It’s been a wild couple of days. First Aizawa almost dies, then one thing leads to another and now they’re here, with Hizashi straddling Aizawa’s lap in his apartment after kissing for the first time, and are they boyfriends now?
“So, uh… what now?” Hizashi says for lack of anything better to say, since he’s compelled to fill an empty space with words, no matter how dumb, and this is what they’re left with.
Because it’s Aizawa, who has all the romantic instincts of a pile of bricks. Yet who can apparently pump Hizashi’s heart like he’s holding it in his fingers with simple words like, “Mind getting off?”
“What?!” Hizashi’s hardly the slowest moving casanova in the pack, but Aizawa can’t mean what it sounds like he means… right?
“‘I’m not that bothered,” Aizawa murmurs indifferently, “but I was gonna have a cigarette and you’re kinda in the way.”
Get off his lap. Perhaps it means something that this pose feels so natural Hizashi has practically forgotten he’s doing it – that it’s not normal for him to be kneeling square across Aizawa’s loosely spread legs. Most of the time someone Hizashi’s dating wouldn’t hold his weight quite so effortlessly for this long, but Aizawa’s much more built than his crappy, ill-fitting clothing ever gives away, so apparently the only real inconvenience Hizashi poses to him is hampering his ability to smoke.
“Oh, right!” Hizashi slides sideways rather than backs up, swiveling as he goes to slump next to Aizawa on the sofa. On a really solid level this is exactly the same as hanging out with his best friend has always been. There’s just another level that’s brand new and totally overwhelming, which if Hizashi thinks about for any amount of time he loses his fucking mind.
Aizawa doesn’t have any cigarettes on him, so he gets up to forage for them elsewhere in his apartment. This gives Hizashi some breathing room, until Aizawa comes back with one already lit, hanging from the corner of his mouth as the smell of tobacco wafts with him through the air.
Hizashi watches Aizawa stepping through the smoke and thinks for a second, him? Aizawa’s always been… Aizawa, and Hizashi can’t say he’s ever given serious thought to whether he’s attractive or not. Especially not now, when he’s so haggard from his injuries, though Hizashi doubts if anyone would be much to look at after three days in the hospital.
There’s gaps in the front of Aizawa’s jumpsuit, stiff from his own dried blood where the attacker’s glass limbs had pierced him, where Hizashi had so desperately pressed down as he begged Aizawa to tell him whatever it was he’d wanted to say. His hair is a mess too, dark and tangled around his face where several weeks of unattended stubble sparsely scatter his jaw. Which is nothing new, but it’s new to Hizashi to look that closely and think, and wonder… Aizawa says he ‘guesses’ he’s attracted to Hizashi, and Hizashi’s said before he’d date someone like Aizawa, which, now he’s like, actually dating Aizawa. The real one.
So what about Hizashi? Is he attracted to Aizawa?
Aizawa takes the cigarette out from between his lips and taps the ash off in an ‘ashtray’, which is actually a beer can with the top cut off, on his ‘coffee table’, which is actually an upturned crate. He just stands across the room from Hizashi, watching Hizashi watching him.
“What?” Aizawa’s been saying that a lot recently, though Hizashi can’t really blame him. He’s been staring a lot.
Hizashi opens his mouth, not exactly sure what’s going to come out until he says, “Gimmie a drag of your cigarette.”
Aizawa snorts, holding the cigarette pinched in one corner of his mouth as he talks out of the other. “I have more.”
“No, I want some of yours,” Hizashi counters, getting up so he’s on the same level as Aizawa, who raises his eyebrows as he takes another puff.
“Is this a dating thing?” It sounds bizarre coming from Aizawa’s mouth, which probably indicates that it is bizarre.
A laugh sneaks out of Hizashi like a wayward parrot. “No, because we share cigarettes all the time, jackass.” Mostly joints, but that’s a technicality.
Aizawa seems sceptical, but passes the cigarette over to Hizashi anyway. It’s not meant to be a dating thing, but does Hizashi think about how the filter’s touched Aizawa’s lips, which were just touching his own? Yeah, of course he fucking does.
The nicotine rush helps, a soothing wave that blankets Hizashi with a little piece of familiarity. A ritual they’ve held for longer than all this new bullshit, because there’s nothing he and Aizawa can’t talk out over a cigarette.
“This is insane,” Hizashi finally comes up with as he returns the cigarette to Aizawa, who stares at him in confusion and waits for an explanation. “This, as in, us, I mean.”
“You started it,” Aizawa points out, taking a deep inhale and long exhale as the smoke crowds his little apartment. Most places would discourage smoking indoors, but not the kind of dives Aizawa exclusively favours. The ceiling was already yellow when Aizawa got here, there’s not much worse he can do to it at this point.
“I know, I know, it’s just… they were right,” Hizashi stumbles into with a fatigued sigh.
Aizawa takes another drag, holding the smoke in his chest for a second before releasing it with the question, "Who was?"
"Everyone!” Hizashi bursts, making grabby fingers to get the cigarette back that Aizawa pretends not to see. “Everyone who insisted we were together or secretly in love with each other."
