Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hitoshi exists between interesting states within his pack as the only omega-tot, regarding social ranks and dynamics. As the only “founding” omega of the pack — what it says on the tin, but essentially the first omega joining a newly fledged pack-bond— he had higher rank than some of his other pack members who joined later. . . but as a tot, the rank dynamics essentially considered him a permanent resident in the “pup” area, and that area only.

Aside from some teasing and inside jokes here and there, it didn’t really have much of an effect on his daily living. His pack chose to respect his autonomy as an adult over his Classification—for the most part, at least. There would always be exceptions to that little rule, and it tended to happen the most when there was a situation specifically dangerous to the pack itself, rather than dealing with their Hero work.

Hitoshi would give everyone and anyone an earful if they attempted to disrespect him and his autonomy as a Pro. Especially when there were civilians involved—or worse, the press.

Of course, that didn’t mean that they treated Hitoshi stoically—in fact, he could say that even out of headspace, his pack would baby him. It was a byproduct of Hitoshi being one of the few omega-subs in the pack, and his tots subclass, plus the fact that his scent would always go soft and warm whenever he was cuddled or coddled by the pack.

Considering how he had grown up—always being seen as a burden, always being made to know how unlovable and unwanted he was—the pack and their easy affection was still a marvel to him, even all these years later.

An alarm breaks Hitoshi out of his half-doze, and he nearly smacks his head against the side of the dresser as he all-but vaults himself off the bed. It’s a familiar alarm, one that he and his colleagues have come to have a love-hate relationship with.

AHOD.

All Heroes on Deck.

Even Hitoshi, being off shift for the day, wasn’t immune to such summons—and if they were summoning off-the-clock Pros, then it’s likely a disaster the worst anyone could see. He distantly hears the rest of his Pack—those that were home, at least; Eijirou, Mina, Tenya—scrambling with their Hero uniform and support gear, their own phones echoing with the same alarm.

It wouldn’t end unless the Pro ‘clocked in’ to the situation. A bit annoying, especially for those who had more sensitive ears, or stimming problems, but it was a system that reluctantly worked, if only for the negative reinforcement.

After the disaster that was the Shigaraki War, as the press had taken to calling it, and many, many seasoned Pro Heroes ignoring the distress calls and signals, citing they weren’t prepared or hadn’t signed up for such a thing, the Hero Commission—newly rebuilt and placed with Nezu-vetted people—weren’t taking any chances.

Hitoshi double-checks that he has his support belt—equipped with a first aid compartment, an extra support scarf, and many other little gadgets and gizmos, courtesy of an overenthusiastic Hatsume. Once those checks were complete, he makes his way out of his bedroom and downstairs.

“Ready?” asks Tenya as he approaches the foyer, and Hitoshi nods.

“As I’ll ever be,” he responds with a light smile. Even though he had a general idea of the chaos they’d be getting into, no one could be completely sure of the situation until they arrived there themselves.

“We leave in five,” Tenya yells down the hallway, to Mina and Eijirou who were still getting their things together. A chorus of responses floats down the hall, all affirmations.

Hitoshi leans against the wall and waits. Hopefully, those who are already at the scene will be able to hold on until they arrive.

Chaos.

Utter and complete chaos.

Hitoshi can barely see three feet in front of him, the area absolutely devastated by an unexpected landslide that had followed a series of small earthquakes. Earthquakes weren’t that common in their prefecture, and nether were landslides, even though they had a bit of a mountain range. As it was, even if one were to prepare, no one expects the better half of their morning spent buried in rubble and dirt.

Hitoshi immediately goes into search, rescue, and medic efforts while emergency services sets up camp on somewhat solid ground. He utilizes his quirk to keep as many panicked and harried civilians as calm and lucid as possible, gently asking questions and snaring them in his quirk to feel as if they were in a dream. It’s the best he can do for them, with his limitations.

For those who are too stressed to walk properly – at least, make it to the emergency services camp without harming themselves, he carefully gives instructions through his quirk to maneuver the debris, releasing them once enough of the rubble has receded to where he feels comfortable having them walk on their own.

He swathes through the rubble and debris, the stink of fear and death hanging in the air like a noose, and spreads as much calming pheromones as he can. As an Omega, his scent can stave off the worst of panic attacks with its’ natural soothing components, and could even send someone into a light doze at best.

