Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hitoshi loathes how utterly adorable Izuku looks in his hoodie. It frankly shouldn't work, not when he's muscular and so very broad shouldered, scarred fingers poking out of the sleeves and a hint of collarbone at the too-loose collar.

But Izuku is curled up on Hitoshi's bed, wearing Hitoshi's hoodie, his curls splayed out over Hitoshi's pillow.

His eyes are half-closed, heavy-lidded, a haze to the sliver of green visible, and there's a freckle right on the corner of one of them, part of a little constellation that looks a lot like a bird, Hitoshi thinks, and maybe one day he'll spend hours looking up actual astrological constellations just to be able to trace the stars that he sees upon his partner's skin and know that they truly do reflect the skies that they like to stare up at together on sleepless nights or late dates.

It's gorgeous. Izuku is gorgeous.

"You feeling any better?" he offers, light and soft and, dare Hitoshi say it himself, sweet. He can't help that Izuku makes him a sap.

"Mm. Bit."

"Better than worse," he snorts, although the effect is rather ruined by the blanket he drapes over Izuku's legs, the movements very much delicate because he doesn't want to worsen the chronic pain nor the stomach pains that Izuku is quietly putting up with.

"Happy to cuddle?" Hitoshi adds on a moment later, for all that he's currently depositing two freshly-filled bottles of water on his nightstand, and he very, very much wants to wrap Izuku up in his arms right now, but, well, he'll put Izuku's comfort first.

But he knows Izuku well, and he's glad to see that his partner at least doesn't mind a cuddle right now because he nods, one hand coming up from being tucked into the heated curl of his body to instead clutch messily at Hitoshi's wrist.  (The trust of that... The sheer faith that Izuku shows Hitoshi is beyond astounding. He knows his partner's past, knows his own past as well, and he knows that for Izuku to stretch out a vulnerable, aching part to Hitoshi after every single time he has been hurt before by so many people is beyond a blessing. It's a trust that Hitoshi isn't even sure he deserves. But he's going to do his damn best to live up to it. Izuku is beyond worth it.)

"Hey there," he croons, instead of anything more pressing, and oh-so carefully brushes his thumb along the side of Izuku's wrist, affectionate and cautious. He gets a wobbly almost-smile for it.

Moving carefully, he clambers over Izuku to settle on the bed behind him, slipping his arms around his partner and, after another second, hooking one leg over both of Izuku's, draping himself against the perhaps too-warm back, tucking his nose in amongst a hood and dark curls, breathing in the combined scents of pomegranate and coffee and them. Everything about this is a sort of quiet, jagged perfection, one not tainted but simply twisted by the pain currently keeping Izuku just that little bit too rigid. (They both have aches and pains in their day to day lives already, albeit Izuku far more so. There are nightmares and insomnia and long, hard training sessions that leave them nigh-on struggling to walk by that night. So, yes, aches are unfortunately a normal part of their lives and their relationship. It's a good thing that neither of them mind helping each other out.)

After a few content minute, Hitoshi nuzzles his nose more firmly against the back of Izuku's neck, curls tickling at his closed eyes in the best way,

"Comfy enough?" he checks, wanting to make sure that he isn't putting any pressure somewhere that makes things worse for Izuku. It takes two breaths before Izuku nods a little bit,

"Mm."  He doesn't entirely trust that, honestly, because Izuku isn't generally great at judging his own comfort or safety levels, so he can't help but press, just a little, wanting to be sure that his partner is as okay as he can be,

"You sure?"

"Got cuddles. 'm happy," Izuku hums, very much blatantly content, enough so that Hitoshi can only melt further against his partner.

"Sap. But good. I'm glad."

They don't talk anymore for quite some time, simply glad to have each other and the calm of an evening without anything to do.

Finally though, right as Hitoshi is starting to get drowsy, Izuku wriggles around and twists a little, enough to look back at Hitoshi.

"Thank you," Izuku murmurs, after a few seconds of their eyes meeting, quiet and strained, still very much curled into himself. It tugs at something in Hitoshi's chest, an ache around his warm-swelling heart, because he hates that his partner is suffering like this, that Izuku has such awful days where his hands tremble and spasm, made doubly worse by a stomach ache at the same time today. It's typical and awful and Hitoshi really does hate it.

It also isn't fair that Izuku can still look adorable, despite it all. That the scrunch of his nose or the curve of his back can be so damn attractive all at once, even through the way that he beyond aches in sympathy for his partner.

(These long, long few moments of eye contact, regardless, are a thing of wonder. Because Izuku's eyes are unfurling ferns, and jewels in sunlight, and aurora in a night sky, shadows in their depths and something bright-soft-sweet overwhelming all of it, glimmers of light that always seem to brighten just for Hitoshi. It always sends warmth right through him.) 

Hitoshi reaches up to brush some of the curls out of Izuku's face, smoothing a fingertip around the curve of his pretty eye, against those freckles, with the tiniest flutter of long eyelashes against his knuckle. Izuku leans into the delicate touch with a wobbly smile.

"Love you."

"You too, softie," Hitoshi murmurs, utterly fond. He can't help the warmth, because every time that Izuku says those words... It's a miracle except it's regularly and freely given, a soft sort of promise that Izuku never hesitates to offer him, and it's a pure joy that Hitoshi rarely finds otherwise. Izuku is a joy, in and of himself.

So Hitoshi shifts up enough to press a kiss to Izuku's hairline, then settles back down again, glad when Izuku curls back into his foetal position that is surely easing his stomach ache. And, with that, Hitoshi pulls up the blanket that he'd draped over his partner's legs earlier, tucking it over both of them properly, before letting himself sink slowly into sleep, still breathing in the scent of them. Of his home.

He's pretty damn lucky, even on their not-so good days.