"If it was a secret then it was one to us too,” Aizawa reflects, still withholding the cigarette, but now Hizashi’s got a taste for it and keeps angling. Reaches over to try and pluck it directly from Aizawa’s mouth, who just leans back to dodge it and huffs out a cloud of spiteful smoke.
"Huh?" Hizashi says inelegantly, more distracted with their game of grab-the-cigarette than what Aizawa’s actually saying.
Aizawa takes the cigarette from between his lips, stretching his arm out behind him purposely beyond Hizashi’s reach as he explains, "Other people said we were hiding it, like we knew but were in denial or something, but that’s not true.” This resonates enough that Hizashi stops messing around and actually listens for a hot second.
“So what’s the truth?” he asks. Aizawa has a way of expressing himself that’s completely in contrast to Hizashi’s own chaotic thoughts, so it’s actually reassuring the way he lays it out, as it sits in his own mind with perfect clarity.
"We just… hadn't figured it out."
More tentatively than he expects to hear himself, Hizashi says, "And we have? Figured it out?” He doesn’t really feel figured out, but maybe he just doesn’t know what he’s looking for.
Aizawa shrugs. "Seems like."
"Ugh, this is so weird," Hizashi groans.
"Why?" Aizawa almost seems a little put out for a second, a frown passing across his face before falling back to the usual blank slate.
"Because you’re the person I usually talk to about who I’m dating,” Hizashi begins to unwind the frantic knot of every fucking thing in his head all twisted up and tied together. “What do I do when that person is you?”
Aizawa gives a half-amused scoff and finally passes the cigarette back like a pity offering. “Do you want me to list the reasons it won’t work out?”
Hizashi’s shocked, taking a greedy drag first before echoing on the exhale, “That it won’t?” He’s been so fixated on the fact that maybe him and Aizawa should date that he’d never even considered what might happen after. If this thing that might be there between them would even work the way relationships are supposed to.
“That’s what I normally do, isn’t it?” Aizawa suggests, then reclaims the cigarette from Hizashi and taps off ash again, taking a leisurely drag before he continues, “Let’s start with the fact that it takes you hours to get ready in the morning.”
Hizashi takes it back: now he’s shocked. Is Aizawa actually fucking sassing him?
“Well you only get out of bed five minutes before you have to leave,” Hizashi returns the serve, because if Aizawa wants to go he's got a list of complaints and character flaws a mile fucking long.
“Because I’d rather get more sleep than do something ridiculous with my hair,” Aizawa baits as he takes another utterly unbothered, unironic drag on his cigarette. “Clearly, I’m the unreasonable one here.”
Hizashi is suddenly and violently reminded that one of the most notable things about Aizawa is that he’s entirely and completely himself at all fucking times. He’s never pulled a punch with Hizashi in his life, and he’s not gonna start just because they're going out.
“Oh, you want to talk about hair?!” Hizashi snaps back tighter than an elastic band about to break, and does this count as their first fight as a couple? All of two minutes in. “I’ve met raccoons with better grooming habits than you. Dead raccoons!”
Aizawa takes his sweet time, stooping over to drop the cigarette butt in the overcrowded ashtray and then straightening all the way back up to look Hizashi square in the eyes. Calm and collected, like he’s waited a long time to say this, he announces, “You’re a clean freak.”
Hizashi raucously laughs in Aizawa’s face, because he would say that. “You’re too messy!” And because Aizawa insulted Hizashi’s hair first, and he’s been staring at Aizawa’s scraggly weeks-long stubble trying to decide what he feels about it, tacks on, “You’re allergic to razors!”
Aizawa does something surprising, which is that he takes an entire step closer to Hizashi. So now the distance between them is just inches, the scent of tobacco hanging in the air and Aizawa’s stubbly chin stuck out in defiance.
In the same way he always speaks, with his energy level resting right back on its haunches because he doesn't need more, Aizawa tells him, “I can grow more of a beard than you.”
A lapse in focus later, Hizashi is kissing him again. Not quite able to trace what took place in that blind spot of inattention, exactly who sprung for who across the distance that Aizawa intentionally shortened. Like dangling a cat toy in front of a cat, waiting for it to pounce. Either way, it’s happening now.
It’s different to the first times, more heated, standing on stronger legs as Hizashi kisses Aizawa knowing Aizawa’s going to kiss back, actually knows how despite it seeming like one of those things he’s never been bothered with in his life. Then again, Hizashi doesn’t know everything there is to know about Aizawa, or they wouldn’t be like this now.
Hizashi hooks an arm around Aizawa’s back, while Aizawa’s hands come to settle on Hizashi’s waist. Hizashi’s aware that Aizawa literally just got out of hospital and should probably be back in bed asleep by this point, but other issues seem a little more pressing. Like that of Aizawa’s tongue touching Hizashi’s when their lips part and they both try to make kiss someone senseless into a literal term.
“Hm,” Aizawa murmurs when they part a mouthy tussle later.
