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Chapter Text

It hadn’t even been a particularly bad villain attack.

My class was on a well-earned outing where they could be kids, not heroes. Due to Midoriya’s insistence, we were here to see All Might: Daybreak. The only reason I remembered the name of the film was my problem child infodumping about it the entire way to the theater.

“Sho, got us a large,” Hizashi handed me a soda and popcorn, sitting down next to me in the theater seats. We were situated behind the two rows of my class.

I tuned out the preview for the Gang Orca film in favor of doing a quick headcount. All 20 students accounted for. I relaxed just a bit.

Two rows in front of me, Ashido stage whispered, “Alright, let’s get everything passed out.”

I watched curiously as Hitoshi, in the seat in front of me, reached into their oversized hoodie and pulled out a bag of candy. “Keep what you like, send on what you don’t,” they whispered, handing it out to Todoroki and Midoriya on either side of them, and then reaching in for more.

I could see the same thing happening with Ashido from her purse and Kaminari from their jacket. Sato produced cling-wrapped cookies that he sent down the lines. Hitoshi paused in their dispensing to pass two of them back to us.

“Thank you, Sato,” I called, pleased that my kids had brought enough for their teachers as well. The class echoed my words.

Sato smiled brightly. “Of course!”

Most surprisingly of all, Tokoyami reached into the ethereal body of Dark Shadow and pulled out chocolate bar after chocolate bar. “I present: The Mad Banquet of Darkness.”

“Woah, thanks dude!” Exclaimed Kirishima, holding onto a bar and passing along the rest. “How’d you make ‘em cold?”

“We will not reveal our great and fathomless secrets.”

Eyeing the candy still being handed out from Hitoshi’s clothes, Hizashi gave a low whistle. “You taught them well.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I denied dryly, pulling a jelly pouch out of one of my six hiding places.

One of the candies reached Iida, and he held it up to the light. “The cookies I can understand and grudgingly accept, but this candy isn’t one of the brands sold by the theater. Did you smuggle this in?”

Yaoyorozu, who had passed it to him, looked back down the line to Ashido. “Well?”

Ashido laughed. “Lighten up, everyone brings candy to the theater! It’s tradition!”

Iida stood up quickly, then realized he didn’t have much standing room and sat back down. “Bakugo, please refrain from reclining for the moment. I must stand to make an impassioned speech.”

“Pass.”

“I’m afraid I must demand that you cease reclining immediately!”

I could practically hear Bakugo’s eye roll. “As if I’d listen to you.”

Iida huffed and gave up on standing. He shook the candy packet. “This is wrong! We must throw this away immediately!”

Hitoshi and I winced, echoed by several scoffs across the class.

Iida, seeing his words were ineffective, turned his attention to Yaoyorozu. I could hear every capitalization as he demanded, “Vice Class Representative, tell them.”

Yaoyorozu straightened in her seat. “We mustn’t smuggle in candy. It’s wrong.” She emphasized her words with an Iida-like chop, and something slid out of her sleeve and onto the floor. She gave a dismayed gasp and went to snatch it up, but Iida secured it first.

“You appear to have dropped—wait just a moment! This is candy! And a non-theater brand at that! I thought you were on the side of law and order!”

“Dun dun,” intoned Sero lowly from next to Iida, and several of the kids snorted.

“What was that?” Iida asked indignantly.

“It’s a meme from a pre-quirk show?” He paused. “Law & Order?”

“I won’t be distracted by your—your memes!” He called, disgruntled. “Don’t you know that sneaking candy into the theater attracts villains?”

“Um, what?” Sero chuckled uncertainly, speaking for all of us in that moment. “What are you talking about, dude?”

“Must I educate you in this field as well?”

“Well uh,” Sero shifted uncomfortably, “who told you that bringing candy into theaters would attract villains?”

Iida pushed up his glasses, causing the light to catch them for a moment. “My esteemed elder brother, of course!”

Of course. Yeah, Tensei would say that.

This time it was Bakugo who spoke up. “And what else did he say attracted villains?”

Iida ticked them off on his fingers. “Not saying thank you, brushing my teeth for only one minute and not the proper two, and leaving homework until the day before it is due, among other things. These grievous actions, of course, are why this class is a villain magnet of the highest caliber.”

Several things about Iida suddenly made more sense. I scrubbed my hand over my face, making a mental note to call Tensei about this tomorrow. Next to me, Hizashi had a hand over their mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Bakugo scoffed like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Of course you would think so. But think on my words! They are obviously correct. You can take back your ill-begotten goods, Yaoyorozu!” He shoved the candy back into her hands. She took it with a sheepish shrug at the others.

“Hey, I wanted that!” protested Sero. He snagged it with his tape, ignoring Iida’s dismayed gasp of, “Not you too! …No, don’t offer me any, I won’t be participating in this illicit activity! Sensei? Did you know they smuggled candy in? You’ll take appropriate action, I hope?”

Hizashi elbowed me. “Appropriate action,” they giggled lowly, delighted.

I held in a sigh. “Of course, Iida. Shinsou?” It looked like they were finally pulling the last of their vast candy reserves from their sleeves. “I’ll need to confiscate that.”

“Of course,” they winked at me and handed me caramel-covered coffee chews. Lowering their voice, they whispered, “Saved your favorite for you.” At slightly above normal volume, they continued flatly, “Wow, I’ve definitely learned my lesson and have no desire to do anything like this ever again.”

Iida chopped so fervently that Yaoyorozu had to lean out of the way. “See! See! Shinsou understands the gravity of their actions!”

I took the candies, rubbing my thumb on Hitoshi’s, and felt a sudden surge of affection for my adopted child. I tucked the caramels into my pocket for the moment and slurped loudly on my not-theater-appropriate jelly pouch. Hitoshi nodded towards it. “Any chance I could get one of those?”

I snorted. “If you wanted one, you should have brought it.”

They raised their eyebrows. “I tried. There weren’t any left in the box.”

I thought back to the six—five, now—jelly pouches I’d squirreled away on my person. “Touché.” I reached into the holster that usually held my fourth secret knife, pulling out a jelly pouch instead. Hitoshi took it with a smile.

Hizashi leaned in, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I, too, definitely looked and didn’t find any. May I?”

I raised an eyebrow at my husband, who I knew for a fact didn’t like my jelly pouches. “Did you now.” So the students didn’t overhear, I signed, “You’re lucky I love you,” and then pulled the jelly pouch from my boot and settled it in his hand.

He rewarded me with a lovely smile and two fingers rubbing the top of my hand. His pronoun bracelets jangled with the movement, and I glanced at them out of habit. Today they were a red he/him and yellow they/them.

Hitoshi looked incredulous that they had to fight for their jelly pouch, yet Hizashi was getting theirs for free. They were opening their mouth to complain when Hizashi tossed the jelly pouch to them. They snatched it out of the air with a smile, and then used the pouch to sign a quick, “Thank you.”

Uraraka cried out, “Tsuyu, did you just put your whole tongue in my popcorn bucket?”

My mind registered that this couldn’t be correct, since Uraraka was to my left and Asui had settled in on the far right aisle seat. I looked over to Uraraka, and then followed the long popcorn-covered tongue as it retracted all the way across the theater to Asui herself. Why, why had I expected anything different?

“These guys banned me from their popcorn. But the better question,” Asui grimaced, “is why yours tastes like you put twenty pumps of butter in it.”

“That would be because I put twenty pumps of butter in it,” Uraraka announced with an extremely misplaced note of pride. The class and several civilian moviegoers made noises of horror.

Dismayed, I thought briefly back to what I’d told my students before I’d corralled them inside. “You’re not at school, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate any bad behavior. You will share your snacks with your classmates. Under no circumstances will we have a repeat of the Uraraka-Bakugo incident. There will be no fighting about this, understand?”

Everyone had agreed, but now that I thought about it, Uraraka had had a distinct troublemaking gleam in her eye.

Back in the present, Hizashi hissed, “What the fuck?”

“Only child syndrome,” I muttered back, suddenly glad that the popcorn Hizashi had gotten us was only slightly over-buttered.

The kids not sharing with Asui was in violation of the rules I’d set up, but I couldn’t blame them.

Kaminari, on the aisle and three seats to the left of Uraraka, was the only one brave enough to speak up. “Wait, for real? Twenty?”

“Yup,” she responded smugly. “So everyone else can eat other people’s popcorn, and I can—“

“That’s great!” Kaminari got up and gestured for Hagakure to trade seats so they’d be sitting on different sides of Ojiro. “Nobody ever makes it like I like it!” They settled down next to a gobsmacked Uraraka.

“But—“

I couldn’t help but grin toothily at her utter dismay as Kaminari started digging in. “You’re so nice, Uraraka!”

“We’d let you have some of our popcorn if you didn’t put your whole tongue in it,” muttered Sato to Asui.

“That’s just how you eat popcorn!”

“It’s literally not, but okay.” A pause. “Hey, who has the non-sour gummy worms? Kouda wants some.”

“On their way,” Hagakure called, and they passed it to Ojiro, who took a couple and passed it on to Kaminari. They pulled one out and kept the bag going on down the line.

When it got to Kouda, they signed something to Sato that was mostly blocked by the seats. “There are only two left in here. Any other bags?” Sato tried again.

Sero passed his bag around Iida and sent it over. Judging by Sato’s, “You want me to ask again?,” it was likewise almost empty. Kouda waved him off and ate their small handful of gummies with joy.

And finally, mercifully, the movie started.

The needlessly dramatic narration played as the camera panned up to the sunset. “Since the dawn of the age of Quirks, heroes across history have stood off against darkness.”

“Why stand off when you can embrace it?” Tokoyami harrumphed.

In front of me, Midoriya twitched, “Shh.”

The narration continued. “Many have tried to beat that evil back. Even fewer have been able to thrive against it.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz they sucked, lmao,” whispered Ashido. I would never understand why she said ‘lmao’ instead of actually laughing.

Midoriya looked right at her. “Shhh!” He said harshly, and Hitoshi put a calming hand on his shoulder. Good.

“And only one man has been able to shine as a beacon of hope, a symbol of peace.” All Might’s image was superimposed over the skyline, the sun making his chest glow.

“They’re gonna make one of these about me one day, when I surpass that old man,” Bakugo heckled. “And they’re gonna do a better job than this shitty-ass movie.”

Hitoshi’s hand wasn’t enough to keep their boyfriend calm, and Midoriya bolted upright. He gave an enraged hiss. “I swear to god, the next person to talk is going to be unconscious for the rest of the movie.”

The entire class went unnaturally silent, the other moviegoers giving our class wary looks. I turned an appraising eye to Midoriya, mostly because I couldn’t stand the drivel the narrator was droning on about.

“I am here!” All Might’s voice boomed from the screen, and Midoriya sat down, relaxing into Hitoshi’s side.

The theater doors burst open, banging against the walls. A high-pitched feminine voice rang out. “And I am taking you hostage!”

Midoriya let out a scream of pure guttural rage.

Of course. Of fucking course. Why wouldn’t this happen? The universe hated my goddamn class.

I moved to leap out of my seat and rush the villain, but my feet wouldn’t budge. Judging from Present Mic‘s hiss, he was in the same situation. Shit. My mind racing, I realized he couldn’t use his quirk here because the room was designed to amplify sound. On top of that, there were just too many civilians, and we’d certainly end up with collateral damage.

“I told you!” shouted Iida, “I told you—” but I immediately tuned him out. There were more important things to do, like getting an uninterrupted line of sight on the attacker.

I looked up just as the villain stepped into the light from the screen, and I caught snatches of her in between popcorn thrown in the air and people running out of their seats. She was short, with bubblegum pink twin tails, but that’s all I could catch through the panicking crowd.

