Chapter Text
The building Todoroki Touya is ushered into by his police escort is modern, elegant and a bit plush. The doorman bows politely, then wordlessly indicates the way over to the lift. No doubt that “discretion” is part of his job description. As Touya steps into the lift, flanked by police officers, he catches sight of his reflection in the mirrored walls.
Because his burns from the Final War were still fresh when he got locked up, the Tartarus doctors with their fancy medical technology and Healing Quirks were able to slowly restore his skin to something akin to its state from before the war. A patchwork face of pale unblemished skin and old purple burn scars, held together by staples, stares back at him, but Touya supposes he is lucky that he even has some healthy skin left at all now after nearly burning himself to death.
(Again.)
The doctors weren’t able to restore his right arm, but with the cutting-edge neurocybernetic prosthesis Endeavour paid for, Touya is pretty much back to being a functional human being. Physically, at least.
Speaking of the old man, he is also the one sponsoring Touya’s fancy house-arrest-slash-bachelor-pad in the wealthiest neighbourhood in town. The aforementioned discretion of the people who live or work in these kinds of buildings was surely a deciding factor, but after nearly two years in the medical care unit in Tartarus and five years in a regular jail cell Touya really doesn’t give a flying fuck about why they’re giving him such a nice place to spend the rest of his 12-year-sentence in. All that matters is that it’s a real flat with real furniture and real rooms, and that he’ll have the place all to himself. The promise of privacy, peace and quiet is much, much needed (as attested by his therapist).
He’s still not interested in having any sort of actual relationship with his father, but if the old man wants to atone by buying Touya expensive things, well, Touya is still too much of a selfish bastard to say no to that.
The ride up to his flat is smooth, and whilst the assistant cops in the entourage unlock the door to the flat and carry Touya’s few belongings into the genkan, the chief of the operation gives him the house arrest lecture one more time.
“Your ankle bracelet will trigger an emergency alarm if you somehow try to take it off or move further than 10 metres away from this building. This is so that you can safely evacuate in case of a fire or gas leak. If you do step outside we will be notified regardless, however as long as you remain within the permitted radius there will be no alarm. You must keep your Quirk-cancelling wrist cuff on at all times, unless the hero assigned to keep an eye on you deems it an emergency situation and decides to remove it. If you try to remove it without authorisation it will also trigger an alarm. This is not just to protect other people from your Quirk but also for your own safety. Your medical team has urgently advised you, not to use your flames anymore after your - quite frankly - miraculous survival seven years ago. You will continue your weekly therapy sessions with Dr. Nakayama via video chat and your medical team will send someone over for monthly check-ups.”
Touya nods along solemnly as the police chief reiterates the rules and regulations they have already drilled into him about five times now.
“For any day-to-day matters please consult with the hero assigned as your guard. He’ll have his assistant take care of grocery runs and the like. Things you would normally have to leave the house for.”
At that Touya finally perks up a little. “And who is this glorified babysitter of mine?”
The police chief doesn’t twitch at his choice of words and just continues in the same matter-of-fact tone. “You’ll find out when he arrives. He moved into the flat across the hall last week and he’ll be here soon.”
Touya raises an incredulous eyebrow at the uniformed man. “Really? That’s all you’re giving me?”, he asks drily.
“Yes. He requested to be the one to introduce himself to you.”
It takes everything in Touya to refrain from rolling his eyes. His attitude towards heroes may have mellowed significantly over the past few years, but this mysterious hero kind of already sounds like an insufferable bastard. Figures that Touya of all people would get stuck with someone like that.
All thoughts of insufferable heroes however dissipate pretty quickly, when Touya is finally allowed to step into his new home. He toes off the boring white sneakers he’d been given at the prison and makes his way down the hall to peek into the different rooms. His police entourage politely waits in the genkan as he sets out to explore the flat.
The hallway leads into a spacious living room, illuminated by the winter sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and balcony door. There’s a large midnight blue sofa tucked into a corner facing a sleek electronics set-up with a TV and sound system, and Touya can even make out the unmistakable colours of a Nintendo Switch.
He knows the flat’s interior was mainly put together by Fuyumi; he’s going to have to give her a call to thank her when he’s got his phone all set up later.
Across the room there’s a dining table able to seat eight people and the walls are artfully decorated with framed posters of bands and movies Touya liked when he was young. There’s a bookshelf housing just a handful of novels and practically begging to be filled with more. The room feels cozy, inviting and personal , and as the realisation hits Touya that he has never, in his nearly 31 years on this godforsaken planet, lived in a place this comfortable before, his eyes suddenly burn with phantom tears. He inconspicuously wipes under his staples to make sure his fucked-up tear ducts haven’t leaked any blood before he wanders back into the hallway to explore the rest of the flat.
The kitchen is modern but homey. The windowsill is decorated with flowerpots holding basil, parsley and chive plants, which Touya isn’t entirely confident he’ll be able to actually keep alive but he makes a silent resolution to try. Counters, cupboards and appliances line the walls of the room, while the centre houses a small kitchen island and four bar stools. Touya sneaks a glance into the fridge, but isn’t surprised to find it empty spare for a few bottles of water.
He sweeps his eyes across the room once more before he moves on to the next one.
A guest bedroom, indicated by the cheesy but strangely endearing pastel yellow cushion that has “Hello visitors!” written on it in English decorating the queen size bed.
A sleek and shiny bathroom with a ridiculous claw-footed tub lined up to face another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an admittedly stunning view across the city.
