No Signs of Life

by spilled__ink

Summary:

Izuku is a vigilante with a shitty life, struggling to make ends meet. He's heard quite a bit about the infamous Eraserhead, but he figured he'd never actually meet the guy.

Right?

Notes:

this is for my friend Mr_Dinosaurus, i might continue this but probably not

Chapter 1

Izuku landed with a grunt, his left side throbbing. Behind him, Endeavor’s heat made the air shiver and swirl as the hero entered the alley he’d just climbed out of. Even four stories up, the glow made him squint before he turned away. He tapped the stolen comm in his ear, the hero radio hissing. 

“Where did he GO?!” Endeavor’s shout was echoed over the radio just after his actual voice pierced the air, both times painfully loud, and Izuku crept away carefully. Endeavor wasn’t the most agile hero, though he was certainly no slouch, and Izuku was known for making “impossible” escapes. No wonder the moron wasn’t even trying to keep chasing him. 

He made it to a tall box vent, its consistent rattle masking his own sounds as he settled. Endeavor raged over the radio as he gently pulled at the fabric clinging to his skin. The burn wasn’t terrible, probably not third degree, but it hurt enough to worry him. His homemade armor came off easily, though he left his mask on, and his undershirt was flimsy enough to just tear open, the burnt fabric ripping easily. It hung off his lanky frame, and he pressed careful fingers over the burn, testing. 

It hurt like a bitch at every little prod. Perfect; he sighed in relief. If he could feel it, it wasn’t as serious as it could’ve been, so he pulled out the fabric bandages from one of his many pockets and began carefully wrapping it. He had no antiseptic, no cool water, but that would wait until he got home. For now he just wanted it covered. 

Izuku let his head fall back against the warm metal behind him. He felt lightheaded, and couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. The hero comms were quieter, Endeavor’s periodic check-ins reassuring him as the hero continued on his regular route. The cool night air was soothing on the burns, at least before he’d wrapped them, and now he took a short break before heading in for the night. 

Izuku stared up at the stars. He had nothing to go home to, really. A shitty flat with two roommates who hated him, temp work that lasted as long as it took for his employers to bother with checking his file and seeing the big red QUIRKLESS stamp, and a week of chafing against every shirt he owned because bandages were too expensive to waste on such a mild wound. 

He couldn’t even do any analysis work with his laptop finally dead, not that he could really wrap his head around that. Him, Izuku Midoriya, doing analysis work? And getting paid for it? Now that was something. It would never be a career, of course. If he ever tried to get a license or get hired somewhere properly, his quirk status would bar him completely. 

“Who would hire an unevolved analyst,” he mumbled drily. Who wants last century’s genius? Surely anyone could do his work, as long as they had the right connections. Anyone with an intelligence-based quirk would blow him out of the water every time. 

The comm buzzed again, an operator with a nice voice talking to someone who wasn’t responding. 

“-ft on the next intersection, and then two more blocks is where we lost him. Yes, Eraserhead, Endeavor was certain it was him.” 

Izuku jerked, gasping as the bandages pulled on his burn, but he staggered to his feet anyway, wheezing. Eraserhead. No way, no way Eraserhead was coming for him, he’d never met the guy and thank god for that. He couldn’t outrun an underground hero normally, and now? He’d be lucky to make it five steps in any direction. 

He’d heard of Eraserhead. He’d done analyses on him, scrounged up every scrap of footage and firsthand experiences the internet had to offer, and he had absolutely no desire to meet him. 

Well, he absolutely did want to meet the man; ever since he made his first (and only) official appearance at a UA press conference several years back, Izuku had been utterly obsessed with the hero. He was strong, fast, agile, talented in close- and mid-ranged fighting, known in the underground as being fair and intelligent, and so unbelievably hot . He just didn’t want to meet him like this, in his shitty vigilante gear, probably on his way to being shoved into a police car. 

He’d come close to meeting Eraserhead three times before, and all three had felt like this: panic, real fear simmering under his skin like a trapped animal. He was always certain he’d get caught, but strangely, it never happened. 

Never once had he seen the man in person, but he’d always assumed he hated his job; for such a renowned underground hero he seemed to have zero interest in proper investigation. LIstening over the comms, Izuku could hardly believe the man even glanced at the scenes he’d been called to. He dismissed Izuku as harmless, sometimes even taunted the other pros by suggesting that Izuku’s vigilante persona didn’t even exist. 

It stung a bit, but it also kept the cops off his back, at least to some extent. He just had to wonder how good of a hero the man was to have such a stellar reputation with such a horrible attitude. 

Standing now, the cold night air was suddenly ice in his lungs as he lurched to the edge of the roof, armor back over his shoulders but loose, the ties hanging limply. He felt awful, he felt lightheaded, his stomach was an aching void, he stopped at the edge and realized he wouldn’t make the jump. He took two steps back, his brain playing catchup as he tried to map out where he was in relation to his apartment, as though making this first jump would make any of the next dozen jumps any easier. 

Scratchy footsteps behind him, from the middle of the roof; whoever was there had announced themselves intentionally. 

Izuku turned, hands instinctively rising to clutch his side. 

Pro hero Eraserhead stood, hair swirling around his head like black flame, eyes glowing red. His scarf dissected Izuku’s vision into a stained glass mosaic of the night sky, reaching forward, encompassing his periphery. The man was terrifying, goggles down around his neck to reveal his face entirely. 

Holy shit, Izuku thought. He’s so much hotter in person. 

The man regarded Izuku impassively, before slowly reaching up to tap his earpiece. The one in Izuku’s ear buzzed in response. 

“This is Eraserhead to dispatch; no sign of a vigilante here.” His voice was heavy, a slight rasp to it. Eraserhead’s mouth curled into a smug little smile. “Is Enji sure he wasn’t just outrun by some punk?” 

Endeavor’s shouts screeched in both their ears, and Izuku flinched, pulling his earpiece out slightly. The hero in front of him released his quirk with an odd expression, and Izuku inched back slightly as he approached. 

Out of all possible scenarios his brain could’ve come up with, Izuku didn’t think Eraserhead reaching out to gently lift his chin was in any of them. The hero intently held his gaze for several long seconds, much closer than Izuku knew he should’ve let him get, before procuring in his other hand a small med kit, likely from his belt. 

Izuku couldn’t help but flinch when the hero’s hand landed on his shoulder and started tugging him toward the center of the roof, but he followed nervously. He couldn’t outrun the guy like this, and so far he’d made no move to arrest him, so he could at least accept whatever he was going to do for the burn. 

Maybe getting arrested wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, either. He’d once heard that police stations gave you a warm meal if you spent the night in their holding cell. The vigilante charges wouldn’t stick, and destruction of property or obstruction of justice would hardly land him much jail time. 

“Sit,” the hero said, shocking Izuku out of his thoughts. He obliged, dropping to the ground carefully, and immediately Eraserhead was gingerly removing his armor and shirt. 

The hero worked silently, removing the haphazard dressings, applying burn cream and wrapping it carefully. Izuku watched him work, gritting his teeth to keep from gasping in pain. By the time he finished, Izuku was struggling to keep his eyes open, stomach growling loudly as he fought to stay awake. 

Eraserhead was in his face again, practically nose to nose, one rough hand at his chin once more. 

“Are you alright?”

Izuku hardly managed a nod; burn cream was one thing, but he wasn’t going to ask for food. He had some pride, after all. Eraserhead huffed, frowning, and pulled something else out of his belt, a small pouch. 

It’s like Mary Poppins’s bag, Izuku thought. He wondered if he packed his belt every night or if he left it stocked between patrols. Did he pick his snacks out individually? Izuku let his mind wander further as the man pressed the now-open pouch to his hand. 

The jelly pouch was bland, similar to grass jelly, but it was filling, and almost immediately Izuku wanted nothing more than to lay on that roof and sleep. A full stomach after a long workout usually knocked him out, not that he had many occasions to find himself with a full stomach. He relaxed against whatever was behind his back, something round and kind of soft, and oh, that was Eraserhead’s knee, he was practically in the man’s lap. He considered moving, apologizing, and instead relaxed further, noting with confusion the sincere smile on Eraserhead’s face. 

The comm buzzed again. 

“Eraserhead, are you ending your patrol?”

Izuku begrudgingly tried to sit up, clenching his jaw at the pain over his entire side at the movement, but he was stopped by the hero’s hands on his shoulders. Eraserhead tapped his own comm. 

“Yes, I am. I’m logging off of official channels for tonight.” 

The operator recited an obviously rehearsed, procedural sign-off, and the line went dead. 

For once, Izuku’s thoughts were slow, the absurd situation resting on the surface of his awareness like oil on water, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of it anyway. He let the hero help him up, let the man bring him back down to the street, let this stranger lead him back to his apartment. Eraserhead held the front door open for him as they entered, and soon Izuku was curled up in bed, the hero letting himself out through his window. 

His side still ached something fierce, and he found his thoughts clearing the longer he laid there in the darkness. He turned the events of the night over in his mind, looking at it from every angle, and suddenly his face twisted up in confusion. 

How did he know where I lived? 

Chapter 2

Notes:

you guys convinced me, here's chapter 2

From across the street, he watched a series of events unfold, almost comical in its progression. First, a drab figure dressed in black dropped from a fire escape with a distinctly unstealthy CLANG , probably some kind of armor or other equipment striking the railing on the way down. The figure exited the alley, stepping out into the light of a flickering street lamp at the exact moment a villain found himself running through that same spot of light. They collided, the villain, a tall, stocky man, landing firmly on top of the smaller figure, who was almost entirely obscured by the other. 

The hero chasing the villain, Backdraft, rounded the corner just as his target scrambled to his feet, whirling to hold his newly acquired hostage by his throat, and the hero raised his hands placatingly. 

After a tense half-second, the villain cried out in pain, whipping his hand away from the hostage, who reached up and threw himself up onto the villain’s shoulders. Backdraft took the opportunity to rush forward, attacking the villain, who was now glowing red-hot from within, likely trying to set off his quirk, before the shockingly well-prepared hostage pulled a miniature fire extinguisher out of apparently nowhere, jamming the cone into the villain’s mouth and setting it off with a raspy hiss. Backdraft stopped entirely in his tracks, not a foot from the villain’s suddenly still form, as the hiss crescendoed and then died, the three of them forming quite the picture as the foam bubbled out of the villain’s mouth and nose like rabies foam. 

Backdraft helped the hostage down from the villain’s shoulders, said villain doubling over to hack and cough, before properly disabling him with quirk-canceling cuffs. Even from Shouta’s perch, crouched on top of an awning and peering out from behind a store sign, he could clearly decipher Backdraft’s emphatic hand gestures for this mysterious vigilante to get back here, we need to wait for the police! even as Izuku took off running, not slowing at all as he threw a wave over his shoulder just before rounding the corner and disappearing. 