Perhaps missing Midoriya’s terrifying scream of hatred amidst the sudden wall of noise from the citizens, the villain launched into her monologue, complete with idol-like poses. “I smell troublemaking teenagers with some sticky fingers! Stay put, kiddies!” The oversized cherry lollipops stuck to her cheeks bobbed as she spoke. “I’m Icky-Sticky! My quirk, Ooey-Gooey, can solidify sticky surfaces to keep you stuck to the icky-sticky—”

Before she could finish her monologue, Midoriya had launched himself out of his stuck shoes and into the air with a screech. He sent her flying with a single full cowling-fueled kick. Airborne, I finally had an uninterrupted line of sight for my Erasure to remove the villain’s quirk. Everyone was able to move at once.

Still in the air, Icky-Sticky found herself as target practice for Bakugo’s explosions. Her outfit consisted of a thick coating of candy, including unpopped kettlecorn kernels. Each explosion sent a flurry of popcorn into the air.

An expert throw of my capture scarf yanked her out of the air by her (thankfully not candy-covered) twin tails, and I had her in quirk suppressant cuffs in seven seconds flat.

I took half a step back to try and get a reprieve from the overwhelming scent of kettlecorn and burnt sugar. Midoriya moved in between us. Icky-Sticky chuckled nervously as my problem child loomed.

I grabbed Midoriya with my capture scarf. He was hissing and spitting, “Icky-Sticky, you ruined my fucking All Might movie showing! How could you! HOW COU—” and I deposited him gratefully into the hands of Todoroki and Hitoshi.

Present Mic stepped up for villain guard duty, and I turned my attention to the panicking civilians. I was proud to see my class was on it. Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve, I did a quick injury catalogue.

At first, I thought the only damage was to Midoriya’s morale due to the villain attack disrupting the All Might movie showing, which still played on the screen above our heads. I was glad to see Shoto and Hitoshi were calming him down. Then my first headcount revealed that someone was missing. And my second headcount, and my third.

The student in question? Hagakure. Of course. For months, I’d been meaning to go to Powerloader for something to help keep track of her in battle. I was cursing myself for not doing it yet.

Hagakure wasn’t answering her phone. Why wasn’t she answering her phone, goddamnit?

Fortunately, I wasn’t out of options yet. I pulled Jirou away from a mostly calm mother of two. “Check if you can hear Hagakure,” I ordered.

Jirou nodded, sat down in a theater chair, and inserted an earphone jack into the armrest. They had a determined set to their jaw as long seconds ticked by. The semi-settled civilians, class 1-A, and movie turned into unsettling background noise that found its way inside my chest. Jirou’s shoulders started to shake. Exhaling through bared teeth, she yanked her headphone jack out and clapped her hands over her ears.

“There are too many movies playing and panicking people and soda spilled on my shoes and they’re sticky and it’s awful,” they hissed, folding into a ball on their seat. “I—I’m sorry!”

I groaned internally. Not great timing for an overstimulation panic attack, but I knew it had been a possibility when I’d asked her to help. “Where are your earplugs?” 

They shook their head, breaths coming too fast. “Thought I wouldn’t need them.”

My hands went to my pockets, and I remembered with a grimace that I’d already given my extra set to Kaminari. The kid had sworn they’d brought their own but couldn’t keep ahold of earplugs to save their life, and sure enough, I had needed to lend them the extra. I would’ve given my own set to Jirou, but I couldn’t afford to get overstimulated in crisis mode.

Present Mic caught my eye from across the theater, where he was guarding the villain. He signed to me, asking if we’d found Hagakure. I gave them a shake of my head before an idea came to me. I couldn’t give Jirou my earplugs, but Present Mic had their noise-canceling headphones on top of their hearing aids, and they could just turn it down if things got too loud.

“Jirou, stay here for just a moment.” With long strides, I moved to my husband’s side. “Mic, headphones,” I ordered, holding out a hand. No hesitation, Present Mic pulled them off of his head and set them in my palm. I felt a surge of affection for my husband. Our fingers touched for a moment before I was off again.

Back to Jirou, I toggled the noise-canceling setting on. “Put this on,” I ordered, pushing the headphones carefully but forcefully into their hand. She stared at it a long moment, uncomprehending, and then blinked tearfully over at Present Mic. He gave her a reassuring double thumbs up.

“O-Okay, thanks,” and then she slipped them over her ears, her body going limp from sheer relief. I wanted nothing more than to devote all my attention to helping them right at that very moment, but my missing kid took priority.

I could get Shoji—? No, that would end with two overstimulated kids instead of one.

“Spread out, find Hagakure,” I called to my students.

Jirou didn’t make any move to get out of the theater chair. I couldn’t leave her here if there were more villains on the loose, but I had to keep up my search. After a brief moment of deliberation, I told them, “I’m going to pick you up.” I scooped her into a bridal carry. Their hands clutched the protective material of my shirt, eyes wide and unfocused. My heart ached.

Finding an invisible girl in the shifting light of the movie screen, amidst many civilians panicking anew about a missing girl, was more of a challenge than I had bargained for. Searching every row for her, thoughts whirred through my head. Had the hostage situation been a ploy to kidnap my student? Was it possible that even as my entire class tore the theater apart, a gang of villains was stealing away with their prize?

One and a half minutes of methodical searching later, there was still no sign of Hagakure. Just as I was about to set down Jirou and call Nedzu, a quick shout of “Eraser!” sent my eyes to Present Mic. I followed their gesture up the aisle to Asui. She was with—Hagakure!

I vaulted the chairs and was at their side as fast as physically possible, and Asui pulled Hagakure forwards. “She just appeared next to me and asked what we were all doing, ribbit.”

I was about to shout the news to my students but stopped, remembering that the student in my arms was overstimulated as it was.

Luckily, Present Mic was already on it. “We found the little listener!” He called, signing to me at the same time that he’d do a new headcount. On principle I wouldn’t kiss my husband in public, but I considered it for half a second. Instead, I turned back to Hagakure.

“Are you hurt? Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I looked her over. No sign of a struggle, but that didn’t mean she was okay.

Her hands flailed. “I—I’m fine, I swear! I just went to the bathroom! And, we’re at the movies, remember? My phone’s off?”

Of course. I wanted to throttle someone. I had to keep my phone on in case of emergency, same with Mic, but I should have considered that my students wouldn’t have done the same. 

“Is something wrong with Jirou?” Hagakure’s gloved hands came up to her face, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I sighed, shifting my charge slightly. “She’s overstimulated. It’ll be better when we get outside.”

Asui tilted her head, tapping her chin. “That’s not gonna be much better, ribbit. The press are out front.”

I grimaced, registering in the background that the police had finally shown up and were taking the villain off of Mic’s hands. Mic caught my eye with a thumbs up to signal that we had everyone. I nodded gratefully towards the back exit.

We all filed out into the parking lot as Mic popped up next to me. “How’s our little listener doing?” he whispered, holding out his hands to take Jirou.

“I need to ground her,” I responded, subconsciously shifting my grip to hold her even closer to my chest. 

I trusted my husband with all of my heart, and it was only logical to let them hold Jirou, especially when my arms were starting to get a little tired. But right at that moment, the idea of my kids, ahem, students being any farther away than strictly necessary made me feel emotions I’d rather not examine. 

Judging by his grin, Mic understood the situation. “Alright, Mr. I-don’t-get-attached.”

I glowered at them and got my class moving, starting our trek back towards campus.

“Is Jirou alright?” Midoriya asked anxiously, one hand working an All Might tangle fidget.

“She’ll be fine,” I responded tiredly, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of Jirou’s jacket with my thumb. “They just need quiet.”

The class was subdued. After half a block, the ambient noise level was better, and I was sure we were out of sight of the media circus.

I signaled for the class to stop and was finally, finally able to turn my attention to the overstimulated student in my arms. “Alright, Jirou, everything’s fine. We’re going to breathe; can you do that for me?” She blinked at me, eyes too wide, like an owl.

“In through your nose for 1, 2, 3, 4.” They didn’t show any signs of following my directions, so I tapped on their arm in time with my counting, and they joined in. “Hold for 1, 2, 3, and breathe out of your mouth for 1, 2, 3, 4.” I kept my voice steady, like a metronome, and noticed several of my students following along. “In for 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold for 1, 2, 3. Out for 1, 2, 3, 4.” 

I repeated it until Jirou’s breathing evened out, and then even longer, until she stopped trembling in my arms.

They closed their eyes and pressed their head into my chest for a long moment, breathing in deeply. She exhaled, paused, and nodded, her fingers unclenching from my shirt. “Okay. I’m good. Thank you, Sensei.”

Some soft part of me didn’t want to let Jirou go, but I pushed that aside with practiced ease. I set her down carefully, holding onto her arm until I was sure she was steady on her own two feet.

After a moment, Jirou slipped the headphones off with reverence and presented them to Hizashi. “Thank you, Sensei.”

Hizashi clicked the noise canceling setting off and slipped the headphones on with a smile. “Anything for one of my favorite listeners!”

Jirou nodded to him, cheeks reddening, and turned to me. “And thank you da—ImeanAizawa-sensei!” They rushed through the last part of it, like it would keep me from registering that they’d almost called me—

Holy shit, DAD? My chest felt like it was about to burst. I shoved my hand in my pocket and tried to send my manic energy burst into playing with my roller fidget, rapidly schooling my expression into one of detached disinterest. Judging by the shit-eating grin on Hizashi’s face, I hadn’t done it fast enough to hide my fondness.

“AWWwww” cried Hizashi, echoed by Uraraka, Midoriya, and several other students all at once, and I instinctively activated Erasure to take Hizashi’s quirk-boosted voice down to manageable levels.

That small crisis averted, my thoughts flowed. Jirou saw me as a dad? Could it be that more of my students felt that way, too? It probably wasn’t just her, but if the whole class called me Dad, it would probably be enough to make me spontaneously combust. I couldn’t shove down the love in my heart, but I’d be damned if I let any of it show on my face. Hizashi was never going to let me hear the end of this as it was.

The only thing that brought me back to the present was Jirou’s wide eyes and extremely red face. I remembered exactly how we’d gotten here in the first place, and I rounded on the group, glaring. “I just got done grounding them from being overstimulated. The next person who is unreasonably loud gets detention, do you hear me? Mic, that includes you. I’ll find a way. Don’t test me.”

Hizashi pouted dramatically. Yaoyorozu wasted no time in pulling a set of earplugs out of her arm. I felt pride radiate through me as she slipped them to Jirou, who responded with a wonky smile.

The moment we started walking back, Jirou hissed under her breath, “Sticky sticky sticky!”

Yaoyorozu grimaced and rubbed Jirou’s arm. “I’m so sorry for spilling that soda on your boots.”

Right, right, the sticky shoes, I’d forgotten about that in the shuffle. “I can pick you back up.”

Jirou wouldn’t look at me. “No, no, it’s—it’s not a big deal, Sensei.”

Was this because they’d called me dad—and god, I wasn’t going to think about that right now—or because they didn’t want to be a burden? Likely both, I decided. “I’m not letting you get another panic attack over this when, with your class’s luck, we could be attacked by villains on the way home.”

She was already shaking her head when someone else spoke up.

“Sensei?” That was Sato. “There’s a store down the block with restrooms where Jirou could wash their boots.”

I cocked my head a bit, thinking. I wasn’t going to carry Jirou without her permission, but I also wasn’t going to sit by while she suffered. This was a good middle ground. “I’m all for it if you are, Jirou.”

They pulled a face and fidgeted with their earphone jack, but nodded. “Lead the way.”

The walk there was full of nervous energy, tempered with relieved, bubbling laughter. The class listened as Midoriya, despite only having seen thirty seconds of the movie, ranted about how wrong they’d gotten All Might’s silver age costume. 

