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It was supposed to be a routine procedure.
Hizashi Yamada had strained his voice on a routine patrol, yet again. This time, Aizawa put his foot down. He would have to get checked, get some help, before he risked permanent damage. The doctors had told him two weeks of vocal rest, taking time off from all his jobs. A Quirk Suppressant should have made it easy as pie.
But when did life ever make things easy for the Yamada-Aizawa household?
Shouta was there, of course. His steady presence was grounding, even if Hizashi would never admit that he was anxious enough to need it. He didn't have to. Shouta had known him long enough. As they waited, Shouta rubbed Hizashi's hand.
“Everything will be fine,” he assured his partner. “I'm right here.”
“I know you are,” Hizashi whispered, “but this is my voice, my moneymaker.”
Shouta's mouth quirked upward briefly. “I know. This is just temporary. A week of rest and light duty will be good for you.” He gave Hizashi's hand a gentle squeeze. “And just think of all the stories you’ll have when you get back to your show.”
The nurse came in, carrying a covered, sterile tray. She smiled kindly at the duo, humming softly as she reached for the chart. “Have we followed the instructions the doctor gave you?” She asked politely.
Aizawa nodded. “Yes, although getting this one to forgo his coffee was difficult. Just like every other time we do this.” His voice was aloof again, dry as Hizashi's throat felt. He helped Hizashi lean back in the reclining chair, still holding his hand securely.
“Good. We'll start with lidocaine spray!” The nurse was so bubbly. Hizashi thought that they would get along well if they had met in other circumstances. He let the nurse numb him, tapping on Shouta's hand in their “I love you” signal. Focusing on his husband helped calm the nervous energy in his stomach.
“Just close your eyes,” Shouta murmured quietly. “It’ll be done soon. I've got the watch.”
That helped Hizashi relax some, reminding him to take a deep breath. Shouta was there, they always watched out for each other. This was no different. He kept his eyes closed, even as the doctors came in to give the injection. But when it was injected, it felt different than other times. It felt cold, not hot, and he squeezed Aizawa's hand tightly.
His focus immediately sharpened. “What is it, ‘Zashi?” He laid his palm flat so he could read the signs Hizashi used.
Cold was the word he could spell, as his heart started to pound.
“It feels cold? That's unusual,” Shouta mused. “I'll make sure to check on that.” He traced an infinity sign on Hizashi's wrist, their reminder to breathe. “Maybe it's an upgraded medication,” he tried to soothe.
Hizashi knew that Shouta was on high alert now, watching the doctors with his critical hero gaze. If anything was different from normal, he would find out why. But the churning in his stomach would not dissipate. He squeezed Shouta's hand tightly again.
Scared he admitted.
“I know, I know,” he murmured back. “But everything seems normal. Nothing unusual here.”
He took a deep breath as the doctors withdrew their hands from his neck. Things still felt strange, but in the way they usually did after this procedure. He was allowed to sit up, with help, as the doctors talked through the aftercare. Shouta would take notes and pay attention for him, right now he just wanted to curl up in his bed and take a nap. He rubbed his throat, waiting for Shouta to finish and take him home.
Once they arrived, Aizawa wrapped a scarf around his husband's throat, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “Just take it easy. I've got your aftercare instructions and the alarms set for you.”
Instead of going to the bedroom, Hizashi sat on the living room couch. He wasn't ready to be alone yet, and he knew his husband was going to work on grading papers while he rested. He stretched a hand out, patting the seat beside him.
Go get your papers, he signed. The light is better out here for your eyes.
Shouta shook his head indulgently. “Whatever you want.” He turned on a saved video of a crackling fireplace for the white noise, wrapping his husband in their favorite couch blanket. “Try to get some sleep. I'm still watching over you.” He pressed a scratchy kiss on his forehead.
Hizashi smiled and tapped his husband softly on the hand. 1-4-3 taps. Cheesy, but it still made Shouta smile. Taking his hearing aids out and setting them carelessly on the end table, he smiled back and settled into sleep.