Shouta smiled into his scarf, gaze never straying from his target. He threw his scarf up, swinging onto the next roof over, Backdraft never once glancing his way. 

He knew where Izuku was going; he crossed the city at a leisurely pace, and he was perched in his usual spot, a brick apartment building with an unusually high lip around the roof, as the green-haired vigilante arrived him, sides heaving from the exertion of sprinting through the streets. 

Shouta knew that Izuku ran home at the end of his patrols because he liked the freedom of it, the feeling of the cool night air against him as he crossed the quiet streets. 

He knew this because Izuku kept a meticulous diary; how lucky for Shouta. 

In Shouta’s ear buzzed, as always the incessantly irritating crackle of the hero comm lines, Backdraft’s report of a vigilante finally being recited to a tired operator. Shouta tapped into the line himself with a scoff. 

“I followed your vigilante ,” he said into his earpiece, “and he went straight home. Just a regular guy, a bit shaken up, but from the scorches on his car out front I’d guess he has a fire-based quirk himself. Nothing unusual.” 

Backdraft thanked him for the information, telling the operator to disregard his earlier report, and clarifying that he meant to say his hostage had gotten away apparently unharmed. 

Shouta rested his chin on his fist, staring down at the dim window. Three stories up, second one from the left, with tattered, hand-sewn “blackout” curtains that he’d yet to close for the night, where Izuku was changing out of his gear before falling into bed, exhausted, not bothering to shower or change. 

Shouta could see it clearly in his mind, the other man’s routine etched into his memory. The first time he’d entered that window, he’d been appalled to find it completely defenseless; no lock, no alarm, no nothing . 

He appreciated the ease of access for himself, of course, and took his time carefully cataloging everything inside. He already knew Izuku had roommates, and planted only a few cameras in the kitchen and living room, instead leaving most of them in the bedroom itself. 

He left cameras on the outside, too, one opposite the window on the opposing building, one tucked in the crumbling grout beside the windowsill to watch for any unwelcome guests. Thinking on it now, he pulled out his second personal phone without tearing his gaze from the window, opening a hidden surveillance app. 

He scrolled through each camera, glancing up at that window between each one. Desk drawer. Bookshelf A. Bookshelf B. Bookshelf C. Pen cup. Door frame. Dining room mantle. Living room hutch. Kitchen cabinet. External wall. Windowsill. Each one pulled up easily, the images clear, audio crisp enough to hear Izuku’s clothes rustling as he changed, and he stayed on the windowsill, watching his own silhouette, wondering if Izuku could see him from the same angle if he opened the glass pane and looked up at him. 

He switched back to the one over Izuku’s door, hidden in a crack in his doorframe, and watched until the man was sound asleep in bed. 

On his way home, Shouta smiled to himself, leaping through his window and landing softly on his thickly carpeted bedroom floor. Standing, he turned in a slow circle, scanning the space for anything amiss. 

Satisfied, he walked over to his desk and sat down, pulling out his stationary and his nice fountain pen. 

He filled out the front page of the form almost mechanically, the process intimately familiar. 

Subject: Izuku Midoriya

Date of incident: June 12, 2XXX

Incident regarding: Hero/villain chase, vigilante activities

The incident report practically wrote itself, and Shouta, ever meticulous, spared no detail in describing Izuku’s costume, his pace, the cadence of his breathing through the hero communicator that Shouta had managed to hack so it would never be mute to him as long as it was on. All the important things, really; he frowned as he wrote, pausing, thinking about the one and only time he tried to submit such a detailed report to Naomasa. 

The man had been visibly shocked by the nearly dozen-page incident report Shouta had handed him, and read it right there and then before dropping it back into Shouta’s hands with a sigh. 

“I didn’t wanna know that, man,” he’d said, and waved him off. “Write a normal incident report, and this time you can leave that bystander out of it.” 

Shouta had bristled at that, but it certainly made his life easier; his main police contact had explicitly told him not to mention Izuku in his reports. 

Shouta finished tonight’s report with a short description of his surveillance of the man’s house, noting nothing out of the ordinary except that Izuku seemed to have fallen asleep unusually quickly, perhaps indicating exhaustion or overwork. 

He laid all eight pages out to let the ink completely dry, changing and showering in the meantime, and once he was in his pajamas, he gathered them up and straightened them with a crisp tap, tap on the desktop. One paperclip later, he approached his closet, which had a false wall that revealed a large filing cabinet as tall as he was. This report was added to this month’s file, now the first in line until tomorrow, and he carefully added two brightly colored sticky tabs to it: red for vigilante activities, yellow for a health concern. 

The drawer slid shut with a well-oiled hush , and he was back in bed, wall replaced, cursing his day job that kept him from Izuku during the school week. 

Slouching over his desk in the staff lounge, Shouta groaned, heels of his hands digging into his eyes. It wasn’t quite the beginning of the school year, but there was plenty of prep to be done, and Nedzu had designated this week, just like every other year, to be the staff’s prep week for them to plan and coordinate. Shouta was, of course, completely finished with his prep. His lessons and yearly plans relied almost entirely on the quirks and aptitudes of his students, so aside from reviewing the standard lesson plans he kept between years, lessons like various standard protocols and anatomy, he had pretty much nothing to do. 

His UA work phone buzzed, a notification from his boss popping up. He unlocked the device and scanned it. 

 

Vermin

Please come to my office ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ 

 

Shouta stood, grateful for something to do, and ignored his colleagues’ questions as he stalked to the principal’s office. The heavy wooden door swung open silently, and Shouta breezed past it without a glance. 

“Good morning, Shouta!” Nedzu chirped, already pushing Shouta’s teacup across the desk for him to take. Shouta dropped into the armchair across from his boss and took a long sip of the tea, begrudgingly appreciating the obvious care the rat took in preparing it. He met Nedzu’s gaze and waited. 

“I finished the background check on your little friend ,” Nedzu purred, leaning forward with a toothy grin. Shouta bit down on a smile; he’d been watching Izuku for months, but only recently had he finally allowed Nedzu to stick his nose into his obsession. For all his obsessive tendencies, the rat had always respected Shouta’s boundaries, and he seemed to understand how possessive he already was over the object of his affections. 

Nedzu procured a file, laying it on the desk and sliding it forward. Shouta opened it, glancing at the first few pages, then slid it aside to inspect later. They both knew Shouta would learn nothing new from the file; it was just a formality, a sign of acceptance from Nedzu. 

Shouta was the expert on Izuku, after all. 

Nedzu pulled up one of his screens, turning it to Shouta to reveal a series of chat messages. 

“I know I promised not to reach out to Midoriya-san until you gave me permission, but it seems I found him accidentally.” Shouta leaned forward, scanning the messages, and noted the username at the top: TheGreenestEye . It was one of Izuku’s handles as an analyst online, and the one he used the most frequently. Nedzu continued. 

“I noticed some of his public analyses were of excellent quality and spoke to him privately some weeks ago, and only recently have I made the connection.” Shouta let himself smile at this; Izuku really was an incredible analyst, especially if he caught Nedzu’s attention. He glanced at the rat, noting his smile’s sharpness, and sat back expectantly. 

“You want to do something.” It wasn’t a question; Nedzu had that look in his eye. The animal snickered. 

“I was just thinking, Midoriya-san seems unstable financially, and this analyst work is rather lucrative for him. If something were to, say, happen to his laptop… well. It wouldn’t be all too strange for me to offer to buy a new one in exchange for a commission or two.” 

Shouta nodded along slowly. If Nedzu established such a personable connection with Izuku, not only would it boost his reputation, it would give Shouta an easy channel into his life. They would be colleagues. 

He entertained the idea of Izuku meeting the rest of UA’s staff and frowned. 

“You won’t make him come here, will you?”

Nedzu raised his paws. “Surely you don’t think so poorly of me, Shouta-kun? I would never interrupt his life so seriously without your permission.” 

They held each other's gaze for several long seconds before each cracking an identical, sinister smile. 

Nedzu hit send on his keyboard, the virus innocently popping up in Izuku’s laptop. 

Shouta stood, taking the file with him, and only paused to look over his shoulder at his boss. 

“I think I’ll be busy the rest of this week. We both know I don’t need the prep time.” 

Nedzu just smiled as he left.

Notes:

the more comments i get, the more motivated i am to write :)

Chapter 3

With his laptop out of commission and his burn still making it near-impossible to get anything done at work, Izuku was certain he’d be homeless by the end of the week. One of the commissioners he’d worked with a few months back had recently contacted him on his phone, offering to buy him a new laptop, and he’d accepted immediately, but now he was wondering if it was some sort of joke. The guy hadn’t asked for any of his information, not his address or even his name, so he didn’t have much hope of getting anything in the mail. He sat on his bed, head in his hands, and sighed deeply. Just as he leaned back, hoping to sleep for as long as possible before he no longer had a bed, Hairo threw his door open. Hairo was by far his least favorite roommate; he was the reason Izuku couldn’t leave anything in the apartment’s refrigerator, because he made a point of always eating Izuku’s food. 

“Yeah?” 

Hairo just sneered in response, stepping away and leaving the door open. “Someone’s at the door for you,” he called over his shoulder. 

Izuku was certain he hadn’t ordered anything, so he really had no clue what to expect when he opened the door to find Eraserhead standing right in front of him oh god- 

“Hello, Veridian.” Izuku wondered if a fall from his third-story window would kill him. 

“He- oh, fuck - Hi, hey, Mr. Eraserhead-Aizawa-sama, sir!” Izuku’s voice cracked on the sir , and he felt his face heat up, knowing he was turning bright red. The man’s face remained completely flat. 

“You’re the analyst The-Greenest-Eye, correct?” Izuku nodded immediately. He inhaled slowly, trying to formulate a proper greeting, maybe an apology- hell, maybe he should ask for a lawyer. 

“AreyouheretoarrestmeamIintroublehowdoyouknowmyanalystnamedidIdoanalysisforavillain?” Izuku inhaled again, feeling returning to his fingertips and toes for a brief second before he began again, this time stepping forward toward the hero. “IswearIdidn’tmeantohurtanyoneI’lltalktothepoliceifIhavetojustpleasedon’tthinkIhurtanyoneonpurposeIswearitwasanaccidentIneveraskforpeople’snamesIneedtomakealivingI’msosorryforthetroubleMr.Eraserhead-Aizawa-samasir.” 

Izuku was leaning forward out of the doorway, panting slightly. Eraserhead raised an eyebrow, but didn’t lean away, and instead laid a hand on Izuku’s shoulder to steady him. Izuku thought he was going to pass out. 

“You aren’t in any trouble, Izuku. I’m just here to deliver something on behalf of my employer.” Eraserhead removed his hand from Izuku’s shoulder, letting the man right himself, and then pulled a thin pack from his back that Izuku hadn’t noticed. He offered it forward, and Izuku accepted it with a mumbled thanks. 

