Chapter Text
Shinsou sighed and scrubbed his face. He felt tired. Either he had achieved what he’d intended and worn himself out, or the cold was settling in his bones and he was about to get hypothermia and pass out on the spot. It probably hadn’t been the greatest of ideas to go for a walk at 2AM on a wintry night by himself, but he had been going through a bout of insomnia, and this had seemed like a good plan three sleepless hours ago.
He’d thrown on a few layers of the previous day’s clothes that was meant to be washed in the morning and snuck out through the front door, as disturbances to the back door or windows at this time of night would send an alert to Aizawa’s room. Fortunately, it was deserted in the common area that night; there would occasionally be a classmate or two awake due to nightmares, or just getting a midnight snack, or last-minute cramming for an exam.
Shinsou had even seen Aizawa about on some nights. The first time he encountered Aizawa, he’d nearly gotten a heart attack, seeing a dark imposing figure in the kitchen just standing completely still. He’d slunk up to the kitchen, preparing to brainwash the intruder, when he heard the low beep of the coffee machine and the figure let out a familiar sigh.
“Sensei?” he’d said softly.
Aizawa had stiffened just slightly, before his shoulders dropped and his posture relaxed, turning to look at his student. “Shinsou? Is everything alright?” When Aizawa padded over to turn on the light, Shinsou noted that he barely made any noise, footsteps silent, even with a prosthetic leg. Probably from years of being an underground hero.
“I can’t sleep on some nights and staying in my room gets a bit stifling.”
Aizawa carefully eyed him. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual. “Insomnia?”
“Yeah.”
Aizawa poured himself a mug of coffee. “Were you prescribed anything for it?”
Shinsou shrugged. “Never saw a doc for it.”
“… I see. What do you normally do when you can’t sleep?”
“Um… I try to get some extra homework done, or watch or read stuff on my phone, mostly. Sometimes I still try to sleep anyway. I was just going to make some hot chocolate and read a bit.”
Aizawa gazed into his coffee for a minute, then said, “Wait here.” He disappeared into his room, tucked away in a corner of the ground floor, where there was a hint of light spilling out from underneath the door.
Shinsou gazed longingly at the coffee.
“Here.” Shinsou stifled every urge to jump at Aizawa’s voice behind him. “Try this, it’s a blend of herbal tea that’s worked as a sleep aid for me. I get it from a friend of Recovery Girl, who specializes in this kind of thing.”
Shinsou took the teabag and sniffed it. He must have made a face, because Aizawa huffed, almost a chuckle. “Honey helps it go down. Let me know if it helps you, so that I can arrange for a consultation with Recovery Girl and her colleague to see if you can have some to use.”
“Oh. This…” It must be from Aizawa’s personal stash, if he took it from his room. “Sensei, you don’t have to –“
Aizawa cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Just give it a try, Shinsou. I have some work to do now, but if there are any more issues, you can text or call me.”
After receiving an affirmative from Shinsou, Aizawa returned to his room with his coffee. He drank the tea (honestly not that bad with honey) and went back to his room to lie down. Eventually, after laying there for almost long enough to think that the tea hadn’t helped after all, he’d managed to drift off. Since then, after Recovery Girl agreed that Shinsou could be given the tea for his insomnia, Aizawa had refreshed Shinsou’s supply when necessary.
Shinsou had resisted initially, he probably couldn’t afford this. But Aizawa reassured him that it wouldn’t cost him a thing, and even after asking Recovery Girl multiple times, he hadn’t been charged at all.
He suspected that Aizawa was paying for the tea out of pocket, since he hadn’t mentioned that the school would cover it; as such, he tried to use it as sparingly as possible, and would put off telling Aizawa that he was out. Naturally, it meant that when he desperately needed it, he didn’t have any left, leading him to situations such as this.
As he neared the dorm building, shivering lightly, he froze – not from the cold, but out of fear and shock.
There was someone standing in front of the door outside 2-A’s dorm.
