Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All Might was dying.

Wind whipped around the hero’s deflated form - no, the true body of Yagi Toshinori - as he stood before All for One.  The camera zoomed in on Yagi’s face and he felt his own contort with horror; the man was exhausted, at his limit, grasping at the last fledgling sparks of his power with shaking hands.  He steadfastly refused to back down from the grotesque creature that stood before him. Across the room, Kan and Nezu yelled at the television, at All Might, cheering him on, pleading for him not to give up.  

Aizawa was silent.  Because he couldn’t breathe.

Because it wasn’t All Might anymore, it was Yagi.  Who didn’t have the strength of a thousand men and couldn’t bend steel with his bare hands and wouldn’t be able to outrun any attack that this monster threw at him.

He couldn’t breathe.

Because he knew Yagi now, knew how hell-bent the man could be to see something through to the end, any end, by any means.  Regardless of the toll it took on his body, or the sacrifice he would have to make to ensure the safety of the world.

He couldn’t fucking breathe.

Because it wasn’t All Might bracing himself for the impact of the villain’s punches, it was Yagi.  Yagi who let him nap in the staff room as he graded papers, gently rousing him when it was almost time for class.  Yagi who always happened to make too much food and swapped a neatly-organized bento for his energy packets while he was lecturing, even after he was such an asshole to him.  Yagi who’s laugh sounded like a well-loved song, so different from his alter ego, and so intoxicating that Aizawa practically ached to hear it every day. Yagi who’s eyes held a certain spark when he made a sarcastic comment he was particularly proud of, and who’s face Aizawa instinctively found himself searching for in a crowd, sighing in relief when their line of sight finally connected. Yagi, who would flash him a small, lopsided smile from across the table at staff meetings, and training sessions, and in the hallway, making his heart lurch in his chest.  Yagi, who he…

…Oh.

Oh no.

Oh god.

His fists clenched at his sides as All for One sprang towards the hero, who took every punch and jab and attempt at his very life with a strength Aizawa didn’t think possible in Yagi’s current state.  

What a horrible time to realize Aizawa couldn’t live in a world without him.

You have to come back.

Nezu and Ken were still screaming, crying, begging All Might to prevail, to survive.  He stared with shaking hands at the television screen.  He couldn’t look away.  He had to see.

Come back.

People had flocked to the streets, following the broadcast.  Around the whole of Japan, they watched the battle unfold. For several thundering heartbeats, after Yagi’s true form was revealed, the crowd was so quiet.  But now, they remembered who he was, remembered who All for One was dealing with, and they yelled into the sky, loud enough for All Might to hear.

“You can do it All Might!”  

“We believe in you!”

“Don’t give up, All Might!”

“Win!”

“Win!  All Might!”

“Come back to me.”

He whispered so quietly he barely heard it himself.  But it was there, in the open, with all the other thoughts and hopes of the people cheering All Might on.  

And somehow, miraculously, it worked.

Aizawa watched the fight continue, eyes unblinking and wide.  The duo met in one final plume of dust and debris, and Shouta’s blood turned to ice.  For what felt like an eternity, there was no movement, and he couldn’t stop his brain from thinking this was something the hero wouldn’t survive even in his prime.  Constricting panic leached into his chest; he watched the smoke billow and furl from the point of impact and there was no sign of All Might. But then the sky cleared, and Yagi was standing, triumphant, shooting a fist into the air and inflating into his hero form, the pillar of hope once more. Aizawa found himself flopping into an armchair, hands gripping the sides of his face, breath coming in shallow pants. Nezu placed a paw on his knee, and Aizawa looked up in time to see All Might stumble, catch himself, and cough. Shouta’s heart pounded against his ribcage; there was so much blood on his lips.

He wasn’t sure when he started moving, but his legs carried him out the door and his capture weapon was back around his neck and his coworkers were calling after him and none of it mattered because all he can think about is how he needs to get to All Might.  Yagi. He has to see him, touch him, make sure he’s still whole and real and alive. Once outside, he reached at his neck to take to the skies… and paused.

His hands were shaking.  Violently.

“…Aizawa?”

Nezu appeared in the doorway, concern etched in every ounce of fur.  Shouta exhaled deeply and sank to the ground, the urgency dissipating as the adrenaline ran out and was replaced by exhaustion.  Shock, he realized with a start.  He was in shock.  His head lolled between his knees and he found himself gasping into the pavement.  Quietly, the small principal padded softly over to the man, gently patting his back.

“What do you need?”

There was only one answer.

“I need to see him.”

Nezu smiled at him and placed a comforting pressure on his arm.

“Well then, let’s get you a ride, shall we?”

--

Upon arriving at the hospital, he was informed explicitly that All Might was accepting no visitors, at any time, whatsoever, no exceptions.  Aizawa’s hair instinctively bristled, a red tint flashing across his eyes. But then the rational part of his brain took hold, and an idea came to mind.

“What about Yagi?  Yagi Toshinori? Is he here?”

The nurse raised a harried eyebrow at the man, before checking the in-patient roster and releasing a surprised hum.  

“Well look at that - he is.”

Aizawa nodded curtly, ready to flash his hero license in an effort to allow him access, groaning internally at the abuse of power he was willing to display.

“…Even has you on his list.”

He blinked, momentarily taken aback by the revelation.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to him.”