Eraserhead remained standing in the doorway, staring at Izuku’s face intently. 

“Is there… anything else?” Izuku was already itching to see what he’d just been given, but he wasn’t about to close the door in the hero’s face. 

Eraserhead took a step forward, now much closer to Izuku than either of them expected. 

“There’s a few things I need to help you set up, if you don’t mind me coming in.” 

Izuku nodded silently, and, turning, led Eraserhead into his apartment. And then into his shitty, tiny bedroom. 

God, kill me now . 

Izuku stared straight ahead as he walked, leading the man to his rickety desk and gingerly setting the package down and stepping aside. He turned just in time to see Eraserhead leaning forward, chest brushing Izuku’s back as he reached for the package, gaze just barely flicking up to Izuku’s face before returning to his work. 

Izuku leapt aside, heart pounding, and backed away as Eraserhead pulled an incredibly fancy laptop out, and holy shit , that’s an expensive brand, then procured two cords and a fancy new mouse and mousepad. 

Izuku sat down on the edge of his own bed and watched the man work, opening the laptop and plugging both cords in. He paused, looking over the desk, before dropping them between the desk and the wall. Izuku glanced at the closed door, noting idly that the hero must’ve shut it behind them, then glanced back to see said hero bent over on his knees, most likely plugging in the cords into the ancient power strip Izuku fondly referred to as Firestarter. 

Izuku noted several things at once. First, that Eraserhead was not, in fact, wearing his regular hero uniform. He was wearing all black, of course, but he was wearing slightly nicer clothes, thin black slacks and a form-fitting black shirt that was riding up to expose a thin strip of his stomach. 

Second, that Izuku had underestimated the amount of, ahem, lower body exercise being an underground hero apparently entailed. 

Third, and most importantly, that Izuku hadn’t dusted his bedroom in far too long, as his gaze caught on a spiderweb in one of the ceiling corners when he turned his entire body in a different direction. 

Izuku heard a sigh, and turned back to see the hero now kneeling, shirt still bunched up slightly as he rested his arms on the desktop, waiting for the laptop to boot up. The position stretched the man’s torso, knees folded on either side of him, and Izuku felt his brain come to a complete stop. 

I wonder if he trains flexibility . 

Izuku stood up, grabbing a duster from one of the bins under his bed and approaching the bookshelf on the far wall, disgusted with himself. He focused on cleaning to distract himself, pausing to open his window to let the air circulate. 

Standing at the window and taking a deep breath of semi-fresh air, Izuku once again noticed the large spider web by his ceiling. Shaking his head, he kicked over a stool and reached up to bat it down. Eraserhead hadn’t said anything about his nervous cleaning, nor what had to be a copious amount of dust bunnies he’d had to fight through to reach Firestarter, so he assumed the man didn’t mind. 

Like a fool, Izuku glanced over to realize that he was standing directly next to his desk, and by extension, to Eraserhead, who was still kneeling, but was now leaning back slightly, hands on the carpet behind him. 

They made eye contact, Izuku looking down at Eraserhead as the man inhaled deeply and sighed, the laptop still not on. The motion raised his shoulders as he leaned back even further, stretching with another slow breath, legs still neatly folded. 

Izuku whipped his head around too fast, setting himself off balance and nearly tumbling off the stool entirely. He caught himself on the bookshelf with a yelp, freezing in place. 

“You alright?” 

“ Hah , yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, Izuku.” 

“Right. Thanks.” 

Izuku sat back down on the bed, duster still in hand, and stared fixedly at his window until the hero finished. He delved into his thoughts, wondering who’d bought him the laptop. He remembered the username of the client who’d offered to buy it, RatGod , but did that mean… oh, of course it did, Izuku already knew that Eraserhead was also a UA teacher. So that would mean… 

“Nezu?” Izuku wondered allowed. The Nezu had asked him for analysis? Why? 

Before he had time to spiral, Eraserhead appeared in his vision, the hero leaning over with one eyebrow raised. 

“Izuku?” 

Izuku straightened, looking up at him with a nervous smile. “Did you get everything done?” 

Eraserhead nodded, still standing directly in front of Izuku. “I did. Make sure to contact Nezu if you need anything else.” Izuku nodded, still sitting. If he stood now, they’d practically be nose-to-nose, not that Izuku would mind. 

The hero stepped back, letting Izuku stand, but Eraserhead was already halfway to the door. 

“I’ll see you around,” was all he said before disappearing, shutting Izuku’s bedroom door behind him and leaving Izuku standing in his bedroom, staring at where the hero had just been standing. 

Izuku turned to look at his desk, a blush rising on his cheeks as he stared at the laptop sitting innocently, facing him. 

When he sat down to boot it up and check in on his analysis accounts, he could still smell coffee and sweat, and couldn’t focus on a single thing until he gave up and crawled into bed instead. 

Shouta shut the door to Izuku’s bedroom behind him, face carefully neutral, hiding his excitement. He’d seen Izuku’s blush, he’d been in the man’s room; he allowed himself a moment to take a steadying breath before reaching into one of his pockets, procuring several small baggies of… powder. He paced through the empty kitchen and living room, creeping into the bedroom of Kiya Motoyuki, who he knew was at work. Donning a glove, he dipped one finger into the largest bag and began leaving traces all over the space. On the door handle, on the desk, in the backpack next to the door; he dropped a crumpled baggie into the backpack as well, then swept out to repeat the process in the next bedroom, one No Tadao. Hirai was already taken care of; Shouta didn’t even need to plant anything. Once the police responded to an anonymous tip about the residents of this apartment, his own memorabilia would incriminate him without any outside help. 

Shouta tucked the glove into a now-empty bag, tucking it away once more and stepping out to head home, a pep in his step. 

He made the call from an emergency phone that he knew was tucked in a CTV camera blindspot, voice raised and pitchy as he spoke to an officer from the next precinct over, knowing it would be handed off the Mustafu PD soon enough. 

He went to sleep early for the first time in years, knowing he’d want to be ready when he got the call to handle a drug arrest. There was going to be an innocent bystander, after all, in need of his help. 

He heard his phone buzz, recognizing the rhythm for Nezu’s contact, and shut his eyes, content to ignore the rat for now.

Notes:

i write more when i'm fed. comments are highly appreciated, i love to see your reactions/thoughts!

Chapter 4

Notes:

bit of a shorter chapter this time, but i hope you all enjoy :)

“His room was clean, we’re almost completely certain he had nothing to do with it.” Shouta nodded, expression serious. The whole precinct was abuzz with the arrest; the memorabilia in Hairo’s room had linked all three roommates to a thus-far untraceable drug ring, and they were closer to shutting them down than they’d ever been now that Hairo had agreed to snitch on his dealer. 

Standing in the living room of the apartment, Shouta turned to Izuku’s bedroom, door shut. He’d been stuck in his room since the police busted into the apartment in the early morning, being grilled over and over again. He’d had no clue what was going on, no idea why the police were even talking to him, and had cooperated at every turn. He was facing no charges, no consequences at all except for an impending eviction now that his roommates were going to prison. 

Shouta dismissed the crime scene team with a respectful nod, crossing the space and knocking gently on Izuku’s door. Hearing a quiet come in , he entered to find Izuku with his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked up, watery eyes widening as he shot to his feet to bow. 

“Mr. Eraserhead-Aizawa-sama!” Shoua cringed internally at the extensive honorifics, holding his hands out placatingly. 

“Please, just Shouta.” Izuku nodded eagerly, blushing slightly. Cute . Shouta entered properly, taking the time to look around like he hadn’t mentally cataloged everything yesterday. He faced a bookshelf, finding the row of unlabeled notebooks, wishing he could pull them down to admire Izuku’s meticulous analysis, his scribbled handwriting. 

“O-Of course, Shouta-sama!” 

Shouta reached up, dragging his fingernail down the spine of one of the more worn notebooks, wondering bitterly which ones had him inside. He didn’t know what these notebooks contained; Izuku never opened them once they were finished, and most of these were far older than Shouta’s infatuation with the man. 

“Drop the ‘sama’.” His voice came out a bit sharper than intended, rougher. 

“Y-Yes, Shouta.” Shouta turned and found Izuku standing stiffly, head bowed respectfully. He approached, sitting down on the bed, and Izuku followed suit, leaving space between them. 

Shouta watched Izuku. Izuku watched his own hands. 

“Has anyone told you what happened?” 

Izuku looked up, shaking his head. His hair whipped to either side as he did. Shouta wanted to reach out and run his hand through the curls. 

“Your roommates, all three of them, have been arrested for drug possession.” Izuku’s jaw dropped in surprise, straightening. 

“What?! All of them?” He clasped his hands behind his neck, looking searchingly at Shouta. “But I- That can’t… Oh god, I’m so screwed!” His voice broke, tears finally springing up in his eyes. Shouta could certainly understand his panic; Izuku had been desperate for roommates, since most people refused to share a living space with him due to his quirk status. Without those three, he would be completely on his own, and there was no way he’d be able to afford rent in this area, and moving was out of the question. It had taken him months to get the shitty job he currently held. 

Of course, Shouta could sympathize, but he couldn’t feel too bad. This was exactly what he’d been after. Regardless, he reached out to lay a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, leaning forward to look into his eyes. Izuku met his gaze, eyebrows drawn together. 

“Izuku, you’ll figure this out. I may be able to help you, but for now, you should know that you’ve done everything right.” He squeezed gently, tipping his head just so. Practiced, perfect. “The police have cleared you, you’ve cooperated and kept yourself clean, and you’re good. No charges, nothing.” Izuku looked up at him, eyes shiny with tears. 

“You mean that, Shouta? I’m good?” His voice shook, desperate for reassurance as his life crumbled around him. Izuku meant to ask if he was safe, if he was in the clear, at least legally. Shouta heard a million other things. He clenched his jaw, nodding gently. His skin burned, hands itching to pull Izuku close. 

“I do. I already spoke to Nedzu, and he has an offer for you.” Izuku nodded along slowly, still holding Shouta’s gaze intensely. Shouta made an impulsive decision. “How about you let me drive you to UA, and we can talk?” 

Shouta would have to text Nedzu the moment Izuku’s back was turned. He wasn’t expecting to meet Izuku today, but Shouta wanted this handled now , not tomorrow, not next week. Izuku leaned forward, grabbing Shouta’s hand. 

“Of course! Of course, Shouta.” His smile was brilliant, and Shouta resisted the urge to squint as he squeezed Izuku’s hands. They stood, and Shouta stepped out as Izuku packed a meager bag. 

 

Sho-kun

I’m driving Izuku to UA. Have his offer ready. 

Vermin

How hasty of you, Shouta-kun. I’ll have tea for both of you. 