And finally, the master bedroom. The king size bed placed along the centre of the right wall looks so incredibly soft and cozy that Touya suddenly cannot wait to go to sleep later. There’s a comically large closet lining the opposite wall that could probably house three times as much as every piece of clothing he has ever owned in his life, and that includes all his clothes from his childhood. The floor-to-ceiling windows are framed by thick dark green blackout curtains and the light grey carpet under Touya’s socked feet feels pleasantly fluffy.
He still can’t quite believe that after a childhood in a cold dark mansion, an adolescence and young adulthood mostly spent on the streets or in mould-infested ramshackle abandoned buildings, and the past nearly seven years in a high-security prison, he’ll get to live in a place like this now. Warm. Comfortable. Quiet. Safe .
He probably doesn’t deserve it, but he carefully locks that particular feeling away to be mulled and agonised over another time and makes his way back to the genkan, where the police officers are still standing around with his two small bags and quietly talking to each other.
“Todoroki-san!”, the police chief calls out when he sees Touya emerge from the bedroom. Touya grabs his luggage from the assistant officer and sets it down by the wall. “Your guard has just arrived and is on his way up. Once you two have become acquainted our job here will be done and we’ll be leaving you to your own devices.”
Well, now Touya is a little bit excited. The house tour has put him in such a good mood that even the idea of becoming acquainted with a goody-two-shoes hero bastard can’t dampen his spirits.
Maybe this guy will at least be fun to annoy.
(Because even seven years of jail and therapy can’t stop Touya from being a little shit.)
“Hello!”, a smooth (and weirdly familiar?) voice calls from outside the door and the police officers move aside to make space for the hero to step into the genkan.
Blond hair. Golden eyes. Black markings. Red katana strapped on his back.
Touya’s heart lurches, then drops all the way to his arse when he registers the familiar face sunnily smiling up at him.
“Hawks?!”, he nearly screeches. “My babysitter is Hawks?!”
***
“Oh”, pro hero Shouto says a bit dumbly as he stands in the locker room of the agency, halfway out of his costume, and stares at his phone.
“Everything okay, shortcake?”, Katsuki asks from the other side of the bench, peeling off the skintight top half of his winter suit.
Shouto nods. “Yeah. My mum just texted me that my brother got released today.”
“Ah, right, you said it would be some time this week. You gonna go visit him later?”
“No, not yet. His therapist advised us to wait a few days before we visit him. Let him acclimatise to the new environment first.”, Shouto explains and sets his phone down on the bench, so he can continue changing out of his costume.
Katsuki hums in response, voice slightly muffled by the hoodie he’s tugging over his head. “Makes sense.”
“Who has to acclimatise to their new environment? Did someone get a pet?”, comes Izuku’s excited voice as he bursts through the door, face flushed from the cold outside and a few snowflakes melting in his hair.
Cute, Shouto thinks.
“Touya was released from Tartarus today. He’s at his new flat now”, he says out loud, shimmying into his jeans.
“Oh!”, Izuku breathes and promptly flushes three shades darker.
Really cute.
“Gosh, sorry, that makes my question sound so tactless, I obviously didn’t mean-“
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it”, Shouto interrupts him gently before he can go off on a tangent of unnecessary self-castigation.
Katsuki huffs from where he’s perched on the bench and lacing up his boots. “Seriously, nerd, stop fussing so much. Icyhot knows damn well you didn’t mean it like that.”
Izuku chuckles a bit nervously, but dutifully makes his way over to his own locker to change into his hero suit. “So, how was patrol? Anything important I need to know about?”
“Nah, not really. Some punk ass kid tried to steal sweets from a konbini on a dare from his little friends, but that hardly requires us heroes to step in. We only got involved because we just happened to be around the corner anyway.”
“I think the cold weather has made all the villains go into hibernation”, Shouto supplies helpfully. He can practically hear Katsuki roll his eyes now that Shouto has subjected him to this - clearly hilarious - joke for the second time within the past hour.
It’s worth it though because it draws a little giggle out of Izuku, and Shouto always gets a kick out of both riling Katsuki up and making Izuku laugh.
“Are you guys heading home now?”, Izuku asks as he zips up his thermal undersuit.
“Yeah, I am. What about you, Icyhot?”
“Me too. I still have some reports to finish, but I wanna curl up under a fluffy blanket with a hot chocolate while I do that. This weather calls for it”, Shouto explains as he shoulders his bag and makes his way over to the door.
That finally draws a genuine laugh out of Katsuki. “ You are literally the last fucking person who gets to complain about this cold ass weather, Halfie.”
Shouto offers him an innocent little smile. “What about the other Ice Quirk users in my family?”, he challenges, just because.
“Shut up”, Katsuki grouches (but Shouto is pretty sure he means it affectionately) and nudges Shouto out the door. “See you tonight, nerd.”
“Bye Kacchan, bye Shouto!”, Izuku calls cheerily.
“Be careful and stay safe!”, Shouto calls back as he lets Katsuki’s hand on his back steer him outside.
They head down to the underground garage of the agency building and Katsuki spends pretty much the entire drive back to their flat muttering about how his stupidly fancy car was not built for roads covered with disgusting slushy snow. Shouto just leans back in his seat and lets Katsuki’s voice wash over him as he watches the city outside pass them by.
