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The doctor's visit goes about as well as Shouta expected it to, getting Hizashi there, on the other hand, went much differently than he ever thought it would.
Every other time Hizashi had turned up hurt after patrol, he'd given the other man his bed and slept on the couch, needing to put forth no more effort than dodging some half-hearted teasing from the voice hero. After their shared confession in the bathroom that evening, though, Shouta hadn't thought twice about offering to share his bed. If anything, it had made him wonder just how sincere all those other mumbled, exhausted requests from the blond had been.
Could he have had this sooner? Months ago? Years ago?
Sleeping together was nice, comfortable and warm in ways his bed had never felt before. He'd drifted off thinking he could get used to this, that he never wanted to go back to anything before this. He’d felt satisfied with each breath he took, laced with the light scent of his green tea shampoo mixed with the lingering lavender and vanilla that always seemed to envelope Hizashi’s body. He’d even enjoyed the little creaks his bed frame made when the other man moved, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that impossibly, that night had really happened.
Waking up had been a different story. The bags of ice he’d placed on Hizashi’s bruised leg had melted, leaving a cold, damp spot on the sheets. The heating pad beneath the voice hero’s aching back had turned off automatically, thankfully, but the cord was twined around Shouta’s hand and wrist. To top it off, somehow, the injured man had wrapped himself around Shouta in his sleep, and by Shouta's own arms and legs tangled in among the blond’s in return, he wasn't the only guilty party.
This had led to a rather painful extraction for both of them, Shouta's ears ringing for a good half hour afterward and Hizashi rubbing tenderly at his chest the entire ride to the hospital.
After a lengthy series of x-rays, and a bashful grin from Hizashi that almost looked like he was proud of the 4 broken ribs the doctor pointed to on the light up screen, they'd been sent back with some painkillers, bandages, a cast and crutches, and a rather forceful recommendation for bed rest. The doctor had said Hizashi was lucky, that the modifications to his body’s internal structure, namely, the extra cartilage that allowed his chest to expand beyond normal when he pulled in air for those powerful shouts, had likely saved him from organ damage.
Shouta had been concerned, making a note to drag Hizashi to a doctor immediately next time this happened, no more playing nurse with an overused and under stocked first aid kit in each other’s bathrooms.
Hizashi had scratched at the baby blue cat Band-Aid over his nose and asked about replacing it for stitches, hardly even paying the idea of a punctured lung any mind, despite it being a rather vital part of his job.
They thanked the doctor and headed out. They'd make a trip to Recovery Girl on Monday to see about setting up a healing schedule to shorten Hizashi’s forced bed rest by a few weeks, but for now, Hizashi seemed happy to spend a few days doing nothing, a nice change of pace for the overwhelmingly busy hero. Shouta had to admit he was a little happy himself. He might have put up a stink about playing Hizashi’s caretaker in the past, but he’d never truly minded it. It usually meant taking some time off himself, and being able to be close to the other man in ways he couldn’t when they were still keeping up their facade of just friends.
After last night, they hadn’t even discussed if Hizashi would be crashing at Shouta’s place until he healed. There was a silent understanding when Shouta helped the other man into the car and opened up a water bottle from the case he kept in his trunk, handing over one of what would probably be many painkillers over the next few days. Hizashi thanked him and leant his head against the window, watching without question as Shouta turned right, rather than left, out of the parking lot.
The blond had yammered on about plans to decorate his crutches and pointed to where he wanted Shouta to sign his cast while it was still being plastered onto his leg. It seemed a bit pointless to Shouta, knowing full well that the cast wasn’t going to be on for the full month the doctor had recommended, but if doodling on the plaster made Hizashi happy, well, then who could blame Shouta for running into a store on the drive home to buy some markers?
When they pull into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he helps Hizashi stand up and makes sure he has a firm grasp on the crutches before shutting the door and trying not to hover too much as he slows his gate to match Hizashi’s speed. They make it to the front door without incident, though Hizashi’s playful smile he’d been wearing all day at the hospital has dropped off completely by the time they’re indoors. A few drops of sweat are gathering along his hairline and Shouta is glad he offered this morning to pull the long strands into a ponytail for the other man.