 

Shouta pocketed his phone and stood waiting, staring at the door until Izuku emerged, clutching a faded, torn-up satchel. He ducked his head in a bow to Shouta, and followed the man outside, down the stairs and to his waiting car, where Izuku froze in surprise. 

“Sh-Shouta?”

Shouta looked up, standing beside the now-open passenger door. “Yes, Izuku?” 

“Whose car is that?”

“...Mine?”

Izuku stared for a moment longer before nodding slowly. He climbed in gingerly, holding his bag in his lap and looking around. Shouta bit back a smile and closed the door to his black Maserati MC20. Shouta wasn’t a car guy; he was perfectly happy with his usual vehicle, a nondescript black sedan. 

He did, however, enjoy some of the perks that came with being a double-salaried single man, like buying things that he knew Izuku would like. He just had to act casual; if Izuku knew it was for him, he might shy away. 

The car purred under them, pulling out onto the street. There wasn’t much traffic, being the middle of a weekday, and Shouta watched through his periphery as Izuku tensed, looking out the window curiously as they entered the underground tunnel that led to UA’s parking garage. 

Shouta stepped out first, stepping around and opening Izuku’s door. Izuku stood out of his seat, still careful, and bowed his head. 

“Thanks, Shouta.” 

“Of course.” Shouta shut the door behind him and turned. Izuku hesitated before following, trailing behind, and Shouta paused, gesturing Izuku forward. 

Izuku stepped forward, level with the man, and Shouta laid a hand on the man’s back with a gentle smile. “Walk beside me; I don’t want you getting lost.” Izuku blushed, nodding, and Shouta kept his hand there, guiding them both into the elevator. 

He kept his hand on Izuku’s back, feeling him breathe, and when they stepped out into UA’s main building, he pulled Izuku just a bit closer as they traversed the winding halls. 

Izuku noticeably slowed as they rounded the corner, Nedzu’s imposing door coming into view, and Shouta slowed with him. 

“Don’t worry, he’s friendlier than you think.” 

Izuku cringed. “To you, maybe.” Shouta knew he was worried about Nedzu’s opinion of his quirklessness, but nothing he could say would ease his concerns until he met Nedzu himself. Izuku let himself be led forward, gripping his bag, and the door swung open to admit them automatically. 

Izuku braced himself, putting on a nervous smile, and Shouta pulled him inside. 

Notes:

as always, feed me in the comments if you enjoyed/want more :)

Chapter 5

Nedzu watched Izuku and Shouta approach through his screens, sipping jasmine tea. A kettle was boiling, and Nedzu stood in his seat, pouring two cups and adding one bag of earl grey in the first cup bearing a poinsettia pattern, and one bag of bergamot tea in the second cup bearing an ivy pattern. 

The door swung open in perfect silence just as both cups finished steeping. Nedzu leaned forward, taking both bags out and dropping them into the sleek trash can. Shouta led the pair in, holding Izuku’s elbow and settling him in the correct seat, the one furthest from the door, right in front of the ivy teacup. 

Nedzu slid Izuku’s teacup toward him with his closest approximation of a friendly human smile. Shouta sat and took his own cup of earl grey. 

They each took a long sip of their tea, Nedzu and Shouta basking in comfortable silence, Izuku hoping he wasn’t already flushed. 

“So.” Nedzu set his teacup down, Shouta following suit, and Izuku just about dropped his own cup onto his saucer in response. “I take it you’re here to discuss your employment.” 

Shouta grimaced. Izuku sputtered. “E-Employment?!” He looked between the both of them, and Nedzu frowned at Shouta subtly. This was quite the detail to leave out. 

“Yes, employment. You’re a talented analyst, Midoriya-san, and I understand you’ve found yourself in quite the predicament.” Izuku stared at him blankly, though Nedzu tried not to hold it against him; his entire life was quite literally being torn apart. “I’m sure Shouta-chan can help you look over the contract when you receive it, but for now I’d like to do you the favor of having you move in tomorrow.” 

Shouta nodded, crossing his arms. “I’d be happy to help, Izuku, and the dorms are already ready, so moving so soon isn’t a problem.” 

Nedzu reached into his desk, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “I already have all of Midoriya-san’s information, but is there anything I might need to have added to the dorm?” 

Izuku inhaled to speak. “No,” Shouta interrupted. “If he needs anything we’ll go out and get it.” 

Nedzu nodded amiably, putting the paper away, and clapped his paws together. “Then it’s settled! We’ll have him in dorm 104. Shouta, I trust you can get Midoriya-san home safely?” 

“Of course. Thank you for your time.” Shouta stood, reaching down to pull Izuku to his feet and lead him right back out of the office. 

Nedzu finished his cup of tea, watching them go. It really was so satisfying to see a plan come together; he couldn’t be more proud of Shouta. 

Izuku was set on his feet by a surprisingly obliging Shouta, who’d spoken more from leaving Nedzu’s office to arriving at Izuku’s apartment than he had in the entire time they’d known each other (not that that was a very long time at all). Shouta ushered Izuku into the barren living room and right up to his bedroom door before amiably patting his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Izuku. We’ll get some food first, and then we can pick up anything you want to bring and take it to the new dorms.” 

Izuku nodded, and the hero swept away, letting himself out. 

Izuku squinted at his door, cogs turning slowly. He’d not managed a single word since he sat down in Nedzu’s office, and he had a funny feeling similar to paying a claw machine you suddenly realize is most certainly rigged. 

“But I didn’t pay them anything…?” Just to be sure, Izuku pulled out his wallet and held it open. 

Empty, just as before. Izuku nodded seriously and entered his bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look around. 

He needed to take his notebooks, of course. He needed the laptop and all its cords and accessories, which were already in the bag hanging off his shoulder. He needed toiletries like his toothbrush and the shampoo that made his hair feel like straw. He needed his clothes… 

Izuku pulled open his closet, eyes skipping over shirts he’d been meaning to donate or throw out, either horribly stained or covered in holes… which left about six shirts altogether. He knew he had one pair of jeans and one pair of joggers in his drawers, and one pair of shorts with a hole in the pocket. He’d have to pack underwear, and socks, but he only had one pair of shoes besides the ones he was wearing, a pair of flimsy sandals that he could barely fit his feet into. 

Izuku still had the boxes from when he’d moved in, carefully deconstructed and stacked under his bed. He pulled them out and managed to fill two of them before realizing he really didn’t care about anything else. He had the minifridge that was sometimes warmer than the rest of his room, and a threadbare pencil case full of his stationery that also fit in his computer bag. He had no books that didn’t just need to go back to the library, and all his notebooks fit neatly in a third of one of the boxes, covered up by neatly folded clothes. 

Izuku sat on his bed, looking down at what his life apparently amounted to in two cardboard boxes. He stood again, crawling into the far corner of his closet to pull out the bag where he stored his vigilante mask and homemade body armor, rolling it up as tightly as he could to stuff underneath his clothes. 

Izuku climbed into bed, still dressed, only pausing to take his shoes and socks off, and fell asleep staring at the ceiling, laying on top of the blankets. 

In the morning, Izuku set off with his boxes stacked neatly on a dolly he’d found in one of the apartment’s few closets, previously belonging to Hairo. He took a moment to fill one final box with whatever food was left in the pantry, deciding his roommates would probably not be back for any of it. Izuku had no bus pass, nor could he currently afford the subway (according to his banking app, he had 69 cents in his bank account, which is not enough for chicken nuggets, let alone a subway ticket), so he walked through the city, UA finally coming into view just as the morning commute began in earnest. People gave him odd looks, and one lady even snatched the top box off the stack. People leapt out of her way, turning to look at Izuku expectantly, but he just stared forlornly at her back as she made off with his snacks. One older man stepped forward, leaning over to look up at Izuku in concern. 

“Are you alright, son?” 

Izuku sighed. “Yeah. It’s not like I paid for it, anyway.” 

The man raised his eyebrows, but stepped back, continuing on his way as Izuku did the same. Thankfully, nobody else grabbed either of his boxes; he might actually have to chase them if someone stole his box of notebooks. He approached the UA gates, slowing and wondering how exactly he was supposed to get inside. 

Yes, maybe doing this without Shouta’s help wasn’t the best idea, but the man had done so much for him already. Izuku figured it was only polite to not let him do everything. He looked around for some sort of intercom when a cheery ring alerted him to a miniscule red light in one of the posts. 

“Hello, Midoriya-san! You’re here early,” chirped the voice of Nedzu through a speaker Izuku couldn’t find. 

“Y-Yes, sir! I didn’t need help packing, and I’d hate to make Shouta’s life harder!” 

Izuku could swear he heard the animal laugh softly before a loud buzz emanated from nowhere in particular and the gate swung open. 

“Take the first right on the path, then follow that all the way to the staff dorms. Please excuse the other construction sites; student dorms are still in the works, but the staff dorms are impossible to miss.” 

Izuku nodded along to the instructions before flushing, realizing Nedzu probably couldn’t see him, and leaned in closer to the red light. 

“Yes sir! Thank you very much!” 

“Of course, Midoriya-san. I’ve contacted you on your personal email and phone number, so you have my information if you need anything at all.” 

“Of course, sir.” Izuku bowed to the post before straightening and bringing his items inside. He followed the first right on the path, passing one active construction site and trying not to stop and stare at Power Loader and Cementoss as they worked. He hurried past, slowing slightly to bow his head respectfully, though neither hero noticed him, and he soon left them behind as he approached the Staff Dorms. 

The doors opened easily, and Izuku was mentally admiring how well-balanced they were as he approached his door. Nedzu hadn’t given him a key, so he assumed it would be unlocked, but the door to 103 didn’t open. He paused, frowning, and decided to knock. 

He heard shuffling behind the door and sagged in relief. Maybe there were some final preparations being done, and he only hoped he wasn’t getting in anyone’s way by arriving early. 

The noise stopped suddenly, and Izuku stood waiting, wondering if the person hadn’t actually heard him. He leaned forward, hand on the door handle to try it again, see if they’d unlocked it, and grabbed it just as the person opened it themself. Izuku stumbled forward as the door swung inward, looking up to see Shouta standing directly in front of him

More accurately, Izuku froze staring directly at Shouta’s bare chest now at eye-level with him. 

Shouta Aizawa moved and fought with a capture scarf, which demanded an incredible amount of core and upper body strength. As such, his pectoral, shoulder, and abdominal muscles are in peak condition. Shouta Aizawa was, at this moment, shirtless because he’d just gotten out of the shower, meaning his skin was still beaded with moisture, goosebumps visible as the cool air washed over him. He had a towel slung around his shoulders, one end in hand to squeeze water out of his hair, the other draped over his collarbone. The white cloth only emphasized how smooth his porcelain skin was, muscles and tendons in his neck standing out as he looked down at Izuku. 