Their flat is located in one of the nicer parts of town (being a successful pro-hero certainly does pay well), not too far away from the agency. The three of them - Shouto, Katsuki and Izuku - only moved in there a couple months ago, shortly after Izuku had gotten his suit and fully fledged pro-hero Deku had finally made his official debut. They had each lived on their own before that, but with the three of them finally starting their own agency together it just made sense to become flatmates and move closer to their shared workplace.
And, so far, Shouto is loving it.
It feels a bit like a tamer, more grown-up version of the UA dorms, especially because with the three of them being in the same place most of the time, their flat has kind of become Class A’s unofficial meeting spot whenever their schedules line up enough to organise a big get-together.
Some of their closer friends (mainly Kirishima and Kaminari) have also taken to showing up announced whenever they feel like it, which tends to earn them a grumbled “this isn’t a fucking Heights Alliance common room” from Katsuki, but no one genuinely seems to mind and Shouto is always happy when he gets the chance to spend more time with his friends.
Living completely on his own for a while after graduation had been a nice and educational experience, but after his lonely and isolated childhood, life in the UA dorms had been like a balm to his soul, something he hadn’t even known he’d needed that much, and he still finds that he generally feels a lot better when the option of pleasant human company is always just one bedroom door away.
Their flat is spacious - three bedrooms, two bathrooms and one large living room with an open kitchen area - and when they finally step inside after their drive home, Shouto quickly changes into sweatpants and then does exactly as he said he would: He concocts himself a large mug of hot chocolate with an obscene amount of almond-based cream on top and then curls up on the couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket with his paperwork balanced on his lap.
When Katsuki emerges from his bedroom, also dressed in sweats, he snorts at the sight of Shouto in his little winter cocoon. “You’re ridiculous, Icyhot.”
“I made you coffee”, Shouto says, indicating the steaming mug of pitch-black liquid on the coffee table.
“Thanks”, Katsuki replies, plopping down on the sofa next to Shouto with a book in his hand. “You mind if I put on some quiet background music?”
Shouto shakes his head and takes a sip from his chocolate-y sugar bomb. “Go ahead.”
Katsuki starts tapping away on his phone and soon the warm guitar and husky vocals of an acoustic rock song start to gently seep into the room from their bluetooth speaker. He then squints warily at Shouto’s drink. “That shit looks disgustingly sweet.”
“It is”, Shouto confirms, smiling at him serenely.
They spend the rest of the afternoon like that - clutching their hot drinks, Shouto writing his reports and Katsuki reading his crime thriller, with soft rock music accompanying them as the winter sunlight from earlier that day finally fully makes way for another bout of heavy snowfall. When Shouto finishes his paperwork he burrows deeper into the couch and watches the flurry of snowflakes dance outside the window as his mind starts to drift.
He finds himself thinking about Touya - because how could he not?
Nearly seven years of family visits to Tartarus. Nearly seven years of clumsy attempts to reconnect and get to know each other in ways they never did as children. It certainly hasn’t all been smooth sailing. Especially the early years in the medical unit and the beginning of Touya’s psychotherapeutic journey were emotional roller coasters that threatened to throw different members of the Todoroki family completely off at various points in time, and the legally required presence of at least one of his parents during all of Shouto’s visits before he turned 18 certainly didn’t help matters either.
But they made progress.
Touya made progress in therapy and Shouto grew up and the two of them slowly managed to build a delicate sort of camaraderie.
Conversation now flows between them fairly easily and they probably know each other better now than they did when they were kids. Still, a certain emotional distance between them remains, like they’re both still keeping some of their guard up around each other. And Shouto, with his subpar social skills, who is even now still working hard to maintain his newly built-up emotional closeness with his non-criminal, non-incarcerated siblings, doesn’t really know what he needs to do to get them both past that.
He wonders if things will be different now that they won’t be under constant surveillance anymore. Maybe the natural setting will make them feel more comfortable with opening up to each other.
There’s still a promise to be fulfilled about making their paths cross and Shouto doesn’t intend to give up on that.
***
Touya’s brain is soup and it’s swirling and sloshing around dangerously in his skull as he stares at the formerly winged hero standing in front of him.
“Hello, Touya”, Hawks greets him cheerily. “I can call you Touya, right? I was told you don’t go by Dabi anymore.”
“Touya is fine”, Touya replies almost absent-mindedly as he continues to stare at Hawks and tries to get his bearings.
How the fuck is this his life?
“Awesome.” Hawks turns to address the police chief. “We’re good here, you and your folks can head out now. I think it’s better if Todoroki-san and I become acquainted without an audience of ten watching us. I’ll check in with you on the phone later.” He somehow manages to offer the uniforms a smile that is simultaneously polite and assertive, and with one last glance at Touya the police chief signals to his subordinates to follow him outside.
Hawks smoothly shuts the door behind them. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t jump the gun too much there, but you were looking kind of overwhelmed and I figured it might be better for us to have this conversation in private.” He looks vaguely apologetic.
Touya kind of hates that Hawks managed to read him that easily but he’s also grateful to be rid of the audience. “Why?”, is the first thing he manages to croak out. He awkwardly clears his throat. “I mean, why are you here?”
“Because I’ve been assigned to keep an eye on you.”
“Yes, but why? Why you?”, Touya asks incredulously, eyeing the hero up and down.
Hawks shrugs. “I mostly do independent freelance hero work nowadays. I cut ties with the Commission after the war and I’m not quite as powerful as I used to be. When an opportunity like this - longterm work contract, stable income, nice place to live with all expenses taken care of - comes along, I’m obviously not gonna say no.” For a moment his face is unreadable before his expression morphs into something old and familiar, a glint in his eyes and a cheeky smile curling around his lips. “Besides, aren’t you happy it’s me? You could’ve gotten stuck with some boring guy with a stick up his arse. This way your babysitter will at least be enjoyable company.”
