.

A moment later, Kaminari pointed across the table. "We're getting away from the important issue."

"The pigeon?" Yamada questioned.

"The pigeon," Kaminari agreed.

Yamada nodded immediately. "Right."

"All I'm saying is, if you make an enemy of a pigeon, that's on you." Kaminari nodded solemnly. "Some grudges are forever."

Shinso closed his eyes.
The conversation veered again, somehow.
Hero agencies.
Sidekicks.
Paperwork.
Then, inexplicably, back to pigeons.

Watching Kaminari and Yamada talk felt a little like watching a tennis match.
If the tennis players were somehow on the same side.

At some point, Yamada finally stopped talking long enough to look around the table, "Huh."

Kaminari looked up, "Huh what?"

Yamada pointed across the table, "They've been quiet."

Shinso nearly laughed.
Kaminari followed Yamada's gaze, then frowned.

"Toshi, you've barely said anything all night," Kaminari said.

Shinso stared at him, "You've been talking for twenty minutes straight."

"Have not."

"Have too."

Yamada gasped dramatically, "Oh my god, he has."

"Traitor." Kaminari said, immediately pointing at him.

Yamada shrugged, "I'm just saying."

Kaminari turned toward Aizawa, "What about you, Dadzawa?"

Aizawa looked up from his coffee, "What about me?"

"You've barely talked either."

Aizawa stared at him for a moment, then slowly set his mug down.

"How?"

Kaminari blinked.
Aizawa gestured vaguely between him and Yamada.

"You two have been having a conversation at approximately the speed of light."

Yamada immediately looked offended, "We pause."

"No, you change topics," Aizawa said not even look up from his coffee.

"That's basically the same thing."

"It is not."

Kaminari pointed at Yamada, "See? He gets me."

Yamada pointed right back, "Finally, someone understands."

Aizawa closed his eyes, looking exhausted.
Yamada looked delighted.

The conversation immediately started up again.

The entire thing flowed so naturally that it took Shinso several minutes to realize what was bothering him.
Nobody was talking to Kaminari like a student.

"How's the new intern?" Aizawa asked.

Kaminari groaned immediately, "The kid's great."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, "The 'but' was implied."

"The kid's great," Kaminari repeated. "But somehow he's worse at paperwork than I am."

A moment of silence followed.
Then Yamada laughed so hard he nearly choked. "That's impressive."

"That's what I said!"

"Is that even possible?" Shinso asked.

Kaminari pointed across the table, "Thank you."

"That wasn't support," Shinso deadpanned.

"It felt like support."

Aizawa took a sip of his coffee. "I feel bad for whoever has to supervise him."

"I’m supervising him," Kaminari said taken aback.

"I know."

Kaminari immediately sat up straighter.

"Don't start," Aizawa said pointedly.

"Dadzawa supports me."

Yamada laughed harder.
And just like that, the conversation moved on again.
Just three pro heroes complaining about work.
Shinso found himself watching the exchange.
Waiting for something to feel strange.
It never did.

The conversation drifted on around him.
Agency budgets.
Patrol schedules.
Rescue reports.

Aizawa looked like he'd given up trying to follow the topic change three transitions ago.
Shinso wasn't far behind.
At some point, the plates started emptying.
Shinso reached for the nearest stack automatically.

Aizawa took the plates from the top before he could grab all of them, "You're going to drop those."

"I'm not." Shinso frowned.

Aizawa took another plate anyway.
Across the table, neither Yamada nor Kaminari seemed to notice.

Aizawa stood. "Come on."

Shinso followed him toward the kitchen.
Behind them, the conversation continued without interruption.
Neither blonde seemed particularly concerned that half the table had left.

The kitchen was quieter, but not silent.
Just far enough away that the conversation softened into background noise.
Shinso turned on the water to start washing the dishes.

A second later, Aizawa picked up the dish towel hanging from the oven handle.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The comfortable kind of silence.
The sort that only existed between people who had long since stopped feeling the need to fill every empty space.

From the dining room came the sound of Yamada laughing.
Kaminari immediately started talking louder.
As if that had been the goal all along.
Aizawa snorted.
Shinso rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth pulled up into the smallest grin.

Aizawa dried another plate.

"You seem less worried."

Shinso glanced up.
The question wasn't really a question.
Aizawa rarely bothered with those.

"I wasn't worried."

Aizawa hummed.
The sound somehow managed to communicate exactly how little he believed that.
Shinso frowned at the sink.
Aizawa patiently waited.
Which was annoying.

Eventually, Shinso sighed, "Fine, maybe a little."

Aizawa nodded like that was the answer he'd been expecting.
The dish towel moved slowly through his hands.

"You thought it would be weird."

It wasn't really a question either.
Shinso stared down at the water.

"Maybe."

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, "Was it?"