He glanced at the clipboard on his way out.  Of all the people in the world who adored All Might, he supposed the man behind the persona would have dregs of names written down - surely there were dozens of people the hospital would need to contact... It did something to his heart when he saw how small the list was, how he could count the number of cherished friends on one hand.  All Might, who couldn’t walk down the street without people expressing their love for the hero, had five people in the world he wanted contacted in the event of an emergency.

Aizawa’s name was the first on his list.

--

The walk to the hero’s room consisted of a review of the injuries sustained, the estimated healing time, what steps would need to be taken next. Aizawa cringed at every broken bone, imagining every piece of skin purpled by bruising impact.  But he had asked for it from the nurse. Demanded it, even. To fully prepare himself for Yagi’s condition.

Somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

When they arrived at Yagi’s room, Shouta’s breath caught in his throat.  He steadied himself on the door jam, taking in the scene: machines, more than Shouta could keep track of, beeped in time with the rise and fall of the man’s chest.  An oxygen mask was fit snugly to Yagi’s face, fogging slightly with each puff of breath.  Several IVs were connected to slender arms, and it was unclear if the bruises smattered there were from the attempts at a viable vein, or residual damage from the fight. Whatever the cause, chords twined inwards and outwards around the bed, two he recognized very easily as supplying blood.  The various apparatuses dwarfed Yagi, who remained silent and sleeping as Aizawa’s eyes raked over his prone form.  The path stopped at All Might’s face, and he realized the man’s brow was knotted together into a deep scowl.  It caused a very important thought to spring to mind.  Wheeling on the nurse, he asked,

“How much have you told him?”

They looked at him as though he were speaking another language.

“We... we haven’t told him anything - he’s asleep.  Plus he’s on so many meds right now it’d be nothing short of a miracle if he remembered anything.”

Aizawa felt a wave of irrational anger rise in his chest.

“It doesn’t matter - he’ll never allow himself to heal if you don’t.”

He sighed, ran his fingertips along the scar on his face.

“Trust me... I know.”

The nurse nodded slowly, brow arched, a silent, yet still confused, acceptance of Aizawa’s statement.

“Well…  I’ll let you two… catch up, then…”

With that, Aizawa was alone with a fitfully sleeping All Might.  He pulled a chair next to the bed, quietly as he could, but it scraped the linoleum just enough to cause Yagi to stir.  His eyes opened slightly, bleary and fogged, a pinched wildness in him that spoke of a man who forgot where he was.  What he had done.

“It’s ok.”

Aizawa spoke before reaching to touch Yagi’s shoulder.  The hero immediately registered the familiar voice, turned with widening eyes to confirm who he thought it was, and exhaled jaggedly when their sight made contact.  All Might allowed himself to ease into the touch, the mask fogging with his shaking breaths.  He willed his eyes to open fully, trained them on Shouta, registering the comforting presence.

“Everyone’s safe.  You saved them.  You can rest.”

A smile, barely there, formed on the man’s lips beneath the oxygen mask.  Yagi looked so tired... more than that, even.  He had seen the man’s exhaustion increase as the school year had progressed, watched the bloodied handkerchiefs accumulate at a rate equal to the growing sharpness of Yagi’s cheeks.  It was frightening, how much he had equated the hero’s worsening condition to the stress of adding lesson planning to his busy schedule of saving the world.  In a time before their friendship, Aizawa watched Yagi’s downward spiral with severe agitation, convinced it was due to his poor time management skills.  At one point, he even dared to ask Nezu if the string bean was cut out for teaching, as it seemed Hero Work did nothing but get in the man’s way.  Shouta didn’t have time to pick up the slack, should there be any, and he wasn’t going to let the students suffer so All Might could play teacher.

He hated himself for that.

Aizawa shook himself from his thoughts.  He was startled by a warm hand covering his own, even more so when that same hand pulled Aizawa’s up to a pronounced cheekbone.

“Stay with me?”

Toshinori’s voice was so quiet.  It cracked slightly, his exhaustion seeping into every brief word.  There was a heartbreaking pleading within the hero’s eyes, normally so carefully hidden, now prominently displayed.  As though, if Aizawa refused, his very world would shatter.  He dragged his fingers across Yagi’s cheek, tucking back strands of blonde hair.

“As long as you like.”

He smirked, glancing away briefly as he cautiously ran his fingers through the golden locks.  When he looked back at the hero, silent tears were falling from Yagi’s eyes, soaking the pillow.  They crinkled shut, a crooked smile plastered across his face.

“I’m afraid you’d never leave, in that case.”

Shouta’s heart broke as he watched the man practically come apart before his eyes.  He knew the side effects of painkillers - exhaustion, muddled thoughts, emotional outbursts - and it appeared All Might was no more immune than anyone else.  Tired tears and extreme fatigue combined with the fact that All Might almost fucking died was a terrible combination for Aizawa’s willpower.  Which is why he had no problem grasping Yagi’s hand, pulling it to his lips, and kissing his bandaged knuckles.

“Then I won’t.”

Yagi’s eyes grew impossibly wide.  The heart monitor blipped loudly, alerting the room of the sudden acceleration from within the man’s chest, startling them both.  Moments later, they broke into peals of quiet laughter.  As Aizawa finally released the grip on the man’s hand, it remained there, hovering in midair.  But then Yagi moved, and tucked his knuckles beneath Shouta’s chin.

“Come here?”

