Chapter Text
Unsurprisingly, Shouta and Hizashi’s young houseguest sleeps clear through morning, not even stirring for breakfast. They spend a lazy morning together instead of going to school, but that doesn’t mean school doesn’t feature. There’s always more marking to be done, and training footage to be reviewed. It’s quiet time, sweet, and would be perfect with each other for company but for the fact they have a suicidal teen asleep in their spare room.
It’s only when it’s time for lunch - and Nedzu had arranged one of those fancy sandwich platters to be delivered for them - that Hizashi knocks on the door to the spare room and then steps in.
The kid is still dead to the world fast asleep, and Hizashi hates to wake him, but he does need to eat - his last meal was dinner, and he’s already worryingly thin. Not to mention that Tamakawa had called to let him know that Inko Midoriya has been tracked down - she was working a night shift apparently, which is a weak excuse to miss repeated calls from her son in Hizashi’s humble opinion - and he’ll be bringing her by in the early afternoon.
So Hizashi kneels by Izuku’s bed, and when calling his name doesn’t work, he gently jostles the kid’s shoulder until he wakes. It’s a process that’s too slow until it’s fast, and Hizashi sees the exact moment the events of last night register with him. “Hey, Izuku,” he says gently, and doesn’t draw attention to the tears welling up in his eyes. “Time for lunch.”
It’s a quiet affair, in the end, with Izuku pale and shame-faced and withdrawn. He doesn’t speak past quiet pleases and thank yous but neither Hizashi nor Shouta push him.
He has nothing to be ashamed of, but there’s zero chance of the kid believing that right now.
“Izuku,” the woman sobs, after being escorted in by an exasperated looking Tamakawa and has been introduced to Hizashi (as Present Mic) and Shouta (as his trophy husband who’s a teacher), “how could you do this?”
Oh no.
“How could you do this to me? I’ve given you everything and -“
“Enough!” Shouta interrupts, and he less than gently ushers Inko Midoriya out of the living room. Tamakawa closes his eyes briefly and then follows, already pulling out his phone to send a text. He waits only for a single nod from Hizashi before sending it.
“My child tried to kill himself, and you want me to calm down?”
“Yes,” Hizashi hears Shouta say. “He needs you right now, not your anger. He’s hurting; you cannot make this about yourself.”
“I don’t think I can handle this - it’s been hard ever since he was diagnosed quirkless, but this—”
“Ms Midoriya,” Shouta hisses. “Keep your voice down.”
Seconds later, the front door opens and closes, as Shouta must take Inko Midoriya out their apartment, but the damage has already been done and Izuku has withdrawn back into himself. He’s doing a pretty good job of hiding in his knees, so Hizashi just shifts to sit beside him, wrapping an arm over his shaking shoulders. He’s not expecting Izuku to pitch sideways into him, but he just pulls the kid close against his chest when he does.
He presses his chin against Izuku’s hair, and is unsurprised by the feel of growing dampness on his shirt.
No kid deserves this.
“Tamakawa will be over tonight with some clothes and stuff from his room,” Shouta whispers to Hizashi. The poor kid had cried himself to sleep on his lap, and he doesn’t have the heart to move Izuku, even though his legs are somewhat numb.
Hizashi scowls, although his expression softens when Shouta curls up beside him on the couch, on the other side from Izuku.
‘She just gave up on him,’ Shouta says, switching to sign after Izuku twitches slightly in his sleep. ‘A social worker will be coming by tomorrow morning.’
Hizashi nods, carding his fingers absently through Izuku’s hair; he wrinkles his nose slightly - it needs a wash, but keeps up the soothing motions. God knows this child needs all the comfort he can get, even if he’s asleep.
‘I’ve updated Nedzu on the situation, and he’s given us both the rest of the week off to help Izuku settle in,’ Shouta adds. ‘After that, we’ll see how it goes. He’s happy for the kid to chill in our offices while we teach if need be, as well.’