—
When Hizashi woke up a couple hours later, he felt a weight against his shoulders. His husband was leaning against his arm, asleep as well. Looking to the end table, he smiled at the sight of his hearing aids safely in the case. Putting them in, he noticed a warm compress on the coffee table for his throat. What a considerate husband he had! No matter how many times Shouta did this for him, it always warmed his heart.
As he adjusted his hearing aids, he took a moment to check how his body felt. His back ached a little, his head hurt a little… and his throat still felt wrong. That was concerning, but he tried not to panic.
Shouta woke up beside him, the same jolt to awareness Hizashi saw every time a student needed him, or he was napping before patrol. What is it? He signed, face slipping into concern. You're still so pale.
It's just my throat, still feels strange.
Shouta sat up better, his eyes open properly. “Can I take a look?” He asked gently.
Hizashi nodded, letting Shouta's cold, callused hands feel his jaw, his neck, and his throat in turn. Even with the gentle touches, Hizashi had to work at not tensing up. “You're still cold, ‘Zashi. We'll get that warm compress on you when I finish,” he murmured. “Lymph nodes feel normal… Can you swallow for me?”
Hizashi did, the fluttering anxiety still in his stomach. His leg started to bounce in double time, until his husband touched his kneecap softly. “I'll call the doctor, okay? You just use the warm compress and relax for me.”
He nodded, although his mind was racing. How could he relax? If his throat was damaged, he didn't have his Quirk. No Quirk meant no hero work. He couldn't watch out for Shouta and his students. The thought absolutely terrified him. He leaned back in his seat as his husband settled the warm compress and scarf again.
I've got you, the brunette reminded his husband. We'll get it figured out. He dialed the number to the hospital, getting through to a doctor and demanding an appointment for the next day.
Hizashi was watching him talk on the phone when the doorbell made the lights flicker. He stood up. Are you expecting someone?
It might be food, or Midoriya. He did want to talk to me this evening about sign.
Ah, he nodded makes sense. Bakugo was complaining about his hearing aids in English a couple days ago. He opened the door to find Midoriya holding his bag, rubbing his neck awkwardly. The smell of miso drifted around him, as he signed a greeting. Hizashi was grateful for the distraction.
Come in, you can set your bag in the kitchen, he made himself smile.
Midoriya looked at his teacher pacing, a small frown wrinkling his brow. “Is everything alright?” He asked softly as he slipped his sneakers off. “Aizawa-sensei looks… agitated.”
Hizashi brushed it off. Nothing for you to worry about. I've got the resources Aizawa talked about in the office. He started towards the study they shared.
Shouta's student was already unpacking miso soup and some onigiri. “Bakugo insisted I bring this for you both, since you had a medical appointment.” He smiled a bit. “I promise, I didn't let him make it spicy.”
Aizawa signed his thanks, as he ended the phone call to the hospital. “That's very kind of you both.” He sighed as he looked at his Problem Child.
Izuku dropped his voice. “Is everything okay? I can come back another day.”
“Everything is fine, kid. Mic is just on strict voice rest for the next few days.” He lied easily. “Thanks for asking.”
Izuku didn't seem convinced, but dropped the subject as he heard Hizashi returning. He bowed as he accepted the folder. “Thank you, sensei!”
Hizashi waved it off. My pleasure, little listener!
Aizawa noticed that his winning, Present Mic smile wasn't sitting just right. To him, it looked more like a rictus grin. But he let his husband barrel on. He was signing so fast, he felt the need to translate for the his student.
Tell Bakugo we can work on getting hero grade hearing aids for him, and have sign practice together next week. I should be allowed to talk then.
“Not much, you know the drill,” Aizawa rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
Those instructions are more like suggestions anyway. Hizashi grinned widely, his eyes bright and cheerful.
Shouta let out a long exhale through his nose. His husband was really pushing the “everything is fine” song and dance. His grin was forced, his signing not as fluid as usual. Even Midoriya was looking awkwardly at him. The kid was always supernaturally observant. He patted his problem child on the shoulder.
“I'll keep you updated on our schedules. Thank you both again for the meals.” He guided Midoriya toward his shoes. Thankfully, the kid was quick today. He got his shoes pulled on, bowed again, and left with more well wishes.