Aizawa nodded, moved toward All Might, who pressed their foreheads together.  It was overwhelming, the events of the day, the closeness they were sharing… how Yagi would most likely forget this interaction.  There was so much he wanted to say, to apologize for, to confess…  So he didn’t stop himself from letting the smallest bit of it slip.  With a hand still softly stroking Toshinori’s hair, he sighed, pulled back slightly, barely registering the tears clouding his vision.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Toshinori looked at him, a warmth in his eyes that melted into the grin rapidly spreading across his face.  It should have scared Shouta: the sight of the Symbol of Peace gazing at him like he hung the stars… But Yagi was high as shit, right?  He’d act like this with anyone… But right now all that adoration was directed at him, specifically, and he felt a tranquility wash over him unlike anything he’d experienced before.  So he smiled back, a genuine one that rarely ever graced his features, cheeks heating at the way Toshinori’s breath caught at the sight.

“Shouta...”

“Sleep, Toshinori….”

He grasped the thin hand, a thumb skirting across the bruised flesh and bandages found there.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

—

He wasn’t.

In the end, it was probably better that way.

That wasn’t to say he wanted to leave; in fact, he had stayed avidly by Toshinori’s side for nearly 48 hours before the nursing staff, assisted by the UA principal, forced him to go home and sleep in an actual bed instead of his sleeping bag.  Begrudgingly, he agreed to the conditions of the request, idling in Yagi’s room until he was alone with the sleeping man, and whispered a quick, See you soon, into his cheek before grumbling back to his apartment.  

It was nice, the comforts of home.  But it also gave him time to think.

The fact of the matter was this: there was a 95% chance All Might would remember none of what transpired between them.  This meant no awkward follow-up conversations, no returning to their strained acquaintanceship.  Things could proceed as normal, which suited him just fine.

But…

But what about that other five percent?

Suppose Toshinori did remember…  what then?  He ran through every possible scenario and their potential outcomes as he stared at the ceiling of his dark apartment, an arm draped over his forehead.  He wouldn’t allow himself to think of the best-case scenario, so his mind fretted on worst one: what if Toshinori did remember, and rejected him anyway?  Aizawa swallowed thickly; he could picture everything with perfect, gut-wrenching clarity.  Bright blue eyes, downcast, looking everywhere but at him.  Yagi would try to make the best of the situation, thanking him for his friendship, his visit while in the hospital, being infinitely sorry for his actions and giving Aizawa the wrong idea.  In the end, the medication had been too much for his broken body to handle, and made him act unlike himself.  No matter how it played in his head, the conversation always ended with a bitter apology seeping from the hero’s lips.

He couldn’t do it.

So Aizawa listened to the orders asked of him and caught up on sleep while staying miles away from All Might.  Luckily, it wasn’t too long before Nezu called on him and requested his assistance, and he found himself jumping at the offer.  The principal needed help with the students, ensuring their safety as they were chaperoned to and from school each day. At least, until the dorms were finalized, which was another task that involved breaking this news to his students’ parents (and seemed somewhat daunting in light of recent events).  While they were formalizing efficient routes to meet with the families of 1-A, Nezu was informed of All Might’s awakening and coherence, and, in turn, as was Aizawa.

Apparently, according to the principal, upon rising, Yagi hadn’t any recollection of the events following the battle.  

“The last thing he remembers is collapsing in the ambulance after the press finally left.”

Shouta released what he hoped sounded like an indifferent hum while the tightness returned to his chest.  He hadn’t known Yagi collapsed...

“He also requested my and Detective Tsukauchi’s presence as soon as we could manage, so I suppose we must cut our meeting short!”

As the principal shot off a message to the officer in question, Aizawa felt an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach.  It made sense that Yagi would want to talk to Tsukauchi.  The man worked for the police - there would be information to share.  And yet…

Idiot... what were you expecting?

Finishing his tea with a final flourish, Nezu hopped off the couch and began to gather his things.  

“Would you care to join me?”

Aizawa’s hands, occupied with sorting various papers, stilled in mid air.  His face remained a blank canvas as he addressed the question, not daring to look at the principal.

“Did he ask for me?”

“Well, not at this time-“

“Then I’m content to keep working.”

He tried to keep his voice even; hoped the disappointment wasn’t as palpable as it was in his chest.

“I’ll continue mapping the route to meet with the parents.  There has to be an efficient way of seeing them all in one day...”

Nezu nodded slowly.  His phone pinged, and he read the new message displayed on the screen.

“Tsukauchi is already en route - I’ll leave you to your organizing.”

Turning on his heel, the principal made to exit.  Before he was gone entirely, he paused in the doorframe.

“Shall I relay any messages to him?”

The, From You, Specifically, hung unspoken between them.  Many things did, in that question.  Eyes never drifting from his work, Aizawa gathered his things as well, planning to continue the process at his apartment.

“There’s nothing to relay.”

He grabbed his messenger bag, carefully avoiding the knowing, sympathetic stare from the principal.  He stood, addressing Nezu as he moved past him through the door.

“I’ll update you with my progress by the end of the day.”

In a manner uncharacteristic for the underground hero, he hastily bowed, not waiting for Nezu’s reply.  He turned and walked briskly through the halls of UA, towards the sanctity of his empty apartment, cursing his dashed hopes and idiocy all the way.

—

“I’m in love with Yagi.”

He felt Hizashi choke more than heard it, the aftershocks of his coughs causing the surface of the kotastu to vibrate beneath the cheek Aizawa currently had placed upon it.

He was drunk.  Somewhere in his addled mind he remembered finishing his work and thinking that inviting Mic over for a few beers would be a good idea.  After the third round, he began to severely regret his decision.  The truth came easily to him in this state, and the normal intuition that told him to keep his thoughts to himself was incredibly easy to ignore.

