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Normally coming home at three in the morning wasn't the end of the world for Shōta. If anything, it was expected of him on a patrol night. It probably even counted as being home early. If only Shōta wasn't so bone achingly tired that he'd flipped back to being wired.
This year's 1-A was a new type of exhausting, and maybe Shōta had gotten rusty after expelling so many previous classes, but he hadn't been nearly prepared enough for the level of energy he would need for them. Sure, he'd gotten rest after the USJ — by threat of Hizashi offering to lovingly deafen him if he didn't rest — and things were made easier after the whole Kamino Ward Incident went down, having the dorms put in place where it was easier to keep track of his hellions, but none of that rest was enough to take the edge of exhaustion off.
Especially when he still had patrols to do and was far too frequently getting midnight texts from the security bots about students being out of bed.
But Shōta made it work.
Typically by rolling into bed next to his ‘gently snoring’ starfish of a husband at the witching hour and being woken up in time for a ten-second shower before classes began. But it worked. It counted.
But tonight was different. Something had made the patrol draaaaaaaaaaaaag on. Even though it definitely didn't. Only a few incidents of drunken idiots, and the resulting barely enough paperwork to complain about. But something had Shōta wired. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep easily, not with the energy running through him. His leg kept bouncing. He kept drumming his fingers on anything and everything he touched.
He needed to sleep.
He needed a coffee.
He knew Zashi would tell him off for it. He could already hear it; “Shōta. Darling. My Moonlight. My Grumpy Cat. You know you shouldn't have coffee after midnight. For once in your life drink water. Or tea! Please. Just not coffee.” The Hizashi in his head was probably right, but he was also a touch too nasally to be Hizashi and therefore not worth listening to. Shōta put water in the kettle, making sure the whistle was off the spout for stealth.
Shōta knew it was a risk. That there was a fifty-fifty chance of this just hyping him up and making him worse, but that also meant there was a chance of it mellowing him out enough to go to bed. It didn’t even need to make him sleep, just had to take some of the jitters out of his soul. Caffeine and ADHD had always been weird frenemies for Shōta.
He just needed caffeine, so he went for the cheap nasty instant coffee they usually only pulled out when Nem wouldn't go home. A scoop of that, a hefty scoop light sprinkle of sugar to take out some of the cheap taste, and a splash of milk to make it not quite as black as his soul, and he was ready to go. He stimmed his way around the kitchen a few times, until he decided the water was good and hot enough and made his forbidden drink, careful not to let the spoon touch the mug as he stirred just in case it was enough to alert Hizashi to his criminal activity.
The coffee was ready.
It was perfect.
He could feel the caffeine soak through him after that first hesitant test sip.
Pure.
Fucking.
Bliss.
And not even as gross as it usually tasted, though that could've been the rose-tinted glasses of addiction-meets-exhaustion speaking. He took another couple of sips before oh-so-gently placing the mug on the counter, and leaning back; letting the tension melt away. Eyes closed, he tilted his head back and just… breathed. The coffee was doing its job, and Shōta seemed to have won his gamble.
“You good, Sensei?”
Shōta didn’t quite startle, but he couldn’t deny that he jolted as he reached for his capture scarf.
Shinso stood in the doorway of the kitchen, the newest stray of the Yamada-Aizawa household watching Shōta with a strange expression on his face. The teen stared for a little longer before sighing and taking a seat at the table, gesturing for Shōta to sit with him. The boy looked much like Shōta felt, bags a deep bruise under his eyes and weariness slowing his movements.
They had taken Hitoshi Shinso in as a part of Shōta’s plan to get the kid into the hero course. His previous foster guardians - ‘don’t call them parents, Sensei. They weren’t for me’ - had signed him over to Shōta in a heartbeat after he’d done a visitation and explained how Shinso would need to spend more time on school grounds for after hours training. Shōta hadn’t been too surprised really, considering they had denied the optional request for non hero students to also move to the dorms. They had wanted him home as much as possible to help with some of the other kids they housed, but if a pro hero was asking him to stay late at school then they felt they couldn’t deny him.
Shinso had been quick to reassure the husbands that they weren’t abusive or neglectful, they had just bitten off more than they could chew with how many kids they took in and with him being the oldest he was mostly left to his own devices. Shōta let it drop, but kept a note in the back of his mind about them.
So Shinso was now a ward of Shōta and Hizashi, able to choose between using the dorms or going home with the teachers.
It had been about a month since then, with the teen settling in relatively well. His quirk's drawback of insomnia and headaches had been an adjustment, coupled with the nervous energy of a new house with new rules, but overall he seemed happy enough.