Hizashi noticed the deep sigh Shouta let out, the one that signaled he was done being around anyone else but his husband. Guilt hammered in his chest. He had wanted to keep the kid a little longer, to keep himself distracted. Shouta wasn't that kind of man, though. He preferred silence and solitude.
Especially after a day like today.
He tapped Shouta's shoulder. Let's get to bed. The signs were slow, small, like a whisper. I can tell you're exhausted.
“I'm fine,” he responded, but it was short, abrupt, the way he always did when he was worn down. He seemed to realize it too, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, let's go,” Shouta offered Hizashi his hand.
Are you actually going to sleep? Hizashi asked
“Probably not.”
Hizashi pouted. You need to rest, especially if you cover my classes.
“Taking tomorrow off to get this handled. I can sleep in the afternoon before my patrol. Already informed Nezu.” Shouta was in his tactician mode. Make his plan, execute the plan, solve the problem at hand. Hizashi knew that voice well.
Thank you. The blond went to his clothing drawers to grab his pajamas. Maybe a hot shower will help this, he motioned to his throat.
Shouta nodded and ducked back into the living room, grabbing the hearing aid case. Hizashi turned on the water as hot as he could stand before he started the normal routine of laying out their toothbrushes, eyedrops, and the medication that Shouta would hopefully take to help him sleep. He was tempted to sneak it to his husband somehow, but that wouldn't work when he was high alert like this.
As the steam rose off the water, Hizashi took a couple experimental deep breaths. He stood under the water, washing himself on autopilot. While he conditioned his blond locks, his heart started to speed up again. His breath started coming in short gasps, forcing him to lean against the tile wall. His throat constricted, throwing him back into a memory of helplessness.
He felt himself wheezing, struggling to scream through the taste of concrete dust. Looking up, he saw Shouta, pinned down by a faceless enemy, dust obscuring the view, choking Hizashi's voice before he could-
Strong arms grabbed him from behind, pinning his upper arms to his sides. Before Hizashi could thrash around, buck off the intruder, he faintly heard “Hey, hey! It's me! You're not there, you're here with me!”
Oh, his angel.
Hizashi looked down, seeing dark fabric tightly encircling his chest, a pair of rough hands clasped in front of him. The hot water beat against his face as he blinked it away the best he could. He coughed, pain shooting up the back of his throat. He tried to speak again, but still nothing but a wheeze.
“I'm here, I've got you,” the man behind him eased them both to the tile floor, rough chin hooking over his shoulder. “Deep breaths, kitten.” One hand released its grip around his chest, starting to rub between Hizashi's shoulder blades. “Talk me through it.”
Can't breathe, Hizashi felt his heart racing and his throat spasming.
“Yes, you can,” Shouta reminded him. “Come on, deep breath in, through your nose. We've practiced this.” He tapped the rhythm on his husband's breastbone like a metronome. “I've got you.”
As Hizashi started to regulate his breathing, feeling his husband behind him, he paused. Looking down, he realized Shouta was still in his going out clothes.
You're soaked.
He felt Shouta huff. “You needed me. I heard you knock over your hair products.” There was some side eye as he continued, “I think this is the only time I've been grateful you have so many bottles in here.”
Hizashi looked up, pouting a bit as he noticed all the fallen bottles. Before he could consider the mess he made, he felt his husband groaning and moving to stand, peeling off his soaked clothes.
“I might as well shower too,” he shrugged as Hizashi turned to face him. “Since I'm here.”
Hizashi chuckled silently. At least that means I can take care of your poor hair. He tugged one of the strands near Shouta's ear. So many split ends. You still use that cheap bar soap, don't you?
I don't need more than that, he signed back. Hizashi knew that his husband loved getting his hair washed, no matter how utilitarian he typically was. He only ever let Hizashi do it, though, which made sense. Pro heroes had to be careful, after all.
Shouta bent down, picking up the fallen bottles and arranging them on the ledge again. He left everything exactly where it had been before, then settled back to watch Hizashi.
Hizashi squirmed briefly. I’m fine now, don’t look at me like that.