Both men remained utterly still for a long moment, Izuku’s brain kicking into overdrive as he processed what he was looking at in minute detail before his jaw dropped, stumbling back with a yelp. He could feel his face heating up, knowing he was bright red, and clapped both hands over his eyes. 

“OhmygodI’msosorryShoutaIdidn’trealizethiswasthewrongroom-” Izuku backed up, eyes closed, and felt his heel meet one of his boxes. He flailed, nearly falling flat on his ass, and instead felt strong hands grab his waist, pulling him against Shouta as the man caught him, looking down with a calm look. 

“What do you mean, wrong room?” was all Shouta had to say, and Izuku sputtered, holding intense eye contact solely to keep his gaze from wandering elsewhere. 

“I- You- This is obviously, I mean, just, it’s not the right room because you’re here and I-” 

“No, this is your room,” Shouta stated, and like hell Izuku was going to disagree with him. Shouta pulled Izuku up, setting him back on his feet and not moving away, so they stood practically chest-to-chest. “Did Nedzu not notify you that you’d be staying with me?” 

Izuku’s brain ground to a halt as he opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head mutely. Shouta nodded, looking slightly irritated before his expression smoothed one more and he reached out, grabbing Izuku’s dolly in one hand, placing the other on Izuku’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, it’s mostly because you’re new. All the rest of the staff has been here for years, so it’s both for security and to make sure you’re settling in comfortably.” 

Izuku nodded, letting himself once more be dragged along by the other man, and they entered their (apparently shared) dorm room.

Notes:

i do, in fact, eat comments; if you liked and want more, or more like this outside of this series, feel free to feed me :) and don't worry, next chapter will have shouta's perspective on izuku barging into their dorm

Chapter 6

Shouta was little miffed. He wasn’t angry , per se, just a little irritated. He’d told Izuku they were going to move his stuff tonight, after dinner, and Shouta was going to help him with it. Instead of waiting in his apartment obediently, he’d walked across the city in the early morning, his meager belongings stacked on a dolly, and was going to let himself into his dorm on his own. 

Shouta didn’t believe in luck, but he’d checked the gate recording, and knew Nedzu hadn’t given Izuku any new instructions. Nedzu had told Izuku that his room would be 104. He remembered it clearly. 

Izuku had knocked on 103, Shouta’s room, instead. Completely by mistake. For a moment, Shouta had froze. There was Izuku, looking at his chest, completely still for a few long seconds. It was a great angle, really; Shouta was fresh out of the shower, looking down at Izuku, flushed from his walk, hair tousled by the wind, as he blushed a vibrant red. 

Shouta absolutely could’ve pointed out Izuku’s mistake, directed him to his own room. But Shouta was, after all, a little miffed. So he pulled the other man inside, glancing up smugly at the camera on the opposite wall before disappearing into their dorm, directing Izuku toward their room, showing him their bathroom, telling him where he kept the silverware and dishes in their kitchen. 

Izuku had practically nothing; of course he would use Shouta’s things. Of course he would eat Shouta’s food and use Shouta’s laundry soap and leave his shoes on Shouta’s rack by the door. 

Izuku warmed up to the idea surprisingly fast, and Shouta had to consider that maybe, just maybe, the man wasn’t opposed to the idea of living with Shouta in such close quarters. 

Shouta’s phone buzzed as Izuku started hanging up his clothes on his side of their closet. 

 

Vermin

Your dorm is not big enough for two people, Shouta

 

Shouta could sense the irritation in the text. This was not at all what Nedzu was expecting, and as delighted as they both certainly were by Izuku’s fortunate mistake, Nedzu did love his plans. 

 

Sho-kun

This is the room he was told to go to. I’m sure we can knock down a few walls, open up the space. 

 

Izuku’s actual room was directly next to Shouta’s. Knock down one or two of the connecting walls, move some furniture around, and they’d have plenty of space. The kitchens shared a wall, so Izuku’s stove could be replaced with a regular counter block, his refrigerator swapped out for a large freezer so they could keep meat and meal prep around and never run out of space. The living room could easily be doubled, they could turn Izuku’s other bedroom into a home office for analysis, maybe even set up a few pieces of exercise equipment. 

Shouta looked up to see Izuku wander out of the bedroom, collapsed box in hand. 

“Are you finished unpacking already?” 

Izuku bobbed his head. “Well- Yeah. No, everything’s all settled.” 

Shouta nodded to the pantry. “If there’s anything you want to eat, just tell me; we can go grocery shopping together tomorrow, and I’m making a list.” 

Izuku smiled. “Sure thing. I had some snacks to bring, just stuff my roommates left behind when they, ah, moved out, but someone stole it.” 

“Stole?” 

Izuku’s smile tightened. “Yeah, this lady just grabbed the top box off my dolly and ran off. Lucky me it was just food.” 

Shouta wondered how long it would take to follow Izuku’s route and find the woman who stole from him. 

“Shouta, I haven’t really been around UA yet. Could you… ah, show me around?” 

Shouta decided he had better things to do with his time. For now, at least. 

He led Izuku out of their room by his elbow, promising to give him his key when they got back. Izuku stuck to his side, looking around like a kid at an amusement park. They bypassed the main building for now, and Shouta led Izuku through the training grounds, the gyms, even down a winding path through UA’s forested property. Izuku had endless questions, wanting to know about alumni, building construction, training exercises, and Shouta’s own training regimen, which he was happy to describe. 

They paused at Gym Gamma, Shouta glancing up to the broad, heavy-duty beams criss-crossing the space. 

“This is where I learned to use my scarf. It’s the same as it was when I was a student; Nedzu has it repaired and stress-tested twice a year.” Izuku leaned forward to look around the gym, eyes shining, and looked up at Shouta hopefully. 

“If I could, would you let me watch you train sometime? Or even just see you use your scarf?” 

Shouta let himself imagine Izuku watching him go through a full aerial silks routine with his scarf as “stretching” after a training session, then shelved that idea for later and nodded to Izuku with a smile. 

“We’ll pick a date, then.” Izuku blushed, but nodded in return, and let Shouta lead him back to the staff dorms. It was past noon now, and as they walked in, Shouta noticed Izuku glance toward the pantry. 

“What sounds good for lunch?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out later.” 

Shouta frowned, tugging Izuku toward the counter and gently prodding him toward the stools. “I need to eat, Izuku, and I just figured we could share the meal together. Is there anything you’d want?” 

Izuku pursed his lips thoughtfully, obviously trying to think of something easy. 

“I was thinking of making katsudon?” Izuku visibly perked up, and Shouta let himself smile. “Katsudon it is.” 

The meal came together quickly, and Shouta sat down beside Izuku to eat, a steaming bowl in front of each of them. Both of them dug in, Shouta with uncharacteristic gusto to make sure Izuku wouldn’t feel uncomfortable in enjoying his own food. 

Izuku finished first, and stood, cleaning the dishes since Shouta cooked, and Shouta was perfectly happy to watch the other man in the kitchen, back to him as he worked over the sink. It felt domestic, and complete. 

“I’ve got a little bit of work to complete today,” Shouta lied, standing and offering his bowl to Izuku, who accepted it with a smile. “I’ll just be in the main building, so make sure to text me if you need anything.” 

“Sure, okay. Thanks Shouta.” Shouta smiled down at Izuku, and Izuku turned his head just as Shouta nodded back, so they both froze for a moment with their noses almost touching. 

“I might not be back in time for dinner. Remember, everything in the kitchen is fair game, so make sure you eat.” 

Izuku smiled widely enough to crease his eyes. “I’ll leave some leftovers in the refrigerator.” 

Shouta’s gaze flicked down to Izuku’s mouth before returning to his eyes. “Thanks, Izuku.” He settled for laying a hand on Izuku’s back before turning around and walking out of the dorm. He made it all the way out of the staff dorms building before sitting down on a bench a few paces down the path and dropping his head into his hands. 

“Ohmygod,” he breathed, flushing out to his ears. His phone buzzed, the pattern telling him Nedzu had just texted, and he ignored the message in favor of planting both hands on his face. 

Shouta rounded the building, entering through a service stairwell and climbing to the top floor, where a locked, unmarked door beside a broom closet let him into a small security room. It was lined with screens, showing each room in his dorm from multiple angles, and he finally checked his phone as he settled into his chair. 

 

Vermin

It’s not like you to become flustered so easily

 

Sho-kun

Fuck off

 

Shouta knew it was an overreaction, but he hit send anyway before setting his phone face down on the desk in front of him. He tapped the keyboard, bringing up a view of the kitchen and rewinding by several minutes. He watched him lean over Izuku, watched himself leave, then watched Izuku double over, leaning above the sink. He played the video on double speed, and was soon caught up to the present feed, where Izuku was sitting on the counter, kicking his feet and singing along to whatever was playing off of his beat-up phone. Shouta had already been planning on getting him a new “work phone”, but now he considered buying one of those voice-activated speakers for the kitchen. The cameras had no audio feed on their own, and it wasn’t close enough or at a decent enough angle to read Izuku’s lips, so Shouta had to settle for not knowing what he was playing. 

He was fairly certain he could pull song-streaming statistics from whatever service Izuku used, he’d just have to link their phones while Izuku slept. 

Shouta took a moment to pat himself on the back for splurging on colored cameras; he could clearly make out the remaining blush on Izuku’s face, which hadn’t faded since Shouta had left. 

Shouta did have work to do, though nothing he actually needed to leave the apartment for, so he opened the laptop he kept in the security room, the one linked to his work accounts, and finalized his tentative lesson plans. He wanted Izuku to feel at home in their little apartment, and to do that he’d need to spend time there alone. As much as it pained Shouta to leave when they were finally living together, Izuku had to feel safe there, and that took time. He watched with a fond smile while Izuku sang in the kitchen, then changed into a soft-looking set of threadbare pajamas, then disappeared into their closet. Shouta had a camera there too, of course, to make sure no one got into the cabinet behind his false wall. He’d re-installed it the moment he moved, now on the left wall of the relatively cramped space, and now leaned forward to watch as Izuku’s body blocked whatever he was doing to the base of the wall opposite Shouta’s filing cabinet. He’d taken out a small metal box from the second nightstand Shouta had directed him to earlier, as well as the second cardboard box he’d come in with, though it was still closed. The metal box was apparently full of tools, and Shouta watched as Izuku did something to the wall, before turning and taking the entire cardboard box and moving to once again block the wall. Shouta squinted, curious, and raised his eyebrows when Izuku finally turned around again, grabbing his tools and tucking them away once more. Izuku stood and left the closet, not once glancing toward Shouta’s false wall, and Shouta remained staring at what seemed to be a completely normal, unblemished wall with the cardboard box nowhere to be seen. Shouta was certain it would’ve taken far longer to install hinges or a proper patch; whatever Izuku had done, it was impossible to see over the camera. 