It must have been an insomnia night and the teen would’ve heard him come in. Probably heard him tapping around the kitchen and came to investigate.
“Can’t sleep, Kid?”
Oh. Shōta’s voice was very tired, even to himself. Maybe the coffee was working a bit too well and he would need to head to bed soon. But, he could indulge his foster son for a little bit. He took his part-drained mug with him to the table, settling into the chair that had long been claimed as his.
“Nope.”
“There might still be enough water in the kettle if you want a drink. Just don’t tell Hizashi. He’ll never forgive me if he knew I let you have coffee at this hour”
The teen smiled at him, that one that Zashi would say reminded him so much of Shōta at that age. Shōta couldn’t see it.
“Don’t worry, Sensei. If he didn’t wake up to the racket you were making before, I’m sure he’ll never know.” Shinso skittered away, quietly laughing to himself as he rummaged around the kitchen.
And Shōta had been so sure he was a master of stealth.
He probably didn’t need to finish his whole drink, he could fall asleep right there at the table if he let himself, but it would be blasphemy to waste it. Pouting, Shōta took another sip of his cooling drink and relaxed into his chair. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a speck on the ceiling.
A moving speck.
Slowly coming down above him.
A spider?
Good thing Zashi was asleep, otherwise they’d all be deaf. And sleeping outside as they watched the house burn down.
“Go away,” Shōta said to the tiny intruder, who ignored him and kept lowering itself.
“Me?” Shinso had turned back, milk carton in hand, concern on his face like he couldn't work out what he had done wrong. “I thought you said-”
Shōta was quick to wave the confusion off. “No. No. Not you, kid. Him,” he nodded to the spider, still descending above the table. “Hizashi will freak out if he sees him.”
“Ooooohhhhhh.” The teen went back to making his drink, put at ease. He returned to the table, his own mug not quite full, and joined Shōta in watching the insect.
Shōta didn’t want to look away from the spider, worried he’d lose sight of it completely and have to deal with the consequences when his husband stumbled upon the web in the morning. He glared up at the tiny black bug, watching it get closer and closer. He felt his quirk activate as he glared, hoping it would just snuff the little menace out of existence, and was frustrated when it didn’t evaporate. Shinso huffed a little laugh at him.
“You gonna stop it, Sensei?”
“I’m trying.”
“With your quirk? You must be more tired than I thought.”
“Mmmmhmmm.”
The teen took another sip of his drink, smirking into his mug.
The spider was at eye level, and still had the audacity to continue to lower itself down above the table. Maybe Shōta could just squish it once it landed. He could wipe the table after and nobody would ever know a spider had touched it. Yeah.
“Uh, it's gonna land in your coffee.”
What? Oh. Oh no.
“Wait. No. That's my coffee. Get your own.” Shōta wanted to swat it away, but his arms felt like lead. He needed to sleep.
Shinso was right though. The little bastard was heading straight for his mug, yet neither human made a move to stop it. They both just watched at the little spider dangled above the coffee in Shōta’s mug, leaning forward to be able to see what it did next.
The spider hopped off the strand of web, falling directly into the deep brown coffee. It must’ve done some wrong calculations, because it seemed to scramble a bit in tiny insect panic before sinking below the surface.
It didn’t come back up.
“Huh.” Shōta was lost for words, blinking slowly. “Did it just…. drown?”
“Yup.”
“I wasn’t done with that drink.”
They both continued to stare at the surface of the coffee, the little sullen strand of silk fluttering in their breaths in that weightless way only webs could.
“Damn.”
“Damn.” Shinso downed the last of his drink, eyes still watching for any sign of life in his mentor’s mug. “Kinda wish that were me.”
“What a way to go,” Shōta agreed. He leant back again.
It was an odd three (almost four) in the morning.
“Time for bed.”
“Yup.”
Shinso was quick to clean up, being the one with more/any energy, and both mugs were quietly rinsed with all evidence of insect activity gurgling down the drain. He hovered a little as Shōta stood up, ready to catch his mentor if sleep managed to take him by surprise, but wasn’t needed. He did follow Shōta down the hall though.
“Go to sleep kiddo. I can manage.”
“‘Kay, Sensei. Night.”
“Night Shinso.”
Shōta slowly made his way to the bed, shedding bits of uniform until he climbed in, contorting his way around Hizashi’s sleeping limbs. He didn’t have much bed, and definitely less blanket than his husband, but Shōta was asleep within moments.