The class's tense shoulders slowly relaxed, soothed by Midoriya hissing, “All Might’s cape was blue, not red, how incompetent could you be to not even bother to check the most iconic part—”

We walked into the store, waiting at the front as Jirou and Yaoyorozu found the bathroom. Surveying my class as an excuse to avoid Hizashi’s knowing look—reminding me again that Jirou almost called me DAD, holy shit—I decided that they all needed a treat.

I parked them in front of the ice cream section. “Alright class, pick four cartons.”

Ashido wanted to get something that looked like blue battery acid but proclaimed itself to be cotton candy. Midoriya was angling for caramel because it was a crowd pleaser. Dark Shadow was cradling dark chocolate, Uraraka clutched mochi ice cream, and Bakugo would accept nothing less than wasabi.

“Four flavors,” Iida reminded them all with a chop, the other hand holding vanilla. “Bakugo, put away your explosions; we must solve this civilly.”

I was absolutely not amused. Hizashi, next to me, smiled and leaned softly into my side. “One of your kids calls you ‘dad,’ and suddenly you can’t hide how much of a big softie you are,” he teased. 

I huffed, turning my head away while simultaneously leaning into Hizashi’s touch. “Softie? Me?”

Their fingers played over the back of my hand. “It’s one of the things I love about you, you know.”

I absolutely did not blush. I forced the heat creeping up my neck to retreat and fidgeted with my roller toy.

Even though I was watching Sato hold open the freezer for his classmates, I could still hear the smile in Hizashi’s voice when they said, “I also love how easy you are to fluster, babe.”

God, right in the middle of the grocery store? I adjusted my capture scarf to cover my reddening cheeks, which worked to block the view of most of the students, but Hizashi was tall enough to see my face anyway. They grinned delightedly. I returned it with a scowl.

“This is because I’m getting a fever, which I will spread to you, and then I’ll sub your class while you’re sick and teach them awful English figures of speech. Such as, ‘that got under my skin.’ Todoroki will do nothing but badger you about them next class period.”

In front of us, Bakugo looked about ready to skin Iida alive. I wasn’t paying attention enough to reprimand him, though, because Hizashi was chuckling lowly in my ear, and heat had overtaken my whole face. I could handle this; I had just thwarted a villain attack! I was a professional, goddamnit—!

Todoroki stepped up to the class with all the gravity of a hero returning from war. “I have my bastard sperm donor’s credit card. Get whatever you want.”

The store exploded with cheers. 

Everyone except Iida was ecstatic, made clear by the pained noise that escaped from his throat. “But Todoroki! We couldn’t dream of making your father pay for something so frivolous as ice cream!”

“It is your civic duty to help me spend as much of that bastard’s money as possible.”

The ensuing chaos was enough of a reprieve to allow my blush to fade, thank god. It helped that Hizashi had disappeared down the aisle.

Jirou and Yaoyorozu strolled around the corner, and I was relieved to see Jirou no longer seemed on the edge of a panic attack.

“How are you doing?” I asked, leaning against a freezer door.

“Much better now that my boots are all clean. Thanks for that, Sensei.”

Yaoyorozu piped up, “You weren’t at the front of the store, but we followed the sound of Bakugo’s argument,” she gestured in his direction. “What’s everyone—?”

“Picking out ice cream. Todoroki volunteered Endeavor’s credit card,” I told them dryly.

“Oh!” Jirou and Yaoyorozu shared excited smiles and went straight to their classmates.

Hizashi passed them, loudly whispering in a way that they meant for me to hear, “Eraserhead was going to buy some ice cream for the class, but Todoroki offered it for everyone, courtesy of Endeavor.”

“Oh hell yeah!” Jirou cheered. She and Yaoyorozu smiled back at me. “Next time, Sensei!” They ran to join the fray.

I didn’t have much time to think about that, because Hizashi was making blatant puppy dog eyes at me, carting along a triple chocolate monstrosity with so many mix-ins that it was making my teeth ache just looking at it. It was stacked on top of my favorite coffee ice cream.

Under any other circumstances, I would say no to spending my student’s parents money on myself. On one hand, I worked two jobs (underground hero and UA teacher), while my overachiever of a husband worked three (spotlight hero, UA teacher, and radio announcer). It wasn’t like we were strapped for cash.

On the other hand, I knew exactly why Endeavor deserved to pay for ice cream and more. I’d met the man and seen how he treated my—I meant, his child. So I simply nodded assent to my husband and his ridiculous ice cream, rewarded in turn with a brilliant smile. 

Asui held the ends of her shirt and used it like a basket to hold her mint chocolate chip ice cream so her hands didn’t get cold. Yaoyorozu excitedly compared her matcha with Jirou’s black cherry. Not even having to ask, Ashido reached in and fished rocky road out of the depths of the freezer, handing it to Kirishima with a knowing smile. Iida thoroughly perused the entire ice cream aisle, comparing price, size, and quality. In the end he decided on store brand butterscotch. Tokoyami clutched an ice cream bar that had an advertisement of a brooding anime character.

Todoroki and Hitoshi asked Midoriya which ice cream he recommended. Now they looked overwhelmed as Midoriya chattered away about the different flavors. Hitoshi rubbed their capture weapon between their fingers with the other hand pressed to the freezer door, looking like they’d never been allowed to pick out ice cream before.

Maybe they hadn’t, I realized with a pang.

 “Oh Sho,” Hizashi whispered, “we’re gonna have to take Toshi out for ice cream! You think it’ll be another first?”

“Judging by that look? Yes, I do.”

I’d have to take the whole class out again at some point. Hopefully next time wouldn't be as a direct result of a villain attack.

Midoriya finally seemed to realize Todoroki and Hitoshi were in a little over their heads. “Alright, here, let’s start with what your favorites are, and then I can figure out something for you from there.”

Todoroki hummed. “I’ve never had ice cream before.”

Midoriya rubbed his chin, typing a quick note on his phone. “And that’s reason 309, for why your dad should be put dow—” Hitoshi elbowed him, and Midoriya remembered where he was. “Uh, why he sucks.”

I made a mental note to get a look at that list.

Midoriya continued, “Alright, Hitoshi?”

My kid looked off to the side, looking away from the rainbow of dessert options. “Vanilla is good.”

“Well, yeah, but what else?” Midoriya gestured to keep going.

Hitoshi rubbed the back of their neck. “Um, I haven’t had any others?”

“Shoooooo,” Hizashi hissed. “We need to get more ice cream while we’re here!” I nodded, thinking of the best starter flavors.

But Midoriya was already on it. “Okay, so both of you have no clue what you like. I’m going to get this,” he pointed at Neapolitan, “because it’s the three basic flavor options in one.”

Todoroki nodded. “I thought you were getting it because it looks like my hair.”

“That’s just a bonus. I’m still going to help you both get ice cream, but, on top of that, everyone?” Midoriya raised his voice to cut through the ambient din of the class, “Shoto’s getting all this for you, so in return, you’re going to give up two scoops a piece. Sound good?”

There was some muttering from Bakugo and Uraraka, but when faced with the prospect of slightly less ice cream versus no ice cream at all, everyone was amenable to this arrangement.

Aoyama twinkled into place in front of me. “Sensei! I found the perfect ice cream for young Eri! ☆” He held out an ice cream carton to me. I was so distracted by the sparkles twinkling next to it, like we were in some kind of cartoon, that it took me a second to register the flavor. Limited edition candied apple.

“Thank you for finding this for Eri. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to try ice cream for the first time.”

Hizashi took the container and looked it over. “I didn’t know they made this flavor. I looked through all the ice cream, but I guess I missed it. Where’d you find it, listener?”

Aoyama posed twinklingly, “I’ll never reveal my secrets! ☆”

I blinked at him, glancing at Hizashi to make sure I’d heard that correctly. They seemed equally dumbstruck. There was a star, tacked onto the end of his sentence like some kind of… emoji?

“How did you say that with your mouth?” I demanded, morbidly fascinated.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, monsieur! ☆”

Before I could ask a second time, Aoyama dashed down the aisle. He held aloft a limited edition sparkling vanilla-chocolate-caramel-crunch birthday cake ice cream, which was so glittery it physically hurt to look at. “Excuse me, mademoiselle,” he asked a harried worker, “where might I find more of these? ☆”

“We don’t—um, we don’t sell that kind here? Sir? Sir, where did you get that?”

Aoyama just laughed charmingly and pirouetted into a chip display, immediately falling and eating shit.

Chapter Text

Fifteen minutes later, we walked out of the corner store, heading towards campus in the fading golden light of the day. Bakugo was laden with grocery bags of frozen desserts. Ashido hadn’t even finished saying, “I bet you can’t carry—” before he had all of them in his hands, arms, and even one dangling from his clenched teeth. 

Hizashi covertly snapped a picture. I peered at it from over his shoulder, hiding a smile in my capture weapon. “Send that to me.” 

They bumped their hip softly against mine. “What do you take me for? Was already on its way.”

From my pocket, Hizashi’s voice yowled, “yeeeAAAAA IT’S ME!,” drowning out my quiet answering chuckle.

“We certainly can’t fit all these into the freezer,” Iida pointed out. “What are we going to do with it all?”

The dorm kitchen was outfitted with an industrial sized freezer, which would normally be up to the task of holding all of the ice cream. Unfortunately, it was currently halfway full of an absurd amount of frozen chicken nuggets. I still hadn’t gotten a straight answer about where they had come from.

Ashido looked up from her elaborate game of leapfrog with Asui. “We could pour all the ice cream into one container and then call it the Plus Ultra Dessert!”

“Or we could do literally anything else with them,” deadpanned Hitoshi.

“You’re the one who wants to try them all, right?” Kaminari pointed out, patting their pockets in pursuit of their stim toy. “This is like, speedrunning that!”

Hitoshi snorted. “I want to taste them one at a time, not taste the Plus Ultra Dessert and get raptured or some shit.”

Ashido leapfrogged over Asui, almost unbalancing herself when she landed, but caught herself just in time. “Well, if we can’t put ‘em all in one, then what are we gonna do?”

Hizashi tapped their chin theatrically. “Guess there’s no choice but to eat it all in one sitting!”

I shook my head, giving him an only partially playful glare. “I am not dealing with 20 teenagers hopped up on entire cartons of ice cream. We can keep some in the staff freezer.”

“So long as the little listeners understand there’s a cost of doing business.”

Uraraka leaned out of the gaggle of students, extremely suspicious. “What kinda cost?”

Hizashi hummed, gesturing grandly with one hand. “Oh, a few cartons going missing. I don’t think Nemuri’s had her fix this week. She eats any ice cream in the freezer, regardless of trivial things like ‘serving size’ or ‘ownership.’ You little listeners will have to act fast.”

“We can keep some in my mini freezer,” Hitoshi volunteered, cradling their moose tracks ice cream like they thought someone was going to take it from them. “Just a few.”

“No way,” Kaminari enthusiastically gesticulated with their yellow-black tangle, “I didn’t know they made mini-freezers! And you’ve got one?”

“Yeah!” Sero added, “And a mini fridge! I helped move it in,” he preened. 

Hagakure waved her hands as she skipped neatly to the side, avoiding Ashido’s off-target leap. “Why do you have both?” 

Hitoshi looked sheepish, rubbing the back of their neck. “Well, it uh, it just makes me feel better, I guess?”

Hizashi nudged me with their elbow, giving me a smile, and I rubbed my arm against them in acknowledgment.

Well aware of Hitoshi’s food insecurity, we’d made sure to give them the mini fridge and freezer to help them adjust. I’d also promised them that the dorm kitchen would be kept well stocked. I knew from experience that consistent access to food helped soothe that kind of anxiety, and it also made a world of difference that I was a trusted adult taking Hitoshi seriously.