“Like what?”
Like I’m one of your injured students.
Shouta watched him evenly, gaze not wavering. “You are important to me, Hizashi Yamada.” His face softened, the hardness that came from being a pro hero and a high school teacher easing. “You aren't my student. You're my husband. And I'm worried about you.”
Don't be, I'm fine.
An eyebrow arched as Shouta looked him up and down. “You're a shit liar when you're naked.” His mouth quirked into an almost-smile for just a moment. He got serious again as he focused on Hizashi's green eyes. “You don't need to put on the act for me. We've seen each other at our worst. This will pass.” He reached out and kissed Hizashi's knuckles, before reaching for that damned bar soap to lather his hair.
The blond snatched it away, scowling. No, I'm washing your hair with actual shampoo. Turning, he grabbed the products he needed, and the stool Shouta was embarrassed he had to use on hard days. Sit.
The rest of the shower was spent in comfortable silence, especially since Hizashi couldn't sign while he was washing Shouta's hair. Once both men were clean and drying off, Shouta slid the sleeping pills to Hizashi's side of the sink.
Don't need those, Hizashi argued as he brushed his teeth. He watched his husband putting his eyedrops in, concentrating and squeezing his eyes shut before he answered.
“Kitten, I think you should take them. I know you don't like it, but it will help you get to sleep. You need to rest before tomorrow. The doctors just confirmed it was a new medication they used on you.”
Hizashi hit the counter with his open palm, absolutely fuming. Shouta reached over and covered his stinging hand with his own.
“I know, I'm going to rip them a new one when we get you back to normal,” he grumbled. “So you need to get enough sleep.” He paused, voice dropping to an absent-minded whisper. “We both do.”
Hizashi nodded slowly, accepting the pills but not taking them yet. He took his water glass and walked to the bed, turning the covers down for both of them, fidgeting with his bun and the pillows as he waited.
Shouta came back in his favorite pink sweatpants, a ragged old t-shirt, and his hair slung over his shoulder in a loose braid. His tired eyes met Hizashi's spring green ones, and he softened a bit.
What? Hizashi tilted his head.
I have a handsome husband, Shouta hummed softly. He sat on the edge of the bed, twisting his back to stretch it before looking at his love. Did you take the pills? I'll make sure we're up on time tomorrow.
Hizashi felt another slam of guilt in his chest, his eyes filling with tears. Shouta's eyes widened in alarm, reaching out to touch his husband's cheek.
“Zashi, what is it? Are you in pain?” He was already reaching towards the nightstand for medicine.
He shook his head. Fat, hot tears were welling up in his eyes, and it made him hate himself even more. He was nothing but a burden, a lump of flesh who couldn't even thank his husband for taking care of him. He reached up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his hand, but Shouta caught his wrist.
“Love? Don't shut me out… talk me through it, please.” He reached up to wipe the tears away. “Let me help.”
He used his free hand to describe the flashback he had in the shower, gasping for breath as he remembered again. Shouta pulled him close as he signed, not interrupting. When Hizashi started to cough, he felt a glass of water being pressed gently to his lips.
“Slow sip, babe. Let's not strain your throat.”
He pushed the glass away. See! You're always so good to me, and I can't even thank you properly! He took a hiccuping breath. It's bad enough that my hearing is going, now this? What if they can't fix it?
“I know they can,” Shouta did softly. “If not, I'll make sure that we find a new way forward. Maybe you can teach sign language, or I can interpret for you.”
Stop trying to solve it! Hizashi pushed off the bed, pacing the room. I don't want a solution, I want my voice! I want my husband to hold me and tell me that things will be fine!
Immediately, Shouta was on his feet, reaching out to grab Hizashi by the arm. He pulled his husband close, holding him securely against his chest. Hizashi could feel himself trembling as Shouta started to sway back and forth.
“I've got you, Hizashi. I will keep you safe, and tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.” He pressed a kiss to his husband's temple. “Your voice will be back, even if it takes a bit to recover.”
