Work Text:
It wasn’t often that Aizawa Shouta found himself sleeping in. In fact, he could probably count the number of times he’s “ slept in” during the past decade on one hand. Between his own busy schedule and Zashi’s astonishing three jobs, they never found themselves sitting for more than a few moments at a time- Something (or someONE with his current home room) was always keeping them on their toes.
And he loved his jobs- He did. He knew the second he signed that contract with the rat that this would be his life, and he did it anyway. His purpose in life is being a hero- being in the underground, while gruesome and stressful and devastating , is exactly where he was meant to be. And he hates to admit it, but everybody had been right when they said he would be a good teacher; seeing his students off into pro-hero work, as few of them as there are each year, is a type of joy he can only akin to a proud parent. He would never tell it to anybody , but he enjoys his life and all the disharmony that comes with it.
That doesn’t make it any easier in the long run though. On the days when he doesn’t know if his husband is coming home, or on the days where the nightmares plague him even when he’s awake, when he sees his students going through what he would never wish on anybody… He wishes that it were simpler. When he expels his entire homeroom, saving their lives but ruining them all the same- He likes his life and he’s satisfied with it but a large part of him grieves that he isn't, grieves the part of him he never got to meet.
All of this being said, Aizawa Shouta doesn’t sleep . Whether that be because of the odd hours, the strange nightmares, the papers that he grades through any moment where the front door to his house isn’t busting down (more often than you’d think,) or some unholy mixture of the three, the words “Sleep” and “Shouta” have practically become antonyms by now- Which is why when he finds himself waking slowly instead of to the annoyingly loud alarm his husband and him share, he almost convinces himself it’s a dream and goes back to sleep regardless.
The morning light was streaming through their window, something they never got to experience with the early morning rising, and Zashi’s soft snoring rumbled through the room in an even background noise Shouta found he couldn’t sleep without. He breathed in slowly, his body creaking and stretching quietly as he admired the way his love’s hair fell around his face like a halo- His hearing aides rested on the stand beside them, so he didn’t bother quieting the soft, sighed exhale as he looked at him.
He reached his hand out, slow and unbothered- His face was soft in his sleep, the tension found in his brow smoothed out into a gentle line. Rubbing his thumb over his eyelids, down past his cheekbones before finally cradling on his chin, he was blessed with the sight of his slow wake. Zashi’s eye peeked open at the touch, glossy with sleep, and a slow breath alerted him of his awareness. He reached his own hand up in response to Shouta’s, slow and clumsy and laden with half-awakeness, and gently cupped his hand where it rested on his jaw. His hands were sleep-warm and heavy, his thumb rubbing along the back of Shouta’s knuckles where they both knew small scars lie. A slightly slurred, astonishingly quiet “G’ Morning” broke up the sound of Bastard skidding down the hallways and the birds who made a nest outside their window.
After a moment, Hizashi’s other eye opened, and Shouta fell in love like he did every other morning as well. With the small smile, the sleepy green eyes, the way he looked at Shouta as if he hung the stars for him alone- He was beautiful.
He propped himself up on his elbow, leaning down to press his nose against Hizashi’s cheek in proper greeting. Hizashi sighed quietly, amused and near a laugh, but he just nudged his nose against him with more insistence until he finally reached his hands up and cupped the back of Shouta’s neck. He held him like he was worth something, like he was something fragile and beautiful. Something deep and big inside of Shouta swelled a bit at the thought, and he led a trail of kisses up Hizashi’s cheek, across his nose, and up to to his lips to release some of the pressure.
Sleepy kisses and gentle hums, morning breath aside... He could stay here forever, he realized quietly. The rest of the world doesn't matter because his life is right here, curled into their special silk pillows he insisted on buying to help his own rats nest of hair- no matter the fact that Hizashi’s own hair was silky smooth and couldn't hold a texture if it was forced onto it. He is his everything - but life moves on, and he leaned in for another kiss to cement the passing of time. Hizashi rumbled deep in his chest, deep and pleased, and Shouta sighed again.