The answer came easier than he'd expected.

"No."

From the dining room came another burst of laughter, Kaminari this time.
Neither of them sounded remotely close to finishing whatever conversation they'd started.
Aizawa glanced toward the doorway.
Then back at Shinso.

"I've known Kaminari for a long time."

There was no judgment in the statement.
Just fact.

Shinso nodded, "I know."

Aizawa set the plate down.

"He was a good kid."

The words caught Shinso off guard, not because he disagreed, but because compliments from Aizawa were rare enough to qualify as a natural phenomenon.

Aizawa reached for another dish.

"He works hard."

Another plate.

"He cares about people."

The corner of Aizawa's mouth twitched.

"Sometimes too much."

A small smile pulled at Shinso's mouth, "Yeah."

Aizawa dried the dish in his hands, then added, "And he's grown into a good man."

Something in Shinso's chest loosened.
Not because he needed Aizawa's approval.
But because he'd spent weeks worrying that Kaminari would walk through that door and somehow still be seen as one of Aizawa's students.

Instead…
A good kid.
A good man.
Someone Aizawa had known.
Someone Aizawa respected.

Aizawa looked at him then.
Really looked at him, and for a second, Shinso felt about seventeen again.
Not because he was being judged, but because he was being seen.

"He makes you happy."

The words settled quietly between them.
Simple and straightforward, like he was commenting on the weather.

Shinso looked back down at the sink.
His ears felt warm.

"Yeah."

Aizawa nodded once.
Like that confirmed something.
Then he handed over another plate.

"I'm glad."

For a moment, Shinso couldn't think of anything to say.
Because Aizawa wasn't dramatic.
Wasn't sentimental.
Which meant he only said things like that when he meant them.

From the dining room came another burst of laughter.
Kaminari's this time, loud enough that Shinso could hear Yamada laughing right along with him.

A few hours ago, he'd been bracing himself for this dinner.
Waiting for something to feel different.
Waiting for someone to make things weird.
It never had.
Somehow, without him noticing, it had just felt normal.

3.

The week had been a disaster.

Not a dramatic, world-ending disaster.
Just the sort of grinding, relentless mess that seemed determined to eat every spare minute of Shinso’s life.
Patrols had run long.
Reports had piled up.
Somebody in administration had apparently decided deadlines were a personal challenge.

By Friday evening, Shinso was running on too little sleep, too much coffee, and sheer stubbornness.

The walk from the station felt longer than usual.
The city around him blurred into a haze beneath the glow of the city skyline.
Normally he enjoyed the quiet, but tonight he was too tired to appreciate it.

The apartment was dark when he unlocked the door, save for the warm glow spilling out from the living room.
The television murmured somewhere in the background.
Home.
Some of the tension immediately loosened from between his shoulders.
Not enough.

He stepped inside and let the door click shut behind him.

A moment later, Kaminari's voice drifted in from the kitchen, "Toshi?"

"Yeah."

The sound of footsteps approached before Kaminari appeared in the doorway, drying his hands on a dish towel.
His grin was immediate and familiar.

"There you are. Your cat has spent the last two hours committing crimes and-"

He stopped.

Shinso frowned, "What?"

For a second Kaminari didn't answer.
His gaze moved over him, quick and practiced.
The smile softened.
It didn’t disappear, just changed.

"Oh," Kaminari said.

That wasn't encouraging.

"What 'oh'?"

Instead of answering, Kaminari tilted his head slightly.
Studying him.
Shinso resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
They'd been together long enough that Kaminari had developed an annoying habit of looking at him like he was a puzzle he already knew the answer to.
Whatever conclusion he reached seemed to satisfy him.

"Okay."

"Denki."

"Nope."

Shinso blinked. "Nope what?"

"No talking."

"I literally just got home."

"And you're exhausted."

"I'm fine."

Kaminari snorted.

The sound held all the respect of someone hearing a toddler insist they definitely weren't sleepy while actively falling over.

Without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Shinso followed.
Mostly because he wanted answers.
Partly because he was too tired to come up with a better plan.
He found Kaminari standing in front of a cabinet, pulling out takeout menus.

"What are you doing?" Shinso questioned.

"Ordering dinner."

"We have food."

"We have ingredients."

"Same thing."

Kaminari looked at him.
Shinso hated when he looked at him like that.

"Those are very different things," Kaminari informed him.

Before Shinso could argue, Kaminari slowly reached up and cupped his hands around Shinso's cheeks.
Not really squishing them, just holding his face and looking at him.
Confirming whatever ridiculous theory he'd apparently developed.
Satisfied, he dropped his hands.

"You're getting the spicy noodles."

"I didn't say I wanted noodles."

"You didn't have to."

The frustrating part was that he was probably right.
Shinso leaned against the counter and watched him scroll through delivery options.