“What?” Hizashi says with their profiles still intertwined, halfway between catching his breath and hyperventilating because he’s making out with Aizawa and it’s nothing like he’d have ever imagined it would be.
“Thought you’d be… better at it, somehow,” Aizawa has the fucking audacity to say with his whore troll hobo-fucking mouth.
“Better?! How dare you!” Hizashi belts, and any attempts Aizawa might have made to retaliate are swallowed up by the whopper Hizashi plants on him moments later.
Perhaps Hizashi had been going slowly out of respect for Aizawa, and how fucking new and weird all this is, but apparently his consideration is wasted. Because if Aizawa wants Hizashi’s tongue stuck down his throat then fine, he’ll get it.
Hizashi only realises Aizawa’s grip on him has tightened into two fists at the bottom of his t-shirt when Aizawa uses them to pull Hizashi fully against him, their chests touching as Hizashi gives Aizawa the kind of kiss that blows most people’s socks off. When they separate the next time, it’s for a mutual gasp for air.
“Okay,” Aizawa’s the first to speak, and he tastes like cigarettes and bad decisions, but when has that ever stopped Hizashi? “Settles that, then.”
“Settles what?” Hizashi asks more breathily than he’s proud to admit, because maybe Aizawa just mortally insulted his kissing ability, but Hizashi had also expected Aizawa to be worse at it, somehow.
Because Aizawa kisses like he does just about anything: with total certainty in his every action, as if he's never experienced doubt for a second in his life. He does it again now, places his lips onto Hizashi’s, then ventures deeper like he’s feeling out Hizashi’s mouth by touch to fit it for the shape of his own tongue. A shiver catches Hizashi by the back of the neck, lifting his mouth with an intoxicating sound of lip on lip.
Backing up just enough to comfortably meet Hizashi’s eyes, Aizawa’s phantom complexion is dusted with a rare flush of faint, rosy pink. Then he confirms, “Looks like I’m attracted to you.”
Hizashi had thought it’d get easier.
Although Aizawa says it’s ‘fine’ if Hizashi wants to stay the night after everything happens, like a true anti-romantic, "stay over if you want, it’s fine," Hizashi decides that he’d rather go back to his own bed than chance it with Aizawa’s tenth-hand futon. Aizawa’s fresh out of the hospital and literally only going to pass out anyway, so what difference does it make if Hizashi’s there or not?
Maybe they’ve just established that yes, okay, kissing is a thing that seems to work between them. Works quite well, actually, but that’s like step one, and Hizashi’s not sure about going straight to step ‘sleep together’ right away. Which is pretty astonishing, coming from him, but then Hizashi’s used to jumping into bed with people he barely knows, not people he’s known for eight fucking years and only just started thinking of in a romantic way. It’s weird. It’s really weird.
It’s so weird that Hizashi doesn’t know where to start on how he’s supposed to date Aizawa, given that Aizawa doesn’t do any of the things Hizashi normally does with dates.
He starts out by asking if Aizawa wants to go to one of Hizashi’s fancy free dinner places, but Aizawa says no and states that ‘all food is the same’ so they get into a forty-minute argument about how that’s categorically not true, followed by twenty minutes of riled-up making out before ordering take-out. Aizawa’s taken no time at all to figure out that kissing shuts Hizashi up for longer than he can go without blinking, and that’s already way too much power for him to have.
And while Hizashi’s kind of getting used to kissing Aizawa as a legitimate outlet of the regularly generated tension between them, the extension of this into S-E-X has Hizashi breaking out in a cold sweat. Not because he’s totally against having sex with Aizawa, but that wrapping his head around the idea of Aizawa wanting to is like trying to run a sprint with his shoes on the wrong feet. Aizawa has never oozed sex appeal in his life, hasn’t even trickled it. And even though Hizashi’s naturally overflowing with sexuality, this is something that has registered to Aizawa exactly never, so why would it start now?
Basically, Hizashi’s overthinking it, and there’s nothing less sexy than overthinking something. And if he can’t quite figure out if he wants to have sex with Aizawa, knowing whether it’d be good sex is even further out of the frame. Picturing Aizawa in a sexual situation is a bit like a deer on roller skates: technically possible, but probably quite awkward.
Hizashi’s next plan to go on An Actual Date with Aizawa is something they’ve done before, which is to hit the bar, and that one Aizawa at least agrees to. But it’s exactly like hanging out between them always is, not even slightly date-like or romantic. So because it’s just like always, or maybe because he’s on edge over how normal it is, Hizashi drinks a little too much too fast, which is how he ends up drunkenly ranting to Aizawa about how fucking awkward it is to date him.
Aizawa allows Hizashi to vent uninterrupted at him for a good ten minutes, waiting until Hizashi stops to take a drink before offering a one-sentence riposte. “You’re the one making it awkward.”
“How is it my fault?!” Hizashi squawks. He’s great at dating, what the fuck would Aizawa know about it?
“Because you’re trying to force us into a template that you’re used to,” Aizawa points out. “You’re doing it backwards.”