Damn, Hizashi is going to have send Nedzu a fruit basket. He's truly going above and beyond - plus ultra? - to rearrange things for both of them, even if it’s only two more days of teaching that have to be covered.
“Will your hellspawn survive without you until Monday?” Hizashi asks, letting a tiny sliver of amusement leak out. He'd sign as well, but his hands are rather occupied.
Shouta rolls his eyes and switches back to speaking, presumably because they're no longer discussing the literal child abandonment that just occurred. “They better,” he grouses quietly. “Nedzu assured me that Vlad’s happy to do joint homerooms for a few days, so at least I don’t need to worry about Yagi getting over-eager again.”
"You told Nedzu to warn Vlad about the explosive one?"
"Yeah," Shouta confirms. "I've approved quirk suppressors to be used if necessary. I don't want a repeat of last Tuesday."
"Is that what the meeting was about yesterday?"
"Mm. About Bakugou, and All Might as well. I pulled some strings with Nedzu and I've managed to move back all practical exercises until after the Sports Festival, given All Might’s incompetence. Thirteen is disappointed that we won't be doing the USJ tomorrow but they said it made sense, all things considered." Shouta sighs. "Probably for the best now, as I wouldn't be present to help keep an eye on the brats. And Bakugou is on damn thin ice; he has potential, but I don’t think he’s ever been told ‘no’ in his life.”
"Gross,” Hizashi mutters. “Rich kids are the worst.”
“One more stunt like what he pulled with Uraraka and he’s out of UA entirely,” Shouta says. “But it’s not entirely his fault, as All Might never should have run that exercise in the first place, not so soon. And he certainly shouldn’t have allowed the fight to continue when Bakugou verbalised lethal intent.”
Hizashi hisses. He’s seen the footage, and the burns Uraraka had been left with; it’s only because Tenya abandoned his role and to intervene and shoved her out of the way that they weren’t worse. He knows the only reason Shouta hadn’t expelled Bakugou on the spot is because he wants to see if the kid can make an effort to change – Hizashi has his doubts, but he also trusts his husband. He’s a damn good teacher, UA’s finest.
“Wonder if Izuku will be up for some shopping tomorrow," Hizashi muses, to get both their minds on slightly happier things, and then squashes down a coo when Izuku murmurs incomprehensibly in his sleep, twisting closer to his body warmth. "He'll need toiletries and stuff. Maybe clothes depending on what his mother sends over."
"Blanket," Shouta decides. "Comfort and comfort."
Hizashi snickers. "Good points," he says teasingly. "Always so practical."
Shouta jabs him in the ribs, but not enough to make him jump and risk jostling the teen awake. "Shut up," he mutters. "He's fifteen, so I doubt he'll admit to wanting a comfort toy or anything. A blanket is a good compromise."
"...He's fifteen?"
Shouta looks pained. "Sixteen in July."
Hizashi swallows heavily, because Izuku is much smaller than he should be, especially if he's turning sixteen in only a few months. "Okay," he says softly. "We'll have to work out a diet plan then. Oh - did his mother say where he goes to school? We'll need to contact—”
"He's not enrolled anywhere," Shouta interrupts as he shakes his head. "Education isn't mandatory after middle school, and with him being quirkless, a lot of schools rejected him right off the bat." He sighs. "Apparently he was planning on trying for UA, she said he had the grades for it, but withdrew out of nowhere sometime last year. She didn't push it, figured he was going to try and find a job to be a ‘man of the house’ instead."
"...Yeah, okay," Hizashi says, even as something angry twists in his gut. "I'll draw a schedule up for him later; between us we can home-school him."
Shouta nods. "I'll make time," he says. "Although he may have to tag along and sit in on class sometimes."
"If he's not up to that, Snipe's usually free when we're not. I’d say Nemuri but..."
"Agreed."