It should have annoyed him.

Instead, he found himself strangely unwilling to stop it.
Because somewhere between entering the apartment and standing in the kitchen, he'd stopped having to think.
Dinner had become Kaminari's problem.
The decision had been made for him.
The realization should have bothered him.
Instead, it felt like relief.
Like setting down a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying.

"You know," Shinso said after a moment, "most people would ask."

Kaminari didn't even look up from his phone. "Most people don't know your exhausted face."

Shinso huffed, "My exhausted face."

"One of them."

That made Shinso pause. "One of them?"

Now Kaminari looked up, a grin spread slowly across his face. "Oh, babe, you think there's only one?"

"Apparently."

Kaminari laughed, "That's adorable."

"Don't call me adorable."

"Too late."

"Well, how many exhausted faces do you think I have?" Shinso asked.

"Not answering."

"Why?"

"Because you're tired."

The words were said so matter-of-factly that Shinso didn't immediately know how to respond.
Kaminari wasn't teasing him anymore.
Wasn't trying to win an argument.
He'd simply identified a problem and moved on to solving it.
A moment later he tapped something on his phone.

"Noodles'll be here in twenty-five."

Before Shinso could respond, Kaminari slipped his phone into his pocket and pointed toward the living room.

"Couch."

"I can sit on the couch without being told."

"Great," Kaminari said. "Go do that."

Shinso briefly considered arguing, but then he considered the couch.
The couch won.

He barely made it halfway across the room before Kaminari was at his side again.
A warm weight was deposited into his arms.
The cat blinked up at him in surprise.

Shinso blinked back. "Seriously?"

"Doctor's orders."

"We don't have a doctor."

"Good thing I'm certified in emotional support cat distribution." And with that, Kaminari disappeared back into the kitchen.

The cat settled almost immediately, curling into a warm, purring ball against Shinso's stomach, one paw stretched across him like she was claiming territory.
Traitor.

The television continued to murmur in the background.
Some show they had both seen a dozen times already.
Familiar enough that neither of them actually needed to pay attention.

A few minutes later Kaminari returned.
A mug appeared in Shinso's hands before he could protest.
Coffee.
Exactly the way he liked it.

"You're enabling my caffeine addiction."

"We can worry about that tomorrow."

Shinso took a sip.
It was perfect.
Kaminari looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Then, just as quickly, he settled onto the opposite end of the couch and turned his attention back to the television.

No questions.
No asking what happened.
No asking why he was exhausted.
No requests for explanations.

Just coffee.
The cat.
Food on the way.
And a quiet apartment.

The realization crept up on Shinso slowly.
Most people would have asked.
Most people would have wanted details.
A play-by-play of whatever had turned his week into a disaster.

Kaminari never did.
Not because he didn't care, but because he did.
Because he knew that if Shinso wanted to talk about it, he would.
Eventually.

And until then, there wasn't anything that needed to be said.
The knot between Shinso's shoulders loosened another fraction.

By the time the food arrived, he felt more human than he had all week.

The noodles were exactly what he wanted.
Which was irritating.

The coffee had helped.
Which was also irritating.

The cat had refused to leave his lap.
Most irritating of all.

Hours later, as the credits of some movie rolled across the screen, Shinso let his head fall back against the couch.

For the first time all week, he wasn't thinking about work.
Or reports.
Or deadlines.
Or tomorrow.

Beside him, Kaminari stretched and yawned.

Shinso glanced over, "Thanks, Denks."

Kaminari looked up from his phone, "For what?"

The question sounded genuine.
Like he honestly didn't know.
Shinso looked down at the empty takeout containers on the coffee table, the cat still sprawled across his lap, the mug abandoned beside him.
Then he looked back at Kaminari.

"This."

A small smile appeared on Kaminari's face. "Told ya you needed noodles."

Shinso rolled his eyes.
But despite himself, he found himself smiling too.
Somewhere along the way, Kaminari had learned how to read him better than anyone else.
Shinso wasn't entirely sure when it had happened.
Only that it had.

4.

Waking up hurt wasn't unusual, but it came with being a pro hero.

The first thing Shinso became aware of was pain.
The second was the fact that he couldn't remember why.
He frowned.
Immediately regretting it.
Something behind his eyes protested.

"Ow."

The word came out rough.
A monitor beeped steadily somewhere nearby.
Well, that wasn't ideal.

Shinso opened his eyes.
The ceiling swam for a moment before settling into focus.
White tiles.
Fluorescent lights.
A curtain.
The familiar sterile atmosphere was enough to tell him where he was before his brain fully caught up.

He shifted slightly.
Pain flared through his ribs.
Shinso hissed.
Yep, definitely ribs.
Good to know.

The memory refused to cooperate.
Something about a warehouse.
A villain.
Then-
Nothing.
Just blank space.