If Touya’s heart hadn’t already plummeted to his arse earlier, it would definitely be heading there now. The stupid bird (ex-bird?) is still as brazen as ever and Touya is pretty sure he will need at least three therapy sessions to come to terms with the Pavlovian response his body apparently still has to the hero’s audaciousness.
Or, well, it would take him three therapy sessions.
If this was something he had actually ever opened up about in therapy before. Otherwise they surely wouldn’t have approved Hawks for this job.
It’s not that he’s been actively withholding this particular bit of information from his therapist. He just never thought the embarrassing animalistic urges the winged hero used to trigger in him, when he would hold a sharp red blade to his throat in those dark abandoned warehouses, would ever be relevant again.
Sue him.
“And you took this job, knowing it would be me you’d have to babysit?”, he asks, just to gain back some control over the situation.
Hawks shrugs again. “Out of all the criminals in Tartarus that I could’ve ended up babysitting, you certainly aren’t the worst one to end up with. And you know that.”
He’s right. Touya does know that. His criminal record might be bad, but it’s pretty mild compared to what a lot of those other prisoners have done to end up incarcerated in the high-security prison.
He supposes he’s also, like, mentally somewhat well-adjusted now. Or whatever.
About one year into his therapy sessions, one year of untangling the utter mess that had been knotting itself up tighter and tighter in his mind since his flames first started burning him, he was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. And ever since he started receiving treatment specifically aimed at that particular issue, he’s been making a lot of progress.
So, Hawks is right. It could’ve been a lot worse.
Touya still doesn’t fully believe the hero’s reasoning for signing up for this job, but he knows he’s not going to get anything more out of the man for now, so he decides to leave it be.
“Alright, Birdie. Enlighten me. How’s this all gonna work?”, he asks, perhaps overdoing the exasperation in his voice a little bit.
Then he catches himself.
“Sorry, is that insensitive? With your…” He gestures vaguely at the lack of red-feathered wings on Hawks’ back.
Hawks chuckles. “Nah, it’s fine. I may not physically have the wings anymore, but I’m still me. I still go by ‘Hawks’ as well, don’t I?”
“How does that work, by the way? Being Quirkless and a hero?”, Touya can’t help but ask. He’s been curious about it for a while, especially since his little brother told him about Deku’s return to the job.
“It’s getting much better these days. The discrimination and lack of trust people put in you is honestly much worse than the actual part of not having a Quirk on the job. I still have my katana and I have a bunch of really great support items from Hatsume Industries that allow me to still fight on the frontlines and keep up with the Quirk users. I’m obviously not at the level that I used to be at, but it’s definitely not bad. And society has really been making progress when it comes to accepting not just Quirklessness in general but also Quirkless heroes. Deku’s return to the scene last year really shifted things even further, and I think we’re slowly heading in the right direction. The general public really loves him, and I’m lucky to still have some remaining popularity from my heyday left as well.”
Touya nods and hums in understanding. He may not know what it’s like to suddenly become Quirkless, but he’s painfully familiar with the feeling of losing his ability to use his Quirk like he used to before, and he also knows what it’s like to lose a part of his body. He imagines it probably wasn’t easy for Hawks to adjust to life without his wings.
“That’s good to hear”, he offers honestly.
“Wow, you really have mellowed”, Hawks comments, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I had no idea you could be this nice.”
Touya rolls his eyes at the (totally lame) attempt to tease him. “What therapy does to a motherfucker”, he says drily.
Hawks huffs a laugh. “Glad to hear that’s working so well for you. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? May I?” He gestures at the zippers on his boots and Touya nods.
They migrate to the kitchen and settle on the bar stools. Touya grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and offers one to Hawks, who gratefully accepts it and promptly chugs down about half of it. Touya raises an eyebrow at him but decides not to comment and busies himself with taking small sips from his own water to cover for the fact that he suddenly doesn’t have a clue what he’s supposed to say or do next.
Luckily, Hawks takes the lead once he’s set down his half-empty bottle.
“Right. So. I know they probably already gave you the lecture about what you are and aren’t allowed to do multiple times, so let’s skip that and get to the part about my role in this.”
“Glorified babysitter”, Touya helpfully supplies, smirking a little around the rim of his bottle.
Hawks attempts to give him an unimpressed stare, but the twitch of his lips betrays him.
“I’ve been assigned as an on-site first responder for all matters concerning your safety and well-being. That includes taking care of day-to-day matters as well as monitoring your condition and behaviour on house arrest. I’m also here to protect you from potential outside forces. We currently aren’t aware of any external threats to your safety, and all the staff and tenants of this building have signed NDAs to keep your presence here under wraps, but we know how quickly the tides can turn in our society, so as long as you’re under the care of our legal system we need to have a contingency plan to ensure nobody can get the jump on you.”
Touya would like to argue that he can defend himself and doesn’t need a bodyguard, but between his fragile health and Quirk-cancelling wrist cuff he knows damn well that right now he’s just a lanky guy with a prosthetic arm who hasn’t even engaged in any sort of hand-to-hand combat in seven years, so having a katana-wielding hero around probably isn’t the worst thing in the world, in case some lowlife thug he managed to piss off a lifetime ago decides to come find him and get their revenge.