Hizashi hums gently, and then lets the conversation lapse. Instead, he looks at Izuku sleeping in his lap, face streaked with dry-tears, and decides that whatever he can give this child, he will.
When Izuku wakes, Hizashi is absently scrolling through his phone with his left hand, the right still petting greasy locks soothingly. It's only been about an hour, so he isn't too worried about the kid screwing up his sleeping schedule too badly - the sleep-in until lunchtime aside, of course. "Hey, Izuku," Hizashi says. "Sleep alright?"
The kid blinks up at him, registers where he is and shoots upright, nearly knocking his head into Hizashi's jaw in his haste. "I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," Hizashi says dryly - he managed to dodge, after all.
"...About the crying and falling asleep thing."
"Still fine," Hizashi tells the kid. "Seriously, it was a good excuse to not do marking."
Izuku looks doubtful. "Really," Hizashi insists. "Too many students use online translators, it drives me nuts."
"Is he awake?" Shouta calls from the office, and when Hizashi hollers back in the affirmative, sticks his head out of the room. "Good to see you up," he tells Izuku directly. "What do you want for dinner later?"
Hizashi can see it sink in for the teen that he's not going home with his mother like they'd all been expecting, and his face falls. "I don't mind," he says quietly to Shouta who shrugs, but looks pleased that Izuku is at least answering him today.
"That's fine. Any allergies, or foods you really don't like?"
It looks like he isn't going to say anything, but Shouta simply raises an eyebrow and the kid crumples under his gaze. "...I don't like seafood," the kid admits, after a decent amount of hesitation. "I'm sorry if that's a hassle."
"That's fine," Shouta repeats. "I don't like fish anyway; the little bones are a pain to get out. How's a simple soup and rice sound for dinner?"
"It sounds nice," Izuku says after Hizashi gives him an encouraging smile. "Do you want help making it?"
"No, thank you," Shouta says dryly. "I'm not good at sharing the kitchen."
A white lie, Hizashi thinks, that doesn't let Izuku know that it'll be a long time before he's allowed near the kitchen knives - currently the magnetic board they're on is well above his reach, courtesy of Shouta's quick rearranging of the house the night before. While the kid hasn’t demonstrated any intention to harm himself yet, it may just be lack of opportunity – Nemuri’s knife aside. Izuku just nods in understanding, ducking his head and staring at his hands.
Hizashi frowns and reaches over to gently pry his hands apart. "Easy," he says quietly, and then hesitates only briefly, because he doesn’t want to be rude but... "Do you want a shower before dinner?"
"Please."
Hizashi tries not to snicker at the slight desperation. "No worries," he says. "I think we still have some of Sho's old clothes lying around that you can wear; he's a complete hoarder," he adds confidingly, and it gets him a tiny smile from Izuku.
"Yeah, and it's coming in useful," Shouta grumbles, sliding fully out of the office and across to the hall cupboard. "Besides, at least I don't collect 'tapes,' whatever the hell those even are."
Hizashi scoffs. "Cassette tapes," he emphasises, "are a wonderful antique medium for storage and playback of music. They revolutionised at-home listening, and allowed for portable music for the first time in the mid 1900's with the inception of the Walkman. They're -"
"Outdated and unplayable, Hizashi," Shouta interjects, sounding pleased that he managed to rile a speech out of Hizashi. "Or have you managed to fix the player yet?"
"... I'm getting around to it."
"Sure," Shouta says, in a tone that screams of disbelief. "Ah, it's this box."
Izuku, who’s watching this interaction like one would a tennis match, is unsuccessfully hiding a smile behind one of his hands.
It's a good sight to see, Hizashi muses, and then stands, tugging Izuku up after him. "C'mon, lets see if we can find you something not covered in cats." Which reminds him. "Oh, speaking of! I bet you're wondering where our two are!"