Shinso let his head sink back against the pillow.
A movement beside the bed caught his attention.
He turned his head.
Then froze.

Kaminari was asleep.
Folded awkwardly into a chair that looked designed by someone who hated human beings.
One arm rested across the mattress.
His head was pillowed on his folded arms.
Close enough that Shinso could see every detail.

His hair was flattened on one side.
His jacket was still on.
Dark circles shadowed the skin beneath his eyes, to rival Hitoshi’s own.
Like he hadn't slept properly in days.
And-
Shinso blinked.
There were faint tear tracks on his face.
Not fresh.
Hours old, maybe.
But unmistakable.
Something uncomfortable twisted in Shinso's chest.

For a moment, he just stared.
The sight didn't make sense.
Kaminari cried.
Of course he cried.
He cried during movies.
He cried during commercials.
He cried when a stray cat finally let someone adopt it.

But this felt different.
This wasn't Kaminari crying because something was sad.
This was evidence of the kind of crying people did when nobody was watching.
The kind they usually tried to hide afterward.

Slowly, Shinso looked around the room again.
There was a half-empty cup of coffee on the table.
A phone charger.
A crumpled convenience store bag.
A blanket someone had clearly draped over Kaminari at some point during the night.
The realization settled heavily in his stomach.
Kaminari hadn't just visited.
He'd been here for a while.

As carefully as he could, Shinso lifted one hand.
Every muscle in his body immediately objected, but it was worth it.
His fingers brushed lightly through Kaminari's hair.

The reaction was immediate and Kaminari jerked awake.
His head snapped up so fast Shinso was honestly surprised he didn't get whiplash.
For one confused second, Kaminari just stared at him.

Then everything hit at once.
Relief.
Disbelief.
Something dangerously close to panic.

"Toshi..." His voice cracked.

Shinso blinked.
Kaminari was already standing.
The chair nearly tipped over behind him.

"Holy shit."

The second sentence sounded even worse than the first.
Like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Hitoshi."

"I'm right here," The words came out rough.

Kaminari laughed, or maybe choked, Shinso wasn't entirely sure.
Because to his horror, Kaminari's eyes immediately filled with tears again.

"Oh."

The word escaped before he could stop it.
Kaminari covered his face with both hands.

"Don't," Shinso said.

"What?"

Shinso frowned, "Don't do that."

For a second, Kaminari didn't move.
Then one eye peeked through his fingers.

"Do what?"

"Hide."

Kaminari sounded one minor inconvenience away from a complete emotional collapse.
Which was deeply concerning.

"You scared the absolute shit outta me."

The words hung in the room.
For a moment, Shinso didn't know what to do with them.
Being injured wasn't exactly new.
It came with the job.
He'd spent years learning how to work through bruises, cuts, sprains and the occasional hospital visit.

It sucked.
But it wasn't unusual.

Apparently, that distinction meant absolutely nothing to Kaminari.
The realization sat uncomfortably in Shinso's chest.
He thought about the tear tracks.
The coffee cup.
The blanket.
Then he looked at Kaminari.

"How long?" he asked quietly.

Kaminari blinked, "What?"

"How long have you been here?"

Something flickered across Kaminari's face.
The kind of expression that immediately made Shinso suspicious.

"Hitoshi."

"Denki."

"It doesn't matter."

That was not an answer.
Shinso narrowed his eyes.

Kaminari sighed, "A while."

"A while?"

"A while,” Kaminari repeated.

"That's still not a unit of time."

Kaminari looked like he was considering whether pretending to pass out would get him out of the conversation.
Before he could decide, the door opened.

A doctor stepped into the room carrying a tablet.

"Good to see you awake, Shinso-san. My name is Dr. Bakushima"

Shinso immediately regretted being awake enough for questions.
The next few minutes were spent proving he still knew basic information.
His name.
The date.
The fact that he was in a hospital.
The doctor seemed satisfied by the answers.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Shinso frowned, "Warehouse."

The doctor nodded, "Anything else?"

"Villain."

"Anything after that?"

"...no."

"That's normal."

Shinso didn't particularly like the word normal in this context.

"You took a pretty hard hit."

That earned the doctor a look remarkably similar to one of Aizawa's, "Clearly."

The doctor glanced down at his tablet.

"A few broken ribs," he said. "One of them shifted and punctured your lung."

Shinso blinked, "Oh."

That sounded unpleasant.

"The injury caused some internal bleeding as well."

The doctor said it in the same tone someone might use to discuss the weather.

Shinso stared at him, "Okay."

Beside the bed, Kaminari had become very interested in a spot on the floor.
The doctor continued.

"We took you into surgery shortly after you arrived."

Shinso frowned, "I'm sorry?"

The doctor looked up.

"We took you into surgery."