“Backwards? Then what’s frontwards?” Hizashi slurs as he wobbles on his barstool just a little, Aizawa reaching out to grab his shoulder before he topples.
“Why is what we were and are now supposed to be different?” Aizawa puts to him, and it’s frustrating that Aizawa seems to have taken this jump into ‘dating’ completely in his stride while also treating it as if absolutely nothing has happened. Nothing that he sees as important, anyway. “Wasn’t the point that we’re already like that?”
“Like we’re in a relationship,” Aizawa explains with a twitch that could be irritation, or maybe just exasperation. “Instead of making us into what you think dating should be, shouldn’t you change what you think dating is to match how we actually are?”
Hizashi… kinda gets it. And kinda doesn’t. But maybe that’s just because he’s drunk.
“So what's the difference between us being friends and in a relationship?” he says helplessly, and Aizawa shrugs.
“Whatever we want it to be?”
Hizashi stares at Aizawa, which he does a lot these days, and drags the line in his head from point A to B.
“So you’re saying… the reason it’s awkward trying to date you is because I’m trying to do it the way I’d date anyone else, but you’re not like anyone else?” That’s certainly an understatement; Aizawa’s always been a one-off original.
“You could put it that way,” Aizawa answers, taking a casual slug of his beer. He’s had a couple, but he’s being careful this time, unlike Hizashi. He’s planning to go out and work later, Hizashi knows, while Hizashi just got done for the day.
“Then how do I date you?” Hizashi drunkenly lands on.
Aizawa gives him a completely withering look. “Just be yourself, Yamada.”
Another lapse of attention later, Hizashi is more in Aizawa’s lap than out of it, and is trying to kiss him while also sort of falling off his barstool.
“Easy, I’m gonna drop you if you keep doing that,” Aizawa mutters as he loops an arm around Hizashi’s back to scoop him back onto his chair. But it’s definitely a thing that the complete and total ease with which Aizawa supports him makes Hizashi think that perhaps it wouldn’t be so weird having sex with Aizawa after all. Or maybe he’s just drunk and horny.
“Why don’t you wanna kiss meee?” Hizashi moans, annoyed that Aizawa puts him back in his seat instead of allowing Hizashi to keep falling all over him.
“We’re in the middle of a bar,” Aizawa says bluntly.
“Oh, and what, you’re ashamed of me?!” Hizashi barks, reaching over to prod Aizawa in the chest but only succeeding in pushing himself backwards and needing to be caught again before he spills off in the other direction. “You should be so fuckin’ lucky, baby.”
Aizawa gives Hizashi a solid second’s stare of wide-eyed unblinking shock, and then bursts out in the kind of laugh that he usually only does when he’s high.
“You did not just call me that.”
“Get used to it, baby,” Hizashi taunts viciously, and then is pleasantly surprised when Aizawa snatches him by the arm still reaching towards Aizawa’s chest and yanks him in for a quick but surprisingly passionate kiss.
Hovering his mouth a short distance over Hizashi’s after he lifts away, Aizawa offers a scathing, “If anyone should be ashamed of you, it’s you.”
Hizashi scoffs and shoves himself back. They already thought he and Aizawa were going out in the media once before and the story probably won’t sell a second time, so screw what anyone in the bar thinks. “Sorry to let you down, but I don’t come equipped with a shame function.”
“I know,” Aizawa replies with a narrow look at Hizashi before he takes a fresh sip of his beer, and it’s the confidence that he says it with. Hizashi’s never dated someone who knew him inside-out and back-to-front from the very first date, so just those two words, uttered with total certainty, are incredibly hot all of a sudden. That Aizawa knows Hizashi has no shame because he already knows Hizashi.
Announcing itself with a rush of blood that’s definitely not to the head, it dawns on Hizashi that maybe he does want to fuck Aizawa after all.
Hizashi wakes up alone and with an absolutely blinding hangover. What did Aizawa let him drink last night?
After a certain point in the evening the details of Hizashi’s memory are a touch fuzzy around the edges, or in some cases a little bit absent entirely. But he remembers Aizawa walking them home, so why the fuck Aizawa isn’t here makes no sense.
Where did u go? Hizashi texts Aizawa immediately, followed up with, p.s. I’m dying.
Aizawa doesn’t reply right away, but Hizashi’s dragged his corpse out to the kitchen and gotten himself a glass of water when an answer arrives.
No you’re not.
Hizashi snorts, as his head begs to differ, and allows himself to collapse dramatically onto the sofa – when it hits him.
A flashback of the night before, or more particularly, of making out with Aizawa on the sofa like it was about to go out of fashion, and Hizashi really wanting to take it further. Hizashi’s skin shivers with a memory of Aizawa’s hands on him, of Hizashi throwing the full chaotic energy of his wasted and horny self at Aizawa and Aizawa just taking it.
So why didn’t it go further? It definitely could’ve, but definitely didn’t. Hizashi doesn’t usually forget sex even when he’s otherwise blackout drunk. And more to the point: if they’d fucked there would be evidence.
The answer, or part of it, comes in a subsequent message.