Shinsou slipped behind some bushes, heart pounding; under the glow of the streetlamps, the figure was tall and lanky, a heavy bag slung over one shoulder, with long blond hair tied up in a loose braid. Shinsou narrowed his eyes. This person really didn’t look like a criminal, not from their brightly coloured clothing topped off with framed glasses, or from the way they were standing, although they seemed to be nervous, looking around and tapping their foot. In fact, something about them felt really familiar.
Shinsou checked his phone. It was about thirty past two. Todoroki should be sound asleep in his own room. They had agreed to not sleep over in each other’s rooms too often to reduce their chances of being caught, and Shinsou hadn’t wanted to disturb him by seeking his company just for one of his many sleepless nights.
But if this person was acting suspicious, maybe alerting someone within the dorm would be better? Since their rough first year with several villain attacks, his classmates had become more wary of strangers lurking around their school grounds, so it couldn’t be a late-night visit by a relative, unless it was some family emergency of some sort.
As Shinsou unlocked his phone and was about to call Todoroki, a familiar voice suddenly cried out, “Shouta!”
… Shouta?
Shinsou cursed at his own stupidity; he had seen those glasses before, with that strangely familiar-yet-not feeling. It had been back at the teacher’s lounge just recently, when Present Mic had taken off his speakers and sunglasses to do some grading at his desk.
He peeked over the bush to see Yamada running towards a weary Aizawa, who walked slowly towards the dorm. Although he kept his voice low, Shinsou could still pick out his words, having subconsciously attuned himself to Aizawa’s voice throughout his training.
“I’m fine, Hizashi.” Hizashi. Aizawa had never called him that in front of his students before, even outside of the classroom. “It turned out to just be a minor altercation and I settled it before it could escalate. There were some issues with the paperwork which held me up after. Sorry I’m late.”
Yamada fussed over him, reaching out to hold him steady. “Did you even get yourself checked? I know how you are. I don’t want to risk having you pass out the moment I leave.”
Aizawa grasped his husband’s worried hands. “I’m fine, really. They barely put up any fight. You should go and get some sleep, I know you waited up for me. Thanks for doing this, I know it was last-minute.”
“As if it was your fault,” Yamada scoffed. “Being called in to cover a patrol shift when you have a dorm full of students to watch and homework to check? No wonder you’ve been twice as grumpy as usual.”
“No I haven’t,” Aizawa grumbled, a touch petulant. Shinsou swallowed the chuckle bubbling out of his throat. “Anyway, I’m not grumpy because of that…”
“So you have been grumpy? Is it because you miss me?” Yamada laughed, then quieted down when Aizawa said nothing. He seemed to fold in on himself, drooping tiredly. “Oh, Shouta. Baby. Come here.”
Aizawa quickly stopped Yamada’s embrace with hands on his chest. “Not here, ‘Zashi, you know how the kids are on some nights. Someone might be watching.”
Shinsou’s heart clenched painfully.
Fortunately, Yamada wasn’t fazed. “They already know we’re married, Shou. I’m sure they can handle seeing us hug. Besides, I didn’t see anyone at all tonight, pretty sure they have no idea I was even here.”
Aizawa held out for only a few more seconds before he caved and let Yamada pull him in for a tight hug. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his husband’s back; his figure was shaking, burying his face in Yamada’s scarf, dark hair hiding him from the world, just for a while.
It felt like it should have been heartwarming, watching them hold each other like there was nothing else that mattered. But Shinsou’s ears buzzed and his face felt numb like he wanted to cry.
What was it? Was it that Aizawa never had any space to drop his guard? Even at the place he had to live in now, even on a silent night with no curious eyes in sight with just Yamada in front of him, he felt the need to be vigilant, to keep the man he loved at arm’s length. Just in case.
Yamada rocked them side to side gently. He was singing something softly, only for his husband to hear.
Shinsou felt guilty. Aizawa clearly didn’t want his students to witness this side of him, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t want to do anything that might jolt Aizawa out of his tiny moment of comfort and put his walls back up when they didn’t have to be.
