Chapter Text
“How’re things going with Aizawa?” Sekijiro’s hand tightened around his coffee cup for a moment.
“Good.” Toshinori didn’t leave the kitchenette, he could hear the small sips of tea he was taking. Once he had finished stirring the cream into his coffee, he turned to Toshinori. He had his head cocked, a hand shoved into the pocket of his baggy suit. He didn’t offer anything more, simply watching the other hero.
“You guys move in together?”
He nearly spat out of coffee, shaking his head quickly. “No, no.” He attempted to laugh and break the tension. It came out tinny and nervous. “No, we’re taking it slow.” He nodded, mostly to himself before taking another sip of coffee.
“How much slower could you go?” His voice was a bit rougher than normal, a teasing lilt in it as he cocked his head. “You two were flirting for months. Surely, you both must be ready to go all in?”
He shrugged, unable to conjure any words as his eyes dropped to his feet. It was good his coworkers were getting more comfortable with him, he never had a problem with being teased. But he and Shouta were different. Before he could respond, or even think of a response, the man in question interrupted them. “Sekijiro. Toshinori.” His eyes slanted to the opening of the kitchenette as Shouta dragged himself in. Any thoughts about Toshinori that may have been holding on, were wiped away.
Every day, he found something more and more beautiful about the man. The curve of his lips or the glimmering of his eyes. The grace in his movements that he tried so desperately to hide. He was lovable, not in the way most people saw him. Not because he was dark and brooding, or because he was a powerful hero. But because he was smart, and sweet. Because he melted with Sekijiro bumped their fingers together, and seemed to purr when he slid his fingers through his dark strands of hair. The way he fluffed himself up when standing next to Sekijiro’s bulk. Still trying to be so dominant when it was never in his nature. He was so endearing. Sekijiro was terribly fond of him.
Toshinori slipped by Aizawa, giving Sekijiro a pointed look over his shoulder before turning into the hallway. He watched Shouta silently, sipping on his coffee as he made tea and dug around in the fridge.
The circles under his eyes had darkened, his movements were clumsier than normal. He nearly knocked his mug off the counter, fingers scrabbling to steady it while he still reached for the milk inside the fridge. He stepped forward, steadying Aizawa’s shaking hands as he finally poured the milk into his tea. He spanned a large hand across Shouta’s shoulderblades, feeling him relax into the touch as he finished doctoring his tea. They hadn’t spent a night together in nearly a week, and it showed. Shouta’s eyes were bloodshot, lips dry and cracked. His shoulders were bunched up around his ears, muscles knotting together under every little movement.
It was a bit better when they were touching, the careful skim of his knuckles up his ribs, or the smooth movements of his fingertips under the hem of his shirt. “Didn’t sleep well?” He murmured, staring down at the man as he cradled the mug of tea to his chest.
“Didn’t sleep at all.” His voice was pitched lower than normal, his throat must have been aching.
“You’re working yourself to death Shouta.” He spun on his heels and leaned back on the counter, getting a better look at Aizawa’s sunken cheeks, the stubble beginning to pepper his jaw.
He shrugged. Sekijiro looked away from him and took a big gulp of his burning coffee. “I just want to help them.” Sekijiro nodded. The intense need for their students to succeed was something they shared, even if he couldn’t always agree with how Aizawa was working himself.
“I know.” His large hand found the severe point of Shouta’s elbow. “But you can’t hurt yourself while doing it.” Dark eyes focused on him, pulling him closer and closer until their chests were nearly touching. Aizawa made no other move to acknowledge him, face bland and cold. These moments hurt the most. He was so terribly fond of Aizawa, it only made him hurt more when he was brushed aside like nothing. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight?” Shouta pulled away from him.
“Maybe.” He nodded and did his best to brush the surge of worry and fear he had, off. Aizawa left the kitchenette without further comment.
His work was messy that day. Constantly distracted and slow thinking as he lead his homeroom class through lessons, and assisted other teachers when asked. Any minute of down time he had was consumed by dark sunken eyes, even with working moments had stumbles where Aizawa pulled him apart.