Shouta watched Izuku make dinner, a simple stir-fry with noodles and a sauce he made from scratch, then watched him get ready for bed. Shouta wasn’t a total creep, and didn’t have any cameras in the shower, though he did have one over the bathroom door. He’d angled it so the counter blocked the toilet, offering some small amount of privacy, but then he’d only ever expected to use these cameras to spy on thieves and snoops, not a “roommate”. Izuku hadn’t stopped “dancing” once, moving his hips and mouthing along to his music while he cleaned the kitchen, made up a second plate for Shouta, packed the leftovers, changed, and brushed his teeth. It was getting late, so Shouta shut his laptop and shut off some of the tech around him, watching Izuku settle on the couch with his laptop. 

Shouta kept his steps light as he left, slipping outside and entering again through the front of the building, letting himself in and purposely jangling his keys as he did so, not wanting to startle Izuku. The other man looked up as he entered, smiling, and Shouta nodded as he toed off his shoes, not bothering with slippers as he went straight to the refrigerator to try Izuku’s cooking. 

He sat down, leftovers freshly microwaved, and savored every bite. It was good to come back to a home-cooked meal. He glanced over his shoulder, Izuku’s curls visible over the back of the couch, and let himself smile fondly. 

Everything was coming together.

Notes:

as always, my diet consists of comments and kudos, so feel free to feed me if you liked this chapter :)

Chapter 7

Summary:

mostly fan service this time. remember, i post more when i get comments, they fuel me :)

Izuku was going to die. He was going to pass out and never wake up. He was already in his pajamas, hair clean, ready for bed, but instead of actually going to sleep he was sitting on the couch, tapping away on his phone and wishing he’d had the forethought to grab his laptop earlier. 

Shouta was currently in their bedroom, probably changing. Izuku blinked at his phone and tried to banish the mental image that conjured. He was going to have to go into the bedroom… and sleep. Sleep beside Shouta Aizawa, Eraserhead, in the same bed. 

“Izuku?” 

Izuku dropped his phone into his lap, turning to see the man leaning over the back of the couch, settling on his elbows. His long hair was half-obscuring his face, pooling over and off of his shoulders like silk, pitch black over ivory skin because he was once again not wearing a shirt , the angle he was leaning at raising his shoulders, back and chest curving down languidly. He leaned forward until his hips rested against the couch, elbows braced on either side of him. 

Izuku felt his face heat up and hoped the dim lighting hid it. 

“Y-Yeah?” 

“Anything interesting?” Shouta glanced down at Izuku’s lap, wow his eyes catch the light really nicely, are they glowing? , and Izuku’s brain just about short-circuited until he realized the man was probably referring to his phone. He grabbed it with a white-knuckled grip as Shouta dropped into a half-crouch, sliding backward slightly so his sternum pressed against the couch back. It was a fantastic angle, his chest resting on the cushion, arms spreading out to either side with a soft sigh as he stretched his shoulders. One arm rested right behind Izuku’s head, and he was once again struck by just how warm the man seemed to run. 

Izuku looked at his phone and unlocked it, the screen opening directly to what he’d just been doing: taking notes on an intricate sketch of Shouta in his costume, making minor adjustments to what he’d previously thought about not only the man’s gear, but also his training, indicating the muscle groups he’d mentioned being important for using his scarf. 

“Indicating muscle groups”, in this instance, meant replicating the original sketch of the man, but this time drawing him shirtless to more clearly define the groupings. For research purposes, of course. It wasn’t a finished sketch, just what he’d had time to do before Shouta had gotten back from work in between unpacking and updating some of his other notebooks. He refused to draw on his phone, so he was making crude highlights around the image to make sure he didn’t forget by the time he actually had the chance to put it in his notes properly. 

Shouta whistled appreciatively, leaning toward Izuku to look at the screen, his arm grazing the back of Izuku’s neck. “That’s quite a skill you’ve got, Izuku,” he said softly, staring at the drawing of himself. “But I wonder how accurate it is?” 

Izuku’s embarrassment was, for a moment, overwhelmed by indignation at his notes being insulted. He turned, nose-to-nose with Shouta. 

“It’s as accurate as possible! Your costume is perfectly accurate, down to the spacing of the slats in your goggles.” 

Shouta quirked an eyebrow at his response, reaching down to lift the phone, laying his hand over Izuku’s in the process. “And what about the… anatomical one? Don’t say you’ve been spying on me.” 

Izuku flushed, legs drawing up onto the couch as he found himself thoroughly caged in by the other man. “N-No, I-” Izuku glanced down, blush returning in full force, and mumbled, half to himself, “I just assumed you’d look like most heroes…” 

Izuku missed the irritation that flashed across Shouta’s face at that, but he certainly heard the playful tsk as Shouta stood, turning to walk slowly around the couch, first passing through the pale light of the kitchen. Pale light pooled over him, a black-and-white image before he entered the living room itself, half his body cast in darkness and highlighting the angles of his toned muscles, bare torso now fully visible, his sweatpants resting low on his hips and revealing a nicely defined “v” that the angular lighting threw into distracting definition. He stopped in front of Izuku, standing over him, leaning close to take the phone in hand again and holding it up beside himself, screen pointed to Izuku, as though to compare. He didn’t straighten again, leaning over Izuku, the light from the kitchen making his eyes shine a deep red. 

“Other heroes? If you needed a reference, you should’ve just asked.” Reasonably, Izuku could hear the friendly lilt to the man’s voice, could understand that he was probably definitely joking, at least to some extent. Izuku was not, at this moment, exercising any amount of reason or logic, and the way Shouta was speaking, low and intimate, like he didn’t want to break the otherwise serene atmosphere of the evening, made something in Izuku’s gut curl, a pit of warmth like a purring cat as he blinked stupidly up at the man. 

Shouta tilted his head, letting the phone lower, turning the device off. “How about you watch me train tomorrow? You wanted to, right?” Izuku nodded automatically, still bluescreening as Shouta smiled, and oh wow, he’s so much prettier when he smiles, and Izuku let Shouta tug him to his feet, linking their arms and holding Izuku close, pressing into him as they passed through the door instead of letting go to walk in separately. 

“We should sleep early,” Shouta was saying, guiding Izuku to one side of the bed and leaving him there, rounding to the other side alone. “I get up to train pretty early, and you don’t need to be there the whole time, so how about you come meet me at 8?” He climbed into bed, and Izuku copied him, laying down mechanically and turning to face Shouta, which was a mistake . 

Shouta was laying on his back, head tilted to look at Izuku out of the corner of his eye. 

“Goodnight, Izuku.” 

With a click, Shouta turned off the lamp on his nightstand, the only light source in the room. They were both plunged into darkness, only Shouta’s even breathing convincing Izuku that he hadn’t just dreamed this entire interaction up. 

He fell asleep far faster than he could’ve expected, lulled to sleep by the comforting warmth of Shouta’s body two feet away, the bed cozy and warm around him. 

Izuku woke up slowly, sunlight barely visible around the blackout curtains. He turned, noting that Shouta’s side of the bed was empty already, and reached out to find the mattress already cold. He sat up with a groan, stretching, and slumped forward. He turned the events of the night before over in his mind, burying his face in his hands. Shouta was so nice , and hot , and perfect , Izuku felt like he was about to have a heart attack just living in proximity to the man, let alone sharing a bed . He looked over, noting how much space was between where he’d been sleeping and the wrinkled sheets where Shouta had laid. 

He didn’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed that the bed was so big. 

He checked his phone, noting that it was just past 7; Shouta said he trained in Gym Gamma, which was a ten-minute walk, which meant Izuku should leave fifteen minutes before 8, which means he should be ready twenty minutes before 8, which means he has half an hour to eat. He climbed out of bed, stopping to throw an empty notebook and some drawing supplies in a bag before emerging from the bedroom to make his way to the kitchen. 

One breakfast and outfit change later, he was walking out of the apartment half an hour early, walking to Gym Gamma, bag clutched to his side. He was excited, of course he was; this was going to be a ton of new information for his notes, and of course that was the only reason he was excited to see Shouta training. 

He stood in front of the gym’s door, steeling himself. He was not going to be weird about this, he was going to be appreciative for this opportunity to learn and pay attention . To the training .

He let himself into the gym and immediately found something else to pay attention to. 

Izuku knew that stretching before exercising was bad for you if you were trying to train strength. It temporarily weakened the muscles, so you should do simple cardio, or easy, dynamic exercises to warm up instead. 

Apparently, the dynamic warmup Shouta favored was akin to an aerial silk routine. His scarf was strung over a high beam, each end wrapped around his forearms with long, hanging ends beyond them, draping down almost to the floor. A small part of Izuku’s brain noted that this must be a specialty scarf, since it was much longer than his normal one. The rest of his brain was focusing on the admittedly religious experience of seeing Shouta Aizawa moving languidly through the air in tight stirrup leggings and a loose black tank top that rode up and revealed his stomach and back every time he twisted upside down or sideways. 

Shouta caught Izuku’s gaze for a moment, meeting his eyes as he twisted, lifting his legs up, then turning his entire torso so he was held upside down, arms straight out to either side, before slowly lowering himself back upright, hanging in the air like a crucifixion victim. He lowered slightly, shoulders flexing, and dropped to one side. One arm untangled from the scarf in a swift motion, and he dropped, landing in a crouch, the scarf falling in a pile behind him. 

“Good morning, Izuku.” 

“Good morning, Shouta.”

Notes:

as always, i eat comments. if you liked this, hated this, want more, or want to shout at me to add something, feel free to feed me :)

Chapter 8

Summary:

sorry this took so long, college is killing me. enjoy these two being domestic :)

Izuku sat against one wall, watching Shouta train. The man was fluid in the air, gorgeous and perfect, every movement shockingly powerful. It had Izuku itching to train himself, to work up a sweat; he hadn’t been out to patrol for the past few days, and it was getting under his skin to be so stagnant. 

The training lasted three hours; it was over in seconds to Izuku, but his notebook full of dynamic sketches and notes said otherwise. Shouta must’ve picked up on Izuku’s restlessness, because as he settled with his back to the wall, skin glistening with sweat, he looked over at him with a smile. 

“How does patrol sound? You’re free tonight, right?” 

The way he said it, Izuku had to remind himself the man was talking about work. He could think of plenty of other things they could do to burn some time on a free night, but he forced himself to nod. 

“Right, yeah! That sounds fantastic!” 

Shouta nodded, leaning his head back to rest it against the wall. Izuku’s hand, still clutching his pencil, moved on its own, sketching his profile. 

“You’re pretty good at that.” 

“It’s important to have accurate diagrams.” 

“Hm.” 

Shouta held still; Izuku fleshed out a simple, cross-hatched sketch of him. For research purposes. 

“Nedzu wanted to talk to you today.” 

“What about?” 

“Your employment.” 

“Ah.” 

They sat in silence for several long seconds. 

“When did he want to meet me?” 

