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“Hey, All Might!”
Despite the interruption of his concentration, Yagi grinned as Yamada slid the staff room’s lounge door open. Yamada was a welcomed intrusion to the tedium of lesson planning. “Mic, how were classes?”
Yamada shrugged. “Same old. I’m on my way to class. But real quick, check it!” He smirked. “Do you and Shouta already have plans for this evening? We usually grab Midnight and go drinking, but if you two are already doing something for his birthday, then we’ll go out another night.”
“His what?” Yagi’s forearms fell flat on the table. He blinked at Yamada, his brain taking a few moments to comprehend.
“Ah.” Yamada grimaced. “He didn’t tell you.” He scratched the back of his head. “I would say that I messed up by letting the cat out of the bag, but you’d think that’s something he’d tell the guy he’s dating, right?” He put his hands on his hips. “He doesn’t really say much about his personal life. I didn’t know his birthday until our second year.” The bell rang and Mic pointed his fingers gun-style at Yagi. “That’s my cue, and I will catch you later. Good luck!”
Yagi continued to stare at the empty doorway, brain trying to make sense of all the words thrown at him. It was Aizawa’s birthday and he had no idea. His boyfriend’s birthday. Did Aizawa not want him to know? Did he not want Yagi to celebrate with him?
And more pervasive than that was the fear of what this withholding of information meant for their future. Yagi had imagined—hoped—that after all they’d survived together, after how close they’d become, after the draining relief that somehow Aizawa reciprocated his feelings, that maybe this relationship could have been… it. The relationship. The rest of his life.
It was wrong of him to assume that Aizawa shared his want of something long-term. They hadn’t discussed that far ahead, and Yagi was too old to jump wholeheartedly into a fantasy of happily ever after. He needed to remember his place.
He stood and packed his papers away, heart dully thumping. What was left of his stomach felt twisted. Usually he’d wait for Aizawa to get out of class and they’d grade papers in the staff room together, surrounded by their fellow teachers, but he needed to think. He fled to his dorm room and collapsed at the little desk. He almost never used it for its intended purpose because of how his long legs awkwardly folded into the space beneath, but he needed to breathe and calm the roiling anxious ball in his gut.
He’d barely settled in when a familiar knock echoed from his door. Aizawa opened it without being prompted, as he was wont to do. “Oi, Yagi-san, there you are.” He left his slippers and capture weapon in the entryway and sat on the bed, immediately pulling out a folder of quizzes to grade. “Mic said you were in the staff room, but you were gone by the time I got there.”
Yagi watched him, unable to come up with words.
Aizawa paused, those knowing black eyes sliding over to stare back. “What’s wrong?”
Yagi’s back straightened and he forced a smile. “I’m fine! Maybe just a little tired?”
Aizawa frowned and pulled his legs up on the bed to better turn and face Yagi fully. “You don’t need to lie to me, Yagi-san. That’s your All Might smile.” When Yagi didn’t answer right away, he huffed. “Remember when we promised not to hide what’s bothering us from each other? Talk.”
Yagi did remember. Just from looking, he’d never think that Aizawa was full of insecurities, but he was just a person; he was too old for the perceived invincibility of youth, but not yet old enough to be able to look back on life and realize how petty most of life’s problems were. Yagi usually prided himself on being one of the few people Aizawa would confide in. It had been a long road getting there, full of misunderstandings and half-truths until, finally, they promised each other honesty.
He was cornered. Turning in his chair to face Aizawa, Yagi let the smile fall from his skeletal features. “Mic said it’s your birthday today.”
“No, it’s not.” Aizawa scowled. “My birthday is on the eighth.”
“Aizawa-kun,” Yagi hesitated, “it is the eighth.”
Aizawa narrowed his eyes before reaching into his pocket for his phone. He glanced at it, and then looked back at it again quickly. “Holy shit. When did that happen?”
Yagi hummed. “Almost sixteen hours ago.”
“I don’t need attitude from you,” Aizawa reprimanded in his teacher voice, but a small, amused smirk lit his face. He tucked his phone away. “I had seriously forgotten what day it is, this year has been so busy.” He paused with realization. “And you’re worried because I never told you.”
“Am I that obvious?” A hot, tingling shame washed over the back of Yagi’s neck.
Aizawa looked at him again, a different sort of softer look in his eyes and the set of his jaw. “I know you pretty well.” He did, and Yagi ofttimes wondered when and how he allowed himself to become so transparent to someone he’d been dating for only a few months. But he didn’t date frivolously, even in his heyday, and neither did Aizawa, so he’d hoped that maybe this was something serious. It was serious to him. What if he and Aizawa weren’t on the same wavelength?
“You’re in your head again.” Aizawa stood, shaking Yagi from his thoughts, and padded over to the older hero. He stood and front of Yagi and gently, as if he were a fragile porcelain figure in need of protecting, wrapped his arms around Yagi’s thin shoulders and pulled him forward. Yagi’s forehead touched the lower part of Aizawa’s chest. He could hear the other man’s heart beating. His scent filled Yagi’s senses. Aizawa was so warm. Yagi lightly grabbed Aizawa’s loose jumpsuit pants with both hands, as if the tentative grip would keep them from drifting apart, and finally let himself relax into the hold.
Aizawa’s quiet words reverberated through him. “It’s not that I meant to hide my birthday from you, if that’s what’s worrying you. It just… never comes up in conversation, and I never really cared about celebrating it.”