Izuku nods, following pliantly behind Hizashi to the kitchen table where Shouta has dumped the box and is pulling out, unsurprisingly, pile after pile of Ganriki Neko clothing. Honestly, Hizashi thinks a lot of it could go for a good price as vintage designer these days, if not for the fact that Shouta wore them all to death. "They're a bit shy so they were hiding last night," Hizashi explains, and makes a face at a particularly ugly orange and purple jumper - he still can't believe he married such a fashion disaster. Gods, he remembers taking Shouta on a date and he wore that, and he still kept dating him. Ugh. "But we had to lock them in our bedroom because otherwise we never would've been able to pry them off of Tamakawa."
"...Cat pheromones?"
"Cat pheromones. They'll get used to you being around pretty soon, so I hope you don't mind fur."
"It's fine," Izuku says, and cautiously pokes a green sweater. Mercifully, it's actually one of the nicer pieces, which just means it's only ugly, and not hideous. "I like cats."
"Good answer," Shouta mumbles. "Here, these pants should fit."
To his credit, Izuku takes the proffered bright pink sweatpants without hesitation, although Hizashi can see the amusement in his eyes. It's probably a bit of a shock to discover that Eraserhead has awful taste in clothing. The lurid orange leggings he's wearing under a pastel yellow shirt have been tactfully ignored so far.
Hizashi is just grateful he only changed into them after Tamakawa and Midoriya's mother left.
Later, after dinner, when Shouta and Hizashi have sat Izuku down and explained what's happening to him, the teen falls silent. He seems... resigned, and quietly sad, and doesn't shed a single tear. Hizashi suspects it's because he cried them all out onto his shirt earlier, rather than lack of upset. God knows he has more than enough reason to by hysterical right now, but he accepts the changes with a maturity beyond his years.
That said; it’s clear he's still upset; there hadn't really been a gentle way to explain that his mother had all but abandoned him because she couldn’t handle his mental health. It's made worse when the doorbell rings and Tamakawa drops off a suitcase of Izuku's belongings. He also drops off a change of custody form, already completed by one Inko Midoriya.
... That hadn't been discussed, Shouta signs furiously across the room when Izuku goes to put his bag away - Tamakawa has already gone through it before coming over to ensure there's nothing dangerous in there. Obviously, they fill in the rest of the form, because they're not going to leave the kid out to dry but... It's unexpected. And it's just another awful thing that they have to tell Izuku when he comes back out.
Except he doesn't, and Tamakawa has been gone for half an hour at this point with the paperwork to file - technically not his duty, but he’d offered to drop it off on his way home - so Hizashi goes to check on the kid. He finds him staring at the open suitcase, which is filled with clothes and what seems to be a gaudy All Might blanket.
"Everything alright?"
"She knows I don't like All Might," Izuku mumbles dully. "She knows."
"Okay," Hizashi says, and his heart is breaking for the teen. "Want me to take it?"
"Yes please," Izuku says brokenly. "I don't like him."
"That's alright," Hizashi murmurs. He strides across the room and bundles up the offending blanket. "Want it hidden, or out of the flat?"
"Out of the flat," Izuku says, still staring blankly at his suitcase. "I don't like him."
...Yeah, that is concerning on so many levels, and Hizashi gives Shouta a quick rundown as he shoves the blanket at the other man to take down to the garbage. Shouta looks concerned, but also pleased, much to Hizashi’s exasperation. "Good taste," he says approvingly. "All Might's an ass."
Hizashi rolls his eyes and returns to the spare room - Izuku's room now, he supposes - to find the kid has unfrozen and is methodically sorting out his clothes into neat piles to put in the dresser. "Anything missing that you wanted?"
Izuku shakes his head. "It’s just clothes," he says quietly. "I already had all my notebooks with me, and there isn't anything else I want from - from there. Oh,” he adds, “this was labelled for you and - and Shouta.”
Hizashi very politely doesn’t mention the slight awe in Izuku’s voice when he says his husband’s name, and instead takes the folder. He opens it curiously to find Izuku’s birth certificate, passport, and school records tucked nearly inside.