“I will be checking in with you every morning around 10 to make sure you take your medication. I’m also required to spend two hours a day at your flat to monitor you. You get to choose when that happens every day and we don’t have to talk to each other during that time, if you don’t want to. Surveillance duties aside, your therapist believes it will be better for you if you aren’t left completely to your own devices all day long. Even if your company just consists of me silently sitting in the corner and reading a book.” Hawks lets out a little laugh at that.
Two hours. He’ll have to spend two hours in Hawks’ presence every day. Touya is starting to suspect that maybe prison wasn’t the real punishment for his crimes and it’s actually this .
“I’ll be across the hall in my flat the rest of the time. If I ever need to go somewhere for professional or personal reasons, there’s a small roster of heroes that have been briefed and approved for this and they’ll send someone in to substitute for me until I get back. Day-to-day errands will be taken care of by my assistant though. Groceries, drugstore visits and the like. You just let me know what you need and I’ll send my guy out to get it.”
“What if I ask for something I’m not allowed to have?”, Touya asks slyly, because he just can’t help himself, can he?
Hawks raises an eyebrow and smirks at him. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your request.” A brief pause. “Though I’m sure my assistant’s reaction if I told him to go buy a few grams of cocaine would almost be worth it. The guy is nice, reliable and very good at his job, but he is a bit of a goody-two-shoes.”
The hero’s eyes twinkle like he’s letting Touya in on some juicy secret and Touya kind of wants to bang his head against the marble counter his forearms are resting on.
He opts for rolling his eyes instead and rubs at his forehead. “So, how about those groceries?” It has started getting dark outside and Touya hasn’t eaten anything since his last (tragically bland) prison breakfast this morning. Now that the ruckus of the day has died down a little bit, his stomach is slowly starting to bemoan the lack of attention.
“Ah, yes”, Hawks says, producing a little notepad and a pen from his coat pocket and leaning in a little closer, so they can pore over the shopping list together.
Touya tries very hard not to think about the fact that the hero still wears the same cologne as he did all those years ago.
“I have been told that your family stocked this place up with cleaning supplies and the like, but with food you’re gonna have to start from scratch. Do you have any dietary requirements or restrictions?”, Hawks asks, uncapping his pen.
“Uh”, Touya says eloquently. “I’m a bit lactose intolerant and I hate fish.”
“Gotcha.” Hawks nods and starts scribbling away on his notepad. “Anything specific you want? Or should we just start with the basics? Do you even know how to cook?”
Touya shoots him an indignant glare. “I’ll be 31 in like two weeks, what the hell do you think?” He doesn’t mention that his cooking skills - which absolutely do exist, thank you very much - are limited to a small handful of pretty basic dishes, but he’s sure he’ll be able to expand on those once he’s got his electronics and Internet access set up.
Hawks hums as he begins to list a variety of fruit, vegetables and spices on the notepad. “You’d be surprised how many people our age can’t even boil a pot of noodles.”
“Soba”, Touya blurts then. Hawks glances up at him curiously. “I like soba. Put that on the list.”
When they finally finish compiling a shopping list so long that Touya isn’t sure he’ll even be able to eat all of the food before it expires, they make their way back to the genkan.
“I’ll hand this to my assistant and head over to my flat to do my check-in call with the police now. I’ll drop your groceries off later”, Hawks announces as he slips his boots back on. “Will you be okay on your own for now? If you need anything you can always come knock on my door.”
Touya sighs. “I’ll be fine, Birdie. Go do your thing.”
The hero throws him a crooked smile and a two-fingered salute. “See ya!”
“Thanks”, Touya forces himself to call after him before the door shuts and Touya is finally, finally alone.
***
When Izuku returns from his afternoon shift, Katsuki has nearly finished cooking Fuyumi’s old mapo tofu recipe and Shouto has made himself useful by setting the table and stealing bits and pieces of the vegetables Katsuki had chopped for a side salad. Shouto didn’t get banned from the kitchen though, so he counts that as a win.
“Dinner is almost ready”, he informs Izuku when he shows up in the kitchen looking slightly dishevelled.
“Oh, thank god, I’m absolutely famished”, Izuku sighs and plops down at the table. “You guys won’t believe the day I’ve had.”
“What happened?”, Shouto asks, taking the seat opposite him, as Katsuki carries the pot with the steaming food over to the table.
“There was a car crash downtown, near the train station. Nothing major, there was ice on the road and those two guys sort of slid into each other with their cars. Some property damage, but thankfully no one got hurt.” He shovels some food on his plate and then in his mouth. “Oh my god, Kacchan, this is delicious!”, he moans, slightly obscenely, and Shouto has to avert his gaze.
“Of course it is”, Katsuki scoffs, but Shouto can see the glow of genuine pride under all that attitude.
“Izuku is right, this is really good! Thank you for cooking”, Shouto tells him earnestly, and he knows he’s not just imagining the faint pink tint that appears on Katsuki’s cheeks.
“Shut up and eat your food, Halfie.” He then turns to Izuku. “You were saying, nerd?”
Izuku wolves down another mouthful before he continues his story. “Right, so, those guys got in an accident, but the situation seemed under control. It really was just a coincidence that I was even patrolling the area at the time, but anyway, suddenly I hear a commotion from around the corner, so I go to check what’s going on, and turns out one of the guys has a Quirk that lets him shoot tennis-ball-sized rocks from his hands and he’s bombarding the other guy, yelling about how he ruined his new car. The other guy is ducking behind one of the cars - a matte grey Porsche - using it as a shield and I’m thinking, well, maybe the rock guy is having financial problems or something and that’s why he’s getting so riled up. So I step in and help the police put the guy in Quirk-cancelling cuffs, and then , as they’re putting down names and statements, I find out that the rock guy is the CEO of some massive international coal-mining company and the Porsche is his car. Can you believe that?!”