He spies a shock of pink hair poking out from some of the debris, and makes his way there. There’s a young, college student aged girl curled up in the debris. His heart twinges from sympathy. He can’t even imagine what’s going through the people’s minds right now, seeing the devastation of their downtown center.

“Hey, are you injured?” he inquires softly.

Pink eyes blink at him, dazed and light. “Hm?”

“I’m a Pro Hero,” Hitoshi continues in that soft and soothing tone, his mind tracking the bruises and small cuts along her injured form. Probably in shock, he thinks to himself. “I’ve been called here to help with relief efforts. Would you like some assistance getting to the—?”

Pain blooms on his side; a sharp, gutting feeling that makes his brain short-circuit. His lungs twinge from the effort it takes to breathe, and he stares at the hilt of the knife buried deep between his lower ribs. Attached to it is the hand of the stranger he had been helping.

“Sorry,” said the stranger, teeth wide as they smiled. Pulling out the knife in between his ribs makes a sickening noise. “It’s nothing personal, Mr. Mind Blank. I’m just doing what I’ve been asked.”

Hitoshi’s knees buckle. His hands press against the wound, and he does his best not to think about how his blood rivets over his fingers, pooling beneath him. His vision blanks for a moment, tipping sideways from the pain, but when he blinks, the stranger is gone, and it is just him surrounded by the rubble and debris.

Noise crackles from the comms in his ear.

He rasps through another ragged breath, mind whirling what he remembers of field first aid and stab wounds. His vision whitens, but – it’s important. He needs to let someone know where he was, and what happened. His grasp on his bonds loosens, and his fear spills down like salt on a festering wound.

“Mind Blank! What’s your situation?”

“Code Black,” Hitoshi rasps into the comms, after tapping it twice. That action would send his location to the nearest agency, requesting both backup and emergency services. The sudden responding silence is damming. “Stab wound. Potentially fatal, loosing consciousness.”

“Where—?!”

“WHAT—?!”

Hitoshi remembers little after that. At least the concrete feels comfortable.

Soft beeps and the whir of an air conditioning unit brings him out of a soothing pit of darkness. His side twinges with distant pain, but it’s a muted edge that is easy to ignore. Likely the pain drugs, or something, as he can sense that he’s in the hospital. He groans softly and twitches, his limbs aching from the lack of movement and sleep.

“Toshi?” A warm voice and hand touches his skin, gently carding fingers through his hair. He recognizes that voice, those familiar callouses and miniature scars. For such a rough hand, Izuku touches him as if he is preciously spun and carved glass. “Are you with us, baby?”

“No,” says Hitoshi, through the dryest mouth. He licks his cracked lips and tries to open his eyes. Thankfully, the florescent ceiling lighting isn’t on – just the window curtains opened to allow natural lighting. “Ugh . . …”

Izuku straightens, a worried tilt to his mouth. “Are you in pain? Let me call the nurse—.”

“’M fine, worrywart,” Hitoshi reassures, though with his raspy voice he’s not quite certain that he’s convinced the other Little that he was alright. “What . . . what day is it?”

“It’s been two days,” Izuku responds immediately, eyes scanning over him as if to sense out any sign of discomfort or pain. “The – the weapon had been poisoned, so it took some time for it to flush out of your system once they found the, the antidote.”

Poisoned?

Hitoshi blinks from surprise. “I . . . I see.”

He didn’t, really. Not only had he been stabbed – and clearly, it had been intentional, considering the woman’s words – but the blade had been poisoned to some extent. Whomever wanted him gone really wanted him gone.

“Fuck,” Hitoshi sighs.

“Fuck,” agrees Izuku, and then he reaches for the little remote of buttons that would call for the nurse. “Lemme get your med team in here; they can go over your vitals and tell you other stufdf.”

Hitoshi huffs a soft laugh at the immediate descent into fretting. As Izuku presses the button, he takes a moment to observe the erst of the hospital room. There’s gifts along one of the visitor couches, piled with get-better balloons, cards, and stuffed animals.

“How’s the pack?” Hitoshi questions.

Izuku grimaces a moment later, but then clears his expression and shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that right now, Toshi. Let’s just focus on recovery and what the doctor says.”

Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. “Since when are you a Caregiver?” he asks in a teasing tone, masking the rising worry lodging in his throat.