Working. Talk later.
That's right, Aizawa was practically sober by the time he dragged Hizashi back here, since he tries to only work sober these days. This makes what happened on the sofa even more impressive in a way, because Hizashi’s drunk memory informs him that there was plenty of reciprocation from Aizawa to his drunken advances. That whatever Hizashi throws at him, Aizawa has always been able to take it, and this is no exception.
Then again, Aizawa did leave, so he can't have wanted to screw around as much as Hizashi did. No one ever does, though it does mean Hizashi’s a little miffed after the fact. But knowing what Aizawa’s like on the job, there's no point in trying to start a conversation about it, so Hizashi just tells him: come over when you're done.
Aizawa responds: ok.
Aizawa’s 'work' lasts two days.
That’s actually not that bad for him, but it’s long enough for Hizashi to be completely over his hangover, have gotten annoyed, un-annoyed and then re-annoyed again about being left hanging. He’s Present Fucking Mic, he’s not supposed to be kept waiting around twiddling his thumbs over someone.
Except he’s not Present Mic to Aizawa, and never has been. He’s just Yamada Hizashi, and always will be.
So when Aizawa finally rolls into Hizashi’s apartment two mornings later smelling like dead ashtray, Hizashi sticks his head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in the corner of his mouth to check it’s who he thinks it is, and then hollers a spiteful, “And what time do you call this?!” through the apartment.
“Bedtime,” he hears Aizawa reply faintly, followed by the closing of his bedroom door. Hizashi spits toothpaste into the sink and goes straight after him. It’s kind of weird that they’ve basically lived together before they were even dating, making such space feel both familiar and unfamiliar. That they aren’t living together, but when Aizawa’s here it’s exactly like they are.
Hizashi gets into the bedroom as Aizawa’s stripping off the furled mess of his capture weapon, much of the dirty white looking a worrying red.
“You realise it’s been like, two days?” Hizashi says curtly, and Aizawa just shrugs.
“Finished as fast as I could,” he mutters, and if his capture weapon is bloodied, Hizashi’s not so sure about the rest of him. He reaches out for Aizawa’s arm to coax him around, and his jumpsuit is definitely sticky.
“Are you hurt?” Always the first thing in Hizashi’s mind, but that doesn’t mean he’s all smiles and fucking sunshine if the blood isn’t Aizawa’s
Aizawa shakes his head, and looks exactly like he hasn’t slept since the afternoon Hizashi woke him up to go out to the bar for another attempt at a date two days ago. Hizashi’s meant to be the high chaos energy trainwreck in the relationship. How are they supposed to do this if Aizawa’s just as bad?
“Well, you’re not getting in bed like this,” Hizashi asserts, and Aizawa gives him a look nearly as filthy as he is.
“I said you’re not getting into bed covered in blood and shit!” Hizashi barks. “You can’t drop off the map for days at a time and just roll back in here expecting to stink up the place.”
Aizawa looks at him scathingly, since that’s exactly what he does do, but all he says is, “It’s not my blood.”
“And hopefully not your shit either,” Hizashi retorts with a hint more humour. “You’re taking a shower before you get into bed.”
Aizawa stares at him in what seems like total shock, following up with, “Is this a dating thing?”
“It’s a you’re not sleeping in my bed covered in filth thing!” Hizashi yelps.
“But you’ve never had a problem before,” Aizawa points out, souring into a more stubborn, “It’s clearly a dating thing.”
“Just because I didn’t do something before doesn’t make it a dating thing,” Hizashi snaps, even though maybe it is, a tiny bit, because Hizashi never used to care about the state Aizawa was in when he used Hizashi’s bed because he always washed his sheets before sharing it with anyone else. But now the one he’d be sharing his bed with, potentially, is Aizawa. He’d like for it to remain free of other people’s bodily fluids.
Hizashi steers Aizawa by the arm, pulling him away from the bed and out of the door. “Your ass. Shower. Now.”
Aizawa grumbles, but actually allows Hizashi to drag him all the way to the bathroom and stick him in the shower, jumpsuit and all, since that’s getting hosed down first before it even thinks about touching Hizashi’s washing machine. Actually, Hizashi doesn’t know if Aizawa washes his jumpsuits at all. Shudder.
Hizashi finishes up his bathroom routine while Aizawa’s in the shower, pretending he’s not peeking in the mirror at Aizawa’s back through the frosted glass shower door. Hizashi’s seen Aizawa next-to-naked enough times that it shouldn’t be a big deal, but things keep changing between them and that makes everything feel like a bigger deal than it was.
Hizashi’s finishing his hair and can’t get a good look at anything before Aizawa shuts off the water and wraps a towel around his waist, emerging soaking wet and leaving the bathroom in a hurry.
“Wait, where are you going?” Hizashi calls after him.
“Bed,” Aizawa repeats crossly, causing Hizashi to leg after him down the hallway.
“Not with wet hair you’re not!” His pillows will smell like wet dog for weeks. Learned that one the hard way.