Ashido ducked as Asui leaped over her, then brushed her pink hair out of her face. “Gee Shinsou, how come your mom lets you have two mini fridges?”

Todoroki tilted his head, frowning at her. “Hitoshi doesn’t have a mom.”

Ashido and Hitoshi waved it off in the same motion. “It’s a meme.”

“Well, in any case, I can always get us more ice cream,” Todoroki pointed out. “The more for us, the less money for the bastard.”

I made a mental note to give him suggestions on more ways to spend Endeavor’s money on his classmates. What would be the best uses for it? Weighted blankets, earplugs, stim toys—ooh, noise canceling headphones were at the top of the list after today.

A few of my kids could certainly use binders, too. I had been reading up on Herobound, the new binder specifically made for hero work. It was safe to exercise in and doubled as body armor. I was long past the need for a binder, thank god, but would have killed for one when I was a student. I’d been planning on going to Nedzu about getting some for my class, and since it was made by the Yaoyorozu family, we would be able to get a discount. But this would save me the paperwork.

I was broken out of my thoughts by Kirishima shouting, “Race you to the corner!” A gaggle of students took off, and Bakugo shoved his bags of ice cream onto Shoji and sped after them with a yell.

“Get back here,” I called tiredly. “Last time you got too far, a villain attacked you.”

“Yeah, and we KILLED HIS ASS!” Bakugo screamed, not slowing down.

I was certain I could feel the gray hairs coming in, and I rubbed my throbbing temples. “Not the point. Get back here in ten seconds or you’re getting detention.” The kids grumblingly returned to the group.

Midoriya raised his hands placatingly to an older pedestrian, who clutched her bag to her chest. “Uh, my friend did not actually kill a villain! He means it as a figure of speech! We’re hero students, I swear!”

Hizashi took my attention from the commotion by bumping me with their hip. “You take your meds today?”

I glanced off to the side, thinking. I’d been too busy finding places to put my jelly pouches. Several hidden knives had been removed for the cause. I wouldn’t have even eaten breakfast if Hizashi hadn’t cornered me and dragged me to the kitchen.

I certainly hadn’t taken my meds, and I was past the point of a migraine preventative working. Shit.

Hizashi took my grimace as the answer it was. “Figured.” They reached into their jacket and handed me a travel sized pill container and small water bottle.

Beyond grateful for my partner, I signed, “Thank you,” and then a very quick, “I love you.” I glanced at the container to make sure all the right pills were there, including my pain meds, then downed it in one go. I handed the container and the water bottle back.

Logically, the trip back was not that long. Somehow, though, it felt even shorter than normal. I was enjoying the golden hour suffusing our surroundings in glittering gilt. I savored getting to walk next to my husband instead of running late to work or some new disaster. We looked wistfully on as the kids got to be kids.

Those fleeting moments were all too short.

Back at the dorms, Shoji unloaded all the ice cream onto the counter, and the class started to get hyped.

“Before we partake, everyone needs to wash their hands,” Iida called, doing his usual chopping motions. “Scrub for twenty seconds with soap before washing off, and make sure to get under your nails as well.”

Kaminari groaned. “It’s not like we’re eating ice cream with our hands, though!”

“We need not attract any more villains today, Kaminari!”

The class dispersed to wash their hands, some forming a line at the kitchen sink, others heading to the bathrooms. Hizashi and I washed our hands as well and then got to work cutting the plastic rings off of the mountain of ice cream containers.

Tokoyami and Dark Shadow moved in tandem to pull all the bowls and spoons out of their places in one go. Sato got out his special ice cream scoops—“My hand warms the handle up, and it makes the ice cream easier to scoop!,”—and he and Asui started dishing the ice cream out side by side.

Kouda grabbed his marshmallow flavor, and Ojiro took his chocolate. Both intended to eat straight out of the carton, but Iida told them in no uncertain terms that they weren’t going to behave like mannerless heathens. They sheepishly waited in line with the others.

Kaminari was the last to return. Iida opened his mouth, but Kaminari cut him off by waving their hands in front of his face. “I washed my hands twice, probably even better than I’ve ever washed them before, so if villains show up this time then it’s not my fault!”

Iida folded his arms. “Then I take it you didn’t also leave your English homework until the last day?”

“I’m certain they’d never do such a thing,” ribbed Hizashi with a knowing grin. “Tell him, listener!”

Kaminari just gave a wordless wail and flopped face first onto the counter. I snorted at their dramatics.

“How many scoops?” Sato asked.

Kaminari’s voice was muffled by the counter. “All of ‘em! Let me drown my sorrow in sugar!”

“Absolutely not,” I cut in. “You will have 4 scoops, max.”

Kaminari peeled themself up. “CRUEL, Sensei, CRUEL. 4 scoops then.” They sorted through the selection of countertop cutlery. “Hey, are there any more little spoons in the drawer?”

“Nope,” Asui shook her head, plopping the last little spoon into her mint ice cream. “Think there’s one in the sink, though.”

“Just take a big one,” Sato pushed one towards Kaminari, who didn’t touch it.

“But the SMALL ONES are BETTER! Everyone knows that!”

I admired my coffee ice cream with a small spoon sticking out of it, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Just clean the small spoon.”

“If I wash a spoon then I’ll shock myself and DIE!” they wailed.

I snorted. “Your electricity doesn’t hurt yourself. Try again.”

“I just wanna eat ice creaaaaaam,” they whined.

“Oh no. Guess you’ll have to do it with your hands,” I deadpanned.

Kaminari perked up at that. Ah, my cue to hightail it and deny all involvement.

“Sho, you’ll wanna grab a chair,” called Hizashi from the main room.

I shifted my ice cream to one hand and picked up a kitchen chair in the other. I walked out to find everyone setting up shop, the four couches pushed into a horseshoe formation around the TV. There weren’t quite enough seats so a few extra chairs had been placed around the seating area. I put my chair down next to Hizashi’s, set a ways back behind the couches. I sat heavily, our knees touching, and I rubbed mine against his.

“Toru, aren’t you gonna sit down?” Uraraka questioned. She was standing in front of one of the couches. There was an empty cushion next to where Yaoyorozu and Jirou already sat, and Asui was perched on the armrest. It was enough room for both of them to sit side by side.

A floating spoon tapped on its bowl absentmindedly. “Oh, I was waiting for you to sit down so I could sit in your lap!”

Uraraka giggled. “I was gonna sit in your lap! Rock paper scissors for it?”

“No rock paper scissors,” I cut in tersely.

“Awwww,” Hagakure and Uraraka whined.

“C’mon Sho, that’s totally not rockin’!” Hizashi gestured with their spoon. “Just let ‘em have it.”

I blinked at him, raising my eyebrows. “You’d take responsibility for that?”

“I mean, sure,” he chuckled, like I’d made a joke. “Why not?”

Suddenly glad I’d already taken my migraine medicine, I put the bowl down in my lap and turned to the two girls. “Alright, you heard them.” I clapped once, loudly, the sound echoing ominously.

Nothing really changed, but an oppressive atmosphere settled on the room like a smothering blanket.

Within moments, and with startling teamwork, the entire class had the couches pushed back several feet and had started chanting, “Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

“Gloves!” I called.

“But Sensei,” Hagakure pouted, “I took ‘em off to wash my hands, and my palms are still kinda wet. Do I have to?”

“YES!” the class cried in one voice.

“What’s this about?” Hizashi whispered to me, eyes tracking across the room.

I picked up my bowl of ice cream, sighing. “They still hadn’t forgiven her for ‘The Honorless Incident.’” I answered, doing air quotes. At Hizashi’s blank look, I paused, reassessing. “Wait. They don’t do this in your class?”

“No!” He answered, bewildered.

“This is your first one,” I realized. “Oh, no. You’re going to want answers.”

“What d’you mean with that tone, Mr. Doom and Gloom? ‘Answers?’ It can’t be that bad. I’ve been teaching at a hero school for how many years now? Nothing’s gonna surprise me.”

I just took in a big breath and then nodded to the class, where Hagakure huffed. “I really don’t wanna get my gloves all damp. What about the honor syst—”

The class, still unsettlingly as one, howled, “You have no honor!”

Hagakure squeaked indignantly. “But what if I—”

“Honorless! Honorless! Honorless!”

Hizashi looked at me, putting on a brave face, but I could tell they were unsettled. I could see it in the line of his jaw and the way his fingers tightened around his spoon. They opened their mouth to interrupt the class, but I put a staying hand on their arm and gave a slight shake of my head.

“They do this every time. You can’t stop it. One time the intruder alert sounded in the middle of whatever that is,” I nodded to them, “and they still didn’t quit.”

“Alright, alright,” Hagakure conceded, pulling on her gloves and wiggling her fingers. “They’re on, see?”

The class’s voice dissolved into low murmurs as Hagakure and Uraraka put their ice cream down on the coffee table. They squared up.

Hizashi looked mystified. “Best 2 out of 3?”

“To the death!”

“Yeah, 2 out of 3,” I translated.

Hizashi could clearly see that this wasn’t going to be normal rock paper scissors. They cut in, “No quirks!”

“We do not accept the judgment of the outsider.”

I sighed. Dramatic as always, my kids. “No quirks.”

“No quirks.” The class echoed my words, and they filled the space for a moment.

“No fair, she can’t turn hers off!” Uraraka pouted. “Can’t I just use a little floating?”

I snorted, “Nice try, but I still remember the last time you said that. We still haven’t been able to get the stain off the classroom ceiling.”

She pouted but didn’t argue the point.

I waited a moment, just to see if they would add the next rule themselves.

The class remained silent.

I sighed again, “No blood either.”

The single voice of the class seemed a little put out, but still echoed, “No blood.”

Hizashi chuckled. When he saw he was the only one laughing, it died in his throat.

Like I was reading from a script, I recited, “If you wish to declare yourself unfit to win, or you find you can no longer continue, you may call the match early. Ready?”

“Yep!”

“Definitely!”

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

Uraraka revealed scissors, and Hagakure showed her paper. Normally this would have been a clear-cut case. Unfortunately, my class was anything but clear-cut.

Hagakure howled and brought down her flat-handed paper on Uraraka’s scissors, attempting to squeeze the life out of it before it could ‘cut’ her paper. “You wretch! I’ll make you regret bringing your scissors to this match!”

“And I’ll make you regret being BORN! Gunhead martial arts!” Uraraka twisted Hagakure into a headlock, deftly moving her hands around to viciously and decisively snip Hagakure’s hand. The class screamed with one voice.

Hizashi was asking me questions with their eyes, but I couldn’t answer them.

Still, I acknowledged, “There is a… wrestling component.”

I tried to trace how all this had started. I decided that, like most strange things in class 1-A, it had begun with Bakugo and Midoriya. They’d brought their house-ruled rock paper scissors, where wrestling ultimately decided the match, and then it had… grown, in unsettling leaps and bounds. I reached for the words to explain it, but they defied me, refusing to translate to my tongue.

The class all turned to gaze in our direction. Next to me, Hizashi tensed, like a predator realizing that the prey animals still had teeth.

“Point to Uraraka!” I announced. They looked away, and Hizashi relaxed marginally.

I nodded along with the class at the good showing, and leaned over to him. “Despite being an only child,” I whispered to Hizashi, “she has the bloodlust of a youngest.”

They laughed nervously. “Sho, what the fuck.”

I made eye contact with Hizashi as I pointedly took a large bite of ice cream so I didn’t have to answer the everything he was asking with that question. I immediately regretted it when there was too much cold in my mouth, but I couldn’t put it back without looking like an utter buffoon, so I just kind of let it sit in there.

Hizashi stared.

I suffered.

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

Like planets orbiting ever closer to the event horizon, our eyes returned to the match.

“My rock against your paper, you bastard,” Hagakure growled, moving into a fighting stance.