The pair spoke quietly; now that they were in each other’s arms, Shinsou could no longer hear them well enough to make out words, which he was grateful for. As he waited for them to move away, Shinsou thought back to all the times when Yamada had visited 2-A’s dorm; in school, they only called each other by their hero names, and Yamada would occasionally call him by Aizawa during Shinsou’s training sessions. At Heights Alliance, he would refer to him as both Aizawa and Eraser, and they were always far apart. Even if they had to discuss something, there was a professional distance between them.
It wasn’t as though Aizawa was allergic to showing affection, however. Shinsou had seen Aizawa’s affection spill out for Eri, carrying her around, allowing her to pull him to places by the hand, letting her hug and cling on to him. He’d even let her rope the girls in to do up his hair together.
And when his students needed it, he would speak to them with care, softly when they shook from the lingering clutches of their nightmares, make them a hot drink, pat their head or hold their shoulder until they were calm.
Tsuyu had told him before. The nightmares she suffered about USJ had always been the worst; one night she sprang awake, tongue shot out like a bullet hard enough to put a hole in her wall, convinced that Aizawa had been crushed to death by the Nomu in his bid to save her. She ran downstairs, half-delirious, when Aizawa appeared like his sixth sense had went off. When Tsuyu clung on to him, sobbing and apologising, he hugged her firmly, not letting go until she’d cried herself back to sleep.
Shinsou hugged his knees. He thought about not being able to be close with Todoroki in a place that was basically his home. About pushing him away.
It must have hurt, from the way Aizawa all but collapsed into Yamada’s arms.
The sound of a door closing quietly pulled Shinsou away from his thoughts, and another peek confirmed that Aizawa had gone inside while Yamada had left, presumably to return home, as his brightly coloured figure disappeared down the street and into the night. Shinsou waited for several more minutes, shivering, until he figured it was fine for him to go back. Checking that it was still dark inside as he carefully approached the front door, he slipped inside, turning to make sure that the door was properly locked, and shit he’ll know someone snuck out because the door wasn’t locked –
“Care to explain?”
Shinsou startled badly and cracked his head into the door. Rubbing his forehead, he turned sheepishly to find Aizawa standing, arms folded and already back in his casual plain clothes, in the dark by the kitchen.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Shinsou said, because there was no point in lying. He didn’t really want to, anyway.
He did decide not to mention that it had been several days of terrible sleep already.
“You haven’t been making use of the tea,” Aizawa said, not exactly accusingly, but it was close. “Or have you run out and not told me?”
Shinsou looked at his shoes. “I ran out.”
A beat, then Aizawa sighed. “Sit down, I’ll make you some. And you need to stop trying to freeze yourself this winter.” He started the electric kettle to boil some water and went to his room. Shinsou kicked off his shoes, then arranged them properly like the civilized person he was, and sat at the kitchen counter. This time when Aizawa returned, he made his steps heavy enough for Shinsou to hear.
A thick blanket was set around his shoulders. “That’s not exactly appropriate winter wear for this time of night.”
“I layered up,” Shinsou mumbled, but wrapped the blanket around himself.
Aizawa turned on just the soft light for the kitchen and set a new box of teabags down in front of Shinsou. “I had this ready for you, though I was starting to wonder why you were taking longer to get more each time.” There weren’t very many in one box since they were handmade and would lose their potency if kept for too long. “Is there something you’re concerned about?”
Playing with the box on the countertop, Shinsou hesitated; he really should have known Aizawa would get suspicious. A mug of freshly boiled water was set down in front of him, and when he glanced upwards, reaching for it, Aizawa was seated across from him, patiently waiting.
Shinsou sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Best be truthful. Aizawa could sniff out lies like a dog. “I haven’t paid a cent for these, sensei, and I don’t think the school will cover for me. You’ve been buying these for me, right?”
Aizawa stared at him, blank-faced and silent, until Shinsou relented and put a teabag into the mug to let steep. The water was a faint gold under the warm light – Aizawa had even stirred some honey in before giving it to him. Aizawa finally replied, “I have, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“How can I not? I can’t just have my teacher paying for me like I’m some – charity case.”