Aizawa turns around on Hizashi with a frustrated, “Seriously, Yamada?!” that sets Hizashi back with how hard it hits, like an unexpectedly big wave in shallow waters. “I’d have gone home if I knew you were going to make such a fuss.”
“A fuss?!” Hizashi screeches, and while half of him is really ticked off at Aizawa for making such reasonable requests sound like he’s being incredibly demanding, the other half of him is going, ‘oh right, Aizawa’s got an absolutely rocking body’ on the other side of the room.
Aizawa’s not self-conscious in the slightest, but he’s also not prone to showing much skin either, so it’s kinda a novelty seeing him in nothing but a towel. Hizashi somehow forgets that what Aizawa puts himself through for his brand of hero work requires a huge amount of strength, and that does show in his frame.
While Hizashi’s taste in guys may have had a predominant theme over the years that falls into the twinkish category, it’s not so specific that Aizawa’s not in his ballpark. Clearly not, since the half of Hizashi that’s not irritated with him is preoccupied with the smattering of hair on Aizawa’s chest and how he seems to have an eight -pack instead of the usual six, and… what was he mad about again?
“Yeah, you ask me to come over, force me to take a shower before I can sleep, and now I can’t sleep because I took a shower?” Aizawa rants, and oh yeah, that’s why Hizashi was mad. He’s being completely unreasonable and cranky because he didn’t sleep for two days like the dumb bastard he is, and Hizashi isn’t letting him go to sleep in Hizashi’s bed covered in crap.
“It’s just your hair, for fuck’s sake,” Hizashi huffs.
“Yeah, it’s just hair,” Aizawa retorts. “So what does it matter if it’s wet?”
“Just wait a minute, honestly,” Hizashi berates as he stomps back into the bathroom and grabs an extra towel – though he was tempted to snatch the one around Aizawa’s waist just to see how low those abs actually go, but has a strong suspicion Aizawa would try to punch him if he did that.
Whipping a spare towel at Aizawa’s head, Hizashi catches him with it around the side of the face and then assertively reaches for his scalp to start ruffling Aizawa’s literally soaking wet octopus ink hair.
“This is so unnecessary,” Aizawa’s voice, muffled, comes from within the folds of the towel as Hizashi dries his hair.
“I’ll let you go in a second,” he replies vindictively, and then picks up a lock of Aizawa’s hair and gives it a suspicious sniff. “Did you shampoo with my menthol shower gel?” Talk about minty fresh.
“Yamada,” Aizawa growls, and Hizashi lets it go. The fact that Aizawa’s face is covered by the towel also means he can’t notice exactly how much Hizashi is staring at his body while his hands unconsciously follow the motions of towel-drying hair.
Aizawa’s never been stacked like a bodybuilder, where muscles are trained primarily to look good; all of his muscles work overtime at doing their actual jobs, and it doesn’t make him ripped so much as solid. It’s not just his chest that has hair on it either, a trail of dark symmetrical hair running from his navel down across the lower half of that eight-pack and disappearing behind the towel wrapped around his waist.
It’s a damn shame Hizashi is about to go to work. Then again, Aizawa’s about to sleep for as long as Hizashi’s likely to be on the day-shift, so maybe the timing’s not so bad after all.
“I’ll be back later,” Hizashi says quietly, suddenly not nearly as annoyed by Aizawa as he was half a minute ago. He pushes the towel off Aizawa’s head to rest around his shoulders. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Aizawa gives Hizashi a funny look with his ruffled, backwards-hedge hair and asks, “Why?”
They’re standing in the hallway, so it doesn’t take much for Hizashi to press Aizawa’s back against the wall by the grip on the towel draped round his shoulders. Right after that, and more importantly, is Hizashi’s mouth pressing onto Aizawa’s.
Hizashi kisses Aizawa like if Aizawa ever dares to question his kissing ability again Hizashi will personally cut his tongue out, but Aizawa certainly doesn’t seem to mind. He lets himself be pushed against the wall, opens his lips to Hizashi’s and greets the tongue in his mouth like he's laid a welcome mat out for it.
Pulling back just before Hizashi gets so invested in what he’s doing that he thinks about calling off the patrol he’s supposed to be going on, Hizashi fixes Aizawa square in the eyes and tells it like it is.
"Because you and I have some unfinished business."
In the… eight, nearly nine years Hizashi has known Aizawa, he’s spent more time thinking about his best friend in a sexual sense in the past few days than all of the thousands before them put together.
Maybe it’s the fact that if Aizawa had just gone along with Drunk Hizashi’s plans they’d have already fucked by now, gotten that first awkward time out of the way and just be able to get on with it, but no. For whatever reason that’s slipped through Hizash’s mind like a sieve they didn’t, and Hizashi just has sensory memories that cling to him all day during patrol, press conference, another patrol and a supermarket opening before he can go back home and drag Aizawa out of bed to drag him straight back into it.