He knows how . . . somewhat obsessive Pro Heroes can become – with cases, with paperwork, with Villains and organizations – but nothing put a candle to how they could become when a pack member – especially an Omega or Little pack member (or both) – gets injured. Hitoshi isn’t a stranger to being injured of course, he’s an Undergruond Pro for one thing, but it still didn’t matter to the rest of his pack.

They would go overboard with his recovery, with his protection, until the adrenaline and instincts fluished from their systems. Likely by another case or something similar.

Hitoshi sighs, already knowing he’s going to be nest-bound the moment he returns to their home. “Are you the only one here?”

Izuku shakes his head. “No, no – Kacchan’s with me, and Tenya. Tenya went to the bathroom, but Kacchan’s went out to talk to the doctor.”

 Of course, Hitoshi thinks to himself, fond and slightly exasperated. Tenya and Katsuki were the most anal about pack members’ health and well-being.

Another moment of brief silence passed and then the door to his private room opened. A cheerfully smiling nurse in typical hospital scrubs enters with a bright smile. “Good morning, Hitoshi-chan; so glad to see you’re awake,” she greets as she approaches; behind her is another nurse, tugging along a computer-stand thing. Hitoshi doesn’t know what it is; a monitor perhaps? It had much wires and tubes and all sorts of hospital . . . things. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed,” says Hitoshi, blankly. Izuku makes a noise in the back of his throat.

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Understandable; you’ve been through quite the ordeal in just a few days . . . alright, so we’re going to be checking your vitals, and making sure things are looking good. Any questions?”

“No,” Hitoshi replies, and Izuku also shakes his head.

Hitoshi weathers through the check of his vitals, heartbeat, and breathing. Another nurse checks on his bandages and wound, making sure there wasn’t any risk for infection, before rebandaging it tightly. Hitoshi wasn’t surprised to see the sutured wound; it had been quite deep, for a stab wound. For a moment, he had thought he wouldn’t be able to make it.

The door swings open a moment later, and Tenya appears with two cups of coffee in his hands. At least, Hitoshi assumes it’s coffee. It could be tea. Either way, Tenya brightens considerably when he notices that Hitoshi is awake and alert, the brightness of his expression making some of his dark under-bags disappear.

“Toshi-kun!” Tenya greets with a warm smile. “How are you?”

Hitoshi does a light shrug, though he tries not to wince at the movement. “Eh.”

“It is to be expected,” says Tenya as he crosses the room, handing Izuku one of the mugs. After a moment of maneuvering around the care team, he then drops a warm kiss to Hitoshi’s forehead. He takes another moment to nuzzle Hitoshi gently, chuffing lightly in the back of his throat. “I’m glad you’re awake and alert.”

“Takes a lot to bring me down,” Hitoshi says, only partly teasing, and smiles, leaning in slightly to return the nuzzle. A light purr coils down to his stomach as some of Tenya’s scent comfortably washes over him; patrol and rain and the distinct scent of citrus.

Some might find his scent confusing, but it never failed to bring a large sense of comfort to Hitoshi. It would always stand out, much like the man himself would often do. A beacon amidst the darkness.

“Where is Katsuki?”

“With Dr. Tanaka,” says Izuku after he’d taken a few sips of his drink. “Not sure when either will be back, though.”

“That’s alright,” says Hitoshi, playing with the ends of the blanket. “S’not like I’ll be going anywhere for now.”

Tenya snorted softly. The nurse team finished their work and told him the doctor would be there in just a moment, before leaving the room. Hitoshi falls silent as his mind whirls, piecing together puzzles and slicing through theories. If Pops were there, he’d remark at how similar they were, and how their minds worked whenever they found something interesting or perplexing to go through.

Hitoshi finds himself falling back into a light doze thanks to the pain medication. He jolts a bit when Katsuki returns with the Dr. Tanaka, a kind elderly man that mostly talks to the Caregivers in the room about what’s going on. Hitoshi doesn’t find it in himself to bristle or be defensive over the slight discrimination there; he’s too tired, his body too broken down to put in the effort to be indignant.

Tenya smooths a hand down his hair, gently spreading some of his scent there for comfort. “Get some rest, puppy. We’ll be right here with you when you wake.”