Hizashi leans heavily against the entranceway wall while Shouta helps slip off his one shoe. When he straightens up, Hizashi’s eyes are closed and he looks exhausted, eyebrows pulled together, breathing through his mouth in short little gasps, probably trying not to aggravate his ribs too much.
“It’ll take a little bit for the pills to kick in,” Shouta says, pulling his sleeve over his hand and using it to dab at Hizashi’s temple. The blond opens one eye and nods slightly.
They’d both been heroes long enough to know plenty well that painkillers never worked as fast as you wanted them to.
“Come on, let’s get you on the couch,” he says, taking the crutches from Hizashi and propping them on the wall, pulling the other man into his side like he’d done the night before, and half-carrying him over to the living room. This seemed to be a bit easier on Hizashi’s chest.
Shouta lays Hizashi down across the cushions and wishes suddenly that he’d listened all those times the self-proclaimed “design expert” had said he needed some throw pillows.
“I’m going to grab some pillows from the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay…”
Shouta gives him a small smile and Hizashi’s eyes are barely open at this point, but they curve up into little crescents to match the tired stretch of his lips anyway. Hizashi’s hand moves into a thumbs up before his fingers flatten out across his stomach like the movement had taken the last bit of energy he’d had to spare.
Apparently that high he’d been riding from last night had run out.
That’s fine, Shouta thinks. He would be perfectly happy just letting Hizashi rest.
By the time he comes back out in the living room with his arms stuffed full of pillows, the heating pad, and the fluffy blanket Hizashi had bought him for Christmas last year, the other man is already passed out. His jaw is slack, a small damp spot forming on his shirt where his chin is tucked awkwardly against his shoulder. Shouta snorts and sets everything down on the floor as quietly as possible, and then channels all those years of stealth training to carefully slip a pillow beneath Hizashi’s head without disturbing him. The sleepy man lets out a little hum as he settles into the plush material and Shouta smiles, brushing some of his long hair away from his face.
He’s not really willing to risk sliding the heating pad under Hizashi’s back, knowing that’s bound to rouse him, so he flips the switch on the cord and lays it over his upper chest instead, along where he remembers the click of the doctor’s pen as it tapped against the x-ray display. He pulls the blanket overtop and stands back up, happy with his work.
Shouta eyes the space by Hizashi’s feet. He really wanted to try and squish in next to him, snuggling into all that warmth, far better than his sleeping bag, but this would have to do. If the way neither of them had said anything about Hizashi going back to his place was any indication, he’d have plenty of time to get close to the other man later tonight.
For now, well…
For now, placing Hizashi’s legs overtop his own, and leaning his head along the back of the couch was suitable.
It doesn’t take long for Shouta to drift off too.
---
“Shouta...Shouta...Shhhouuuutaaaa…”
He blinks awake to the sound of someone calling his name, the dim overhead lights in his popcorn ceiling slowly coming into focus as the words get clearer.
“Mmm?” Shouta grumbles.
He feels a light tapping against his lower stomach and looks down to see Hizashi’s good leg poking at him where they’re both still settled on his lap. He turns to see the blond pouting, hair mussed from sleep, with strands of it pulled out of his ponytail, and eyes a little squinty, as if he too just woke up, despite his pleading tone that says he’d been waiting for quite some time.
“What?”
“I’m hungry,” Hizashi whines. “And my everything hurts.”
Shouta looks at the small digital clock on his bookshelf. They’d napped for a number of hours, and he’d passed out before he’d had the chance to set a reminder to give the injured man his next dose of the painkillers the doctor prescribed.
“Sorry,” Shouta says, running a hand through his hair as guilt seeps in. “I should have woken you up to give you more meds.”
“What happened to ‘sleep is the perfect medicine’?”
Shouta quirks his eyebrow, says, “Does it feel perfect right now?”
“No, it feels like I need to brush my teeth and I’m starving, Shouta.”
“Doubtful,” he retorts, but leans over Hizashi’s legs, careful of the cast, to grab his cell phone from where he’d left it on the coffee table. “Takeout?”
“Delivery.”
Shouta snorts, saying, “Are you paying that fee?”