It was obsessive and terrible, but knowing that only made it worse. He was just so unsure. It had been nearly a month since they had gotten together. If he could even call it that. They had agreed to go on a few dates, to prioritize other things, endeavor to not take this too seriously. That didn’t stop him from falling hard and fast for the man.
He still stressed when he hadn’t heard from Aizawa for a few days, still felt jaded when he chose to sit with someone over him. How childish. Possessive. Obsessive. The spirals dragged him deeper. Boiling with self hatred and guilt, trying to talk himself down and pathetically failing. He rolled the events of their “relationship” over and over in his head. He found himself trailing off in the middle of sentences, or forgetting his thoughts while instructing. No matter how many times he told himself to calm down, to realize that Aizawa probably just had other things going on, he always got dragged back down.
It made him finally realize why he hadn’t done this in so many years. It made him remember in sharp clarity, what his last relationship had been like. Why he had come to UA to teach and blocked everyone off.
By the end of the day, he was exhausted, ready to sleep away all the guilt and obsession he had boxed himself into. A soft knock at his office door drew him out of his thoughts again. “Hi.” Aizawa mumbled, shuffling into the empty seat beside his desk. Sekijiro didn’t respond immediately, instead struck by the man’s beauty and exhaustion, both painted so clear on his face. “I heard you had a rough day.”
Good to know that his failures had gotten around to the other teachers. “Yeah, just been… tired.” It was a clear lie. One that Aizawa cocked his head at. Sekijiro swallowed his panic. Aizawa wouldn’t press him, he would figure it out on his own terms and never have to burden the already struggling man. Even if he couldn’t take care of himself, he could take care of Shouta.
They lapsed into silence for a moment, Sekijiro taking glances at Shouta from beneath his eyelashes when he thought the man wasn’t looking. “Do you want to come over tonight?” After weeks of flirting in between the careful lines they had silently set, it still managed to startle him when Aizawa was so direct.
He dreaded being anywhere besides his bed. But the dark circles ringing Shouta’s eyes were painful to look at, his dragging body would be even worse tomorrow, his bumbling movements increased in the front of his class. He might even need a sub so he could attempt to get some rest. Shouta needed to sleep. “Yeah, I have some more stuff to do…”
Aizawa stood as he trailed off, bringing his coat tighter around his torso as he left his office. “The door’ll be open, come over whenever.” And just like that, he was alone.
It wasn’t that he was avoiding leaving work, he was just busy. He didn’t end up crushing his body into his car until it was nearly midnight. He drove to Aizawa’s apartment lost in thought, nearly falling asleep at the wheel until he parked. His large hand closed around the doorknob, resting there for a moment as he took a few deep breaths. There was no reason to dread being around the man, nothing was official, nothing was set in stone. He was fine. Once he had calmed his panic, he stepped inside the apartment.
He flicked the lock behind him and peered through the dark for where Shouta would be lurking. A moment later the hall light flared on, revealing Aizawa standing a few feet away. He was wearing one of Sekijiro’s shirts and a pair of boxers, looking beaten down with his shaggy hair drawn away from his face. “Hi.” He murmured, pulling of his jacket and hanging it on an open hook. “I got a bit caught up at the office-”
Aizawa was in his arms before he could even finish the sloppy excuse. He buried his face in Sekijiro’s chest, arms slinging around his waist and squeezing him tight while he blinked. Immediately he wanted to smack himself. He wrapped his arms around Aizawa’s shoulders and took a deep breath. There was never any reason to try and avoid the man, there shouldn’t have been any uncertainty for him at all. He squeezed the man tight, head dropping forward to almost completely envelope Aizawa. They stood silent and still for a while, gripping each other. Even if he was the one holding his partner, he was soothed, all the twisting thoughts and worry he held onto all day, dissipating.
Aizawa wanted him just as much as Sekijiro wanted him. He was actually able to take care of Shouta. It calmed him completely.