Ah, Hitoshi thinks distantly. The nickname tells him exactly what kind of mindset the rest of his pack members were in.

Well.

It’ll be a problem for Future Hitoshi. Right now, he just wants to sleep.

He wakes again to the low murmur of the television. It’s on some show for children and Littles, Izuku’s attention rapt on the screen whilst his hands go through the repetitive motions of knitting. Hitoshi thinks the other man is knitting what looks to be a blanket of some sorts, but he admits that his knowledge of knitting begins and ends with scarfs.

Tenya is on the chair beside his bed, head resting against his curled fist. His eyes are closed, and his breathing deep and slow, but Hitoshi knows that if anything were to happen, the man would be awake within seconds. He senses Katsuki to his left; the sound of turning pages floating softly in the air. A part of him wonders if it’s another one of Sero’s smutty mangas that Katsuki insists he doesn’t read.

It’d be just like Katsuki to bring in a smut manga to the hospital.

A slither of pain echoes throughout his system, centered on his injury, and he’s unable to stop the soft groan as it forms. Immediately, he’s pinned beneath their protective and worried gazes. Katsuki rises to his feet the quickest, hands fluffing some of the pillows behind his head.

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki questions briskly, looking half a second away from storming the nurses’ station and dragging the entire staff into the room.

Hitoshi hums softly. “S’okay . . . jus’ pain.”

Katsuki’s expression twists into something unreadable. “I think there’s a button somewhere for pain medication that we can press . . ..”

“Found it,” chirps Izuku, pressing the button once the remote had been found.

Hitoshi sighs, relieved, as it seems like his veins are washed over with some kind of relaxant. He’s not the best at knowledge of pain medication, but whatever he’s on seems to be doing its’ job within seconds. Perhaps they gave him a higher dosage since Pro Heroes often had a higher pain threshold than civilians.

“Tha’s good,” he says, voice slurring a bit. His eyes struggle to keep open a moment later, feeling himself float. “Gon’ sle’p.”

There’s a soft chuckle, and a nose pressing against the crown of his forehead; the soft chuff and purr of an alpha. “Sweet dreams, Toshi.”

Hitoshi falls into dreamland quickly.

He gets discharged the next day, his charts and vitals looking good enough for the hospital staff to trust him to be away from their services, and Hitoshi can’t wait to go home. He wants to curl up in the den nest and be cuddled by his pack mates. He wants to roll in their scents and their comfort, breathing in the love and safety of their scents.

Tenya insists on Hitoshi being wheeled out once he’s discharged. Hitoshi feels twinges of guilt for the stress he’s been putting his pack through unintentionally, and doesn’t protest much further when Tenya gives him that stern expression that always makes him melt. Izuku hands him one of the plushies he’d been gifted – a snorlax plush that he’s going to cherish for the rest of his life; it’s so adorable – and Katsuki wheels him out towards the car.

“Sensei’s gonna meet us at the house,” says Katsuki as they help him out of the wheelchair and into the car. He pouts a bit at the booster seat they’ve installed, but thankfully the seatbelt doesn’t brush against any of the stitches or bruises that’ve formed around the wound. “They would’ve been at the hospital, but staff was only letting us in.”

Hitoshi blinks at that. he supposes it makes sense – his parents were still pack, of course, but now shifted as a secondary pack rather than primary like he and his packmates were. It makes sense the hospital would prioritize primary pack for something so serious as Hitoshi’s injuries.

He has questions brimming on his tongue, but he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to get anything out of the trio. He’d say that Tenya, Izuku, and Katsuki were the most protective pack members, and they took the safety of the pack very, very seriously.  

“How’s Momo?” Hitoshi questions instead, finding safe territory for their Pack Alpha. Tenya and Katsuki were her Left Hands, though Katsuki was also an Enforcer, with Izuku helping the duo as one of their best Trackers. He hadn’t been surprised that it had been them who visited, considering Momo was overseas currently for a case in South Korea.

“Trying to get tickets,” says Katsuki, flicking the turn signal on as they turned onto the street of their pack compound. “She was able to be released from her case, since she’d already done what they wanted her to do, citing pack emergencies, so we’re hoping she’ll be here by the end of the week.”

Hitoshi hums at that.