“Holy shit, Shouta.”

He flopped onto his other cheek, turning to face the aghast expression on his friend.  Yamada’s glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose, green eyes wide and full of disbelief.

It’d be hilarious, if he wasn’t so fucking miserable.

“I mean, I knew you wanted to bone the dude, but love?!”

“I confessed to him at the hospital.”

What are you doing.  Why are you telling him this.

“He doesn’t remember.”

Just stop talking.  Shut your fucking mouth.  Drink some water before you make a complete ass of yourself.

Hizashi’s eyes grew comically large.  Frantically, he grabbed for his phone, nearly breaking it with the intensity of his furious texting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m telling Nemuri to haul ass.  She needs to help with this. Immediately.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

Mic hastily finished the text, and flicked his eyes back to Aizawa.  His gaze scoured over the sight of his best friend, utterly shitfaced, pining over All Might, of all people .  After a drawn-out moment of silence, Hizashi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“God, Shou, you’re such a fucking disaster.”

Aizawa chuckled darkly.  Sitting up, he tilted his head back as he finished another beer.

“Yeah…  I know.”

—

“May I take you up on that offer?”

“Hm?”

“The drink.”

Shouta glanced up from his phone; Toshinori was gazing out the window, cheek pillowed in his hand.  It had been quite the day: all the parents of class 1-A had been spoken to, which was an exhausting feat in and of itself, but after his meeting with the Midoriya family, All Might seemed a new level of tired.  His eyes were dark, unfocused; clearly he was miles away.  He returned his attention back to his phone screen, trying to keep his voice void of emotion.

“It’s been a long day.  You should rest.”

A soft, humorless chuckle tumbled across the back seat of the car.  Yagi shot a sly smile his way.

“Don’t tell me Nezu put you on babysitting duty too.”

Aizawa bristled, looking up to meet All Might’s gaze.  His anger dissipated when he saw through the carefully crafted grin; Yagi’s eyes barely masked the infinite sadness found there, and Shouta felt the prickling tightness returning to his chest.  The former Number One Hero hadn’t spoken much regarding his transition to civilian life, it had barely been a week, after all, but Shouta couldn’t begin to imagine the frustration Toshinori must have felt.  The man spent more than half his life in the service of protecting and rescuing others… How strange it must be to suddenly find himself on the opposite side of the spectrum.  And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Did Yagi own a single article of clothing that fit him?  Even now, with his hero form extinguished, he sported an outfit clearly designed to fit a much larger frame than his own.  It stirred something in him - that feeling of protectiveness and ache to touch, to comfort, that went hand in hand with love.  It took a minute to realize that All Might was still looking at him, repeating his name.  Shouta barely heard it.

“Okay.”

“... What?”

“The drink.  Where do you want to go.”

Color rushed to Yagi’s face in one pink wave.  He began to stutter, almost shocked that Aizawa readily agreed, his boldness in asking evaporated.  He was babbling about ‘not getting out much,’ and, ‘wouldn’t know where to start,’ in terms of a destination.  Aizawa couldn’t stop the grin from plastering across his face, and finally decided to take pity on the poor guy.

“It’s ok, there’s a bar I go to after hours with Mic and Midnight - it’s not much in terms of food, if you’re hungry, but no one should bother you there.”

“Ah- that would be perfect!”

The smile reached Yagi’s eyes this time.  It’s the happiest he’d seen the hero in weeks... Aizawa’s heart did a flip, which he adamantly ignored while giving the driver directions.

“We’re not far - maybe ten minutes away.”

“Excellent.”

Yagi folded his bandaged hands together in his lap and faced the window, watching the activity on the streets.

“I’m... looking forward to it.”

It was a whisper; maybe Aizawa wasn’t even supposed to hear.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the content smile blooming across All Might’s cheeks.  

Huh.  Well isn’t that something.

—

He has to remind himself no less than five times that murder is a crime punishable by considerable jail time, and there’s no possible way he’d be able to teach from a cell.

The evening had been progressing smoothly.  Impressively so.  He and Yagi eased into quiet conversation and friendly banter over their beers and mineral waters respectively.  As predicted, no one interrupted their drinks, even now with All Might being recognizable in his true form.  It was wonderful, hearing the tinkling laughter escaping the blonde’s lips, so different from that of his larger-than-life persona.  Yagi’s laughter didn’t command authority; it remained between the pair, shared only to Aizawa.  It was... endearing.  Maybe it was the beer fogging his brain, but relaxed looked good on Toshinori, and he told the man so.  After a chuckle, a warm smile, and a, thank you!, tinged with shy modesty, Toshinori thumbed the lip of his drink.  Shouta thought something was wrong until he noticed the familiar pinkness flushing across the man’s cheeks.

“A-Aizawa-kun…”

His glass squeaked as a bead of condensation caught beneath his slender fingers.

“Your hair….  Looks very nice.  Like that.”

It was quiet, uttered nearly entirely into the table, but Shouta heard it.  Immediately, Yagi began backpedaling, apologizing for his forwardness and meaning no disrespect.  But Aizawa wasn’t listening; he was reading Toshinori’s body language like a favorite book.  The palm rubbing the back of his neck: a tick to sooth his nerves.  The smile that carried a dim light, so unlike his genuine one: displayed to cover his embarrassment.  The rambling: a diversion tactic used when he knew he said too much.