The words came out sounding harsher than he intended, and Shinsou blanched, an apology on his tongue, when Aizawa said kindly, “That’s not my intention, Shinsou. It’s been convenient for me to get an extra box for you when I buy more for myself. And since your medical needs have been… overlooked, it’s the least I can do to help you, at the very least, get a good night’s sleep.”
The least I can do, as though Aizawa wasn’t the entire reason that Shinsou was even here at all, that he had been given the chance to chase after his dream.
“Anyway, as a teacher, it’s my duty to take care of my students. Especially since I’m also staying in Heights Alliance, I can even look after you lot outside the classroom.” Taking in Shinsou’s unconvinced expression, Aizawa scratched the back of his head. “Well, you can take this as me trying to see less of you sneaking out alone while poorly dressed for the winter, and when you’re not sleep-deprived, you’ll focus better during training. Can you at least grant me that?”
Typical Aizawa, disguising his care as a favour to him, never wanting his students to feel indebted. Shinsou defeatedly sipped his tea. “Okay, but only if you actually eat the food I bring for you during training.” He’d attempted many times to show his appreciation by buying coffee and small snacks like bread or onigiri for Aizawa, only to find the food untouched after Aizawa left (whenever he couldn’t actually put the food straight into Aizawa’s hands). Aizawa basically lived off jelly pouches and coffee, Shinsou wouldn’t be surprised if he was more jelly and caffeine than man.
“A fair deal,” Aizawa said. His voice was soft, almost fond. Shinsou rubbed at his nose aggressively to hide his flushed cheeks.
They sat in silence for a while; Shinsou tugging at the teabag’s string, Aizawa sitting motionless. It felt like he was waiting for something.
A confession, about what he had seen earlier?
Or maybe he was just waiting for Shinsou to fall asleep on the counter. Which seemed more likely, since he hadn’t yet sworn Shinsou to secrecy about seeing him allowing his husband to hug him before they had to part ways once again.
The pain in Shinsou’s chest returned at the thought.
I can even look after you lot outside the classroom. Aizawa hadn’t said it with false enthusiasm, he just stated it like a fact, because it was. Just another thing he took in stride, even though he now had to live apart from Yamada, even though he now had to think about the wellbeing and health of his students at night, even though he had to check the common areas and every floor more frequently for signs of ongoing nightmares or interrupted sleep.
Shinsou decided to tell him the truth. He owed him that much. “When I was coming back just now, I saw Yamada-sensei waiting for you. And I heard a little bit of what you said to him. But after that I was just hiding, because I didn’t – I didn’t want to make you feel like you were right. That you had to hide, even when you shouldn’t have to.”
Aizawa didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t budge or make a sound. He wasn’t even looking at Shinsou anymore, gaze turned downwards, at his hands interlinked on the countertop. Shinsou felt like he was overstepping terribly, but he forged onwards, because Plus Ultra, right? “Aizawa-sensei, I think you can at least hug your husband around us. Or sit close to him, have him over more often, eat with us, anything. This – this place, it’s your home, too. You should at least be happy.”
Aizawa was quiet for a long, long time.
Absurdly, Shinsou felt his eyes well up at his silence. He screwed them shut, pressing his sleeve against them, hoping to feign weariness; he couldn’t help biting his lower lip to stop it from trembling, he couldn’t help letting out a sob when he breathed.
Aizawa had suffered so much. He had lost so much.
He deserved so much better.
Better than this.
“Oh, Shinsou.” Aizawa shushed him lowly as he started to cry, and then gentle hands were pulling him against a solid, warm chest. “Shinsou, I appreciate your honesty. Thank you for telling me. It’s alright.” Shinsou shook in Aizawa’s arms, tears starting to dry, soothed by his comforting voice and hand rubbing his back.
When Shinsou finally, reluctantly, pulled himself away, Aizawa released him and sat down on the counter chair beside him. A box of tissues had appeared out of nowhere and was placed by his mug. Aizawa gave him a moment to blow his nose and compose himself, even placing his warm mug of tea in his hands and making him drink some.
“I’m sorry,” Shinsou mumbled, “don’t know what came over me.”