Uraraka mirrored her movements. “I may look weak to you, but I will bring you down with a MILLION PAPER CUTS!”

Feral dogs released from their leashes, they lunged for each other. Uraraka shouted, “GUNHEAD MARTIAL ARTS,” but Hagakure was already behind her and holding both of Uraraka’s wrists with a one-handed iron grip. Uraraka tried to sweep Hagakure’s legs but didn’t make contact.

Looking desperately behind her, Uraraka gave a lightning-fast backwards kick to seek out her opponent’s invisible legs. It made contact, and Hagakure stumbled. It wasn’t enough to make her lose her gloved grip, however, and Hagakure started wailing her close-fisted rock against Uraraka’s flat-handed paper. Uraraka screamed, goosebumps rising on my skin.

I waited for the forfeit.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Uraraka hooked her foot around where I assumed Hagakure’s knee was and jerked back towards herself. Hagakure went down hard, getting in one last heavy hit. Even as Uraraka twisted and brought her paper down to take the victory, the class was already gazing at me.

I swallowed just enough ice cream to be able to give a verdict. “Poin’ ‘o ‘agaku’e!”

Uraraka howled her fury to the heavens.

“Sho. Hey Sho? Quick question Sho.”

I did not look at Hizashi. I did not have their answers. And while I technically could speak, I was also extremely aware of the uncomfortable amount of ice cream in my mouth.

In response to my cowardice, he pulled out the big guns.

“What in the rock-n’-roll hall of fame fuck is going on, Aizawa Eraserhead Shota?”

Shit, full name. I impulsively shoveled another large spoonful of ice cream into my mostly full and already alarmingly cold maw.

I pointed to my face and made some noises in the direction of, “Can’t talk my bad isn’t that a shame sorry my mouth is far too full of this delicious and extremely cold coffee-flavored ice cream.”

Their expression was torn between incredulity, laughter, and extreme concern.

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

Like the moments before a train wreck, a tsunami hanging suspended in the air, a knife held a hair’s breadth from the jugular, both hands solidified into rock.

Shit.

I had to tell them immediately not to break the furniture, but my mouth was crammed accursedly full of sweet dessert.

Hizashi gave an alarmed, “Listeners, just stop this—”

“Silence, outsider!” Came the swift rebuttal from the class.

I debated between just trying to swallow the ice cream (and probably choking to death—oh what a way to go) or facing the awful-awkward of spitting it out in front of Hizashi when I had very clearly shoveled it in to avoid answering their extremely reasonable questions. In that split second of deliberation, Hagakure and Uraraka gave animalistic screeches. My blood turned to ice.

Don’t break the furniture, don’t break the furniture, don’t break the furniture—

I quickly decided that my shame didn’t factor into this equation as much as it had for the me of one second ago. I looked down and spat all the ice cream back into my bowl. I boomed, “DON’T BREAK THE—“

CRA-ACK.

Shit.

I looked up slowly to see Hagakure lying in the ruins of the coffee table, Uraraka with one foot planted victoriously on Hagakure’s invisible torso, her rock fist held high.

Everyone in the room turned to look at me. Including Hizashi. God, the conversation we were going to have later.

I did the only thing I could.

I raised my fist and shouted, “Point to Uraraka! Total of one point Hagakure, two points Uraraka!” I paused, swallowing the last vestiges of the ice cream. The room was dead silent as I worked my mouth. Finally, I was free of its curse. “Uraraka WINS!”

The class went wild.

Chapter Text

The spell that had overcome the class finally shattered into the sounds of cheering teenagers. Hizashi gasped, taking his first full breath since the match began.

Kaminari, now walking the rest of the way from the kitchen doorway where they’d been frozen for the match, held up their ice cream. They crowed gleefully, “I’m eating this with my hands!”

The whole class groaned.

“Zero days since a Kaminari food crime,” Hitoshi deadpanned.

“Wait,” Bakugo said, “the 20 pumps of butter popcorn absolutely fuckin’ counts as a food crime. 0 hours.”

“Says the dude eating wasabi ice cream!” laughed Kaminari.

“Wasabi ice cream is good, you gremlin fuck,” Bakugo growled, holding his ice cream close.

“It’s definitely not 20 pumps of butter,” Kirishima agreed.

Sero flicked his tape at Kaminari from his spot on the armrest. “We don’t allow food crimes on the Bakusquad couch.”

“Patently untrue, we do if they’re funny,” Ashido interjected. “And I wanna see Sparky Boi try to eat it with cold hands.”

“Alright!” Kaminari cried, settling in on the other armrest.

Hizashi stared openly at my class for several more seconds before he came back to himself. “Sho.”

I offered Hizashi an I’m-in-trouble-and-I-know-it grimace, already getting up. “I’ll take care of the aftermath, you tell Nedzu about the coffee table.”

Their face couldn’t settle on an expression. “Hold on, since when was I on the hook for your devil class?”

I shrugged, putting my ice cream on my seat and turning away. “You took responsibility for rock paper scissors, you get to tell Nedzu.”

Hizashi was flabbergasted, gesturing at the class with one hand. “I had no clue they were gonna do that!”

I snorted. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

I clapped once, and the kids all focused on me. “You all know the rule.”

The kids all nodded at once, a ghost of their strange oneness. They chanted, “We are honor bound to pay the price for our sins.”

The class mobilized quickly to get the room back in order, pulling the wooden carcass of the coffee table out of the way, sweeping up the splintered remains, and putting the spare coffee table where the old one was. In a minute flat, it was like the scuffle had never happened.

I grabbed the dorm first aid kit, moving to the two rock paper scissor warriors just as Hitoshi presented them with the ice cream that had previously sat on the coffee table, reminiscent of a lady presenting their knight with a handkerchief to hold in battle. “I used my capture scarf to grab it just before the table went down.”

“Wow, super quick thinking!” Uraraka complimented, taking her bowl.

“Yeah, thanks Shinsou, for real!” Hagakure already had the spoon in her mouth.

I stopped in front of them, twirling my finger in a circle. “Alright, injury check.”

“Hi Sensei! My hands and wrists are kinda sore,” admitted Uraraka, holding a hand out to me.

I examined her wrist closely. As an underground hero, I was trained in basic first aid. I’d had to learn even more of it to become a teacher at UA. While it had been a grueling course and difficult to get through, the knowledge came in handy unfortunately often.

“Tell me if there’s any pain. Roll it like this,” I demonstrated on my own wrist, and she followed. “Now like this.”

At the end of the roll, Uraraka winced. “Just a little, right there.” She pointed at a slightly red spot.

I hummed, pressing my fingers to it and probing gently. “No sharp or shooting pain?” I checked.

“Nope, it doesn’t hurt much,” Uraraka confirmed.

I nodded thoughtfully. Letting go of her wrist, I turned to my other troublemaker. “And you?”

Hagakure tapped a finger to her chin. “My back kinda aches, but like, not that bad.” She turned around, like that would help me see her injury. I led her in a few stretches. Full range of motion, not much pain. Seems fine.

“Doesn’t look like either of you will need Recovery Girl,” I muttered. “As long as you can stand the soreness. Let me know right away if the pain gets worse, even if it’s the middle of the night.” I handed them the ibuprofen from the first aid kit.

“Alright, Sensei!” the girls chorused.

I turned to return the kit to the kitchen, but then paused and set it on the new coffee table instead. God knows the class’ll need it again before the night is out.

I moved back to my chair, not missing Hizashi’s pointed look. They said, “Nedzu wasn’t surprised. Says you’re reaching the end of your monthly budget of extra furniture?”

I sat down next to him, drumming my fingers against the chair. “That’s… reasonable.”

Hizashi huffed a strangled laugh. “It’s the fifth of the month!”

I scowled at the demolished coffee table but couldn’t find it in me to summon much vitriol. “My class takes ‘Plus Ultra’ very seriously.”

This, at least, was normal enough to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Sho,” they spoke, and then thought better of it. Instead he signed, “We’re going to have a conversation about that… thing… later. I thought that after ten years of marriage, you were finally fresh outta ways to freak me out.” They shook their head ruefully and switched back to speaking. “In the meantime we’re just going to enjoy this little shindig, ya hear me?”

I let out a breath and nodded, grateful for my husband’s little considerations. “Thanks, ‘Zashi.”

I looked back to my kids. Uraraka gleefully sat on Hagakure’s lap, both girls giggling. “You should have seen your face when she had your hands pinned!” Jirou crowed, making an exaggeratedly angry expression. It wasn’t that far off from the real thing.

“No, it was more like this!” Hagakure handed her ice cream to Uraraka and used her gloved fingers to give herself slanted angry eyebrows. “Grrrr, while I’m asleep I’m going to float your phone and drop it into my water cup!”

“That was ONE TIME,” Uraraka cried, the other students on the couch giggling. “But just for that I’m taking a bite of your ice cream!”

“NO!” Hagakure tickled Uraraka as the other girl shoved a hasty bite into her mouth, making Uraraka giggle as she tried to keep the ice cream out of reach. “Give it BACK!”

“NE’ER!” Uraraka stole another spoonful, but before she could get it in her mouth, Jirou nabbed Uraraka’s ice cream bowl.

“Si’ce w’e’—“ Uraraka swallowed indignantly, “I mean, since when do you take her side?!”

“And what makes you think I’m doing that?” Jirou went to pass the ice cream over to Yaoyorozu on her other side.

“Oh no,” Yaoyorozu held up her hands in an x, “don’t get me involved in this.”

Jirou scoffed, turning back to the two girls. “I’ll give this back—as long as I get a bite of each of your ice cream.”

Uraraka and Hagakure exchanged looks. (Or at least, Uraraka looked at where her classmate’s eyes probably were.)

Hagakure’s voice was hard. “We don’t negotiate with TERRORISTS!” She let out a sharp cry, and the couch turned into a battleground.

“Kids, be good,” I called tiredly. The fighting stopped, with Jirou clutching a bowl of ice cream and floating an inch above the couch cushions, held there by Asui’s tongue. Uraraka sheepishly released them.

“Oh, so now you stop the children from trying to kill each other,” Hizashi grumbled, taking a sullen bite of their ice cream. I didn’t even spare him a glance as I watched the kids get their ice cream situated.

Ashido laughed from her spot laid across the lap of Kaminari, Bakugo, and Sero. She gleefully cheered, “Kaminari, we’re not the bad kids for once! And I’ll even share a bite of my ice cream with you, no terrorism necessary! Just use the spoon.” She offered them her bowl, which they accepted with a grin.

“Woah, thanks!” Kaminari tried a big spoonful. “Oh my GOD, that’s good! Wanna trade?”

“Absolutely not, lmao,” Ashido yanked her bowl back. “Yours doesn’t even have a spoon!” She held up her utensil with a howl. “Hey, now mine’s all sticky!”

“Sorry,” Kaminari said, sounding supremely unapologetic, going back to eating their ice cream barehanded. Right before it got to their mouth, it escaped from their fingers and plopped back into their bowl. “Ugh, this is so slippery!”

Bakugo scoffed. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you ate with a fucking SPOON, PIKACHU.”

Kaminari groaned. “Don’t be so mean to me!” They looked over to Midoriya, Todoroki, and Hitoshi. “You guys are cool with me eating hand cream, right?”

Several people choked on their ice cream, including Hizashi.

“What the fuck? No?” sputtered Hitoshi.

Todoroki’s normally placid face contorted into a look of horror. “Why would you eat hand cream? There’s no way it‘s edible. Do we need to send you to Recovery Girl?”

“No, I mean—” Kaminari held their bowl in place with their wrists and mimed scooping ice cream, “like, hand eating ice cream!”

Todoroki’s expression reverted to normal. “Oh. In that case, it sounds like a sticky purgatory. I cannot support you in this.”

Smart kid.