For a second, Shinso just stared at him.

"The surgery went well," the doctor added.

"The what?"

The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence.
The doctor blinked.
Kaminari closed his eyes.

"The surgery," the doctor repeated.

Shinso looked between them, first to the doctor, then to Kaminari.

"Surgery?"

Kaminari finally looked up, "Yeah."

That was somehow worse.

"Yeah?" Shinso repeated.

Kaminari winced, "It sounds bad when you say it like that."

"It sounds bad because it's surgery."

For a moment, nobody said anything.

Then the doctor cleared his throat, "The procedure was successful."

Both of them looked up.

"The damage to your lung was repaired and there were no complications. Your oxygen levels look good and your recovery has been progressing normally."

Shinso blinked, then slowly looked at Kaminari again.
Recovery.
Progressing.
Those sounded like words that implied a lot more time had passed than he originally thought.
The dark circles under Kaminari’s eyes suddenly made a lot more sense.
The doctor tapped something on his tablet.

"We'll keep you for observation a little longer, but everything looks encouraging so far."

He asked a few more questions, checked a few things, and then finally seemed satisfied.

"Do you have any questions for me, Shinso-san?"

Shinso hesitated, then looked at him.

"How long was I out?"

The doctor glanced at the chart, "Just over thirty hours."

...Oh.

For a moment, Shinso just stared at him.
Thirty hours.
A day and a half.
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
The doctor gave him a moment before glancing back down at his tablet.

"Any other questions?"

Shinso opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
He has a lot of questions, but not for the doctor.

"No."

The doctor nodded, "Good."

He rattled off a few instructions Shinso only half listened to.
Something about recovery.
Pain medication.
Not doing anything stupid.
The usual.
Then he looked between the two of them.
Satisfied with whatever he saw.

"I'll let the nurses know you're awake."

With that, he turned toward the door.

"Try to get some rest, Shinso-san."

The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence settled over the room.
Shinso waited until the footsteps disappeared completely.
Then he slowly turned his head.
Kaminari immediately looked guilty.
Which was never a promising sign.

"Denki."

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"I can guess."

Shinso narrowed his eyes.
Kaminari sighed.
The sound carried the weight of a man who had already lost the argument.

"Denki."

"…Yeah?"

"How long have you actually been here?"

Kaminari rubbed the back of his neck, "A while."

Shinso stared at him, "That answer is not getting better the more you say it."

"It was technically accurate,’ Denki said sheepishly.

"Denki," Shinso let out a sigh.

Kaminari sighed, then slumped back into the chair.

"Since the ambulance."

The words landed heavily.

Shinso blinked, "Since the-"

"Yeah."

The ambulance.
The hospital.
The surgery.
The waiting.
Thirty hours.
All of it.

Something in Shinso's chest tightened.

"Denki."

Kaminari immediately looked away, which was answer enough.

"You stayed the whole time?"

"I got coffee."

"Denki."

"Twice."

That was somehow worse.
Shinso stared at him.
Kaminari continued studying a spot on the wall with remarkable dedication.

"You should've gone home."

The response was immediate.

"No."

Not playful or joking, just immediate, certain and probably the most serious Shinso has ever heard him.
As though the suggestion itself was ridiculous.
Shinso fell silent.
Kaminari seemed to realize how quickly he'd answered and his shoulders dropped slightly.

"You were in surgery." Kaminari’s words came out quiet, "I wasn't leaving."

Something uncomfortable settled in Shinso's chest.
Not guilt.
Something else.
Something warmer.

"Dad and Pops would've stayed with me."

"I know."

Shinso frowned, "You know?"

Kaminari shrugged, "yeah, I know."

"Then why didn't you go home?"

For a second, Kaminari didn't answer.

"Because you were in surgery." The words were so quiet, Shinso almost didn’t hear.

Simple, like they explained everything.
Maybe they did.
Shinso looked down at the blanket draped over Kaminari's legs.
The wrinkled jacket.
The dark circles under his eyes.

"You should've slept."

Kaminari snorted, "Dadzawa said the same thing."

"He’s a smart man."

"He also threatened to drag me home."

"And?"

"And I told him no,” Kaminari sounded shy, still avoiding looking at Shinso.

Shinso could picture that conversation far too easily.
Yamada trying and failing to sound casual.
Aizawa standing nearby looking exhausted.
Neither of them actually leaving.
Because they were worried too.

But somehow...

Somehow it was Kaminari sleeping in the chair beside his bed.
Kaminari who looked like he hadn't slept.
Kaminari who had tear tracks on his face.
Kaminari who still wouldn't quite meet his eyes, as though he was embarrassed by how obvious all of this was.
As though spending thirty hours in a hospital chair was somehow something to be ashamed of.

Shinso stared at him for a moment, then sighed, "Denki."