Shouta thought back to the hospital, the tears in Toshinori’s eyes, the way he begged Aizawa to stay…  It was the medicine talking then - he didn’t even remember the conversation.  Hopped up on painkillers, All Might would’ve said those things to anyone…  Right?

“-It’s just, I’ve never seen you with-“

He thought back to Kamino, the sight of Toshinori’s skeletal body shuddering before a veritable monster, fighting to stay alive, fighting to protect, fighting for his life.

“-Didn’t even know you-“

He thought back to the final blow, the ache and fury in his heart, but more than that - the fear of never seeing him again.  

It was too much, this golden boy before him, full of life and bad jokes and anxiety for days.  It was impossible; he should be dead.  By all accounts, the fight should have killed him.  But there he sat, in his too-large clothes and his arm brace and his bright eyes and for one moment Shouta believed in fate, believed there was a reason Toshinori survived, believed he could be a part of his future.

“-And I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

“Yagi.”

He didn’t remember his arm moving.  But he reached out for Toshinori’s hand, grasped it tightly, and it felt so warm and strong and right .  Pale fingers instinctively curled around Yagi’s tanned ones, but Shouta didn’t look down to admire the sight of how perfectly they fit together - his eyes never moved from Toshinori’s.  Aizawa watched them widen in surprise, and grow larger still at the sensation of Shouta’s touch.  Blue eyes snapped back to brown; they filled with confusion, worry, shock - and something else.  

Hope.

Well isn’t that something.

“Yagi I-“

“HEEEY!!!!!!  If it ain’t my two favorite people!”

Like some kind of actual waking nightmare, Mic appeared, already half-cocked and with no regard for social decency.  Instantly, their hands separated - Yagi, so he could clutch his chest and calm his heartbeat, and Shouta so he could white-knuckle the table to prevent from suffocating his idiot friend with his capture weapon.  

Yagi, ever polite and stoic, engaged in conversation while Shouta shot daggers from his eyes and told Mic to leave.  Repeatedly.  Eventually, Mic pulled up a seat, ordered himself a drink, and made himself right at home.  In a surprise to no one, Nemuri was not far behind, comfortably folding herself into the conversation and sending secret smiles to Shouta at every opportunity.  Meanwhile, Aizawa both wanted to die and commit manslaughter, and spent the remainder of the evening talking himself out of both.

Some time later, his two idiots strode to the bar to top off their drinks, leaving Aizawa alone with Yagi.  The blonde had spent a great part of the evening in polite silence, adding in anecdotes where he deemed fit.  Out of the corner of his eye, Shouta observed the tall man curl further and further into himself.  So it shouldn’t have surprised him when Toshinori rose from his seat and began to excuse himself.

“Leaving already?”

He hoped the desperation was not palpable; but the thought of being separated from the man until Monday morning was too much for his alcohol-muddled brain to handle.  The hero observed him for a moment, then chuckled quietly. He looked down at the table while the broad expanse of his hand swept over the suit coat hanging off his chair.  He spoke in brief, clipped sentences, smile not reaching his eyes - about how Aizawa had such good friends, how he didn’t want to further interrupt their usual outing, how he should be getting home soon to rest anyway.  Yagi grabbed his coat, and bid him thanks for the drink, and goodnight.  He turned to leave, the distance between them rapidly increasing, and Aizawa realized he couldn’t do it - couldn’t say goodbye just yet.

His arm shot out, fingers wrapping around the wrist not suspended in a cast.  Yagi jolted at the contact; he turned, eyes engulfing his face, and presented Aizawa with an even more shocked expression than his own.  Shouta swallowed thickly, his mouth moving before his brain could stop him.

“Stay with me?”

Something flashed over Toshinori’s face.  He didn’t have time to register what it was; Yagi quickly dropped his head and chuckled mirthlessly into the floor.  When he returned Shouta’s gaze, the smile was back, tinged with a certain type of sadness.

“As long as you like, Aizawa.”

Suddenly, he was excruciatingly sober.  

It had to be a coincidence.  Either that, or the universe was playing a cruel joke on him.  There was no way, there was no fucking way that Yagi remembered their conversation in the hospital.  It was just wishful thinking on his part, right?

Well… there’s one way to find out.

Toshinori’s wrist remained in his hand.  Moving slowly, as not to startle the man like some kind of giant deer, he gently ran his thumb across Yagi’s palm.

“I’m afraid you’d never leave, in that case.”

It was an impressive feat, leaving All Might speechless.

He stared at Shouta, jaw slack, small tremors running through his fingers.  Or was it Aizawa’s hand that was shaking?  It didn’t matter.  Because the faintest of tears were forming in Toshinori’s eyes as he looked at Shouta, really looked at him, with that piercing electric gaze and a face full of awed delight.

“…Then I won’t.”

They stared at each other, the surprise settling heavily between them.  Aizawa’s clouded mind worked on overdrive, searching the recesses for something romantic to respond with.  So, being Shouta, what came out was:

“Holy shit.”

It was at this time that the Human Embodiment of a Cockblock yelled his way back to the table, carrying a tray of mysterious-looking snacks and more drinks.

“Yagi-san!  You’re not heading out already, are you?”

The man chuckled, waving his good hand at Mic (when did Aizawa let go of that?).

“Not at all!  Just needed to stretch my legs.”

The small group returned to their seats respectively, turning the conversation to Nemuri’s wistful fantasies and Mic’s terrible jokes.  Later in the evening, when Toshinori caught his eye across the table, narrowly avoiding the animated gesticulations of Midnight forcing Mic into trying one of her specialty-crafted cocktails, he gave Shouta a wry smirk, and winked.