“About an hour ago.” 

Izuku pitched forward, shoving his pencil and notebook into his bag. He staggered to his feet, ruffling his hair and wondering if it still looked half decent before tugging on his clothes. They were wrinkled and not at all appropriate to meet Nedzu in; he made a beeline for the door, and pointedly ignored Shouta’s amused chuckling behind him that definitely did not make his face heat up, not even a little. 

He crossed the campus, grateful he’d thought to bring his laptop, and just about threw himself through the door to Nedzu’s office, breathless and flushed. 

“OhmygodI’msosorryMr.NedzusirIhadnoideaIwassupposedtomeetyoutoday-” 

“That’s quite alright, Midoriya-san, I know Shouta didn’t inform you until you were already late. Please, have a seat.” Izuku gratefully dropped into a chair, accepting the cup of tea Nedzu pushed toward him. 

Their meeting was long, but Izuku found himself speaking excitedly with the animal, readily accepting the analyses the principal wanted to request: Vlad King, Midnight, and Present Mic. He’d already done analysis on all three heroes in the past, but with the additional information from their UA files, he knew he’d be able to produce a much more in-depth report than before. Nedzu instructed him to go straight to the cafeteria, as Lunch Rush would have a meal waiting for him, so Izuku texted Shouta that he’d be missing dinner as he stepped out of Nedzu’s office. 

He pocketed his phone as he made his way to the cafeteria, finding Lunch Rush waiting with a meal and a clipboard. Izuku sat to eat, and spent nearly an hour finishing an absolutely delicious meal while being grilled about his preferences, allergies, and sensitivities as Lunch Rush wrote questions for him to read, then copied down everything he said. 

By the time Izuku finished, Lunch Rush disappearing with his empty plate back into the kitchen, he pulled out his phone to find three texts from Shouta. 

 

Shouta

That’s fine, thanks for letting me know

And then the second, about twenty minutes after Izuku left Nedzu’s office and first texted him: 

Are we still patrolling tonight? 

 

And the last one thirty minutes after that, only a few seconds before Izuku checked his phone: 

Let me know when you’re done eating. 

 

Izuku felt a pang of guilt, quickly typing out a response. 

 

Izuku

Sorry! I got caught up with Lunch Rush, he wanted to ask me about my food preferences. I’ll be back soon, and then we can go patrolling!

 

Izuku hurried home, letting himself into their dorm and toeing off his shoes. He hurried through the space, throwing open the bedroom door and dropping his bag onto the bed. He changed quickly, and was in the process of wrestling his shirt off when the bedroom door opened. Free of his temporary bindings, he looked up to see Shouta in his hero costume, leaning against the wall and staring at him. 

“Here I was, thinking I’d been stood up.” 

Izuku flushed, fumbling for his shirt. “W-Well, I didn’t mean to stay out so long, but Nedzu and I had a lot to talk about, and then Lunch Rush kept me, and I…” Izuku paused, looking down at his body armor in his hands. “I’m sorry, Shouta, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.” 

Izuku heard the man’s sigh, but Shouta thankfully didn’t sound angry when he spoke. “It’s fine, Izuku, I promise. Once you’re ready we can head out.” 

Izuku nodded, donning his body armor and belt, and quickly slipped back out into the hallway, finding Shouta waiting in the living room. The man looked up, smiling slightly, and together they stepped out into the night, making for the edge of UA’s grounds. They were in step, moving silently, shadows among the trees, then silhouettes against a blank sky. There were no stars in the city, light pollution and smoke obscuring them and leaving an ominous black sky. 

They settled on top of the wall around UA. Izuku watched as Shouta glanced at a camera, a single nod to it before leaping forward, Izuku hot on his heels. 

Nothing beat this. Nothing made Izuku’s heart pound like leaping through the city, senses sharp, adrenaline buzzing at the base of his skull. 

Shouta’s radio crackled, said something in his ear, and Izuku’s earpiece spoke up a split second later, a tiny delay from not technically being able to log onto the comms directly. A villain pursuit, lost two blocks from their position, and by the time Izuku had heard it there was a scarf around his waist, carrying his momentum and bringing him level with the hero, releasing him almost reluctantly. They ran side-by-side, feet pounding the concrete, silent except for their measured breathing. 

Izuku recognized the villain’s name. He spotted it, a pitch-black shadow almost indiscernable from the lightless crevice of an alley, a light manipulation quirk. He brushed Shouta’s arm with his hand, a slight movement to avoid alerting the villain, and when they met the edge of the roof, Izuku took a step, took another, landing firmly on the lip of the roof, and dove directly toward the opposite wall, feet-first, Shouta’s scarf already lashing out to sweep through the indefinite shape that was already trying to dash out of the way. 

Izuku’s reinforced soles, repaired over and over again with increasingly unforgiving materials, met the villain’s sternum with a crack, and he winced sympathetically. That sympathy was largely absent when he grabbed him by the hair, wrenching him off the wall as his momentum reversed and slamming the villain’s nose directly into his metal kneepad. Shouta landed in the alley, scarf floating around him, watching closely as Izuku landed in a crouch, the villain hanging by his hair, unconscious. 

“Nice shot,” Shouta mumbled, and Izuku nodded, dragging the villain to the wall and leaving him lying on his side. He put his hands on his hips, making a mental note to spray his pant leg with stain remover before washing it. Shouta had his hand on his radio, calling in an accident, stating the villain stumbled during the chase and “ate shit” on his way down. 

Obligingly, Izuku swiped some of the man’s blood off his knee pad and smeared it on the dumpster beside him. 

“Oh my goodness , Shouta,” Izuku smirked, falling into his usual vigilante persona, “ Cursing on the comms? There are children present!” 

Shouta gave him an unimpressed look, but now, having known the man for all of a few days, Izuku was sure he wasn’t imagining the quirk of the corner of his mouth. “Children?” 

Izuku crossed his arms, spinning and striding out of the alley. “ Yes, Shouta, children . Don’t act like you don’t know Endeavor is on patrol tonight. Who knows what he’ll do if your foul language sullies his precious ears?” 

Shouta snorted, grinning as they stepped out onto the street. They leapt up onto an awning, settling side by side, waiting for the police to arrive. 

“That’s quite the switch,” Shouta said softly, and Izuku shrugged. His persona as Veridian was friendly, quippy, known mostly for his agility and resourcefulness, though the heroes whose routes overlapped with his own knew him as salt in a wound, always there to taunt them when they screwed up. It was all in good fun, definitely, no real malice at all, not even when he intentionally sabotaged certain heroes’ support items to decrease their, ahem, firepower, in the interest of civilian lives and safety. 

“I have to say, though, Viridian? As in green? Not the most creative.” Izuku gave Shouta a look, and received only a blank stare in response. 

“It’s- It’s a pun. Not viridian with an ‘i’, Veridian, with an ‘e’.” 

“What?” 

“It- Veridian, V-E-R, not V-I-R. It’s from the word veridical, it means truthful or real.” 

“So you’re Real?” 

“I mean I think so.” 

Shouta blinked at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Izuku sighed and hung his head. “Yeah, I know. I just misspelled Viridian when I first was designing my armor and stuff, and it bugged me to have it wrong once in my notes, so I just kept it.” 

“Nerd.” 

Izuku shoved Shouta off the awning. The man flailed, laughing, and Izuku crossed his arms and looked away as he awkwardly clambered back onto the metal overhang. 

On the street below, the squad car and ambulance pulled up, and they watched silently, two glowing pairs of equally ominous eyes that the officers dutifully ignored. The villain was checked over by an EMT, and then bundled off to the hospital, and then likely to the police station soon after. 

Izuku stood, bounding up onto the roof, and Shouta followed behind him. They paused, facing each other for a moment. 

“Yours or mine?” Izuku asked, and was surprised when Shouta’s face darkened slightly in the dim moonlight. 

“Don’t say it like that,” the man grumbled. “But mine, if you don’t mind.” 

Izuku nodded. “Sounds good. Your route tends to be busier, anyway.” 

They set off, falling into a comfortable rhythm. The pounding of their feet on the concrete, on brick, on metal fire escapes and cracked asphalt, the crackle of comms, it all blurred together. Izuku found himself sitting on the curb in front of a vending machine, Shouta setting himself down and offering him a can of tea. He took it, their hands brushing, and their elbows brushed, too, because they were close, sitting side-by-side, close enough for Izuku to feel the frankly shocking amount of heat Shouta produced. It seeped through both their clothes, clinging to the little pocket of air around them, and for a moment his stupid brain tried to wonder if Shouta could feel how cold it was on Izuku’s side, if he was noticing that Izuku didn’t even feel like a presence beside him, an empty space. 

“You smell nice,” Shouta mumbled, and Izuku’s brain kindly shut up. 

“I don’t wear any scents,” Izuku responded, and Shouta just nodded, and let the silence collect around them like dust for a few seconds. 

“You smell like…” He thought for a second, staring down at his coffee. “You smell like warm laundry, not detergent, just… like a blanket left out in the sun.” He looked up, expression surprisingly open. “You know?” 

No, Izuku didn’t know. He had no idea what to say, what to do with the look Shouta was giving him, and he was giving it to him, something being offered that he couldn’t put a name to. 

“I think so,” he said into his tea. Shouta nodded. 

The air between them was warm, and Izuku was suddenly not so impatient to get going again. Neither was Shouta, apparently; they sat together, looking at nothing, until Shouta lifted his radio and quietly signed off, the regular ending time of his patrol coming and going. 

When Shouta stood, it was with a rush of warm air, and he smelled like metal dust and still air and warmth. 

They walked home, and Shouta held the door for Izuku when they finally reached their dorm, and it was easy, and quiet, to change on their sides of the bed and curl up under the blankets, and Izuku decided that yeah, he could let himself be annoyed by how big this bed was, but it wasn’t so bad when Shouta sprawled out, or when he turned over and closed the gap by an infinitesimal degree. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Izuku.”

Notes:

as always, i eat comments. feel free to feed me, i love when y'all have theories about what will happen. i read all of them :)

Chapter 9

Summary:

Domestic bliss.

Notes:

I AM SO SORRY. i have had no motivation to write recently, and i'm not completely happy with this chapter, but here it is. feel free to shout at me in the comments

Shouta woke up to Izuku curled up with his back pressed to that invisible barrier dividing the bed in half. He’d sprawled out the night before, taking up a little more space, and he was glad he had. He shifted over, turning to face the other man, and settled again, the empty space between them warmer than the blanket on top of him. 

Maybe that was just his imagination. 

Izuku sighed in his sleep and turned his head, pressing his face into the pillow. Shouta took a slow breath and let his mind drift, wondering if Izuku ever wore a hair covering to bed, wondering when it wouldn’t be an overstep to buy him one as a gift, wondering if it ever wouldn’t be an overstep to ask to wash his hair for him. 