Yagi nodded, his bangs mussing against Aizawa’s abdomen, but neither seemed in a hurry to separate. “You wouldn’t.”
“Going out was originally Mic’s idea, and we just kind of kept it up every year afterwards. I kind of see it as an opportunity to have someone else pay for my meal and drinks.”
Chuckling, Yagi teased, “practical.”
“Precisely,” Aizawa agreed. “I’m sorry that I caused you to worry.”
Shaking his head, Yagi sighed. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either.” Aizawa’s hands traced the hard lines of Yagi’s back. “You can plan whatever you want next year.”
Next year. Something in Yagi’s gut settled. Aizawa planned on there still being a ‘them’ in a year.
“This year,” he continued, “I actually wouldn’t mind using you as an excuse to have a quiet evening. Going out with those two is tiresome and can wait for the weekend. I’d rather spend today with you.”
Yagi looked up and rested his chin against Aizawa. “Really?”
A ghost of a smile played on Aizawa’s lips as he stared down at his lover. “I vote that tonight, we grab some beer and take-away, and pretend to grade papers while watching a movie. Tomorrow, you can take me to dinner or whatever is formulating in that brain of yours.”
Yagi could feel his face redden. He would like that.
Aizawa moved his hands to Yagi’s shoulders. “Come on, there’s a curry shop not too far from here that I’m craving. They have things you should be able to eat as well.”
Standing, Yagi gave Aizawa a brief peck on the side of his mouth. “Thank you.”
Aizawa scoffed. “Don’t needlessly thank me.”
They changed into more casual clothing and met again on the ground floor. Yagi blushed as he ran into Yamada, who gave him a thumbs up. Aizawa was waiting for him wearing a black turtleneck, bag strap over his shoulder, hair in the messy, low bun that showed off his neck in a way that made Yagi’s body feel heated.
Together, they walked off campus and towards the streets of shops and businesses. The chilly breeze felt nice as it buffeted his coat. Occasionally, their fingers would touch and as much as Yagi lamented not being able to hold hands in public (not that Aizawa was likely to allow it even if it was socially acceptable), he loved the electric thrill of their little affections.
Aizawa led them to a small curry shop. Yagi could smell the roux and meat even before they entered. He felt a pang of hunger. He missed rich, spicy food sometimes. Aizawa glanced at the menu before facing Yagi again. “I’ll order, you find a seat.” Yagi did so as Aizawa spoke to the man behind the counter. The man nodded and went to work. Aizawa joined Yagi at the table.
When Yagi gave him an inquiring look, Aizawa answered, “I asked him to use milder spice for yours. They make their own spice blends for the roux. It may take a bit longer for them to make, though.”
“I’m surprised they would cater to dietary requests like that.”
Aizawa shrugged. “I used to come here often, when I was more active as a pro hero. They’re open late and don’t seem to mind how I look. I also stopped a villain from robbing them once while I was eating here.”
Yagi nodded. Aizawa was a hero, even in his off hours.
Aizawa dragged his bag onto the table and pulled out a pile of papers and two pens. “Since we’re waiting, help me grade these. It’s multiple choice, so you won’t have to worry about whether or not you’re going too easy on them.”
Yagi laughed and picked up a pen. “More like you won’t have to worry about that.” Aizawa made a low noise of agreement as Yagi started on Aoyama’s quiz. They graded papers in silence until someone brought their food out in a bag. Aizawa thanked the cook from over the counter as Yagi packed the quizzes away.
“Now we need beer,” Aizawa declared as they hit the street again.
A convenience store sat at the street corner. Aizawa strode inside, leaving Yagi with the take-away bag in hand. He glanced around. Across the street was a patisserie store whose front windows boasted crepes, ice cream, and cupcakes. They were still open, so on a whim, Yagi made his way across the roadway and entered the little shop.
“Welcome,” the girls at the counter greeted. “How may we help you?”
Yagi scanned the display of iced cupcakes. He could feel the smile spreading across his face. He pointed at a row of chocolate cakes with coffee buttercream and topped with a cherry. “I would like one of these, please.”
“Yes sir,” the closest girl chimed. With gloved hands, she carefully lifted one out and placed it in a to-go container.
“Would you like anything written on it?” The other girl asked, indicating a cup containing little placards.
“Could you write ‘Shouta’ on it?” He wrote the kanji out with the pen and paper they handed him. The attendant neatly wrote it on the placard and stuck it into the cupcake. He paid, feeling an anticipation he wasn’t used to.
“Thank you for your patronage!” they called as he turned to leave.
Yagi exited the store and immediately caught sight of Aizawa searching for him. Their eyes met and for one brief, unguarded moment there was a tenderness in the younger man’s eyes that Yagi only saw when they were alone. His heart squeezed not unpleasantly. He hurried to rejoin him.
“Where’d you disappear off to?” Aizawa grumbled.
Yagi held up the new bag, beaming. “I got you a little cake.”
Aizawa narrowed his eyes but didn’t look displeased. “Let’s go home,” he muttered. “We’ve got papers to pretend to grade.”
As he began walking back in the direction of the school, Yagi thought that next year, he would cook Aizawa dinner instead of getting take away. Next year, he would attempt to make a cake himself. Next year, he wouldn’t have any doubts about the seriousness of their relationship. By next year, Aizawa would know how much Yagi loved him.
“What are you grinning about?” Aizawa asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“You’ll have to wait and find out.”
Judging from the look on his face, Aizawa wasn’t satisfied with such a cryptic answer. Yagi chuckled and they slowly walked home, side by side.