“Fucking rich people”, Katsuki mutters into his tofu.
Shouto tilts his head in thought. “Aren’t we technically ‘rich people’, too?
Katsuki sputters mid-bite. “Not like that, we’re not!”, he exclaims indignantly.
“No, no, Kacchan, I think Shouto has a point”, Izuku weighs in, mirroring Shouto’s head tilt. “I mean, look at how we live. Look at the monthly income we have at our disposal. Look at your car”, he adds pointedly.
“So?! We’re not capitalist pigs destroying the environment and bombarding innocent civilians with literal fucking rocks!”, Katsuki exclaims exasperatedly.
“You’re right”, Shouto agrees mildly. “There are different layers and flavours to the whole ‘rich people’ thing. I just think we should keep in mind how privileged we are.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him. “Big words coming from you, nepo-baby.”
Shouto just huffs a laugh. “That’s why I think it’s so important to check our own privilege. It’s something I was very unaware of growing up and I feel like I still have some catching up to do in that regard”, he explains earnestly.
Katsuki and Izuku exchange a quick glance Shouto couldn’t even begin to try to decipher, even if he wanted to, before Katsuki gently nudges Shouto’s shin with his foot under the table and Izuku offers him a warm smile.
This is a thing Izuku and Katsuki do sometimes. They seem to be able to have entire conversations by simply looking at each other, and unless it’s a really obvious situation Shouto almost never manages to make out what the two of them are actually saying to each other. He supposes it comes with the whole “childhood friends” territory and Shouto isn’t bothered by it per se, but he still sometimes wishes he was privy to whatever secret communication his two best friends have going on with each other.
They never make him feel bad about it or excluded, but if Shouto is being honest with himself there are quite a few personal things about the two of them that he wishes he was privy to. He also knows that that is likely never going to happen and he doesn’t want to risk ruining things between them.
What the three of them have is good. Their friendship is good. Their work is good. Their living situation is good. And despite his socioeconomic privileges Shouto’s childhood was sorely lacking good things, so when he actually gets them now that he’s older, he tends to do his damnest to hold on to them with gentle hands and protect them.
“Oi, you two nerds. Finish your food. I have early morning patrol tomorrow and I wanna go to bed”, Katsuki orders as he gathers up the empty pot and the dishes they’re not using anymore to rinse them in the sink and put them in the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to wait for us, Kacchan”, Izuku tells him gently. “We’ll clean up. You can go to sleep if you’re tired.”
Katsuki squints at them like he’s trying to decide whether he can trust them with this monumental task before heaving out a sigh. “Fine. But you had better not forget to run the dishwasher over night.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Shouto offers him a stern salute, then softens his expression. “Good night, Katsuki.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Kacchan”, Izuku says with a placating smile. “We’ll take care of it. Sleep well!”
Katsuki heaves out another sigh, then turns around and stalks off to his bedroom with a mumbled “night”.
Shouto and Izuku quickly finish the rest of their dinner and dutifully load and turn on the dishwasher.
“You wanna watch something?”, Izuku asks as he wipes down the kitchen counter and the dining table.
Shouto nods. “Sure. You got something in mind?” The two of them have the afternoon shift tomorrow, so they’re not in a hurry to go to bed.
“Well, I ran into Shinsou at the supermarket the other day - I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that - but he told me about this documentary he had recently watched about underground heroes and it sounded really interesting. I thought perhaps we could check that out?” The enthusiasm in his voice and face coaxes a fond little laugh out of Shouto.
“Sounds good”, he says. “I’m in.”
Even if he wasn’t genuinely interested, he probably still would’ve said yes. Just to make Izuku beam at him like he does now.
They head over to the living room and settle next to each other on the couch. Shouto fishes the remote out from behind a cushion and turns on the TV, while Izuku drapes the fluffy blanket Shouto had wrapped himself up in earlier that day over both their laps. They’re sitting close, but not close enough to touch, and yet Shouto can still feel the warmth radiating off of Izuku’s body underneath the blanket. Part of him wants to scoot closer, so that they’re actually touching, but he doesn’t feel quite brave enough for that, so he settles into the coziness and heat of the almost-touch and lets the documentary Izuku pulls up wash over him.
Outside it’s still snowing, big heavy clumps of white fluff falling down, and the evening city lights are glistening on the snow-covered streets and rooftops.
***
Finally on his own - truly on his own - for the first time in seven years, Touya feels like he can breathe just a little bit more easily again. He unpacks his few possessions he brought back from prison (two changes of clothes, two sets of sweatpants and sleep shirts, a few pairs of boxer briefs and socks and a small stack of books, that were gifted to him over the years by his siblings) and then sets out to explore the flat a little more thoroughly. As Hawks had said the kitchen and bathroom are both stocked with cleaning supplies, hygiene products and the like. Touya makes his way from one room to another, browsing every cupboard, closet and shelf he can find and running his fingers along the clean and smooth surfaces of every piece of furniture.