Ultimately, it was the only reason all of them left the bar alive.

Chapter Text

The night progressed in a familiar manner: Midnight “politely convinced” Mic into downing the entirety of one of her alcoholic monstrosities, resulting in his eventual dry-heaving followed by a hearty round of unconsciousness, which, honestly, Aizawa was alright with; Yamada had even less control over his voice when intoxicated, and Shouta was starting to get a headache.  

Normally, he would take few precautions to relieve the ache between his brows.  Instead, he opted for an easy excuse to escape their social gatherings. But tonight was different - tonight he chased away the tingling of the tension in his body with copious amounts of water. Tonight, he didn’t need to make a hasty exit.  Because he didn’t want to leave.

How could he, when Toshinori kept stealing glances at him with a warm fire in his eyes?

With her plaything out of commission, Nemuri needed a new outlet.  Her smile turned into a devilish grin when her gaze landed on All Might.  With a drunken giggle, she offered to top off his drink with an entire bottle of rum ( Who…. Who let her have that ), as he seemed much too sober for her liking.

“All Mi~ight, let me make you something special!  A drink for a true hero!”

She began to saunter in the blonde’s direction; Aizawa readied himself to fend her off on the man’s behalf, but before she could snatch Yagi’s glass, he stood.  With a light chuckle, he placed a palm on her shoulder.

“Thank you for the offer, Midnight.  But I’m afraid I must be leaving.”

Nemuri pouted, crossing her arms and leaning into All Might’s space, a litany of tactics prepared to convince him to stay.  But before she could even begin, Shouta rose from his seat, tugging his messenger bag across his body.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Dropping a handful of yen on the table, he looked up at Toshinori with what he hoped was a bored affect.  

“If that’s alright with you.”

The carefully constructed facade nearly faltered when the corners of the man’s mouth twitched upwards.  

“Thank you, Aizawa-kun.  I would greatly appreciate that.”

Nemuri began to whine, not wanting to be left alone with what was most likely, at this point, Mic’s corpse.  But then a grotesquely wet cough emanated from the man in question, who sat up with no little effort. With Midnight momentarily distracted, Aizawa beelined for the door.  He vaguely registered the quick ‘ goodnight! ’ Yagi offered the pair before following close on Shouta’s heels.

—

He kept it together astonishingly well during the brisk walk back to the dormitories; thankfully, the teachers’ apartments were finished ahead of schedule to ensure their availability for Move-In Day.  A few pedestrians stopped them in their tracks, now recognizing All Might in his smaller form. Aizawa wanted to think he didn’t find pleasure in the glare that inspired two young heroes trying to sneak a photo to promptly pocket their phones, but he had to admit, it was very satisfying.

A thousand aggravating years later, they arrived back on campus, finally reaching Yagi’s apartment.  The man in question rummaged through his pockets in search of his keys, keeping his back firmly to Shouta.  In the meantime, Aizawa allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the delicate curve of Toshinori’s neck. A smattering of bandages peeked from beneath the starched collar of Yagi’s shirt, and it stirred something in his heart.  

Aizawa thought back to the hospital.  To the sight of Toshinori unconscious in a too-white room.  To the inhuman thrum of a dozen machines keeping the hero alive.  For forty-eight hours Aizawa sat by this man’s bed, watching the labored rise and fall of his chest.  Tired eyes traced over the tangled path of chords supplying All Might with air, or blood, or medication to speed the healing process and clear his body of the painful bruises that ebbed from beneath the hospital gown.  How many had disappeared, between then and now? How many remained?

The jangling of keys drew him from his thoughts; there was a momentary flutter of nerves in the pit of his stomach as the lock clicked open - a forgotten sensation he hadn’t felt in years.  What had this man done to him?

“Would you… like to come in?”

The request was quiet, whispered under Yagi’s breath like a prayer.  Shouta almost missed the ripple of anxiety that ran over Toshinori’s shoulders; he was too distracted by the veritable desert his mouth had become.  Without a word, Aizawa reached around the slim waist, reveling in the sharp breath All Might pulled in between his teeth. Slowly, he twisted the doorknob, poked the door with an index finger, and pushed it open.

“After you.”

—

The unmistakable sound of the primary latch locking emanated in the silence surrounding them as Shouta toed off his shoes.  It was quickly followed by the metallic clang of the deadbolt sliding securely into place.

They were now completely alone.

The messenger bag slid to the floor, leaving his arms to hang limply by his sides.  Aizawa took a steadying breath to ease the knot of anxiety rapidly growing in his chest; immediately, his senses were engulfed by the soothing scent of Yagi’s apartment - black tea, combined with the softness of lavender, warmed his insides as he recognized the familiar aroma that so often followed All Might as he walked the halls. Try as he may, Aizawa could never pinpoint the final touch to the aromatic scent.  He would later be told it was vanilla, but in that moment, he finally knew what it was.

Home.  It smelled like home.

When at last Shouta turned to face Toshinori, his eyes connected with those of vibrant blue.  He hadn’t heard Toshinori move, didn’t know how long he’d been watching, and he couldn’t help but hold the man’s gaze.  They stayed that way, looking at each other, the silence settling between them charged with something neither of them could name.  

“You came to see me.”

Yagi was the first to break the silence.  He took a single, cautious step forward, his eyes never straying from Aizawa’s.  The front of his shirt tangled around his long fingers, searching to latch onto something no longer there.  

