Chapter Text
Shinsou stared at the scene before him with reserved caution and incredulity. He had a blank expression matching his mentor's. Meanwhile, the other watched TV on the couch like it was a typical afternoon.
"Is this what I think it is?" Shinsou asked flatly.
"Yes," Aizawa replied with equal enthusiasm.
"Can I ask how-"
"No."
A pause. Shinsou thought a more fitting question would have been not how but why. He could piece together how this might have happened - Eri's mistake, perhaps - but why his teacher then decided to bring the mistake home was beyond him.
"Fair enough," he said. He knew Aizawa; therefore, he knew that when he said no, it meant no.
As Shinsou left the room, Shouta reflected on the very question he had been asked. He had not answered because, well, he did not really know himself. At least, he could not articulate it. How exactly had it happened? He could think back and logically pin the blame on two key factors. One: Eri, though he could never be mad at her, let alone stay mad at her for very long. Two: Himself and his stupid, deep-down-held compassion. Suffice to say, he blamed the ladder rather than the former. The point being: He got himself into this situation, now he had to stay in it. What was the phrase? You made the bed. Now lie in it. A sensical one. One he often used on his idiotic students. Case in point: the time Bakugou destroyed his actual bed in a fit of explosive rage, and Aizawa forced him to either sleep in its ashes or use a sleeping bag till he could pay for a new one (sleeping bags were more comfortable anyway). Only now, it was his turn to take accountability.
Focusing on the trashy sitcom in front of him served as a welcome distraction. Right now, the dad whose name he could not remember was having difficulties in his job now that a new co-host for his talk show was introduced. This problem felt trivial compared to the one Aizawa now had on his hands, but triviality was a nice change of pace. However, TV as an evasion was but a temporary respite in the grand scheme of things. If he had a free hand right now, he would probably rub his temple to ease the migraine creeping up on him. Alas, it increased in sync with his ever-growing dread.
What he had done tipped a snowball, a snowball that would cascade into a roaring avalanche and inevitably crash down on everything around him. Because the tangled knot of upcoming worries; people to explain his faulty reasoning to; people to convince this was the right choice when he himself was not so sure, was too cataclysmic to think about, he focused on the most important one: How, how, would he explain this to Hizashi? His husband was not stupid. Well, not that stupid. For his loud and bombastic nature, he was not an idiot. Once he was filled in, he would - understandably - freak out. Hell, he had even expected Shinsou to be a little more shocked. Maybe he was inside; he concealed his feelings well. That they had in common.
A tiny hand gripping his arm snapped him to attention. At this point, it was a reflex; Eri had so many nightmares that Aizawa's brain had been hardwired to help people through them.
He tilted his head down.
By his side, Tomura Shigaraki clutched his arm in his sleep.
He had these weird half-gloves on that Hizashi bought Eri to wear while she draws. Aizawa was not certain what their purpose was, but here they came in handy. Hah, and Hizashi said he was humorless. Eri had an extra pair, so to prevent any accidental dusting, he put them on Shigaraki.
Begrudgingly, he rubbed his back and tried to soothe him. For a villain, let alone one as infamous as him, Shigaraki looked much more helpless as a small child. Aizawa even had the brief thought that he looked vaguely like Eri, then snuffed it away immediately because that idea made him sad for some reason.
Speaking of her, she was asleep on his other side. Aizawa looked at her and knew he could never be angry for what she did. He blamed himself for letting her out unsupervised anyway. She could not have wandered far, so what plans did Shigaraki have with her for him to be within such proximity? When he asked Eri, she said he was kind, but anyone can act kind. For all Aizawa knew, he was trying to recruit her for the League.
It was interesting that her quirk did not straight-up kill the villain like it had done to her father. Perhaps it was because her horn was only half-grown at the time? No matter. For now, there were more important problems. Like what he was going to do now that he had yet another problem child. No, not his child. Adopting Shigaraki was out of the question. He had nearly killed him and his students multiple times. Even so, he was seemingly harmless right now. In fact, he was more frightened than anything. As far as Aizawa could tell, he had not retained his memories. Was it a possibility to give him up for adoption? Would someone recognize him? There was not exactly a plethora of blue-haired, chapped-skinned, and red-eyed people running around Japan. Regardless, the foster system was notoriously atrocious. No, that was not an option.
The buzz from his phone made him flinch. The source was in Eri's limp hand; she had been playing Candy Crush. From where he was, Aizawa could see Hizashi's text:
GETTING GROCERIES! I'LL BE HOME IN 20!!
Hizashi had a habit of capitalizing every word and punctuating everything with exclamation points.
Aizawa felt a pit of dread in his gut. Twenty minutes. He had twenty minutes to come up with an explanation. Feeling his heart rate suddenly pick up, he closed his eyes as if that would solve the whole thing. He got deja vu of a similar situation, albeit with lower stakes. About a few months ago, while he was coming home, he saw a litter of kittens in a window and - You can guess what happened. Hizashi was unsurprised, but - for once - being more reasonable, he did not think they could keep all five, especially since they already had two cats. After much bargaining, they settled on a compromise and kept two, giving the rest away. Unfortunately, splitting Shigaraki into five pieces was not an option, and even then, keeping two-fifths of him would be a big ask. Oh, well. Fingers crossed Hizashi returned with wine.