When his exploration leads him to the living room again, he inspects the selection of books his family has set up for him a little more closely. They’re mostly classics, brand new editions with ornate clothbound hardcovers, but there is also what appears to be a trilogy of old, worn-out paperbacks with cracks all over the spines, that have clearly been read and re-read many times over. When he pulls one of them out, he realises with a pang that it’s an old adventure series for children that he used to be obsessed with when he was about 10. He flips the book open and there, on the first page, is a little box that says “This book belongs to”. Underneath the box he finds his and all his siblings’ names scribbled in descending order by age. All of their names have been crossed out except for Shouto’s, right at the bottom.
The sight makes Touya’s heart clench painfully in his chest and his eyes sting with phantom tears again. This time he actually feels a little trickle of blood leak out between his staples. He carefully puts the book back on the shelf and pulls a tissue from the box on the coffee table to wipe his cheeks.
Since the judge that signed off on the terms of his house arrest didn’t deem it a risk to grant him Internet access, Touya’s family also bought him a laptop and a smartphone. He plugs both of them in to charge, before his feet almost automatically carry him back to the shiny bathroom with its ridiculously opulent tub. The washing facilities in Tartarus were anything but pleasant, and life between run-down villain hideouts and the streets certainly didn’t offer anything beyond the bare necessities when it came to personal hygiene, and Touya’s tired patchwork body is suddenly aching to indulge in a warm bath.
He strips out of his clothes (and oh, wow, he’s really going to have to do some online shopping because these clothes he was given in prison are terribly bland and boring and so not his style) and carefully removes his prosthesis, while he lets the tub fill up with warm water that’s just so teetering on the edge of too warm. He also chugs in one of those colourful bath bombs he spotted during his shelf-browsing earlier, because why the hell not?
When the tub is full and the water has turned all purple and pink and bubbly, he finally sinks into the steaming warmth and actually lets out a drawn out groan. Submerged all the way up to his neck, he can actually feel every single knot in his muscles untie itself, and the tension slowly seeps out of his aching body.
For a moment he closes his eyes, just so that he can fully focus on the physical sensations. When he opens them again, he catches sight of the view through the large window he is facing. He knows the outside of the window panes is mirrored, so lack of privacy is not a concern, and the view across the city is truly stunning. Street lights, traffic lights and lit up buildings are twinkling against the backdrop of the velvety dark evening sky and the snow has picked up considerably again. Big fat clumps are raining down on the already impressively thick blanket of snow that is covering most of the city. For some reason, watching the swirling snowflakes outside makes Touya think of his Ice Quirk.
He spent all his time in the medical care unit on intravenous Quirk suppressants, until they replaced those with his Quirk-cancelling wrist cuff when they discharged and transferred him to his jail cell, so he hasn’t used any part of his Quirk in nearly seven years. He wonders if he would be able to use the ice again. Would it be safe for him to use? Would he be able to learn to control it like his little brother? Erect gigantic frozen structures in a matter of seconds? He kind of wants to try, although he’s not entirely convinced they’ll ever let him use his Quirk again, even after he has completed his sentence.
As he daydreams about sculpting intricate little figures with his ice, his ears suddenly pick up on a dull thud, followed by a few hissed curses from the hallway. The bird must be back with his groceries.
Feeling a little wistful about having to leave the relaxing warmth of his bubble bath again, Touya steps out of the tub, quickly dries himself off and one-handedly wraps a towel around his hips before he makes his way out of the bathroom to show the hero that he has not run off or hurt himself or whatever.
In the hallway he nearly physically bumps into Hawks, who is carrying three grocery bags, one of them precariously cradled in his arms as the torn plastic handles tragically dangle off the sides.
“Woah”, Hawks says as he attempts to balance the groceries in the aftermath of his near-collision with Touya.
“Woah”, he says again when he actually looks up at Touya, and then promptly whirls around so quickly he damn near tips over the bag again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this. I knocked to give you your groceries and you didn’t answer, so I figured you were asleep and I let myself in to drop these off in the kitchen”, the hero babbles as he continues on his way into the kitchen, intently avoiding to glance at Touya again. “Why don’t you, uh, get dressed and then we can put these away together?”
Touya raises an eyebrow at the back of the bird’s blond head, but successfully manages to bite back the comment that is threatening to tumble out about how Hawks is behaving like a blushing virgin at the sight of Touya in a towel. Instead, he obediently marches over to the bedroom and pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt (simple but much less of a crime against fashion than the rest of his prison-issued clothes), then makes his way back to the kitchen where Hawks has set the bags down on the island and started unpacking them.
“Am I allowed to do online shopping? I desperately need new clothes. Whoever picks out those ‘civilian’ outfits they give us prisoners has the most atrocious taste in fashion I’ve ever been subjected to.”
The bird looks up from where he’s artfully stocking up the fruit bowl at the centre of the kitchen island and he gives Touya a brief once-over. “Yeah, just make sure you use the official card they issued for you and put my alias in the shipping address.”
Oh, thank fuck.
Touya joins the hero at the counter and starts piling things in the fridge.
“You’re not wearing your prosthesis”, Hawks notes after a moment, and it’s neither a question nor a statement.
Touya briefly wriggles what’s left of his right arm. “No. I just bathed and I want to clean it first”, he explains as he gently probes the firmness of the vegetables he’s putting in the fridge. “Besides, sometimes it feels nice to just be. No technological or medical contraptions attached to me. Just a living human body, all flesh and blood.” He pauses. “Is that weird?”
