Chapter Text
"Um, Sensei..."
Shouta looks up from his phone slowly, thumb hovering over the screen. The teachers office is vacant save for him, an obscene kind of feat, so he resigns himself to being Yaoyorozu’s only option of attention and slouches more against the counter. Behind him, the coffee pot gurgles encouragingly.
“Yes,” he says, and rubs at the skin under his left eye.
Her eyes drift past him, just a little, before snapping back to attention. The papers in her hand crinkle. “The notes on my last English essay got smudged, I was hoping to catch Present Mic-sensei...” she says, perfectly demur if not slightly apprehensive.
Shouta doesn't like the look in her eyes, but he holds out his hand anyway. Hizashi is who knows where, but his English good enough.
Yaoyorozu crosses the space, past the empty desks infested with paperwork, like a woman on a mission. Which, for her? May as well be, Shouta figures. He's had the dubious pleasure of being in the company of her relatives enough times to see it's a learned habit. With that amount of money, it's bound to come with a strict and confidant upbringing.
Which, clearly, isn’t foolproof. A cord of self-doubt wraps around her anyway, threatening to choke out her innate potential. The way she hesitantly relinquishes the papers irritates him. Shouta’s hoping to fix that soon enough, at least.
Sticking his phone under his arm, he flips the pages over, too drowsy to split his attention. She's top of the class, so he can't imagine Hizashi had too much criticism for her. And, he's right, as he puzzles the smeared red. She struggles with the passive voice, and Hizashi merely took a paragraph to explain it to her.
He's not sure he wants to know how it got waterlogged.
“Work on using the active voice in English, basically,” he says, and hides his chin behind his capture weapon to trap a rude yawn. “That's the gist of it.”
Yaoyorozu makes a considering noise. “Thank you, Sensei,” she says, distracted, brow furrowed. He follows her gaze to the half empty jar of coffee by his elbow. “I… I have... another question.”
Well. This ought to be good. “Right,” he mumbles, handing the papers back.
“Um, well,” she starts, smoothing her essay. “I see that you’re making… instant coffee.”
Shouta narrows his eyes, frowning. Why does he get the feeling that’s not the word she normally uses?
“Is… Is it good? We always grind our own at home, but...”
Hm. “It gets the job done,” he says, because at this point that’s all that matters. Hescafe’s tolerable if only by the fact it gets him through the second half of the day. “I don’t care about taste.”
Something he says must be a cause for concern as she purses her lips, a seldom seen glint of fierce determination backlighting her eyes. “May I try it? I’ll replace the coffee in return.”
“It’s just instant,” he says, disinterested, and straightens. The gurgling’s stopped. “But you can take it up with Midnight-sensei, if you must.”
Shouta pulls down two mugs, one squat and round with two ears along the rim, and another a dark blue that shouts Waffle House in a circle. He doesn't even know what a waffle house is, but he thinks it's one of All Might's, even if he can't be completely sure. Hizashi would own some strange mug like this, and with the kettle broken, heating water in the coffee maker for instant coffee is a hassle but. Waste not want not, and all that. Coffee is coffee.
He slides the steaming blue mug over to her, filled only halfway, and watches the way her face lights up in anticipation and uncertainty before pouring water over his own teaspoon of coffee.
Yaoyorozu pulls the mug close, and wafts only as a wine connoisseur can, taking a deep breath. She shoots Shouta a searching look as he takes a long drag from his cat mug without blowing, taste buds accustomed to the heat from years of impatient scalding.
Kids. Honestly.
With a nod to herself, Yaoyorozu takes her first sip.