The feeling of Aizawa walking him home the other night is a persistent one. The arm slung around Hizashi’s hips the way he’s walked with Aizawa when the drunken shoe has been on the other foot. But this time when Aizawa dropped Hizashi on the sofa, Hizashi had pulled Aizawa down with him. It turns out Aizawa is surprisingly tolerant of letting Hizashi push and pull him around. Well, not that surprising, but far more than Hizashi had ever realised was possible. He hears Aizawa’s voice in the back of his head asking a characteristic “is this a dating thing?” and supposes it is, on both their parts.
Hizashi had been ready two nights ago. He was boozed up, Aizawa was there, and had kissed back when Hizashi wrapped around him like an amorous octopus. What more could he have wanted? Whatever it was, it better have been worth it.
Having never been attracted to his best friend before, it’s a weird emotion for Hizashi, something that he keeps revisiting throughout the day like he’s trying to catch himself out – hey, remember when he was in just a towel? You liked it! But then he second guesses himself, thinking maybe it’s just because Aizawa was clean for once. Except that catches Hizashi out too, because Aizawa let himself be put in the shower.
Even though it’s normally Aizawa’s bit, Hizashi knows that’s a dating thing. Because they’re dating.
It’s just actually starting to feel like it.
Hizashi circles the point so many times that by the time he’s finished opening the supermarket he’s about ready to blow a fuse. The worst thing in the world, or one of them, as far as Hizashi’s concerned, is the time that exists between wanting to do something and actually doing it.
So by the time Hizashi returns home, it’s been days that feel like years he’s been waiting for this. Or maybe it has been years, and he only just realised it.
Aizawa’s lying on the sofa holding up his phone to read when Hizashi lets himself in. Flinging the door open and shut forcefully behind him, Hizashi storms across the room full of intention, ripping off his support gear to dump on the floor and unzipping his jacket to go after it.
“Hey,” is Aizawa’s flatline greeting, not even looking up until Hizashi is vaulting over the back of sofa in an expert manoeuvre that lands him squarely onto his knees either side of Aizawa’s lap.
Hizashi shoves the arm Aizawa’s holding his phone with out of the way and looms over him to demand, “Why did you stop?” as if the past two and a half days haven’t happened and they’re right where they left off.
Aizawa gives him a puzzled look, which might be because ten seconds ago Hizashi opened the front door and now he’s straddling Aizawa. “Stop what?”
“The other night. When we were…” Hizashi looks down at himself on top of Aizawa, who’s wearing a set of Hizashi’s cast-off tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt that doesn’t even pretend to fit him. When had wearing Hizashi’s clothes become something he did? When had it become so hot? “We were like this, pretty much.”
“Ah,” Aizawa sounds out unhurriedly, letting his phone drop from his fingers to the floor, though Hizashi’s stay closed around his wrist. “You don’t remember?”
“Apparently not,” Hizashi retorts. “I know we didn’t… that you stopped.” Aizawa meets Hizashi’s gaze without fear or compromise, because there’s never been any hiding things between them. Not when they’re getting along the way they should.
Then Aizawa’s eyebrows lift a little, splayed out underneath Hizashi like a human tar-spill. “Why’re you so sure I was the one who stopped?”
“Because I wouldn’t have,” Hizashi returns instantly, resting over Aizawa and wondering if the racing pulse in his palm is his own or Aizawa’s. “Process of elimination.”
“Fine, since you forgot,” Aizawa seems to admit. “I knew you’d be more annoyed if something happened and you didn’t remember than if I stopped.” When he says it, Hizashi does remember Aizawa telling him something of the sort as he bundled all-hands Drunk Hizashi into his bed. Some kinda vague ‘you’ll thank me for it later’ promise while Hizashi whined about Aizawa being such a fucking pricktease.
“I’d have remembered,” Hizashi insists, and Aizawa bobs his eyebrows again.
“Does it matter now?”
Hizashi grins. After all, he’s got Aizawa where he wants him now. “Guess not.”
Aizawa moves up to catch the kiss that Hizashi swoops down with like an eagle, tangling in the middle with a newly growing confidence in each other’s habits. Like that Aizawa’s a lip biter, something he does to Hizashi’s bottom one now, right before Hizashi reintroduces his tongue to its new second home in Aizawa’s mouth.
If the reason Aizawa didn’t take things further with Hizashi the other night was because he knew they should savor this, he was damn fucking right. Drunk Hizashi wants to have all the fun, but Sober Hizashi really knows how to appreciate it.
Aizawa touches Hizashi like he’s entitled to it, whether it’s squeezing Hizashi’s thighs in his leather trousers or trailing fingertips across his stomach underneath the hem of his t-shirt. Like these actions are the most ordinary things in the world that he does all the time, which has Hizashi thinking – is this ordinary? Their new normal?
They’ve definitely spent a fair amount of time making out on this sofa by now, but each time it’s gotten steamier. Hizashi doesn’t remember the last occasion in full technicolour glory, but if it’s anything like now then it was a hell of a thing to behold. Aizawa had reciprocated back then too, but it’s still surprising just how much he does give back as good as he gets. That Hizashi’s way-too-smart ex was right, and these things are only there for Aizawa if they’re looked for, but when they are it’s definitely fucking there.