“You remembered.”

Shouta copied the motion, their distance now small enough that he could feel the heat radiating off Toshinori’s body.  Bandaged fingers released the shirt in its grasp, and All Might slowly raised his hand to Aizawa’s face. He hesitated, faltering in mid-air, a shadow of worry momentarily clouding his gaze.  Shouta understood immediately; he too was afraid to touch, afraid the contact would wake them both from this wonderful dream. But Aizawa wanted it, and the smoldering embers in Toshinori’s eyes made it clear that he wanted it too.  

Shouta was there to meet him halfway, as he always did, as he was born to do.  He curled his hand around Toshinori’s, pressing it against his cheek, closing his eyes as he sighed into the touch.

“Shouta…”

He looked up at the blonde with heavy-lidded eyes, intoxicated by the closeness of their bodies.  Skating his fingers along the length of the man’s arm, Shouta reached up and wound them around the back of Yagi’s neck.

“Toshinori.”

--

It was common knowledge that lunch breaks at UA consisted of ogling over the latest snapshots of All Might.  Hizashi and Nemuri spent every minute of it shoving magazines in his face and screeching at a pitch only dogs could hear.  Tabloid after gaudy tabloid was forced on him, the sparkling smile of a handsome young hero in spandex plastered over countless pages.  

“He’s so cool!”

Hizashi laughed as Nemuri wrenched the article from his hands.  With a longing sigh, she clutched the magazine to her chest.

“I’d give anything to spend one night with him...  I’d even settle for a kiss!”

“You’d be disappointed.”

Aizawa’s charming personality cut through their conversation with an exquisite lack of tact.  Mic’s glasses slid down his nose, and Midnight audibly gasped.

“How can you say that?!  Just look at him! That body…”

“So what?  Haven’t you noticed?  He never shows up to events with a date.”

Shouta flipped through the pages, articulating the fact that no matter where he went, All Might appeared alone.  Flashing that trademark grin, shaking hands with fellow heroes, attending charity balls; no matter what the occasion, the number one hero never had someone hanging on his arm, nor did the paparazzi ever catch him trying to steal a quiet moment of affection away from prying eyes.  Aizawa smirked, holding up a two page spread of snapshots taken at three different galas for emphasis. Like all the others before it, All Might was alone.

“See what I mean?”

Shouta handed the magazine back to Nemuri, satisfied with the evidence given.  She gladly took it back, a brow raised defiantly.

“You sure know a lot about All Might’s love life, Shou-chan.  Are you sure you’re not trying to convince yourself he’s single?”

She wiggled an index finger in his direction, a sly smile revealing her pearly white teeth.  With a scoff, Aizawa batted it away and turned his attention back to his hastily packed lunch.

“Who needs convincing?  Say what you will about his body, but the fact he never has a date can only mean one thing.”

He leaned towards Nemuri, a grin sliding across his lips.

“He’s probably a shitty kisser.”

—

Shouta had never been more wrong in his entire life.

It was unclear who initiated it; it was as if they moved together, minds and bodies entirely in sync.  All Aizawa knew was that for a moment, he could feel the warmth of Yagi’s breath on his lips, could feel the man’s hand slide from his cheek into his hair, watched him devour Aizawa with a single glance.  And then he was pulling the man down, being pulled up himself, fisting his hand into an oversized shirt and finally, finally kissing Toshinori.

At first, the touch was tentative.  A soft contact of lips that sent sparks through his fingertips, fireworks erupting over every inch of his body.  He thought he could stay like that forever, but when they parted and Yagi looked at him with a hunger he’d never witnessed before, Aizawa suddenly needed much, much more.  He surged upward, wrapping his arms around Toshinori’s neck, savoring the sharp inhale the hero dragged through his nose.  As their lips connected once again, Aizawa couldn’t stop the quiet moan that reverberated deep in his throat. Immediately, Toshinori moved into action.  He tilted Shouta’s head just so, angling the brunette in order to thoroughly explore his mouth with his tongue. Aizawa didn’t notice Yagi moving them, but then his back connected with a wall and Toshinori was pressing the full, delicious length of his body against him and Shouta wasn’t sure how he was suddenly gripping a pair of slender hips but he didn’t care, as long as Toshinori never stopped making that fucking noise…

Everything was teeth, and lips, and heat, and Shouta felt Yagi’s hand drifting down his spine, pressing between his shoulder blades to pull him impossibly closer.  He gladly allowed it, molding himself against the hero’s body, practically melting into All Might’s touch. A surprised gasp escaped him as the blonde rocked his lithe form against him, creating an exquisite friction that Aizawa happily intensified.  He hadn’t expected Yagi to be so bold, hadn’t expected himself to be, for that matter.  But this thing between them had been building in the hundreds of shared glances and almost touches and quiet conversations since All Might arrived at the campus - he’d just been too much of an asshole to accept it.  

Through heated kisses, they discovered the landscape of the other’s body and mouth.  There was a feverish pace to their actions, and they scrabbled at one another as though the world were ending.  Shouta gripped at Yagi’s collar, ripping it open and revealing the man’s tanned skin; arching upwards, Toshinori threw his head back and panted as Aizawa trailed kisses down his exposed neck.  The blonde jolted and gasped when Shouta bit down on the sensitive flesh in the divot of his collarbone.

He wasn’t expecting the moan that escaped Yagi’s lips, nor was he expecting the hero to suddenly wrench backwards with a startled yelp when their position jostled slightly.  A pang of worry flooded Aizawa’s senses when he saw Toshinori gripping at the arm constrained in the sling.