“Your loss,” Kaminari sighed, shaking their head and cramming another palmful of ice cream into their mouth.

Kaminari’s eyes wandered to Midoriya, who had finished his dessert and was now working his All Might tangle.

Kaminari lifted their bowl and looked on either side of them. “Hey, you guys know where my stim toy went? The button pad one.”

I did not sigh. “Did you check your pockets?”

They patted their pockets with their wrists. “Not there. I had it in my hand when I sat down.”

“You’re probably sitting on it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I just play with Ojiro’s tail all the time?” Kaminari whined, setting their empty bowl on the ground and dramatically flopping on the armrest. “I literally can’t lose it, AND it’s so fluffy!”

Ojiro, from his spot next to Sato and Aoyama, gave a rueful smile. “I won’t let you play with my tail with your hands all sticky.”

“Wha! But! Mina doesn’t mind when I get her all sticky!” Ignoring Ashido’s shriek to the contrary, Kaminari rubbed their hand up and down her arm.

“I swear to god I’m going to kick your sticky ass,” she grabbed at their wrist, but they drew their hands into the air.

Bakugo growled, “Pikachu, go wash your hands or I’m going to kill you.”

“But this is half the fun of hand cream!” Kaminari groused.

 “Get back here!” Ashido sat up, her now-tacky arm rubbing against Bakugo.

“That’s it!” Bakugo shoved Kaminari and Ashido off of the couch, both landing with an incredulous cry. He gestured at the kitchen. “You’re not coming back until you’re free of that food crime.”

“SENSEIIII,” Ashido cried.

I didn’t agree with Bakugo’s methods, but he was right about at least one thing. “You really do need to wash off.”

“UGHHHH,” Kaminari and Ashido moaned. They got up and slunk off to the kitchens. Kirishima slid off the armrest and took the spot that Kaminari had held.

Watching them go, Hizashi tapped their painted fingernails on their bowl. “Never a dull moment with your kids.”

“They’re not my kids,” I denied automatically. “But they certainly aren’t boring.”

Hizashi snorted and took another bite of their ice cream.

Shoji slid off his armrest perch. “I’m going to put my bowl in the kitchen, anyone else done with theirs?” At the chorus of confirmations, he went around the group and collected the finished ice cream bowls, carting them in easily.

Ashido and Kaminari returned from the kitchen. Kaminari’s hair was dripping slightly, like someone had splashed water at them.

“Hey!” Kaminari squawked, pointing accusingly at Kirishima. “Spot stealer!”

He shrugged. “You got up.”

“More like Bakugo evicted me!” Kaminari planted themselves in front of Bakugo and pushed at his knee. “Move. I’m evicting you.”

Bakugo scoffed. “This is my spot.”

Ashido put her hands on her hips and leaned forward to Bakugo, ready to get revenge for being pushed off the couch. “MOOOOOVE.”

“Absolutely fucking NOT,” yelled Bakugo, explosions crackling in his palms.

Sero sighed. “As much as I love everyone here, I love my hearing more. I’m calling for the referee.” He looked over the back of the couch at me and Hizashi.

I looked to my fellow chaperone, but they eyed me right back. “These are your listeners. You’re the referee.”

I hate that he’s right.

“Bakugo, put away your explosions. You pushed them both off the couch. Move it.”

Bakugo groaned loudly but still scooted himself up onto the armrest.

Kaminari rubbed their hands together gleefully. “Now I get prime cuddle position!” They slid into the empty spot.

“Hey, how come you assumed that was for you and not me?” Ashido demanded, crossing her arms.

Kaminari scoffed. “It’s too crowded, so you’d have to sit normally. I’ve never seen you willingly do that in my life.”

Ashido opened her mouth to refute that, but then nodded. “You make a good point.”

“This armrest is shit,” grumbled Bakugo. “Aizawa, you should have made Shitty Hair move, since he stole Pikachu’s spot and all.”

Not dignifying that with a response, I leaned over to Hizashi. “Nobody appreciates the referee,” I mumbled.

They replied matter-of-factly, “The referee has the hardest position to bear and also the fattest ass.”

I was extremely glad I’d finished all my ice cream, because otherwise I would have choked.

“Bakugo, if you’re uncomfortable on the armrest, we could bring another chair from the kitchen,” offered Iida from his chair next to Aoyama.

Bakugo scoffed. “As if I’d accept your pity.” He skittered onto the back of the couch and arranged himself so he was lying down there.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Hizashi whispered to me.

I nodded in agreement. “I’d bet he’s balancing there mostly out of spite.”

“Well, if you won’t accept my help, then there isn’t much to be done about it,” said Iida. “But Midoriya, Shinsou, and Todoroki, you certainly don’t have to lay in a pile like that. The couch can hold all of you sitting normally.”

“Um, Iida?” Midoriya looked over at him. “You know what cuddling is, right?”

“I am certainly aware of it as a concept, but as hero students, we must be behaving appropriately at all times.” He emphasized this with a chop. “And Ashido,” he said as she got herself comfortable lying across the laps of Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima, “we can get you a chair so that you can sit like a civilized person.”

“Or I could sit like a BISEXUAL,” Ashido cried, exaggerating her posture by splaying out her arms and putting one leg up on the armrest.

Like that was some kind of sleeper agent activation phrase, half of the students scrambled to adopt ridiculous sitting positions.

Jirou flipped themselves over so their legs were hanging over the back of the couch, their head in Yaoyorozu’s lap. It was hard to tell if Hagakure was sitting strangely since she was invisible and had Uraraka suddenly starfished on her lap, but my intuition said she’d found a way. Sero stretched his hands up and sent tape to the ceiling to keep his arms in place. Kaminari flopped their top half bonelessly onto the armrest. The couch largely blocked my view, but Midoriya and Hitoshi’s various limbs appeared above the couch back and on the armrests.

Of course this included Hizashi, and in one motion they swung their feet up on my lap and leaned their chair back on two legs.

Shoji coughed politely. “Could you move your tail out of my face?” I looked over to see that Ojiro’s bisexual sitting had included lying halfway onto Aoyama, his tail resting across Shoji’s mask.

“Gasp! Are you HOMOPHOBIC?!” howled Hagakure.

Shoji rolled his duplieyes. “I’m literally gay.”

Todoroki hissed, “Avoiding the question!” I could hear him scribbling madly in his notebook, which was an impressive feat, considering he was at the bottom of the cuddle pile.

I swallowed my laugh. “Get those feet off of me,” I grumbled fondly at Hizashi, giving them a little shove.

His balancing act on two chair legs was already precarious. I had seen him spring out of enough sticky situations to know he could have easily escaped. Instead, Hizashi reached out their hands to me and dramatically cried, “ShoOOOOO—” as their chair tipped backwards. They impacted with the ground with a “Blegh!” He stuck his tongue out of his mouth and ragdolled like a dead video game character.

“Are you alright?” asked a worried Midoriya.

“He’s fine,” I huffed fondly. God, they were a real cutie, my husband. I made no move to help him off the floor.

Ashido’s face appeared over the armrest of the couch. “He went too bisexual. Look at them, sitting bisexually even in death. We lost a good soldier. Moment of silence.”

All the students saluted him. Hizashi peeked open an eye and took it in, then saw my still-crossed arms. They glared and kicked at my feet. I raised one hand in a grudging salute and gave him the middle finger with the other. They grinned and went back to being dead.

Ashido clapped her hands together. “Moment of silence over!” she declared, everyone lowering their salute. “Bakugo, I can’t tell if you’re sitting bisexually or not.”

He was still perched on the back of the couch. “You losers think I’m bisexual? I like MEN. I’m GAY.”

“So manly,” nodded Kirishima. “Same here.”

I helped Hizashi up from the floor, and they got situated into their chair again, this time sitting on it backwards.

Kaminari announced, “I did the sitting weird thing but I’m technically pan. I just think that I should ALSO get to sit weird. You’re in a similar boat, right Todoroki?”

From underneath Midoriya and Hitoshi, Todoroki said, “I don’t know my attraction or gender labels. I just don’t think that’s anyone’s business, including myself.”

Midoriya sounded very confused. “We literally kiss?”

“What are you getting at.”

Midoriya sighed. “…Right.”

“Lesbian here,” interjected Yaoyorozu with a small raise of her hand, like we were in class. “I’ve been wondering, do we have even a single cishet classmate?”

There was a long moment where nobody outted themselves as cishet.

“You did have one,” I deadpanned, “but I expelled him.”

The kids cheered.

After it died down, I registered that my students were all sneaking peeks at me. My expression showed the same disinterest that it always did; I already knew they were all something. How could I not? I wasn’t going to say anything negative about them coming out. In fact, them being a little nervous about it was understandable, but it was giving me a subtle twisting feeling of—of—something, in my gut. Maybe I should tell them that their labels were worthy of love and acceptance, and that—

Ashido blurted, “SENSEI ARE YOU STRAIGHT?”

I physically could not hold back a grimace. It hadn’t even occurred to me that they could possibly think I was straight. I tried to remember if I’d ever mentioned my labels. No, I’m pretty sure I had just assumed that they knew I was something. God.

“I like men,” I said shortly. “And…” I didn’t glance at Hizashi, I didn’t glance at Hizashi, I didn’t glance at Hizashi, “…others.”

Hizashi didn’t look at me, either. “Real shocker there.”

The class was silent.

Todoroki muttered, “Others…? WAIT, SO THERE’S STILL A CHANCE HE’S MARRIED TO THE SLEEPING BAG!”

Hizashi barked out a quirk-fueled laugh, making the windowpanes shudder and almost covering the sound of Hitoshi’s loud groan.

“What the hell?” I spat, trying to get my head around what Todoroki had just said. “Others as in—nonbinary people!”

Uraraka pumped her fist. “Todoroki, you owe us so much money!”

I must have looked as lost as I felt, because Hitoshi took pity on me. “They’ve got a class bet on who you’re married to. This genius bet you were married to your sleeping bag.”

I shoved any and all feelings aside and instead activated erasure on Hizashi, preventing them from blowing out my kid’s eardrums with their cackling.

“But that doesn’t mean that I lost both bets!” Todoroki cried, and as the class groaned, dread settled in my belly.

I really shouldn’t have asked, but how could I not? “Problem children. What did you bet on.”

“Calling it a bet is uh, generous,” said Midoriya quickly. “On account of it being everyone saying ‘that’s literally not possible’ while Shoto just keeps repeating—”

“I know Nedzu’s secret!” Todoroki announced grandly.

God, no. I could practically feel the singular, terrifying weight of Nedzu’s full attention focused on this room.

“Please don’t do this,” pleaded Hitoshi, gripping their capture scarf like they were contemplating strangling Todoroki with it.

“There are other options besides nuclear!” hissed Midoriya.

Hizashi shifted in his chair, holding his hands up with a placating smile. “Little listener, maybe you shouldn’t—“

Todoroki sucked a massive breath into his lungs. “To keep the students from being trans, Nedzu MADE SURE EVERY UA TEACHER IS CIS!”

Chapter Text

The silence that fell was somehow even more deafening than the first. I very slowly turned to look at Hizashi, who was gazing back at me, utterly bewildered.

Todoroki thought Hizashi was cis? My husband, who wore bracelets to show their daily pronouns, who showed up to work with their hair looking like a drag queen’s, who radiated trans energy like the sun radiated heat. That Hizashi?

“Present Mic is RIGHT HERE.” I spluttered.

Todoroki’s voice held the confidence of small children, fools, and apparently, Todoroki himself. “They could just be a flamboyant gay man.”

“I wear pronoun bracelets that change by the day!” Hizashi shook their wrists, showing off today’s red he/him and yellow they/them bangles.

Todoroki tutted from his position at the bottom of his couch’s cuddle pile, unable to see the look of apology on Hitoshi and Midoriya’s faces. “An obvious red herring to keep us from knowing the truth.”

