Chapter Text
Aizawa relished the transcendence of the local pub.
The warm air that enveloped you when you stepped into the room, the soft clinking of glasses mingling with the customer's conversations- if you came at the right time, the sounds hung in the air above like clouds.
Muffled...Yet pleasant.
Weaving his way through the patrons and chairs, Aizawa took his seat at the bar next to his co-worker.
"Maijima."
"Aizawa," The Excavation Hero smirked, eyes friendly behind their curtain of hair. "What took you so long? I almost ordered before you."
Aizawa grimaced, waving for the barman's attention. Recognising his regulars, Shimizu smiled.
"Hey there fellas. Same as usual?"
Aizawa nodded, but Maijima gave a low hum.
"I might have a... A vodka with orange juice, thanks Shimizu."
Aizawa snorted, attempting to muffle the sound with his scarf. Shimizu just smiled, grabbing the glasses from the drying rack. Maijima glared at his co-worker. "What's so funny?"
"You know, um..." Aizawa bit back his grin, "... You just ordered a screwdriver?"
The red-head blinked, puzzled... And it clicked.
"Oh, shut up," He grumbled, giving his friend a half-hearted shove. "I have a life outside my job."
"Of course you do. You're a multi-dimensional character."
"Now you're just taking the piss."
The night crept on like only a Friday night could, both teachers basking in the warm atmosphere. Both were, admittedly, a little tipsy.
"So, you know what?" Maijima whisper-shouted, wobbling on his stool. "You know what she did this time? She caused an explosion in the storage room strong enough to make the walls vibrate! Earth tremors, Aizawa!"
Aizawa chuckled, not nearly as affected, swirling his third whiskey.
"Doesn't she always cause explosions?"
"Yeah, but this wasn't even her project." The Excavation Hero enthused, hand over his eyes. "The poor kid wouldn't stop crying, I had to send him home early. She's like one of those gremlins in that Western movie, I'm telling ya."
Aizawa hummed, downing his glass. "So what about your problem child? The green-haired kid that won't stop muttering?"
The Eraser Hero set his glass down with a clunk.
"Don't get me started. I couldn't tell you how many bones he's broken this week."
("Thirty seven" Muttered Recovery Girl from across the bar. Unaware of her presence, Aizawa continued).
"If... If you know who doesn't get his act together, I swear to God, I'll permanently immobilise the kid, and then him."
Maijima cackled, twirling the straw of his margarita.
"This I need to see! As long as you take down Hatsume first- gotta prioritise."
Aizawa faltered, some of the fuzziness clearing in his mind.
"... What do you mean by that?"
Still drunk, the Excavation Hero tilted his head, brushing his bangs from his eyes.
"I just mean," He hiccupped, "I mean that you've gotta take down... The biggest threat first. Right?"
Aizawa felt his expression turn to stone.
"And you think your problem child is worse than mine?"
Maijima took a long swig of his margarita. Wiping his mouth, he locked Aizawa with a hard stare.
"I know she's worse."
Shimizu looked between the pair, anxiety creeping in his expression. While he had full confidence in his Sobriety Quirk to deescalate drunken brawls, it required direct physical contact.
Drunk or not, he wasn't sure how he'd fair against two Pro Heroes.
"What- hic- do you mean, yours is worse? Just this week, Hatsume blew up the lab SEVENTEEN TIMES. Four of those- hic- times, she wasn't even in the room!"
Aizawa snorted.
"That's cute, Maijima."
"Come on, fellas," He tried to sooth, pulling at the fingers of his gloves, "I'm sure there's a reasonable way to settle this..."
"He's right." Maijima nodded, wobbling slightly in his seat. "I say... I say we swap."
Shimizu blinked, confused.
"Excuse me?"
"I agree." Aizawa slammed down his already empty glass. "You wouldn't last a week chasing after my problem child."
"Bring- hic- on, Eraser Face!"
Shimizu sighed, pulling his glove back over his hand. Recovery Girl rolled her eyes, knocked back her scotch and walked away.
You could be forgiven for thinking their anger would fade- that the weekend would pass, and things would continue on as usual, the teachers' argument buried in their alcohol-addled memory...
... You'd still be wrong, though.
"Are you really going to let them do this?" All Might muttered, wiping the blood from his chin. He'd walked in on a fierce staring contest, the shock startling him out of his muscle form. Mic was still trying to calm his husband down, with little success. "This can't end well."
Nezu hummed, taking another sip of his Earl Grey.
"I personally see this as an opportunity for growth. They are already excellent allies, but this could strengthen their understanding and appreciation for one another."
Midnight raised an eyebrow.
"You wanna watch the fireworks, huh?"
All Might spluttered. Nezu hid his smile behind his tea cup.
DAY ONE:
"So, you see," Maijima explained, expression cheerful, "Aizawa and I are participating in a... An experiment of sorts. Don't worry, you'll have your teacher back no later than next week."