“You don’t have to apologise.” If Shinsou thought his voice sounded a little thick, he figured his ears were just stuffed up from his blocked nose. “Shinsou. When I became a Pro, I accepted all that came with it, including the risks of being in a relationship – with another Pro Hero, no less, and one who was far more in the spotlight than I ever could be. Yamada and I, we had an agreement from the start to maintain professionalism in our workplace, and becoming a teacher was the same.”
Aizawa fell quiet, but just for a minute, like he was gathering his thoughts. “But then the League of Villains happened, and Heights Alliance happened, and things had changed before I could realign myself. Before we could realign ourselves. Even once things settled down a little, it was just easier to carry on as the way things were.” He reached out, slow, as though he was careful not to startle Shinsou, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m happy here, Shinsou, because I know my students are safe. I’m happy that I’m around to watch over you, and every day of peace we get is a day closer to when I can see all of you graduate and send you on your way.”
A rush of tears spilled out, Shinsou choking back another sob; Aizawa squeezed his shoulder gently and handed him more tissues. “But I hear you,” Aizawa said softly, when Shinsou had steadied his breathing once more. “I appreciate your concern for me. I’ll take your words to heart, and though I can’t promise you any changes, I’ll remember them. Thank you, Shinsou.”
Thank you, Shinsou.
Shinsou must have wept his brain out alongside his tears, because he wished Aizawa would hug him again even though he’d never been a fan of physical contact. Aizawa kept his hand on his shoulder until he finished drying his eyes and wiping his nose. Through the haze of sleep he’d longed for that was starting to creep in, he belatedly realised that the blanket he’d been wrapped in had fallen to the floor.
The warmth on his shoulder was gone, but then his mug appeared in front of his face, and Shinsou obediently finished off his tea. He tried not to pout, because crying in front of his mentor for no reason at nearly 3AM in the morning and then being coaxed to hydrate himself afterwards was pretty damn embarrassing. It wasn’t like he’d had a nightmare. This was definitely happening due to his sleep deprivation.
“It’s almost three, you should go back to – hm?”
Shinsou blinked his mildly puffy eyes sleepily. From the stairs, Todoroki’s quiet voice said, “Shinsou?”
“Todoroki,” he mumbled. There was some movement, then Todoroki was beside him, hands on his shoulder and face worriedly; Shinsou smiled to himself, thinking about how Yamada had fussed over Aizawa in a similar way just a short while ago.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep.” He leaned against Todoroki’s chest. His heart beat steadily under his ear, slightly quickened from concern.
“Shinsou should be alright now. Why are you up, Todoroki?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up and came down to get some water.”
Aizawa sighed. “Don’t you kids keep water in your rooms?”
“I do, just…” Todoroki’s hold on Shinsou tightened a little. “I also thought Shinsou might be awake, so I wanted to check.”
“He was. I don’t know about now, though.”
“’M awake,” he mumbled into Todoroki’s chest. It felt so warm and cozy, he didn’t want to move, but he needed to go back to bed now. Hopefully with Todoroki.
Todoroki ran his fingers through his hair. “Just sleep, Hitoshi.”
Shinsou thought that he should maybe protest, because Aizawa was right there, but something within him also purred that Todoroki didn’t seem to care.
Aizawa made a thoughtful hum.
Shinsou slid his eyes closed. The hand petting him felt so warm, comforting.
Todoroki felt warm. Comforting.
Someone lifted him up, cradling him to his chest; lights shone through his eyelids, then he was being set down on his bed. Todoroki’s voice said something, and then his thicker outer layers were being carefully pulled off.
Familiar hands – Aizawa’s – gently lay Shinsou down and pulled his blanket over him. A cold palm was pressed to his face, brushing around his eyes.
Sleep was calling, but Shinsou resisted, just long enough to reach up and grasp Todoroki’s hand.
Shouto.
He must have managed to say it, as Todoroki lingered a little longer.
“Good night, Hitoshi.”
Todoroki’s voice washed over him like a cool autumn breeze and carried him away into his dreams.