“I can’t be left alone, Sho, I’m injured. What if I had to go to the bathroom and fell on the way and you were out getting food while I was suffocating on the carpet, unable to push myself up?”
“You could turn your head.”
“I broke my neck on the way down.”
“I’m not sure you deserve to live if that’s how you die.”
“Shouta!”
They both burst into a fit of laughter, Hizashi holding his sides and groaning as he tries to stop his giggles from affecting his broken ribs. Shouta wants to stop laughing, stop egging him on, but trying to stifle himself just makes tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He tries to turn his face away and cover his mouth as Hizashi yells, “stop! S-stop! Shouta! Pfff Sh-Shouta” through his laughter.
By the time they’ve both calmed down, their faces are flushed pink and Shouta’s smile is nearly as big as Hizashi’s.
“Okay, delivery.”
They make it about halfway through dinner before Hizashi’s painkillers kick in and he quietly tilts over from where Shouta had positioned him to sit up to eat, and rests his head on Shouta’s shoulder. Hizashi looks up at him, big green eyes still shining under droopy lids, and blinks slowly, each one seeming to take just a little more energy than the last.
“Ready for bed?” Shouta asks.
“I could stay up longer…”
“I’ll lay down with you,” Shouta says, and he’s surprised how easy this all is, how seamlessly their friendship is transitioning into something more, as if this was the way it was always supposed to be. As he slips his arm around Hizashi to rub soothing at his lower back, further lulling the other man into slumber, he still can’t believe it.
“I’ll read or something...or knowing me...I’ll probably just fall asleep too,” he admits, shrugging.
Hizashi smiles against his shirt and nods. His hand moves up off the couch to fall onto Shouta’s thigh. Two little pats, and then, Hizashi says, “Sounds perfect to me.”
---
Hizashi does a remarkable job keeping his exuberant voice hero personality dialed up to 10 while also sporting a full cast, crutches, and several bandages on his face. He shoots every single staring student a staggering smile, and impressively manages to keep his pain to nothing more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth and a little extra grip around his crutches. Shouta stays beside him, giving each kid a glare after Hizashi’s grin to encourage them to move along faster.
He didn’t like the way Hizashi’s right shoulder was starting to shake beneath all that leather.
They finish off a conversation with a 3rd year boy who somehow doesn’t get the hint even with Shouta’s harsh stare, just a few feet away from Recovery Girl’s office, and Shouta has never been so relieved to slide open those doors and get that instant waft of sterile cleaning chemicals.
Hizashi limps in behind him and he closes the door, the blond letting out a heavy sigh as he makes his way to the closest bed and gingerly lowers himself down.
“I was expecting you’d be here a little earlier than this,” Recovery Girl says, twisting around in her chair before hopping down and grabbing her cane. She makes her way slowly over to them, giving Shouta a sweeping full body glance he doesn’t deserve on her way by. He hadn’t done anything reckless lately, but he can’t blame her, he was by often enough that it was likely a habbit at this point.
She stops in front of Hizashi and clicks her tongue, lightly tapping his cast with her cane.
“So what’s first, then, hmm?” she asks. “I looked at the x-rays your doctor sent over. I think we should start with the ribs, but if the leg is giving you more discom-”
“My face, please,” Hizashi interrupts.
Shouta has to do a double take.
He and Recovery Girl say, “What?” simultaneously.
“I want you to heal my face first, if that’s alright with you?” he asks again, taking off his glasses.
Recovery Girl raises an eyebrow and Shouta frowns.
“Hizashi, a few stitches aren’t a big deal. You should have her heal your ribs, you can’t make it down the hall without breaking into a sweat,” Shouta says.
Hizashi just smiles at him, soft and tired. His eyes are half-lidded in a way that makes Shouta’s chest tighten.
This was dangerous.
They’d only been romantically involved for maybe 72 hours and he was willing to give Hizashi whatever he wanted.
Shit, gotta remember not to spoil him.
Recovery Girl sighs and reaches out for Hizashi’s collar, tugging him down a little rougher than necessary, probably just to get the wince she knew would be there from his jostled chest to prove her point. He leans down and she pushes up on her tippy-toes, kissing his forehead, and Shouta watches the purple bruises around Hizashi’s lip and nose and eye all start to fade away.