He knew they probably had things to do that morning, but Shouta would sooner eat his own feet than think about grading more papers, so he didn’t hold himself accountable as he gently ran his fingers down Zashi’s collarbones, training across his bare chest with a ghost's touch. He knew this body almost as well as his own- From the ugly-looking scar down his left pec from a terrifying fight back in their second year of hero work to the burn on his left arm from a cooking incident that left their first apartment’s kitchen mostly blackened. The two ribs that stuck out a bit too far from a “spar” they had back in early third year- the memory of the three broken ribs and bruised lung should be shameful for him to look at, but he didn’t feel bad anymore. The slight crook in his nose and permanent ringing in his right ear showed their own side of the fight. Hizashi hummed a bit at his featherlight touch, reaching up and pulling against his hips to press their bodies together.
His following breath was a bit shaky to his own embarrassment, and he leaned down to press another kiss against his husband's lips. Hizashi reached a hand out blindly, grabbing his aides from their charging station and slipping them in with one hand while the other held Shouta’s face against his own. When they were finally settled and turned on properly, Hizashi immediately sat upright and pulled Shouta against his chest, fingers running down his back and nails gently scritching against his still-sensitive skin.
When Shouta pulled back a bit, Hizashi made an aborted move to chase but finally leaned back after a moment. He smiled, something soft and almost fragile, and Shouta leaned forward to rest his weight against Hizashi’s chest, tucking his face into his neck near his collarbones. The extra warmth from sleep had eased up, leaving him a comfortable temperature to curl against and still cover with the sheets without feeling like he was being roasted alive. Hizashi’s breath ghosted over his neck, leaving goosebumps against the better portion of his upper back. It was Hizashi’s favorite game to play- “How Long Can I Tease Shouta Before He Stabs Me-“ but it felt different than his normal teasing. It was softer, more mournful. He didn’t know what the sudden switch was, but he leaned further into him regardless. They were past needing verbal comforts and both of them had the tendency to rely on body language instead, (much to the frustration of Nemuri when it leaked into their outside lives, who struggled while reading any body language past a few teachable basics.)
He closed his eyes, content in living here in his husband's arms for a few more minutes, but a random shot of pain down his back forced his eyes back open with a small, surprised wheeze. Hizashi sighed quietly, smoothing his hair back from his face in a gentle motion.
"Don’t wake up just yet, sweetheart." he said softly. Another shot of pain forced a small gasp through his lips, and he went to lift his head but Hizashi's hand pushed his face back against his neck in an odd motion.
"It’s okay, I know you're confused..." Hizashi paused, his voice quiet. "You're not ready, but I suppose it's as close as you'll get, huh?"
Hizashi laughed, but it wasn't the sunshine-y laugh that sent tingles down his spine and made him feel as if he was floating. It was soft and forced, choked off. Something was wrong- he found that he wasn't able to force the words to ask out of his mouth, and wheezed short and sharp. Hizashi’s hand smoothed down his hair in another attempt of comfort.
"Is it selfish, I want to keep you here forever?" Shouta desperately clutched his husband's sleep shirt as another wave of pain shuttered through his body. "It’s not your time though- They still need you, even if I need you too," he murmured.
His hair felt wet and he realized abruptly that Hizashi was crying. This felt an awful lot like a goodbye- Shouts reached his hearing, desperate and grief-stricken. They were calling his name, telling him to wake up-
"I love you." Hizashi whispered. Shouta desperately tried to make himself say something, anything, tell him how much he means to him- "It’s okay, my love. I know you love me too." he said gently. Another drip of tears on his head, a kiss to his forehead, and then-
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in his bedroom with the stupid silk pillowcases and the custom portrait of bastard staring at him across the room. The world was spinning and much narrower than he remembered, and excruciating pain radiated through his eye socket and down his back.
"Aizawa-sensei!" someone cried. He tried to force himself to sit up, his body screaming from the movement- "Aizawa-sensei you have to get up, you have to move!"