"Hm?"

"Come here."

Kaminari frowned, "What?"

"Come here."

For a second, Kaminari hesitated.
The hesitation felt strange, normally he'd already be halfway across the room.
But then Shinso understood.
The careful distance.
The way he hadn't touched him since waking up.
The way he'd kept hovering beside the bed instead of leaning against it.
Like he was afraid of hurting him.
Something in Shinso's chest tightened.

"Kitten."

Kaminari's head snapped up.
For a moment, he just stared.

Shinso wasn't sure who looked more surprised.

Then, quietly, "Come here."

The fight went out of Kaminari immediately.
He carefully stepped closer, still worried and cautious.

Shinso reached out first.
His hand found Kaminari's wrist.
Warm and present.

The breath Kaminari let out sounded suspiciously shaky.

Shinso squeezed his wrist lightly, "I'm okay."

Kaminari laughed; a wet, disbelieving sound.

"Yeah," he said.

The word cracked halfway through.
Shinso rolled his eyes.
But he didn't let go.
And for the first time since waking up, Kaminari stopped looking like he was waiting for the world to fall apart.

5.

Shinso wasn't trying to bring home another cat.
That implied intent, but this was different.
The kitten had just been there.
Small, dirty, and way too thin.
Curled up beneath a dumpster in an alley on his patrol route.
And fortunately, or unfortunately, for everyone involved, Shinso had eyes.

Which was why he walked into the apartment carrying a tiny bundle wrapped in his scarf, apartment door clicking shut behind him.
From somewhere in the living room, Kaminari called out,

"Welcome home!"

Shinso made it exactly three steps before Kaminari appeared in the hallway.
Then stopped, there was a long pause.

"Hitoshi."

Shinso kept walking.

"Hitoshi."

"It's temporary."

Kaminari immediately groaned, "Oh my god."

"I said it's temporary."

"You said that about Kuro."

From the couch, a black cat lifted his head.
Shinso ignored him.

"You also said that about Cream."

A cream-colored blur immediately appeared from nowhere and wrapped itself around Kaminari's ankles.

"And Bean."

Something crashed in another room, neither of them reacted.
Bean was old enough to make his own choices.
Shinso stepped around him and headed toward the kitchen.
Kaminari followed.

"And let’s not forget Mocha."

"Mocha was different," Shinso said stubbornly.

"What about Chai?"

"Chai was different too."

Kaminari pointed toward the giant fluffy cat sprawled across the back of the couch.

"And somehow Latte happened."

The tiny bundle in Shinso's arms chose that exact moment to lift its head.
Huge green eyes blinked sleepily at them.

There was a beat of silence, then Kaminari narrowed his eyes, "…You named it."

Shinso froze and Kaminari gasped.

"You did! You named it."

"I didn't-"

"You totally did."

The grin appeared, Shinso knew that grin.

"What did you name him?"

"I didn't." Shinso demanded.

"Hitoshi."

“…”

Denki crossed his arms over his chest, "Hitoshi."

"...Matcha."

Kaminari immediately put a hand over his heart, "Oh my god."

"Don't."

"The eyes."

"Denki."

"The little green eyes."

"Denki."

"Well, we have to keep him now," Kaminari said, throwing his hands in the air.

"We’re not."

Matcha yawned, then tucked his face against Shinso's chest.
Kaminari looked unbearably smug.
Shinso hated when he was right.
Which was honestly way too often.

By the time Matcha had been settled into a blanket-lined box, Cream had adopted him.
Kuro had judged him.
Bean had attempted to teach him crime.
And Mocha had somehow gotten stuck behind the television.
Again.

Kaminari surveyed the scene.
Then looked around the apartment.
The cat tree by the window.
The second cat tree in the corner.
The collection of beds scattered throughout every available room.
The orange cat that absolutely did not belong to them asleep on the balcony chair.
Then he looked back at Shinso.

"If you keep bringing home strays, we're gonna need a bigger place."

Shinso opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Kaminari didn't seem to notice.
He was watching Matcha attempt to climb Cream.
…A bigger place.
The words settled somewhere unexpectedly deep.

"You've thought about that?"

Kaminari blinked, "Thought about what?"

"A bigger place."

"Oh." Kaminari shrugged like it was obvious, "Sure."

"Why?"

"Because we're running out of room."

The answer came immediately.
No hesitation or thought, just fact.
Kaminari pointed toward the living room.

"We already have seven cats." Kaminari continued.

"Six."

"The orange one counts."

"The orange one belongs to Mrs. Takahashi." Shinso said stubbornly.

"The orange one spends more time here than I do."

"That's not true," Shinso said, rolling his eyes.

"It's totally true,” Kaminari said with an exasperated huff.

The orange cat chose that moment to stretch out across their balcony chair like he owned the building.