Hizashi winced as he felt the raw scratch sobbing had left in the back of his throat. He let his love guide him back to bed, picking up his water with shaking hands. He sipped slowly, Shouta reaching out to steady the glass. He tried to speak once more, his throat pulsing, but still came out with just a wheeze.
Moving efficiently, Shouta got him tucked back into bed, softly kissing his forehead. “I'll be right here. Get some sleep.” He started carding his fingers through his blond hair, the way that made Hizashi melt on better nights. It was only moments before the man was deeply asleep.
—
Shouta hadn't slept that night. He had drifted a couple times, but he couldn't rest while his husband was distressed this way. He had caught the start of nightmares on two separate occasions, but had kept them from escalating. As he walked into the hospital with Hizashi the following morning, he kept a firm grip on his hand.
You're taking those sleeping pills tonight, Hizashi signed. Before you faint in front of your students. Nezu already got someone to cover your patrol tonight.
“That wasn't necessary,” he grumbled back.
The bags under your eyes have their own three piece luggage sets, he signed. And they aren't even designer.
Shouta rolled his eyes as they were called back to the exam room. He didn't let go of Hizashi's hand, watching the room as if the very furniture offended him.
It'll be fine, he tried to sign. They're gonna fix it.
He nodded curtly. “I'll make sure of it.” He helped Hizashi lean back, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “You may have to rest for longer, after the stress of yesterday.”
That's fine.
“I know.” Shouta stood up. “The doctor is coming.”
Don't make it a thing, please. Not right now. Hizashi was clinging to Shouta's hand. I need you here. His eyes were huge as he watched his stoic husband.
“... Fine” he sighed and sat back down.
The doctors came in, visibly balking as Shouta glared at them. Hizashi rubbed his thumb against Shouta's knuckles, giving him a small shake of the head. His husband could be terrifying when he was angry, and he didn't need to terrify the doctors. He lapsed into grumpy silence as the doctors moved around, checking monitors and preparing syringes.
“Deep breaths,” he muttered into Hizashi's ear, one hand touching his forehead gently. “You're being so brave.”
Hizashi felt the medication going in, warm this time, to reverse the first injection. He felt himself relax, despite how scratchy his throat had become. The point was, he could feel it. He broke into a smile, gripping Shouta's hand tightly. He could nearly taste the tension leaving his husband's body as he looked over.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Shh, don't strain yourself,” Shouta was already activating his own Quirk, in case of any accidents. Hizashi could bring down the walls if his Quirk activated when they weren't expecting it. He heard Hizashi creak out a laugh.
“-Never wanna do that again,” he rasped as he started coughing hard, curling forward with Shouta's help.
“I bet not,” he responded dryly. “Neither of us enjoyed this experience.” He rubbed between Hizashi's shoulder blades and offered one of his favorite hard candies. “But let's get the Quirk Suppressant in you and go home to sleep.”
You and your sleep, Hizashi teased.
“You know it.” Shouta let himself smile for a moment. There was an undertone of relief as he tapped Hizashi's hand. 1-4-3 taps.
Once the coughing had subsided, the doctor gave the voice hero his usual medication and sent them on their way with another apology. Hizashi thanked them and let Shouta lead them down to the car. As Shouta drove, Hizashi realized they were making a detour to an ice cream parlor.
What are we doing here? He asked, head tilting.
“You were so brave, I thought you deserved ice cream after dinner, when your throat isn't numb anymore.” He said simply. “My treat.”
Hizashi lit up like a supernova, scrambling out of the car to pick his favorite flavor. Shouta picked vanilla. As they got home, he caught his silly husband opening the pint to sneak a taste.
“Hizashi, come on. It hasn't been a full hour yet,” Shouta sighed. “I don't want you choking.”
The blond turned, his tongue still halfway out of his mouth. You're no fun, he complained as he closed the tub.
“I do have a reputation to uphold.” He came around the car to open the door for his husband. “I'm so glad you're back to your normal, pain-in-my-ass self.”
He smiled back, the bright, genuine smile Shouta had fallen in love with. “Thank you, for standing by me,” he whispered.
“Shut up, before you hurt your voice more,’ he chuckled and walked back into the house with his insufferable husband.