It was a stupid request, but she’d done it anyway, snipping off his stitches and wiping away the adhesive from the bandage on his nose. When Hizashi swayed a little too much in response to the quirk-enhanced healing, she told him to come back in two days to start chipping away at the rest of his injuries.
“No more vanity-healing, you hear?” she’d said, giving his cheek a pat with her hand.
They’d thanked her, Shouta promising to drag Hizashi back, and headed back down the long hall. Hizashi was almost entirely silent, his movements a bit slower, but a little smile stayed fastened to his lips the whole walk through U.A, and into the parking lot.
It’s not until Hizashi is situated in his seat and Shouta shuts the car door that the voice hero comes to life, immediately turning toward him, cheeks dimpled by his large grin, smile lines forming around the corner of his eyes. Shouta narrows his own eyes, looking at him suspiciously, and reaches out with the intention of gently pushing the other man back against his seat, concerned that the way Hizashi is turned toward him would be uncomfortable for an uninjured person, let alone someone still nursing broken ribs. He doesn’t make it that far, though, as Hizashi’s hand wraps around his wrist to stop him, guiding Shouta’s arm down to the middle console between them. He maneuvers their hands and Shouta is a little surprise how easy it is for his fingers to find the gaps between Hizashi’s. It’s been maybe 5 seconds since they’d entered the car and now they’re holding hands.
It’s hard to believe it has only been a few days since Hizashi came stumbling into his apartment and knocked over every expectation, and every semblance of reality Shouta had built up in his life.
Wasn’t it that same morning that he’d stared a little too long at Hizashi’s lips when the other man said his daily “see you later, Eraser” as they waved goodbye after classes had ended for the day? Wasn’t it that same drive home, in this same car, when he’d paused at a stop sign for a bit too long, thinking about calling Hizashi and seeing if he wanted to hang out that weekend, wanted to sit on his couch with a good foot of buffer space between them that Hizashi would inevitably invade, just to drive Shouta and his crush a little bit more insane?
Hadn’t he written this off the same day that Hizashi made it all happen?
Now he’s holding hands with his best friend and somehow feeling like he’s the breathless one .
“Hiz-”
“Kiss me.”
Shouta’s eyes widen, his mouth still open, and Hizashi’s name fallen off his lips and somewhere into the space between them.
“W-what?”
“You promised,” Hizashi says, and his fingers press into the back of Shouta’s hand as his grip tightens. “You said when my lip was healed, you’d kiss me.”
Hizashi’s other hand moves up to his mouth, where he peels off the butterfly bandages that had been holding his split lip together, the ones they’d traded the cartoon cat one for when they’d gone to the doctor. Shouta watches as his skin is revealed again, a light pink hue of a freshly healed wound, but no more blood, no scratches, no scabs.
Hizashi makes a kissy face, his mustache twitching above his upper lip.
Shouta laughs.
Hizashi’s perfect, freshly healed lips start forming a pout, but Shouta’s not about to have that, not now, not when everything is new and warm and his heart feels full in a way it never has before. So he let’s go of Hizashi’s hand and he moves it to the blond’s face instead, cupping his cheek, letting his thumb run over that soft, smooth skin, and watching Hizashi’s green eyes glisten in the sunlight streaming in over Shouta’s shoulder through the car’s window. He leans in and his lips find Hizashi’s, fitting together so seamlessly, like this was where they were always meant to be. He closes his eyes and moves his hand around to the back of Hizashi’s head, pulling him in closer, tilting him back a bit as he deepens the kiss.
Hizashi lets out a happy hum and Shouta feels one of the other man’s hands grip the hem of his shirt, as the other lands on his thigh.
It must only be a few seconds, but Shouta swears the whole day passes in that moment.
When they pull back, Hizashi’s grin has returned in full force, and if Shouta was a man of more words he might tell him that he looks perfect, stunning even, because both of those things are true.
Instead, he smiles back at Hizashi, stroking his thumb along the blond’s cheek one more time, and says, “Promise kept.”