It’s not too often that they go overseas for casework, but they had pretty strong relationships with overseas Pro Heroes and their Agencies. Sometime around their second and third year, U.A. had done an exchange program of sorts, and Class A had made many lasting connections during those precious months.

His mind itches to know more about the girl, and the investigation. Sometime during his stay in the hospital, he had been gently interrogated by a police officer and gave his statement on what happened, but that was the extent of his knowledge. However, he knows that since he’s literally just gotten out of the hospital. . . no one would be quite keen to give him all the gory details.

He leans back against the seat, sighing quietly and ignoring the curious and worried stares he’s getting from Izuku. He supposes he could wait a few more days or so before he starts demanding answers. He only hopes they’ll give it to him, or else.

Hitoshi happily unlocks his seatbelt as they park in the driveway of their home, but pauses, movements sharp, at the sudden low bark from Tenya. He stalls his movements, tracking the other Alpha as he comes to his door, opening it for him.

“Let me help you inside,” says Tenya, but it’s quite clear by the look in his eyes that isn’t not a suggestion. Hitoshi sighs when he’s scooped up gently in Tenya’s arms, and carried back towards the house. “Sorry, puppy, I know you want to walk, but . . . give us a few days or so.”

Hitoshi hmphs, but he’s already used to his packs’ antics from the previous times he’d been injured. He’s not actually upset about the overprotection; in fact, it leaves a part of him satisfied and smug, like a cat who’d gotten the canary and the fish without being discovered. He wraps his arms around Tenya’s neck and snuggles closer, leaning in to breathe in the Alpha’s scent.

It’s been a while since he was able to nest and scent-mark with someone. Hospital beds were not comfortable at all, and rooms couldn’t really accommodate nesting until in feral cases. As Hitoshi hadn’t been feral, ergo there hadn’t been an opportunity for him to build a nest.

Tenya carries him inside, and Hitoshi nearly pisses himself then and there when he comes face to face with most of the pack, crowded in the genkan. His heart pounds against his fingers as he clutches the front of his shirt—he thinks it actually belongs to Hanta, but there’s a mix of competing scents so he’s not entire certain on that—and sputters voicelessly.

“Alright, you fucks, back away and give ‘im some fuckin’ space,” barks Katsuki, bristling protectively, a low, almost purring growl in the back of his throat.

Mina’s sheepish expression is what he sees first, through the sea of protective scents and gazes. “Sorry for scarin’ ya, honey! We’re just – you know, we’re all nervous, but happy that you’re back home safe and sound!”

“Yes,” Hitoshi agrees, fondness rolling in his mouth. “But yeah . . . let’s gimme some space. You can crowd me in the nest.”

Half the pack dispatches to go to the den nest, much to his amusement, and the rest slowly follow, draining the hallway from a sea of bodies and glowing, restless eyes.

Tenya doesn’t let him go, however. “Uh . . . you can put me down now, you know,” says Hitoshi, patting the alpha’s chest lightly. There’s a soft chuff in response, and Hitoshi sees feral-gold along Tenya’s red irises. Ah hell, he thinks.

He gets carefully deposited in the den nest, and then has at least two blankets wrapped around his shoulder when he shivers from the brush of the AC.

“Toshi~,” crows Denki, the omega scuttling closer to press their cheeks and scents together. “I missed you so much!”

“Missed you too,” Hitoshi agrees quietly, reaching to pet and card his fingers through blond locks. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“Well, Kyouka-chan set the toaster on fire.”

Kyouka squawks. “Not on purpose!”

“Could’a fooled me!” Denki twists around to tease, snickering at the pillow thrown at his face. “Foul! Don’t throw things at me; the baby could get hurt!”

“I’m not a baby,” says Hitoshi, almost instinctively, but no one’s listening to him, focused on the squabbling play-fight between two of their pack members. Sometimes, it’s as if they never left the U.A. dorms.

“Where’s Toshi!?” comes a strained tone from the genkan, and Hitoshi isn’t surprised to see his parents’ worried faces a moment later as they rush into the living room. “Oh, baby; are you alright!? Lemme see you,” says his Pops, worry and love dripping from his mouth.

His Dad follows at a more sedate pace than Yamada, per usual, but Hitoshi spies the tension and simmering rage in his physique.

“Could be better,” Hitoshi admits after a moment, knowing that any lies would be sniffed out immediately with close proximity. “But – I’m not in pain, and its’ healing nicely, so I should be alright in another week or so.”