Kaminari pointed triumphantly, "See?"

Shinso looked at the orange cat.
The orange cat looked back, then deliberately turned in a circle and settled more comfortably into the chair.
Like he paid rent.
Shinso sighed.

"Mrs. Takahashi still owns him."

"Legally."

"That's usually how ownership works."

Kaminari waved a hand, "Emotionally, he's ours."

"The cat has never once shown either of us affection." Shinso deadpanned.

"He sits on our balcony."

"He sits on everyone's balcony."

"Not as much as ours."

Shinso rolled his eyes.
Kaminari looked entirely too pleased with himself.

The conversation drifted after that.
Dinner happened somewhere in the middle.
Matcha was fed.
Cream adopted him almost immediately.
Bean attempted to teach him bad habits.
Kuro judged everyone involved.
And somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, the apartment continued functioning.

By the time they finally went to bed, Shinso had almost forgotten about the conversation entirely.
Almost.
The apartment was dark and quiet.
Mostly.

A soft thump landed near his feet.
Probably Bean, Shinso didn't bother checking.
Experience had taught him that moving only encouraged him.

Beside him, Kaminari was already asleep.
One arm stretched across the Shinso’s stomach.
Completely unconcerned by the fact that at least three cats were currently occupying his side of the bed.
Cream was curled against his shoulder.
Kuro had claimed his usual spot near their feet.
Latte somehow managed to take up enough room for two full-grown cats despite.

Shinso stared up at the ceiling.
Then, against his better judgment, his thoughts drifted back.

If you keep bringing home strays, we're gonna need a bigger place.

A bigger place.
The words echoed unexpectedly loudly in the dark and settled unexpectedly deep.
Not the house, but the certainty of it.
The way Denki had said it.
Like more cats were inevitable.
Like Shinso bringing home strays was inevitable.
Like the future itself was inevitable.

Shinso turned his head slightly.
Kaminari hadn't even looked at him when he'd said it.
He'd been watching Matcha climb Cream.
Casually talking about it the same way someone might talk about replacing an old couch.

As if the future already existed and he was simply describing it.
A house.
More room.
A screened porch.
A room for cat trees.

The details weren't what stuck with him.
It was how quickly the answers had come.
Those weren't new thoughts.
Denki had already imagined them.
Already spent time thinking about them.

Somewhere along the way, without ever mentioning it, he'd apparently built an entire future in his head.
And Shinso had been in it the whole time.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Not uncomfortable, just a big realization.

Beside him, Kaminari shifted in his sleep.
Cream immediately climbed higher onto his shoulder.
Without waking up, Kaminari lifted a hand and absently scratched behind her ears.
The cat started purring.
Shinso stared.
Then snorted quietly.
Idiot.
The word carried no heat.
Only affection.

Years.
They'd been together for years.
Shared apartment.
Shared furniture.
Shared responsibilities.
Shared cats.

A life built piece by piece until it felt so normal Shinso had stopped noticing it.
Maybe that was why the realization caught him off guard.
Not because Denki wanted a future with him.
But because apparently, he'd never once considered a future that didn't.

+1

Shinso had chosen the ring in under twenty minutes.
The cat was proving significantly more difficult.
Shinso stared through the glass at approximately thirty cats.
Most cats ignored him.
A few were asleep.
Two appeared to be fighting over a cardboard box.
Another was hanging upside down from a cat tree for reasons that probably made sense to it.

A volunteer walked past carrying a carrier.
She paused, then looked between the cat room and him.

"Still deciding?"

Shinso frowned, "It's been forty minutes."

The volunteer smiled, "Some people take hours."

That somehow made him feel worse.
He had never chosen a cat before.
Usually, the process involved finding one in an alley.
Or under a dumpster.
Or halfway inside a storm drain.

This was different.
This was intentional.

The volunteer lingered beside him, "Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Shinso immediately regretted being asked a question.
Because the honest answer was a proposal cat, which sounded ridiculous.

Instead, he settled for, "Not really."

The volunteer gave him a look that suggested she didn't believe him for a second.

"Right."

Shinso ignored that.
The volunteer looked back toward the cat room.

"Well, if you're not looking for anything specific..." She gestured vaguely, "Friendly?"

"Probably."

"Good with other cats?"

"Definitely."

"Energetic?"

Shinso thought about Bean, and then about Matcha, and finally about the time Mocha had somehow gotten trapped inside a kitchen cabinet.

"Maybe not."

The volunteer laughed, "Okay. Calm, then."

Shinso shrugged, "Sure."

"Adult?"

"I don't care."

"Long hair? Short hair?"

"I don't care,” Shinso repeated.

"Male? Female?"

"I don't care,” Shinso said for the third time.

The volunteer stared at him, "You really came in here with absolutely no plan."