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Exhaustion pulling on him and making him clumsy as he made Aizawa food. They seemed to be constantly touching. Legs tangled while they ate, fingers rubbing across knuckles while they discussed their days. Sekijiro couldn’t even remember why he had been so worried. Not when he was staring into Aizawa’s deep, dark eyes. Not when he was making shitty jokes and absorbing Shouta’s shaky laughter. Everything was okay. Shouta was happy, he was getting what he needed. Sekijiro felt needed.
It was still difficult to fit into his bed. They turned into a mass of tangled limbs and warmth. Aizawa ended up laid out on Sekijiro’s chest, an arm through around his hips. Even if it was uncomfortable, or he would wake up on the floor, it was worth it. For, he got to peer through the darkness and see Aizawa finally resting, chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. Even if it was a bit uncomfortable, he slept deeply with Aizawa resting on his chest, swallowed by warmth.
He roused in the morning to Shouta trying to get out of his grip. Sekijiro murmured, still half asleep, and tightened his arms around the man’s shoulders. “A little longer.” His mouth was dry, lips slimey and sticking together. He didn’t want to deal with that, or the fact he had no toothbrush or clean clothes here. He just wanted to lie for a little bit longer.
“We need to get to the school.” Shouta sounded a bit more awake, shoving on his chest and trying to climb out of bed. Sekijiro valiantly resisted, reluctant to let the sleep warm body leave his grasp.
“We graduated.”
At that, Shouta collapsed back on top of him, head tucked under his chin as he laughed into his shoulder. “We’re teachers Sekijiro.” He groaned and squeezed Aizawa a bit tighter, savoring the last moments of cool darkness before he knew they would have to get up. When he would have to leave Aizawa for his students, when he would have to wade back into those long spirals of thought and worry. He took a breath. Today would be different. Everything was fine. Once he had soaked up as much of the warmth as he could, he relaxed into the bed.
“Fine.” Aizawa sat up in bed, before leaning back over him and pressing a kiss to his lips. Shouta was gone before he could react, leaving him tangled in the sheets with the imprint of his kiss stinging warm on his lips. With Shouta, affection was rare. Kisses were a godsend, rushed and sweet. He was suddenly much more awake. And convinced that today was going to be a good day.
He rolled out of bed with a groan and followed Aizawa to the bathroom. At some point, Shouta had lost the shirt that hung precariously on his frame, meaning that Sekijiro was greeted with the sight of Aizawa’s scarred chest and skinny legs. A moment later, an unopened toothbrush was hitting him in the chest and dropping to the floor. When he looked up from it, Aizawa was grinning around the toothbrush in his mouth. It was going to be a good day.
A good night of sleep would do a lot of things for Aizawa. The circles under his eyes lightened, his eyes were brighter. His voice would pitch louder, he was strong and sure on his feet. Quick wit coming out, instead of taking the teasing with a shrug and a smile. He was happier to go on walks and get out of his darkened office. He was just happier.
Sekijiro could see it when they were in the car together, could tell by how he was more affectionate that normal, pulling Sekijiro’s hand of the shifter to play with his fingers. But he could also see the way his muscles were knotting back up. The set in his jaw as they pulled into the parking lot. He was tense, but not as much as he was the day before.
No matter how hard Sekijiro worked, he would never be able to save Aizawa from that. The stress and the work, how he threw himself under the bus and nearly got himself killed to help his students. Not that Sekijiro wouldn’t do the same thing.
He parked and vowed to not do that to himself, to not hurt himself like that. Today would be different. Aizawa was still playing with his fingers, they had spent the night together. It was going to be a good day. He looked at Shouta, catching that dark gaze with a soft smile. Shouta returned it, leaning into his space just far enough to give him a kiss on the cheek before they climbed out of the car.
The morning was misty and cool, a bit gloomy, but nothing could dampen his mood as Aizawa held his hand and they trekked up to the offices. He was still painfully aware about how his grip on his fingers was loosening, how his steps were starting to shuffle and become clumsy. How he was no longer responding to his playful banter, instead focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He tried to keep Shouta’s spirits up, but it was useless.