Class 1-A stared at the Support Class teacher, equal parts shocked and confused. Yaoyarozu raised a tentative hand.
"Thank you, Power-Loader, Sir, but... Um, we asked why your lip is bleeding?"
"It is?" Maijima licked his lips, thoughtful. "Huh, it is. There you go. NOW!" He cried, oblivious to their stares, "Roll call! Aoyama Yuga?"
Class 1-H shifted nervously in their seats, squirming under Aizawa's blank stare. No one dared mention the bright red mark blooming around his eye.
After what felt like an eternity, the Pro Hero zipped up his neon yellow sleeping bag.
"Try anything and I'll expel you all."
Halfway through the first class, Maijima was feeling especially smug. Homeroom was running smoother than a well-oiled machine.
Aizawa's so-called 'Problem Child' was perfectly bearable. He'd stepped up to the desk, eyes wide and bright, asking for details on his Quirk, and Maijima had to admit... He was flattered.
Despite his less-than-conspicuous hero costume, he wasn't nearly as personable as some of his colleagues. He tended to stand to the side and wait for the press to disperse, fiddling with the spare parts hidden in his pocket.
"I read a magazine interview recently," The Midoriya kid rambled, "About how you've made most of your support items throughout your career- which seems so rare for Pro Heroes nowadays, what with the growing prominence of hero support item and costume manufacturing..."
Maijima gave a nervous chuckle.
"Yeah, uh... I've always preferred my own stuff." He admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Back in the day, you had to be over eighteen to begin Hero training... Took me a while to realise that was an option for me. On it's own, my Quirk isn't especially flashy..."
He trailed off, shocked by the shining quality of the kid's eyes.
"That's so incredible, Power-Loader Sir!" The Uraraka girl cheered, a few of their classmates murmuring in agreement.
"I thought the same of my Quirk at first..."
"... The media does seem to favour the more flashy, performative Quirks..."
"... My boyfriend's in the same situation..."
Maijima felt his eyes water, thankful for the helmet covering his eyes. He almost felt betrayed when the school bell rang.
"Alright kids, get moving! I won't bail you out if you're late to Maths!"
Aizawa awoke to a series of tentative nudges, followed by echoing gasps. He blinked, groggy with sleep, locking eyes with the Target.
"Excuse me, Sir," Hatsume chirped, "We have prac now."
The Eraser Hero blinked.
"Don't you have Maths?"
"Wrong class, Sir."
Of course. Forcing himself upright, he fiddled with the zipper of his sleeping bag. "Mr Snipe called to say he'd be here in five minutes," Hatsume continued, voice just a fraction too loud. "Something about needing a qualified Support class teacher?"
"... Fine." Aizawa grumbled, folding his sleeping bag neatly beneath his desk. He turned to face the rest of the class, expression neutral. "I understand you're working on your major projects. Snipe will be here to help with any technical difficulties..." A small smile crept across his face. "... Meanwhile, I want you to tell me everything about your project. I may be able to offer another Pro Hero perspective."
Seconds passed, and the room was deathly quiet. Then, as though at the flick of a switch:
"Yes please, Mr Aizawa!"
"I'm actually working on an item to maximise stealth and agility, if you could take a look-"
"Could I hold your scarf super quick?"
Aizawa raised a hand, and the class fell silent.
"Enough chit-chat. I'll see you all one at a time, so please save your questions for then."
The barely-concealed excitement of the class was nearly enough to make him smile again- nearly. He watched, amused, as the students scampered to their respective work benches, murmuring amongst each other as they set up. There were one or two students that looked less than thrilled, but that was of little concern.
Yes, he thought to himself, This will be... quite tolerable.
The day ended with remarkably little fanfare. Maijima and Aizawa barely even looked at each other as they cleared their desks and marched away. All Might watched them leave, gnawing at his lower lip.
"Is no one else worried about those two? I can't see this ending well..." He caught sight of a head of blond hair trying to sneak out of the staff room. "Hizashi!"
Mic froze like a deer in headlights, gaze flitting everywhere but his colleague's direction. "Surely you can talk some sense into Aizawa," All Might pleaded, "Think of the students-"
"Actually," Ectoplasm interjected from his desk, "The students seem to be enjoying the break from routine. It's certainly broadening their understanding of Hero work."
Midnight nodded.
"I agree, 1-H wouldn't stop talking about the tips Aizawa gave them this morning." She grinned, "They're absolutely terrified, but... Youthfully invigorated as well."
Seeing his colleagues distracted, Hizashi made a break for it; He knew better than anyone that when he put his mind to something, Shouta couldn't be argued with. There was nothing anyone could do- not even Hizashi.
That, and All Might probably wouldn't consider "It's sexy as hell" a valid excuse.
Meanwhile, Nezu reclined in his office chair, sipping his afternoon cup of rooibos with a contemplative air.
A wicked grin crept across his snout.
The calm before the storm.