Shinso opened his mouth, then closed it again because unfortunately she was correct.
The ring had been embarrassingly easy.
He'd walked into the jewelry store, looked at approximately three rings, chosen one and left.
Why was choosing a cat turning out to be so difficult?

The volunteer's expression softened slightly, "Sometimes you don't really choose."

Shinso glanced over, "What?"

She smiled, "Sometimes they do."

That sounded suspiciously like something Yamada would say.
Before Shinso could comment, movement caught his attention.
A cat had appeared near the glass.
Not one of the kittens.
Not one of the cats currently committing crimes in the climbing structures.
Just an ordinary-looking cat.
Grey, slightly fluffy, sitting quietly, and just watching him.
Shinso looked away.
The cat continued watching.
He shifted a few steps down the glass.
The cat stood.
Then calmly followed.
Shinso stopped.
The cat stopped.

The volunteer made a small sound beside him, "Oh."

Shinso frowned, "What?"

The volunteer was smiling now, "Nothing."

That was never a reassuring answer.
He looked back at the cat.
The cat looked back at Shinso, completely unbothered.

After a moment, it sat down but continued staring.

"What's his name?" Shinso asked.

The volunteer glanced at the information card, "Miso."

The cat blinked.
Shinso blinked back.
Neither seemed particularly impressed by the other.

"He's been here a while."

Shinso looked over, "How long?"

"Almost a year."

That surprised him.
Miso didn't look difficult.
He didn't look aggressive, or shy, or particularly old.
Just...normal.

The volunteer shrugged, "Sometimes cats get overlooked."

Shinso frowned.
For some reason, he didn't like that answer.

The volunteer noticed immediately, "Trust me, I agree."
She looked back toward Miso.

"He's a sweetheart."

Miso chose that exact moment to headbutt the glass once.
Then again.

The volunteer laughed, "See?"

Shinso snorted despite himself, "Subtle."

"Not really his thing."

***

Three days later, Shinso stood outside his own front door feeling ridiculous.
The cat in his arms and the ring sat in his pocket.
Both had seemed significantly less intimidating that morning.
The cat meowed.

"Not helping."

The cat ignored him which felt unfair.
After all, this entire situation was technically its fault.

Before Shinso could continue blaming an innocent shelter cat for his life choices, the front door opened.
Kaminari blinked.
Then looked at the cat, then back to Shinso’s face.

"Hitoshi."

Shinso immediately knew that tone, "What?"

Kaminari pointed, "You have a cat."

"Yes."
There was a pause.

"...you have a cat"

A longer pause this time.
The cat meowed again.

Kaminari gasped, "Oh my god. He's adorable."

"I know."

Kaminari reached down to scratch behind one ear.
Miso immediately leaned into it.
Traitor.

"What'd you name him?"

The question hit Shinso like a truck.
Because he'd had a plan.
Several plans.
A speech.
Maybe two speeches?
Instead, somehow, they'd skipped directly to this.
Kaminari looked up.
Waiting.
Shinso stared at him.
Then at the cat.
Then back at him.

"...Marry Me."

Kaminari frowned.
Looked at the cat.
Looked back at Shinso.

"What kind of name is that?"

For a second, Shinso forgot how to breathe.
The cat meowed.
Entirely unhelpful.

"Hitoshi," Kaminari continued. "That's a terrible name."

Shinso closed his eyes.
Somewhere in the distance, he could practically hear Aizawa judging him.

"No, Kitten."

Kaminari blinked, "What?"

Shinso looked at him.
Actually, looked at him.
At the man standing in the doorway of the home they’d built together.
The man who had somehow collected a life with him one cat at a time.
The man who had been planning for more cats, more years, more everything long before Shinso had realized it.
The man who had chosen him.
Again, and again.

Shinso took a breath, then reached into his pocket.
Kaminari's eyes followed the movement.
The confusion on his face faltered.
Just slightly.
Shinso pulled out the ring.
Silence.
The cat meowed.
Neither of them heard it.
Kaminari stared.

"Oh."

The word came out small, like his brain had finally caught up.

Shinso smiled, "Marry me."

For a second, Kaminari didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't seem to breathe.
His eyes flicked from the ring.
To Shinso.
To the cat between them.
Then back to Shinso.

"You got me a proposal cat."

Shinso looked at him, "Yeah."

Kaminari laughed, "You're ridiculous."

"I know."

"I love you." Kaminari’s eyes welling up with tears.

"I know that too. Is that a yes, Kitten?"

Kaminari made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Heck yes! A million times yes!” then Kaminari kissed him.

Somewhere beneath them, an offended little, "Mrow."

Kaminari looked at the cat, then back at Shinso.

“Okay, fine. This was a really good cat.”

Shinso had known for years that Kaminari was it for him; now, he looked at the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with and smiled.