"Sweet, thanks," Hizashi says, instead of bursting into tears at how thoroughly Inko Midoriya is extracting her son from her life. He wonders if Izuku opened the folder, or if he’s still too worn out to even think of doing so. He hopes it’s the latter. “Think you'll be up for some shopping tomorrow? Totally chill if you're not. We mainly just want to get some toiletries and stuff for your room."
Izuku looks thoughtful, pausing in the middle of refolding a teal exercise jacket. "I don't know," he says. "Can I - can I decide in the morning?"
"Yeah, that’s not a problem," Hizashi confirms, and he gently ruffles Izuku's hair. "Give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?"
Izuku nods and continues his unpacking as Hizashi leaves him too it.
He knows the kid won’t call.
“He’s asleep,” Hizashi announces about an hour after dinner and Shouta looks up from his grading. “Hopefully he won’t find another knife.”
“Nemuri said it was only the one when I texted,” Shouta says flatly. “If she’s lying, I’ll kill her before you can.”
“Fair. You tell her how we found it?”
“It’s none of her business,” Shouta returns. “So no. Besides, she’d want to come meet the kid, and I can’t see that ending well right now. He barely tolerates us. Also, I’m mad at her right now.”
Hizashi sighs and slumps down on the couch beside his husband, unashamedly snuggling into his side as Shouta huffs in faux annoyance. “It’s going to be different this time, isn’t it.”
“It’ll certainly be for longer than Amajiki,” Shouta concedes. “He seems like a good kid, under all that fear.” That’s as close to an admission of fondness Hizashi is going to get out of his husband, so he doesn’t press; he does secretly think it’s very sweet that Shouta’s already so attached. He always has had a thing for strays.
“Maybe we can also see if Amajiki wants a new friend,” Hizashi suggests after a few moments of watching Shouta grade. He’s harsh, using bright crimson ink, but Hizashi also sees how he takes care to write in through corrections and suggestions, how he prints neatly instead of just using his usual scribbled handwriting.
Shouta snorts, picking up a new paper. “Sure, we’ll have a kid trembling in one corner, and another shaking across the room. Great plan, Hizashi.”
Hizashi elbows his husband and Shouta hisses as his pen leaves a red strike-through on the page. “You ass,” Shouta snaps. “You’re lucky it’s Kaminari’s and that was wrong anyway.”
Hizashi snickers. “Yeah, that’s why I did it. Even I know that citation is wrong, and I suck at laws.”
“You do suck,” Shouta agrees. “Gods, stop wriggling, I’m working.”
Was that supposed to discourage Hizashi?
Hizashi wakes early on Thursday morning, and leaves his husband sleeping peacefully in bed; he sure does make a pretty sight, but given their new guest - ward? - any ~extracurricular~ activities will have to wait.
Besides, Shouta needs the sleep dearly, and Hizashi is loathe to get in the way of that, even if the way dark hair splays over pale skin is utterly delectable...
No, focus!
Once safely in the kitchen and away from temptation, Hizashi starts the coffee pot. It’s a soothing morning ritual, for him, measuring out the coffee, filling up the little water tank, and then waiting as it gurgles and grumbles away. Chainsaw and Massacre are lured into the kitchen by the rattling of their biscuit bag, and wrap around his ankles and try to kill him.
A normal, ordinary morning like every other, until Hizashi is sipping at said coffee, trying not to swear aloud and wake the other two occupants of the apartment.
And when Shouta stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleepily at his eyes and tripping over Massacre - she earned her name - Hizashi is sitting eerily still at the kitchen table. The folder Inko Midoriya gave them with Izuku’s records is spread open in front of him.
Only when Shouta has slumped into the chair opposite him does Hizashi break the silence, shoving his mug at Shouta who accepts the last of the first pot gratefully. “Shouta,” Hizashi says deceptively calmly, “it seems that we have a problem.”