When he saw Yamada and Toshinori chatting and walking toward them, he almost warned them off. An instinctual and irrational protectiveness gripping him. He shook it off and waved at them, trying to ignore how Aizawa pulled their hands apart. The immediate rage that gripped him, shook him. He wasn’t this person anymore. That person was long in his past, this relationship was different from that one so long ago. He was forced out of any dangerous thoughts by Yamada calling their names, sliding up beside Aizawa as Toshinori stood on his other side. He plastered on the persona everyone had come to expect of him.
Just as he always did for other people.
He turned to Toshinori as Yamada clapped a hand on Aizawa’s back, ignoring whatever emotion flared at that movement. They chatted as they climbed the stairs into the offices. He laughed at Toshinori’s jokes and returned his small talk, but his mind was always on Aizawa. Trying to check in on how he was doing, making sure he wasn’t overwhelmed or unhappy again. But nothing was wrong. Aizawa was smiling and laughing. He was leaning into Yamada the way that Sekijiro had only ever seen the man do with him. He looked the most relaxed that Sekijiro had ever seen. Without him.
He turned into his office without saying good bye. His body was already warring within itself. One half roaring with rage at Aizawa finding someone better than him, the other half curling in. Rage and self hatred battled desperately. He was reverting to his old self. The possessive monster from that long gone relationship. Anything that could have kept that rage in check was now shriveled, too busy screaming how pathetic he was.
He threw his bag onto his desk and collapsed into his chair. What was wrong with him?
The only class he had to attend to that day was his homeroom, a single period together before he was free. For meetings (to overthink). To get work done (to sit silently and rip himself apart). The first time he was actually able to pull himself out of his office and out of his head, his stomach was growling, his head felt fuzzy. He didn’t bother to get some food from the kitchen, or dip off campus. He just shuffled into the kitchenette to make himself coffee.
Toshinori seemed to have a lot on his mind too, not even bothering with hello’s as he entered the kitchen. As soon as he caught sight of the man, his stomach clenched. He made his coffee in silence, turning the idea over in his head, trying to understand whether it was a good idea or not. Against his better judgement, he asked the question anyway. “You were in the same class as Aizawa and Yamada right? When we were at UA?”
Toshinori groaned, finally stopping the obsessive stirring of his coffee. He laughed under his breath as he turned to look at Sekijiro. “That was a long, long time ago.” He stared at the man, before faking a harsh laugh. Toshinori furrowed his brow, but didn’t push. “Yeah, we were all in the same homeroom. I don’t remember having any normal classes with you.”
His coffee burned his lips and tongue, making everything feel numb as he shrugged. “Like you said, it was a long time ago.” He paused again, rocking back and forth on his heels as Toshinori waited. “You’ve known Aizawa for a while then right?” He shrugged before nodding.
“Yeah, it was weird for a while though.” He took another sip of coffee, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “They got together and I just stopped hanging around because I was third wheeling so hard.” He was too enthralled in his story to look at Sekijiro, struggling to breathe. He knew, maybe not so intimately as this, but he had known that they were together. For a long time from the sound of it. Long enough to leave an imprint upon Aizawa to make him unconsciously needy for his touch. Leaving Sekijiro useless. And weak.
Toshinori clapped him on the shoulder before leaving him alone in the small kitchenette, and for a moment he wondered what he had missed. And the next moment Aizawa was in front of him. His time felt fractured and exaggerated. It was like they were both under water. Aizawa was speaking to him but it was muffled and hard to understand, his lips were moving too slow and Sekijiro couldn’t seem to understand any of it.
Aizawa reached out for him and finally his ears popped. Their fingers were tangled together. As sensation rushed back in, it felt euphoric for him. But when he looked at Aizawa he knew the feeling wasn’t mutual. All this time, he thought he knew the man so well, only to see him completely different. Shouta suddenly stopped talking just as he was gaining his bearings.
“Are you okay?” He murmured, peering up into Sekijiro’s eyes.
His body was already running on autopilot. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just another weird day.”
“Do you want to talk?” He did look genuinely concerned. But all Sekijiro would see was a mask.
“Maybe later.” He was out of the kitchenette before Aizawa could respond.