His Pops presses their cheeks together, a light purring in the back of his throat. Hitoshi responds back to the scenting, tilting his head to give the elder omega easier access, purring lightly in the back of his throat. A hand presses against his head next, fingers gently scrubbing and petting his scalp, causing more purrs and pleased chirps to form.

He knows, even before he looks, that it’s his Dad.

“Aww,” coos Mina, halfway smooshed between Ochako and Shouto. “You sound so cute.”

“Puppies are always cute,” says Shouto.

Hitoshi half-snorts and mutters, “Notta’ puppy,” but again – no one’s listening. Assholes.

Nevertheless, he purrs softly, surrounded by the safety and love of his packmates and family. Whatever vendetta some villain had out for him didn’t matter right now. Right now, he’s surrounded by love and warmth, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, however cheesy that might’ve sounded.

He can think of the chaos of this incident later. Right now, he’s on a mission to get cuddles until he inevitably grew overstimulated.

Chapter Text

 “What do you mean, there’s a fucking bounty on my head?”

“Language,” rebukes Katsuki, which makes Hitoshi hiss at the Alpha just out of sheer audacity. “Don’t hiss at me, you brat, you know I’m right!”

Hitoshi only rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Again – bounty. What.”

“We aren’t quite certain where the request has arisen from,” says Nezu, whose sitting by their coffee table in their sitting room for guests. Technically, Nezu is pack-adjacent, but his packmates are all too trigger-happy to have him be near the nest. It’s a miracle he’s even out of the damn thing for this conversation. “But not to worry, I have my people and myself working on uncovering the semantics.”

“You better,” threatens Katsuki, baring his teeth.

Nezu doesn’t look phased. “Regardless, I do believe it would be pertinent to your safety should you extend your leave of absence from your agency. It wouldn’t do for you to be targeted whilst on patrol or on a case.”

Potentially putting others in danger, is what’s left unsaid, but Hitoshi still bristles.

If there’s one thing he shares with his fellow colleagues, it’s how much he hates being put on house arrest. “Listen, we’ve all dealt with far worse than a bounty—hell, Izuku’s had like two on his head in the past,” Hitoshi points out, ignoring the low, warning growl from Katsuki. Tenya is just giving him that stern expression, that disappointed chuff that never fails to make him melt. In other circumstances, of course. This is different. “Yeah, I got – hurt, but that was only because of the element of surprise—.”

“Which we cannot predict whether it may or may not happen again,” says Nezu, and Hitoshi twitches. The stupid rat almost smiles into his teacup, and Hitoshi regrets having the other mans’ favorite tea leaves in stock. “As such, I implore you to allow your pack members and colleagues to handle this situation until it is safe enough for you to be out and about.”

Hitoshi knows they’re making sense. He knows that it’s the right course of action, for something like this, but he can’t help the spiral of hurt burrowing deep in his chest. His thoughts whisper that his pack think he’s incapable of keeping himself safe, that he really is just the puppy they say he is, and that it’s just better for everyone if he stays home, safe and sound in the den.

“I don’t like this,” he grouses, instead, and clamps down on his emotions so they wouldn’t spread down to his bonds or scent. It would send everyone into a frenzy, and he’s absolutely not in the mood for that right now. “But – fine.”

All of them are keenly aware that Hitoshi didn’t have much of a choice, technically, but they allowed the illusion of choice to remain.

“Perfect!” Nezu claps his paws together. “Now, shall we go over your security detail?”

Hitoshi groans and presses a hand against his face.

Being on house arrest sucks ass, and it’s even worse when he’s got at least three shadows always making sure he’s in their line of sight. It’s been endearing for the first few days, but now Hitoshi’s introversion is rearing its’ head, and he wants some alone time, like, yesterday. Hitoshi grumbles to himself softly as there was a soft nip against the nap of his neck. Not quite a scruff, but still activating some of those hormones to flood release throughout his system. He makes another quiet noise in the back of his throat as he settles back against the nest in his room.

One of Tenya’s arms is heavy around his waist, tucking him close against the alpha’s chest. Low, rumbling purrs gently formed in the middle of Tenya’s chest as the alpha gently nosed along the scent glands at the back of his neck, scenting him further into a soft haze.