The curtains were shut tight, no light entering. It was still pretty early, at least considering they’d fallen into bed well past 2 in the morning. He had time to enjoy this. 

For once, he took the chance to rest. Maybe this is what people mean when they say love changes you. 

Shouta’s mind helpfully reminded him that he still needed to write his multi-page report of his patrol, especially since this one would be much longer since Izuku was with him for the entire time. 

Maybe this isn’t exactly what most people mean, but that’s fine. Shouta blinked slowly, enjoying the drowsiness that came with staying warm in bed instead of hauling himself out into the cold air the moment his eyes opened. 

He blinked again, and Izuku was facing him, propped up on one hand, expression pensive. 

“Good morning, Shouta.” 

“Morning, Izuku,” he rumbled, and they sat for a moment, something different. 

“Patrolling with you was fun,” Izuku said after a moment. Shouta felt the almost, the last night was fun on the tip of the man’s tongue, the wry smile he’d had to bite back at the phrasing. 

It hurt more than he expected to know Izuku so well, to have him right here, and to act like a stranger. To act like he was no better than an acquaintance. To act like a roommate, or a keeper. 

“Do you want breakfast?” and Shouta did, and he said so, and Izuku got out of bed first, and he left a patch of warmth Shouta tried not to think about as he got up as well. 

That morning, they ate simply. Toast, eggs, sliced fruit, tea, coffee. Shouta needed to write his reports, Izuku needed to work on his analyses, and the day passed quietly. Shouta got home to find Izuku working at the table; he set a plate of pear slices beside him without comment, and that night the bed felt a little smaller. 

The work week for an underground hero and an analyst was thankfully quiet; paperwork during the day, interspersed with quiet calls and errands, and patrols at night. Izuku got a desk in the staff lounge; Shouta didn’t even have to convince him not to meet the other staff yet. He set the desk up, though Nezu was kind enough to leave all the stationery he might need waiting in the drawers, and continued to work from home. 

The patrols were smooth. Smooth, easy, regardless of how eventful they were, and they passed like dreams. Shouta found himself happy. His reports got shorter, though they were still very detailed, but what did he need his reports for? He had Izuku. He had him, right there, asleep beside him. 

Shouta laid in bed a week later, the afternoon light barely peeking past his blackout curtains. Patrol had been good. Patrol had been easy, and Izuku was waking up and turning to face him. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Sure.” 

Izuku made a traditional breakfast. Miso, fish, rice, and tea, plus a mug of coffee for Shouta. Shouta pulled out dishes, pulled out ingredients, but was shooed out when Izuku actually got to cooking. 

So he sat, and he watched, while Izuku chopped green onions and cubed the tofu. 

“You like traditional breakfasts?” Shouta already knew he did; his notes said so. 

“Yeah, I do. Is poached fish alright?” 

“Sure.” 

Izuku worked with his head hung low, eyes glued on his hands; he cooked for himself, and he’d nicked himself enough times to be careful with a knife. He let Shouta wash the rice, at least, and it was nice to stand side by side. Shouta set up the rice cooker and looked to Izuku, now standing over the stove with a pot and a pan, carefully watching both the fish and the miso soup. It came together quickly. A bowl of rice, a bowl of soup, a small plate with a piece of poached fish, and their drinks, laid out neatly as they sat down. 

“Thanks for the food, Izuku.” 

“Of course. Shouldn’t be any bones in the fish, but I didn’t check.”

“Right.” 

They ate quietly. The table wasn’t silent; Izuku asked for the soy sauce, Shouta pointed out a piece of rice on his face. The windows were open, the sunlight was on Izuku’s side of the table; these were their seats, at their table. Shouta was starting to worry he was having heart problems. 

“Is the tofu cold?” 

“No, mine’s alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Thanks, Izuku.” 

“You said that already.” 

“Yeah.” 

Shouta had to resist the urge to practically lick his plate clean. He settled for making sure to leave not a single piece of fish or rice behind, and Izuku’s dishes were just as pristine as they both stood and returned to the kitchen. Side by side again, Izuku at the sink, Shouta putting the dishes away as he dried them. 

Izuku started with the pans and cooking utensils, and Shouta dutifully dried each item before turning to tuck them away, noting with satisfaction how Izuku moved, familiar with the kitchen’s layout already. When Izuku moved on to the tableware, the bowls and plates and chopsticks and spoons, Shouta dried them all at once, setting them out on the counter until Izuku was almost done before reaching up to open the cupboard of dishes. 

Shouta gently laid the back of his hand on Izuku’s forehead, guiding his head a bit lower so the cupboard door wouldn’t hit him. He stood behind him, back to chest, as Izuku used a dishrag to wipe down the sink and Shouta set the clean plates on the small pile waiting in the pantry. 

He paused, cupboard door still open above them, when Izuku turned, the rag dripping from his hand. Inches apart, and Izuku’s eyes were on his face, studying him, while Shouta let his hand lower, resting lightly on the counter. Resting on either side of Izuku. 

“Thanks for making breakfast, Izuku.” 

In lieu of a response, Izuku leaned forward an infinitesimal degree, and Shouta felt that warmth again, from bed, from sitting on the curb with him drinking vending machine coffee and saying things that were stomach ache-inducingly honest. From having him. 

“You smell like coffee.” 

“You smell like tea.” 

Izuku didn’t seem to mind the scent of coffee. For that, Shouta was grateful; he would give up coffee for this man, if he asked, but Izuku didn’t seem to mind at all as he tilted his head back and to the side, just a bit, lips parting, eyes drifting down to Shouta’s mouth. He didn’t seem to mind it as Shouta drew his hands in a little closer, sliding along the counter until his forearms rested against Izuku’s sides, just above his hips, and Izuku turned, facing him fully, and then Shouta wasn’t really thinking about what he was doing, because Izuku was doing something. Izuku was kissing him, just for a second, and it was perfect and made Shouta’s chest ache, and Shouta could only freeze up and let Izuku do it. 

Izuku pulled back, and Shouta felt icy dread down to the pit of his stomach at the sudden uncertainty in his eyes before Shouta laid a clammy hand on Izuku’s lower back and leaned down and kissed him until they were bent over the sink, Izuku’s back arching as he laid his own hand on Shouta’s jaw. It was chaste, close-lipped. Shouta felt Izuku’s breath hitch and warmth bloomed in his stomach as he turned, so his hip was resting against the counter, so he wasn’t crushing Izuku quite so bad. He kept a hand on his back, the other arm looping around his waist, and Izuku’s arms found their way around Shouta’s neck and stayed there. 

Izuku’s hands were wet from the dishes. Shouta smiled into the kiss and opened his eyes just as Izuku pulled back slightly, stars in his eyes. 

Stars, followed quickly by tears, which started to spill over as Shouta chuckled gently, cupping Izuku’s face. The man hiccuped, chest spasming, and Shouta kissed him again, and again, then kissed his cheek and his temple and his forehead until Izuku started to laugh instead. Shouta pulled back to look down at him, thumb stroking his cheek.

“Thanks for the food.” 

“C-Can I make breakfast again tomorrow?” Izuku warbled, still a bit choked up. 

“Of course you can.” 

Shouta leaned back, a silent, gentle suggestion, and Izuku let him go. Shouta bit back a grin at how reluctant the other man seemed, even as Izuku finished washing out the sink. Shouta put the leftover rice away, to make fried rice later, and by the time he was closing the refrigerator Izuku was beside him again, glancing at him without an ounce of subtlety, hands twisting together. 

Shouta smiled, really smiled, and led Izuku to the couch, sitting in the corner and practically guiding him down to sit beside him as he reached for the remote. He put on something quiet, some documentary he knew Izuku had seen before, and enjoyed the way he leaned into Shouta’s side. 

“Shouta?” 

“Hm?” 

“I, um…” Izuku trailed off, at a loss, and Shouta started to play with his hairs. Nice, but not very soft. I should get him new shampoo, maybe new conditioner. A hair mask? 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Shouta mumbled, trying to think of the products he’s seen in Hizashi’s shower. Curly hair needs different stuff, though, so he’ll have to look at his notes. He continued lowly. “It can just be this, if you want.” 

Izuku paused.

“And what’s… this?” 

Shouta took a breath. He could be patient; he wouldn’t push. “Just this. Here, at home. Private, if you want it to be. It’s up to you.” 

Izuku’s frown was shockingly hurt, and made Shouta’s heart squeeze almost painfully. “I don’t want it to be private,” he mumbled, almost petulant. “You’re not a secret.” 

Shouta dragged a hand through Izuku’s curls and watched them spring back up, trying to keep his voice even. “You want this to be something?” 

“...yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Izuku looked up at him, the light from the TV flickering in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Shouta leaned down and kissed his forehead. Izuku craned his neck back a bit further and caught the second kiss on his lips. 

The documentary played. Shouta’s mind leapt between the report he needed to write for the patrol last night, the report for this morning, and the fact that Izuku was making himself comfortable by pressing as close as possible into his side. 

“Shouta?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any work to do today?” 

Of course he did; his caseload was endless. “No, not really. Why?” 

Izuku deflated slightly. “I was just… I mean, Nezu gave me some analyses to work on, some returning students that could use the quirk help, and we could work at the table together…” 

Shouta straightened immediately, already excited to do something so domestic. Working from home together? Sitting at the table while they worked? Yeah, Shouta could get behind that. “I’m sure I could find something to do. Come on.” 

Izuku needed no coaxing to stand up, and they parted just long enough to retrieve their respective devices. Shouta knew he’d need to start moving some of his device from his surveillance room, since he was now loathe to leave Izuku alone, but his laptop would do for today. He sat down at the table and didn’t bother to hide his smile when Izuku sat across from him, glancing up with his own bashful grin. 

That night, there was no gap. Izuku laid down first and Shouta took a chance, laying down right beside him, and was rewarded with Izuku curling up against him. 

Shouta looked over Izuku’s shoulder at the closet door, the false wall containing his report files, the other false wall with Izuku’s notebooks (because how cute, that he thought he could hide anything from Shouta), and considered making an excuse. He considered getting up to change, to shower, so he could duck out and write a report, update his notes. 

Shouta buried his nose in Izuku’s curls instead. It could wait; he had something more important now. The most important thing he could possibly have. 

Izuku shifted just a bit closer, and Shouta tightened his grip around his waist. 

More important indeed.

Notes:

i hope you all are at leaset semi-satisfied with this ending. i eat comments; if anyone is waiting on update to my other works, feel free to demand updates. it really does motivate me. as always, reactions in the comments are welcome. i love hearing what you guys think about the fic, positive or negative.

Notes:

i live off comments, they're actually all i eat. if anyone wants a continuation be sure to let me know :). also Mr_Dinosaurus has made a companion fic called Deleted Scenes - No Signs of Life, so feel free to check that out if anyone is interested in some spicier scenes