It sounded like momo, her voice high and watery. She seemed close, but the ringing in his ears echoed louder than usual and he struggled to identify where it came from. He looked around, his hands scrambling for purchase on the ground, slippery from his own blood, when he suddenly froze.
Laying not a full yard away was his husband. His beautiful, kind, selfless, loving husband- Who gave him the world he thought he could never have and asked for nothing but his own love in return, who was so far beyond Shouta’s broken self he was akin to a star in the sky but who chose to stay anyways. Who laughed like sunshine and felt like home. His stupid sunglasses were shattered, crumpled on the ground near his feet as if someone stepped on them and his eyes, his beautiful eyes-
"Aizawa-sensei, please !"
He was dead and Shouta- Shouta was still alive.
A sudden, new form of pain built up in his chest, something foreign and unfamiliar, and he found himself standing despite the excruciating pain, racing to his side in no more than a heartbeat. A stolen heartbeat, something that he should have -
He didn't have a pulse. There was blood dried on his temple, a strange dent to his skull that shouldn't be there. His body seemed crumpled, bones poking through the wrong spots. He was looking where Shouta had laid no more than a few seconds prior, a half smile on his face and his arm outstretched- Their wedding ring was cracked, the diamond he had insisted on missing and the metal band warped along with his shattered hand.
A hand on his arm, desperately tugging, woke him out of his stupor. Yaoyorozu stood by his side, her face messy from tears and dried blood down the front of her costume.
"Aizawa-sensei, please we have to go- This is the only bus left, everybody else already left- There’s nothing we can do for him. Please, please we have to leave now-"
"'Zashi-" he croaked. His voice felt unused. He was just talking with him, just kissing his brow, his hair tickling his nose. He reached out, slipping the ring from his finger ( cracked,blue,bloody - ) and cradling it in his hand with a stricken expression. He was gone, he was gone -?
" Please !" she sobbed again. Something in him snapped, and he stood fully, grabbing her wrist (the one not bent at the odd angle, he noticed-) and slinging his arm over her shoulder. His back must have been shattered and his frantic movements had not helped the pain any, but with her support they were able to make it back where she had mentioned.
The battlefield, if it could be called that anymore, was flattened. His class stood further ahead, gathered by the bus Yaoyorozu had mentioned. There were far fewer of them than there were a few hours ago, and they were all much worse for wear to his own muted horror. The second they saw the two heading across the field, they all began filing on the bus, helping each other where needed and carrying anybody who couldn’t walk by themselves.
It was an emergency bus, one for victims in major catastrophes. The day was blurry and faded in his head, he didn’t know what happened - Yaoyorozu partially dumped him in a seat before racing to Jirou’s side. Her ears and neck were stained with blood, and her eyes were dimmed considerably- He wondered absentmindedly if she could hear them at all. Midoriya was laid out across one of the seats near his sight, passed out and with blood stains all down his costume, and Bakugou sat by his side with a pinched expression and burn blisters spread up his arms. The rest of them were scattered along the rest of the bus from what he could hear, but he couldn't turn his head far enough to look at them.
The bus doors finally closed, and as they pulled off Aizawa stiffly turned his head to look out of the window one last time. He knows it wasn't real, but he swears that he saw him standing there. Watching, waving, tears dripping down his face and dirt smudged on his outfit but whole and unbroken nonetheless. A piece of Shouta’s soul stayed with him.
He knew that someone helped him off the bus, and he knew that Recovery Girl and Snipe helped rinse the dirt and blood off of him, both desperately trying to reach through the fog to talk to him- He knew that he was partially healed and bandaged before being lead to their his apartment, and he knew he told Snipe to back off and leave him alone before finally being left to his devices.
He made it until he reached their bedroom, hobbling along on a pair of crutches that echoed uncomfortably, before he saw his husband's side of the bed- Wholly unmade and messy from their sleep the night prior. Bastard was curled up on Zashi’s pillow, just like he always did because he loved Zashi whereas he just tolerated Shouta-
That night, Shouta cried alone for the first time in almost ten years, but there wasn’t anybody left to call him out on it- Life moves on.