Speaking of things that are definitely there, Hizashi shifts his weight over Aizawa, pretty much just a grind at this point, and his first thought is that Aizawa’s got the TV remote in his pocket or something, because that can’t be…
“Wait,” Hizashi blurts as he clumsily pulls his mouth from Aizawa’s and shifts further back. “That’s not…”
In a pair of Hizashi’s trackies no less, Aizawa’s got a boner that pitches a circus big top more than a tent.
“What?” Aizawa says grouchily, staring at Hizashi staring at his crotch, following this up with, “Hey!” when Hizashi immediately grabs his waistband and yanks it down, because this isn’t something he can wait even a second longer to confirm.
Hizashi takes one look at Aizawa’s, is it even fully hard, cock and then slaps himself in the face to make sure he isn’t dreaming.
“What’s gotten into you?” Aizawa reiterates, so Hizashi lurches forwards and slaps him. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” he snaps. “What was that for?”
“For keeping that python a secret all these years!” Hizashi yells, because of course, Aizawa just would have a massive dick, wouldn’t he?
Aizawa stares at Hizashi in complete abject confusion. “What?” he hisses, eyebrows tangling into a couple of angry squiggles on his face, looking down at Hizashi holding his tracksuit down and the slack-jawed wonder on Hizashi’s face. “Because it’s… big?” He doesn’t even sound sure of this, and Hizashi has never been so simultaneously indignant and elated in his life.
“Big?!” Hizashi lets go of the waistband to ping down against Aizawa’s thighs. “It’s huge!!” When Hizashi tries to slap Aizawa a second time, he gets his wrist snatched, and resorts to telling him, “You might’ve at least mentioned it!”
“I didn’t know!” Aizawa retorts. “It’s hardly a conversation starter.”
“Well it should be!” Hizashi insists. “Fucking hell, Aizawa, if I’d known…”
“What?” Aizawa cuts in a little sharper this time. “You’d have thought about doing this sooner?”
That catches Hizashi out, because would it have changed anything? Hizashi’s only started thinking about Aizawa like this in the space of a week. Is he really the kind of guy who’d have thought about fucking his best friend earlier if he knew he had a big dick?
“.... Probably, to be honest,” Hizashi does try to be honest with himself, and had he known, the chances that he would’ve left that knowledge alone – especially knowing as he does now that all this chemistry with Aizawa is there when it's looked for – are slim to none.
“How shallow of you,” Aizawa comments, but he doesn’t maintain such a disgruntled expression when Hizashi reaches down to wrap his hand around Aizawa’s absolutely monster cock.
“You’ve met me, right?” Hizashi retorts with a wicked grin. Aizawa’s cheeks are taking on a rapid flush that could be embarrassment over this conversation or just the fact that Hizashi’s touching his cock at all.
With a little twitch in his expression and a blush that Hizashi could easily describe as adorable, Aizawa mutters a brief, “Unfortunately.”
“Tch, you won’t be singing that tune for long,” Hizashi baits, adjusting his fingers around the shaft to size him up properly. Fucking hell just about sums it up.
Aizawa makes a stifled sound that’s even cuter than his full-face blush, and manages to get out, “Didn’t think you’d care,” while Hizashi’s hand moves experimentally, and god dammit, he isn’t even fully hard, “It’s not like you’d be the one to…”
“To what?” Hizashi eagerly snatches the words off Aizawa’s tongue, daring him to keep going.
Aizawa looks so flustered it’s the most hilarious and weirdly cute thing Hizashi’s ever seen. As if no one else has ever seen him looking the way he does right now, not even Hizashi until this moment, and that makes it incredibly precious by the rules of supply and demand.
“I… figured you were a top,” he mumbles, and Hizashi flashes a smile with a lot of teeth. So Aizawa does have some cognisance of these things, not that he’d ever talk about it outside of these very specific circumstances.
“Shows what you know.” Unable to resist any longer, Hizashi leans down like a dipping bird desk-toy and takes just the crown of Aizawa’s cock into his mouth.
Aizawa’s voice stretches out like bubblegum, the blush spreading all the way down to his neck. Hizashi could just eat him, if he wasn’t already. "You… ah– aren't?"
Hizashi drags the flat of his tongue from base to head, which is quite a trip, and damn, some people really do have it all.
Holding Aizawa’s cock like he’s talking into a microphone, Hizashi declares, "You can't expect me to not have a go on this thing, can you?"
Forget deer in the headlights, Aizawa looks so dazed right now Hizashi could take a picture to use as a reference on the definition of ‘confused horny’. Or maybe he always looks like that when someone’s touching his cock. Things to find out.
"I don't know,” Aizawa murmurs groggily, leaning back on his elbows watching Hizashi handling him like a cut of kobe beef. “Can you?"
"Hah!" Hizashi snorts, adjusting his grip on Aizawa’s now fully erect monolith of a cock. Can he indeed. Brimming with confidence that’s far more of a taunt than it is a promise, Hizashi repeats, “Shows what you know.”