Hizashi looked desperately at me. I dimly registered what shirt he was wearing.

It was one that Hitoshi had gotten them, and it read, ‘I heart my transgender husband and child.’ Hizashi had loudly lamented that he couldn’t wear it at his jobs since people couldn’t know Present Mic had a husband or kid.

I had secretly enlisted Eri’s help to pick out another version of the shirt and alter it. She’d chosen an eye-watering highlighter green color for the shirt base, used a single line of puffy paint to cross out the ‘husband and child,’ and then wrote on it. Now it read, ‘I heart my transgender cats and also me.’ Because, and I quote, ‘’Zashi-chan and the kitties should get to be trans too.’ What could I say to that?

The shirt was hideous. My husband wore it every excuse they could.

At my pointed look at it, Hizashi brightened and straightened up, gesturing grandly at their tank top. “But Todoroki, I’m wearing this!”

The kid nodded his head smugly. “For the clout.”

I choked on my spit.

“Plus,” Todoroki continued, oblivious to his words threatening to give me an aneurism, “your cats are obviously transgender, so that’s just what a good ally would wear! Last time I called Creature ‘good boy,’ she bit me.”

I was going to give Creature extra treats when I got home. Which really meant that all of my cats were getting extra treats. Peep was extremely good at wielding their weapons-grade cuteness, and Mischief would alternate between cuddling and biting until I caved.

“Creature would do that, yeah,” Hizashi muttered, shaking his head. Louder and with just a tinge of desperation, they said, “But listener. Tell me you don’t really think that Eraserhead is cis.”

I blue screened.

Somehow, my mouth still broadcast my thoughts. “You thought I was straight and cis?”

Hitoshi waved their hands frantically from the couch. “I told them all that there was no way!”

“Many class members tried to sway me from the path of truth,” intoned Todoroki, “but none of them succeeded.”

I shook my head dumbly, gazing at Hizashi. He looked as tortured as I felt.

“Little listener, what on earth could possibly make you think Eraserhead—?”

Todoroki sat bolt upright, upsetting his cuddle partners. He pointed at three bullet points in his notebook. “Sensei uses he/him pronouns, like men do, and when we had the class barbecue, he worked the grill!”

“To help put out the—” Midoriya began, and Hitoshi finished, “—massive grease fire, yeah.” They said it in a well-worn way, like they’d had this conversation many times.

Todoroki pointed to the last line triumphantly, like nobody could possibly refute his next move. “And! New evidence came to light today!”

Distantly, I registered that this meant he’d thought I was cis based on those two pieces of evidence alone.

Todoroki continued, “He also has many children who don’t want to call him dad, but it occasionally happens anyway as an embarrassing accident, just like it does with my sperm donor! And, obviously—” he looked around with manic energy, waiting for someone to finish his sentence.

The class just stared in various levels of amusement and horror. Ashido looked like she wasn’t going to be able to hold her laughter in much longer, Jirou was hiding her face in Yaoyorozu’s arms, and Sato had pulled the strings on his hoodie so his face was completely covered.

When nobody was willing to egg on the train wreck, Todoroki finished grandly, “And all of these apply to Endeavor, who is CIS!”

This class was going to be the death of me.

I buried my head in my hands. “Todoroki,” I spoke into my palms, “do you know what a trans man is?”

“Um,” he said.

Midoriya started laughing in disbelief and Hitoshi groaned loudly.

“Oh my GOD,” Hitoshi shook Midoriya’s arm around for emphasis. “Oh my goooooooooodddddd!”

“Shoto. What the fuck do you think I am?” hissed Midoriya, hands in his hair, half hysterical.

“Okay. Okay,” I repeated to myself. “Mic?”

Hizashi put a calming hand on my back. “I’ll take care of it.”

Wildly grateful for my husband, I got up from my seat and fled the building.

The cool night air made it so I could finally breathe. I paced in front of the dorms, trying to get my emotions to settle.

Several minutes turned my breath even and slow. I was trying to get my head around how it was possible Todoroki hadn’t figured out even one of us was trans. I had come to the conclusion that he was operating on a level of logic I had never seen before and couldn’t hope to replicate. I hadn’t ruled out that he could have been hit with a quirk.

From my pocket, Hizashi’s voice yowled, “YeeeAAAAA IT’S ME!”

I pulled out my phone.

🎶Canary🎵: ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ ok good news bad news bb! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) good news: todoroki understands what trans men r now!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

🎶Canary🎵: bad news (ㅅ´ ˘ `) he thinks u were born as a man, & there was a conspiracy to make u think u were a girl, & then u transitioned back to being a man (╥ ~ ╥ *)

🎶Canary🎵: he’s calling it “double trans” (óò｡) (·•᷄∩•᷅ )

🎶Canary🎵: good news! he thinks this is different than being cis ☆⌒ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

I looked away from my phone. First of all, what the fuck. Second of all, what the fuck. Third of all, what the fuck.

I typed a reply.

Me: k.

There was an ocean of feelings inside me that I wasn’t about to sort through. Instead, I took a deep breath, and reminded myself that there was still time to teach Todoroki common sense, he was only a first year, everyone was weird as a first year, he would get better, I would ensure it.

I steeled myself and walked back inside. Iida’s voice faded in.

“Now that we’re done talking about… that,” Iida said, and I could picture him chopping furiously, “we can get back to my original point! You do not have to have bad posture in the name of being a bisexual!” I turned the corner as he straightened up fully in his seat and gestured to himself. “Take me, for instance!”

The class lost their minds. As they screamed and rioted, I made pained eye contact with Hizashi, who was entirely too smug for my liking. My husband had just won our personal bet. They’d thought that Iida was bi, and I’d countered that he was absolutely aromantic.

It wasn’t even really a bet, since there was no prize. (I wasn’t about to wager anything on a student’s sexuality.) Still, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

I sat down next to Hizashi and waited for the noise to abate enough for me to be heard. “Iida,” I said carefully, “I thought you weren’t interested in anyone?”

“Ah, you’re referring to romantic feelings,” he said with a chop. “That is quite correct! I am aromantic as well.”

I elbowed Hizashi with a smug look of my own. We’d both won the bet.

Turning back to the class, I caught Kouda smiling and signing to Asui, “We’ve got another one!”

“Oh! Kouda, Tokoyami, and I welcome you to the club, ribbit!” croaked Asui. “Well, it’s technically the aroace club, but aro still counts. I’ve also got some sort of gender thing going on, but I don’t really know what’s happening with that. Kind of a running theme in the club, ribbit.”

“I would be honored to join,” Iida bowed lowly.

“You’re accepting non-aroace members? I’m ace,” volunteered Yaoyorozu.

“I’m every shade of the twinkling rainbow, including aroace! ☆” cried Aoyama. Iida and Sato instinctively ducked to avoid getting hit by his dramatic pose.

“I’m gay and aroace probably,” Sato said, drumming his fingers on his knees. “Demi on both, I think. Can we all join?”

“Of course, ribbit! The aroace club—no, army, happily welcomes so many new members!”

“With such rapid expansion, it is only natural to search for a teacher to lead us!” Iida called, and the Aroace Army looked beseechingly at me and Hizashi.

My husband nudged me, quickly raising and lowering their eyebrows over and over.

How could I say no to that face?

Easily, actually, but I didn’t want to.

“I am ace,” I admitted grudgingly.

“And you’ll lead us?” signed Kouda eagerly.

I pretended to think for a moment. Hizashi’s eyebrows were still doing their awful dance.

“You’d let someone who isn’t aroace lead your club?” I asked carefully.

“It’s you, Sensei,” laughed Yaoyorozu, like that explained everything.

They trusted me.

Oh, wow, too much emotion, put that away. Woof.

Hizashi must have seen some of it on my face, because his eyebrows somehow sped up.

“If you’re not careful, those are going to catch fire,” I said dryly.

“Oh c’mon, tell the listeners you’ll do it,” Hizashi grinned at me like they knew the battle was already won. “Y’know you wanna.”

“I know no such thing.” I paused unnecessarily, taking a look around. The Aroace Army was on the edge of their seats.

“But,” I continued, watching the smiles bloom on my student’s faces, “I suppose I could lead your little club.”

“Woohoo!” my Aroace Army cheered, and it filled me with stubborn pride. Hizashi’s eyebrows finally rested.

“Thank you very much, Sensei!” Iida stood to bow at me several times. I waved him away.

Iida sat once again, turning to the classmate sitting in a chair beside him. “Tokoyami, I had no idea you were aroace!”

They just nodded. “My only lover is the darkness.”

“They’re not talking about me,” came the gravelly voice of Dark Shadow. “Although I am the best lover in the land. I inherited the title by killing the previous holder and erasing her name from history.”

God, and I was hoping we wouldn’t have to pull out the jar today.

Tokoyami tutted. “Refrain from divulging this at every opportunity. Shoji, if you would be so kind as to pass the—”

“Already on its way.” He handed a jar to Tokoyami. I didn’t have to look to know it was labeled ‘Dark Shadow What The Fuck.’ It currently held several glittering buttons, a crumpled drawing of Aoyama as a shoujo character, a concerningly sharp half of a set of sewing scissors, and a loose handful of dirt.

Dark Shadow grumblingly pulled a handful of popcorn from their center mass.

“No,” I said to Dark Shadow, “You know the rules. I know that popcorn isn’t the most personally valuable thing in you right now.” Know was perhaps overstating it, but I had learned to trust my intuition when it came to this bunch. “Now you have to put in two things.”

Everyone in the room clapped their hands over their ears as Dark Shadow wailed, a sound that grated at my eardrums and tore at the edges of my sanity.

“Three things,” I commanded firmly.

“FINE!” she screeched.

First came a thick wad of foreign bills, which she stuffed into the cheap plastic jar with a hiss.

“What the fuck,” whispered Hizashi.

“Tokoyami,” I sighed, “you don’t have to let her put your money in the jar.”

With an undercurrent of trepidation, they said, “Sensei, that’s—not mine.”

Hmm. I’d have to keep an eye on that for more reasons than Uraraka’s sudden interest in the cash.

Dark Shadow paused, curling in on herself, and I could see the deceit forming in her head.

“If you put down an item that isn’t your current most valuable possession, I will know it,” I reminded her with a glare.

How an eldritch shadow being could pout, I had no idea, but she was doing it. She sighed, reached into her body, and dragged back out—oh god no, did we really have to do this today?

The class screamed, including Tokoyami.

I sighed, pulling deeply from the bottom of my well of composure. “Dark Shadow. Tell me that’s not loaded.”

It retreated back into her body, and a long moment later, she brought it back out. “It’s not loaded.”

Okay. Okay. This was fine.

“Everyone, stay calm and seated. Put the Glock in the jar.”

She dropped it into the almost overflowing container just as Nedzu’s cackle came from my phone and Hizashi’s too. It was his personal ringtone he recorded and insisted all the teachers use. Certainly cheesy, but some of my colleagues had developed such a strong Pavlovian response to it that when it went off, they instantaneously started nervously sweating.

“Hold on,” I commanded. “Dark Shadow, third item.” I reached over and tapped Mic three times on his arm, our code for be ready. They nodded.

Dark Shadow hissed, undulating agitatedly, and reached inside. From out of her body she drew a rainbow button pad stim toy. It was shaped like a game controller and emblazoned with the word ‘GAYMER’.

Kaminari made a noise like a feral animal. “That’s MINE!”

Tokoyami grabbed it and tossed it to the enby, who tried to snatch it out of the air but fumbled it hard. The stim toy skittered along the ground where Ashido swiped it, and the two began tussling.

“Stop that.” I commanded without looking. I knew better than to take my eyes off of The Jar right now.