The bird quickly shakes his head. “No, no, not weird at all.” He turns his back and starts filling a cupboard with spices. After a moment he continues to speak. “When I first lost my Quirk I considered getting prosthetic wings. Not in the sense of a support item that allows me to fly like I have now, but genuine, realistic-looking neurocybernetic wings. Like your prosthesis. It wasn’t so much about functionality, but more about just feeling them there on my back. Being able to move them. Using my feathers. But ultimately I decided that the ridiculous amount of money that would’ve gone into developing and building something like that could be used for much more important and impactful matters and there were much cheaper yet more functional ways to get me airborne again.”
The unprompted honesty in the hero’s admission takes Touya a bit by surprise, but he still hums thoughtfully in response.
“How was it for you? Losing your arm, I mean”, the bird asks then. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal. I don’t mean to pry”, he adds after a breath.
“Yes, you do”, Touya admonishes good-naturedly. “It’s fine, though. You’re in luck, Birdie. Honestly, losing my arm was a bit of a non-issue for me in the grand scheme of things. I was on a deeply insane suicide mission and it’s one hell of a miracle that I survived that whole ordeal at all, not to mention recovered as much as I have. Between having half of my skin healed, recovering from all my internal burn damage and getting a prosthesis that pretty much grants me full functionality, losing an arm was a rather small price to pay.” He shrugs. It took a lot of therapy sessions for him to be able to talk about it like this, but he’s being truthful.
“It makes sense that you felt differently about losing your wings though”, he then adds pointedly. “Their meaning and significance to your life were on a completely different level than my silly old arm. These things also happened to us for vastly different reasons. You can’t compare your experience to mine.”
By then Hawks has turned back around and is now openly gaping at him. “Man, therapy has really done absolute wonders for you.”
That rips a genuine laugh out of Touya. “Oh, shut up”, he huffs, and it’s…nice.
It’s fucking weird.
Because it’s Hawks.
But it’s nice.
Once they’ve finished putting away all the groceries, the bird hands Touya a scrap of paper with his phone number on it “for emergencies” and then bids him good night. Touya goes back to the bathroom to clean up after himself and wipe down his prosthesis, and then whips himself up a quick rice and vegetable stir-fry for dinner (after he spends a good ten minutes trying to figure out how the hell the settings on his uber-modern stove work). He settles on the couch with his food and his new phone and adds Hawks’ number to his contacts while he eats. He shoots the hero a quick Hello, this is the criminal you’re babysitting text, then starts to open and close random apps to reacquaint himself with the technology he hasn’t used in nearly seven years. He has never really used social media in the past as it was always too much of a risk (not that that used to stop certain other members of the League, be that to stalk their hero crushes on Instagram or to argue with online gamers who probably would’ve pissed themselves in fear, had they known who exactly they were arguing with), and apart from his family’s phone numbers, which they must’ve put in themselves before they left the phone at the flat for him, and now the hero’s his phone is expectedly barren.
On a whim he snaps a picture of his half-eaten stir-fry on the coffee table and downloads Instagram. He creates an account, cleverly names himself “lightarrow” and posts the picture. It’s not like he has anything to worry about now with social media as long as he remains anonymous. He types his siblings’ names into the search bar and sends Fuyumi and Natsuo’s private accounts follow requests while he’s able to follow Shouto’s public (verified) account right away. His posts seem to be rather sporadic, a few pictures with his friends and hero colleagues (Touya recognises most of them as Shouto’s classmates from UA), some professional shots of him dressed to the nines at publicity events and a few random pictures of things ranging from landscapes to colourful cocktails. He also has a current story up, which turns out to be a picture of a black cat sitting in what appears to be a small alley with intricate snowflakes caught in its fluffy fur. It’s pretty cute, Touya has to admit that.
He also considers following Hawks’ public account, but then decides against it. It’s probably best if the two of them maintain a certain professional distance to each other, and following each other on social media probably isn’t the right way to go about that.
Still, Touya isn’t above stalking the hero’s account a little bit. Most of the content he posts doesn’t seem to be much different from the stuff on Shouto’s account, although the bird’s page definitely features more professional shots, including a couple that seem to be modelling gigs or brand endorsements. Touya continues his innocent scrolling until he happens on a Calvin Klein modelling gig and Hawks’ chiselled chest, the V of his lower abdomen and his happy trail glare up at him from the phone screen, with one of Hawks’ thumbs seductively hooked into the waistband of his criminally tight grey boxer briefs and pulling them just a tiny bit lower. The hero is looking just slightly to the side of the camera and caught in the middle of what looks like an actual genuine laugh. Touya simultaneously feels his blood rush south and to his head, and the abrupt diversion of blood flow makes him feel slightly lightheaded.
He takes a deep breath, willing his blood to return to a more even distribution across his body again, and resolutely closes the app.
That’s enough social media for today.
He peels himself off the couch and quickly scrubs the dishes he used for dinner by hand because it’s not like he has much else to do anyway. Then he settles back in the living room and types out a quick group message to his siblings.
Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know that I arrived at the flat today and I’m pretty much settled in now. Talk to you soon, Touya.
He adds a little lamp and arrow emoji after his name to clue them in about his Instagram account, then locks his phone and puts it down on the coffee table.
A few blocks away a phone buzzes on another coffee table, but its owner is too distracted by the hero documentary he is watching and the presence of his green-haired friend by his side to notice.
Touya randomly picks one of the classic novels from his shelf and curls up with it against the couch cushions. He reads a few pages, but soon the exhaustion after the day he’s had washes over him and he closes the book and trudges over to the bedroom, where he barely manages to fall onto the plush pillows and pull the thick duvet over himself before he is out like a light.