Hitoshi should’ve been annoyed, but he could never stay too incensed for long when being scented and cuddled. He could have choice words to say afterwards, but now his limbs and mind were a puddle of goo, and Tenya’s silhouette was strong and warm, protective and loving, against him.

He dozes a bit longer than what he would’ve liked, on a normal day where he had patrol and regular agency-like things to do. However, the house arrest had been strict enough that he wasn’t even supposed to be looking at any paperwork, let alone complete it. By the time he woke from his nap, he could safely say that he was going stir-crazy.

“Aww, what’s with the pouting, baby?” coos one of his packmates, who only snickers at the acerbic glare he settles their way.

“You know why,” Hitoshi replies, though his sour expression is crackled by the yawn prying his mouth open. Nest cuddles were his weakness. “I don’t see why I can’t even do some paperwork or something.”

“We know how you are,” Ochako points out, and Hitoshi sticks his tongue out at her. “You’re the same as ‘Zuku,” she adds in a fond tone, eyes crinkling with warmth. “Once you get started with the paperwork, you’re gonna wanna go on a ‘short’ patrol,’ and that defeats the purpose of house arrest, don’t you think?”

Hitoshi pouts. “I still think you’re all blowing this out of proportion.”

Tsuyu frowns at that, crossing her arms over her chest. “You almost died, kero.” Her scent sours slightly at the reminder, as does Ochako’s, his two prison minders for the evening.

Hitoshi winces at the frank tone, but he can’t find it in him to refute against that point, considering it was the truth. He doesn’t even want to know how things might’ve turned out if his back-up had arrived just a few moments later than when they had arrived.

“Stop being right,” he says instead, falling back against the plush pillows and blankets. He’s pretty much only allowed to leave the nest for the bathroom, and even then he still has shadows. Thankfully, no one follows him inside, which allows for some privacy, but still. He couldn’t even have a few minutes to himself without someone getting paranoid that their security system had been overridden, and he was currently halfway on deaths’ door.

“No,” says Tsuyu, and then she blows him a kiss when he sticks his tongue out at her twice.

“It’s not so bad,” says Ochako, always one to try and find the brighter things in life. He appreciates that in other aspects of living, just – not right now. Not when he wants to wallow in his rightful injustice at the ways of the world. “You get to have all the cuddles and attention you want~.”

Hitoshi dramatically sighs into one of the blankets. “I guess.”

He just wants them to figure out who placed the bounty on his head, and get it over with. This likely wouldn’t be the last time some criminal overlord wanted to take him out. He’d put a lot of henchmen and bosses behind bars, so he knew he’s racked up quite a few enemies on that side of town. Hell; Eraserhead still had a bounty. It just came with the job of being an Underground Pro Hero.

Not that his pack-mates would see that sense, of course.

“Cheer up, kero,” Tsuyu says, reaching over to card her fingers through his hair. He purrs gently at the gesture, leaning into the touch. “They’ll find out what’s going on before you know it.”

Tsu’s words ended up being a premonition.

A week of his house arrest passed by with his disgruntled participation before they received news that the one who had placed the bounty on Hitoshi’s head had been discovered. Hitoshi, half smooshed beneath Hanta, only gave a thumbs up in response, still half-asleep from the late night of video gaming with Hanta, Denki, and Kyouka.

They kicked his ass on rainbow road, per usual. Sue him, he wasn’t the best at go-karting. Or driving, really. He preferred to bike places.

“No more house arrest?” he mumbles against some of Denki’s hair, whilst the man in question continues to snore.

Katsuki snorts, amused. “No more house arrest, brat.”

Hitoshi tiredly protests the nickname. “Don’t be mean to the baby.”

“Yeah,” Hanta agrees tiredly. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’ll be mean if I want,” says Katsuki, rolling his eyes at the way Hitoshi flicks him off. He squeezes Hitoshi’s foot gently, chuckling softly at the soft noise it causes. “Get some rest. We’ll go on patrol later.”

Hitoshi hums softly, snuggling deeper against Hanta’s body warmth. Later, he’ll harangue his pack members for more of the details, knowing at least two of them were there at the showdown. The house arrest had been annoying, for sure—but he had the love and warmth of his packmates surrounding him, and so he couldn’t really complain.

He still would, though.