“ Shit !  Sorry.”

All Might ran a palm over the appendage, wincing slightly.  He dipped his head, bottom lip tucked snugly between his teeth.  Shouta moved to help, noticing the tremble of Yagi’s shoulders. It took him a moment to realize that the blonde was trying, and failing, to contain the chuckle beginning to rise from within his chest.  Unable to control it any longer, the stifled sound burst into the silence of the apartment and quickly transformed into a bright and brilliant laugh. Toshinori’s head tilted towards the ceiling, his whole body rolling with each burst of sunshine that echoed from his throat.  It was infectious, and Aizawa even found himself dissolving into cackles.

Once they regained their composure, they took turns commenting about their actions - how they appeared more like their students than the adults meant to protect them.  The force of their surprised laughter had pulled them apart, but gravity drew them back together and they easily slid into each other’s arms. Toshinori bent down, rested his head on Shouta’s shoulder and released a contented sigh.  It was a remarkable feeling, to have this man in his arms. Aizawa allowed himself a smile, and carded his fingers through the thatch of goldenrod hair that rested so close to him at last. A quiet hum rumbled in his throat as Yagi wrapped his arm around Shouta’s waist.

“... I thought it was a dream…”

“Hmm?”

“At the hospital,”

All Might tilted his head upward and looked at Shouta with tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“When I first awoke…  You were there, and I was certain it was a dream.  I drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of what was happening around me.  But no matter my state, I recognized that your hand remained in mine, and it felt so… real .”

He paused, his grip on Aizawa’s waist tightening.

“When I was awake, however briefly, I began to allow myself to think that you really were there, with me.  That what we shared actually happened…. But…”

His expression began to crumble as he stumbled over his words, and Toshinori tucked his face back in the crevasse of Aizawa’s neck.

“But when I did wake up, to in an empty room, with no trace of you… I felt so foolish.  There was no reason that… that...”

Yagi released a ragged gasp.  After a few steadying breaths, he was able to calm himself.  Softly, nearly too soft for someone who embodied bravery incarnate, he continued.

“There was no reason that the man I loved would suddenly appear at my bedside, let alone return my affections, unless it was a dream.”

Aizawa’s breath stammered, taken aback by the depth of Yagi’s words.  How long had he wanted this? How long had Shouta kept him waiting?

He leaned down, placing a soft kiss into the man’s hair, feeling the tightness in All Might’s shoulders decrease significantly.  Steeling himself, he spoke directly from the heart - a terrifying notion for him, but one Toshinori deserved.

“Perhaps…  Watching you nearly die made him realize how much of an idiot he’d been.”

He placed his hand on Toshinori’s cheek, pulling him to his full height and convincing the man to meet his eyes once more.

“Maybe it made him realize how much he loved you, too.”

He watched every last bit of the words sink in as Yagi looked at him, his eyes widening as they filled with an awed and elated joy.  Blue eyes brimmed with tears, finally falling when he squeezed them shut. After a deep breath and a swipe of his hand beneath each eye, Toshinori gestured into his apartment.  With a brilliant smile, and a brightness in his eyes Shouta had never before seen, he extended his hand to Aizawa.

“Would you like some tea?”

Shouta smirked, running a hand through his dark locks before placing it in Toshinori’s.  He returned the smile as he entwined their fingers and lightly squeezed.

“Absolutely.”

—

“How’d the appointment go?”

Shouta looked up from his lecture planning expectantly and was met with a vibrant smile and a wink.

“Good as new!  Miss Chiyo was surprised to find I was a model patient, after all the stress I usually put her through.”

He chuckled as Toshinori rotated his wrist, no trace of pain or discomfort crossing his features.  The blonde continued to illustrate its functionality by bending his arm at the elbow.

“Full range of motion is restored, and what strength I had has returned to it.”

He flopped down on the couch next to Aizawa with a content sigh, loosening his tie slightly.  Shouta took a moment to pretend to look over his paperwork, attempting to keep his tone nonchalant.

“So, you’re medically cleared?”

Toshinori tilted his head towards Aizawa with a healthy blush to his cheeks and a wide grin.

“Yes!  Per Recovery Girl herself, I am.”

“Good.  Then let’s go to bed.”

Aizawa began to file his papers away in an orderly manner, not glancing at Toshinori.  He didn’t need to, when he could sense the confusion radiating from the man.

“Shouta, it’s four in the afternoon.  You never nap this late. Or go to sleep this early.”

“Toshinori...”

He moved quickly, hiking a leg over Yagi’s hips and positioning himself in the man’s lap.  Aizawa draped his arms over All Might’s shoulders, a dark hunger in his eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you for your act of heroism at Kamino, but Recovery Girl would’ve had my ass if I hurt your arm again.  So….”

He bit his lip while rocking his hips and reached down to pull off Toshinori’s tie completely.  Flinging it to the side, he bent down and slowly sucked at the pulsing vein in the man’s neck. With a breathy sigh, he brought his face back up to Toshinori’s and looked at him from beneath the dark curtain of his hair.

“Will you, please , come to bed with me?”

Toshinori turned a bright shade of scarlet before a delighted and hungry smirk crossed his features.  In one fluid motion, he wrapped his arms beneath Aizawa, grabbing a handful of the man’s ass as he stood.  With a fire in his bright eyes, he chuckled, leaned in for a kiss, and strode towards the bedroom.

“My love, I thought you’d never ask.”