I tapped Hizashi four times to let him know I would keep my eyes on the target. They opened up their phone to check the text. “Dark Shadow, Nedzu wants to see you in his office first thing tomorrow.”

Tokoyami groaned.

Mic tapped me back, and I reached for my own phone. ”Anyone who takes something out of the jar is expelled.”

Nedzu sent me instructions to put the jar in the dorm’s hazardous materials dropbox. That particular box was a late (but extremely necessary) addition to the building.

He also gave me a raise.

Pondering if that was enough incentive to deal with this particular brand of 1-A bullshit (jury was still out), I gingerly retrieved the jar.

With exaggerated motions, Hizashi signed to me, “What the fuck is up with your class?”

I just shrugged tiredly and went to get the jar stored away properly. What was Dark Shadow doing with foreign cash, a gun, and Kaminari’s stim toy? No, still firmly above my pay grade. I was fine with letting Nedzu put out that particular fire.

By the time I returned, Ashido was putting on some d-grade sci-fi movie. I settled into the back with Hizashi.

“We can’t stay too late tonight,” he signed to me with an apologetic half-smile. “We’ve got our workshops tomorrow.”

As glad as I was that we weren’t addressing whatever the fuck Dark Shadow was doing, I hated that this was the reason why. I sighed for a solid five seconds and then looked back to Hizashi. I signed tiredly, “I forgot about those damned required courses. You think that villain attack would be enough to get us out of it?”

Hizashi shook their head. “Already asked,” his movements sharp.

With precise tightness, I signed, “I’d be alright with it if you came with me to that damn emotional honesty workshop.”

Hizashi would make jokes, poke at me, and be an awful nuisance, but he was my awful nuisance, and also the only thing that could possibly make the class bearable.

They grimaced apologetically. “I went with you the first year, but you know the Rat makes everyone move on to whatever class he thinks is most beneficial for them.”

I repressed a groan and signed with irritated efficiency, “And yet, what have the past four workshops done for me? I’d do anything to get out of another goddamn year of emotional honesty courses.”

There was a pause, and Hizashi’s gaze turned calculating.

“Anything, huh?” they signed, movements flowing.

I frowned at him, but at that moment, a particularly loud explosion drew my gaze back to the movie. By the time I looked back to them, Hizashi was typing away on their phone. Hmm.

I grudgingly enjoyed the special effects, which were so awful that the class couldn’t help but laugh at the scary parts. Before long, the intro to another movie was playing, this one about a girl getting lost in the spirit world. The light had long since ceased to filter through the windows. 

Hizashi had been on his phone for the past half hour, texting ceaselessly. They smothered a giggle and tapped at their phone with finality. A moment later, all of the kid’s ringtones went off at once.

I pulled out my phone. No message.

The kids were starting to elbow each other and glance our way, whispering.

I looked suspiciously up at Hizashi, and he grinned at me.

My husband had many smiles. This one was their ‘I’m up to no good, but I don’t want you to THINK I’m up to no good’ smile.

I raised an eyebrow. “What did you send them.”

“Oh, and just what makes you so certain it was me?” Hizashi asked, hand on his chest, overdramatically offended.

“Hizashi.”

“I oooonly sent them the picture of Bakugo carrying the groceries. The little listeners deserve new screensavers, don’t’cha think?”

“Mhm. Show me.”

“Okaaaaay ye Sho of little faith,” they gave an extremely put-upon sigh, “behold!” He tilted his phone to show me a group chat. The message was of Bakugo covered in bags of ice cream. The group chat name was “Troublemaking listeners – 1-A,” and the new messages badge showed 13, 14, 16. I moved to scroll down, but Hizashi swept their screen away, tutting. “You know better than to go scrolling on someone’s phone! Who KNOWS what you might find!”

“As it happens, I would also like to know that. Why do you have a group chat with my homeroom students and not me?”

“I’m their English teacher!” they said, their hand steepled on their chest. His words were so over the top in their innocence that I knew he was hiding something.

With a glance to see that the kids were thoroughly distracted muttering amongst themselves, Hizashi reached up and gave me a soft touch on the jaw. With no attempt at a subtle redirection, they whispered, “You did great today. They all came home safe.”

With a quick glance at the distracted students, I caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this. But I’m glad to have your help,” I spoke against their skin. 

Hizashi left his hand there and smiled at me, soft and sweet and painfully sincere, making my face warm against my will. “Love you, Sho.”

It had taken me a long time to tell him that I loved him. They had always given out ‘I love you’ carelessly and often; whenever they got off a call, left the room, went to bed. At first I’d thought that those words didn’t mean anything, at least not from his lips. But I’d come to realize that wasn’t it at all—they just cared about everyone loudly and with exuberance, like everything else they did.

“I love you too, sunshine.” I rubbed my cheek into his palm. He smiled at me, soft and loving. I was already forgetting about the texts.

I still held my ‘I love yous’ close to my chest, like precious treasure that I couldn’t afford anyone else to know about. (I much preferred to show my affection through actions.) It was just that after so many years of being married, I had gotten used to returning my wonderful husband’s words with my own.

“Turning in for the night?” I spoke into their hand.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go take Eri off of Nemuri’s hands and get our littlest listener in bed. You don’t have to come with, though. Your class went through a villain attack today. They could probably use Mr. Strong Sensei around, don’tcha think?”

I chewed on that a moment and checked the time. “It’s my turn to tuck Eri in. But…” I looked at my students all cuddled up on their couches, bathed in the light of the movie. “You make a good point.”

It would make the kids feel better to have me here after that, at least for a while. And if some part of me wanted to be by them, to keep them safe, well, that was nobody’s business but my own.

Hizashi hummed. “I can take care of Eri. You’re staying, then?”

I paused, then nodded my head minutely.

Hizashi tamped down a smile and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on my cheek. “Alright, babe. Lemme know if you need anything.”

I nodded into their palm, content to rest there for a beat. Hizashi hummed, sending one more glance to the kids and then back to me. “Sho?”

“Mm?”

“You should tell them,” he nodded his head to the kids, “that you’re glad to have them.” And then Hizashi pulled away, standing up. Louder, they said, “Your English quizzes aren’t going to grade themselves.”

I waited for the customary groan from the kids, but none came.

Odd.

He continued, “Hound Dog’s number is on the fridge; remember, a villain attack means a mandatory visit. Have fun watching your movie, love all you little listeners!”

The kids chorused back, “Love you too!”

The ache in my chest was hard to ignore. I blinked it away, trying to give Hizashi a soft look as they scooped up an armful of ice cream for the staff fridge. I think I managed a sort of half-grimace. Even still, he winked back at me as he went to the door.

“Shoto, that’s not how you wink,” mumbled Hitoshi.

I faced forward again and saw Todoroki blinking rapidly over the armrest towards where Hizashi had just left.

“It’s a double wink,” the kid said back coolly. “For double the secre—” Hitoshi’s capture weapon slapped over his mouth and dragged him back to the cuddle pile.

Hmm. Did Todoroki have even more conspiracy theories he hadn’t divulged yet? I didn’t know if I could handle any more from him today. I made a mental note to ask Hitoshi about it later.

We were on the third movie, something about a boy taming a dragon. The kids sitting on chairs had migrated to the cramped couches, fitting on them like they were trying to give clown cars a run for their money.

“Mr. Aizawa,” Asui called from the arm of one of the couches. “Could you braid my hair, ribbit?”

“No fair, I wanna have my hair braided by Aizawa-sensei too!” Hagakure whined from under Uraraka.

“Oh, mine too!” cried Yaoyorozu from the couch between them, lying half on Jirou and Uraraka. 

“Me too, me too!” Uraraka, half on the armrest and half stretched over the others, slapped the couch petulantly.

It brought to mind a horde of cats swarming my ankles. I pushed the fond thought away. “I only have so many hands. Midoriya, I know for a fact that you can braid. Is this something you want to help me with?”

“Since when can the nerd braid?” scoffed Bakugo from where he was still laid across the back of the loudly-proclaimed Bakusquad couch.

Midoriya’s voice came from somewhere on the third couch, at the bottom of the cuddle puddle from the sound of it. “Eri saw this person at the mall with a beautiful five strand braid. She said she wanted that, so naturally I spent six hours on YouTube and learned how to braid better than god.”

“You can do a five strand?” Asui asked excitedly, slipping off of the armchair to hop in front of the couch where Midoriya was buried. “Oh, please do it for me, ribbit!”

“And me!” Uraraka was at Asui’s other side in a flash.

“Your hair might be a little short for that, Uraraka,” Midoriya mumbled, making his way out from under Todoroki and Hitoshi, who both grumbled dramatically. “Five strand needs a decent amount of hair, or else it just doesn’t work well. Well, that’s a blanket problem with all braids, but some really are worse than others. If you’re okay with three-strand, though, it wouldn’t be awful. Although, I could braid your—,” he mimed the longer parts of Uraraka’s hair that hung down over her shoulders, “—for you. That COULD be five strand or three strand, but if you wanted it to be your main hair, it would be fairly quick, so that doesn’t need to be me doing it, you could have Aizawa-sensei braid them instead…”

“But can Aizawa do a five-strand?” Uraraka challenged playfully, looking at me. I pretended to think about it for a moment before nodding. I didn’t admit that I’d learned how to do it the day Eri had said she wanted cool braids.

“What!” Uraraka cried, rocketing to her feet, but Yaoyorozu was already sitting primly in front of my chair with a smug expression on her face, handing me a brush she’d pulled from her leg. She tossed another to Midoriya, who caught it with a nod of thanks. Her other hand was already creating hair ties.

“Hey, where’d all my cuddle partners go?” Jirou whined from a suddenly barren couch.

“Sorry!” Uraraka told them before turning to give Yaoyorozu an exaggerated pout, scoffing playfully. She moved to sit next in line, but Hagakure cut her off and slid in instead.

On the Bakusquad couch, Ashido slapped the armrest and howled, “Betrayed!“

Hagakure crowed gleefully, “You ca’ thee bu’ I’m thticking my tongue oud a’ oou Oo-oo-oka!”

“Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie; could you please try to keep it down?” Iida cut in tersely. “And Hagakure, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“I thaid,” a pause, “that you couldn't see, but I was sticking my tongue out at you, Uraraka,” the invisible girl whispered.

“I’ll cuddle with you, Jirou,” Ashido declared decisively, disentangling herself from the Bakusquad couch, ignoring mutinous muttering from Kaminari and Sero.

“Thank you,” Jirou welcomed her with open arms, which Ashido promptly folded herself into.

Kirishima peeked out from over the back of the Bakusquad couch. “Braids are super manly! If I wash my gel out, could you do mine too, Sensei?”

I hummed, brushing Yaoyorozu’s hair, starting from the ends and moving upwards. “It’s not long enough.”

“Naw, it looks short, but I’ve been growing it out in the back, I swear!”

“Then I don’t see why we can’t attempt it.”

“Sweet!” He leaped over the back of the couch like a hurdle, clearing Bakugo with room to spare, and ran to the elevator.

“Now where are all my cuddle partners?” Kaminari griped with a dramatic sigh.

Sero scoffed. “Am I nothing to you?”

“Bakugooooo,” whined Kaminari to the boy perched across the back of their couch, “come cuddlllle!"

“Fine, but don’t complain about how I do it,” Bakugo rolled off of the back directly onto Sero and Kaminari, who both “Oof!”ed dramatically.

“I didn’t ask for that!” wheezed Sero.

“Shut up, Elbows.”

“Yes, let’s all be quiet,” Iida hissed.

“Don’t tell me what to do, extra!”

“Asui,” I spoke lowly, wondering at the inexplicably growing line for my hair braiding, “you can braid too. Care to take one of your classmates off of my hands?”

Asui looked over to me, but Midoriya moved her head back. “Face forwards.” He was hard at work intricately weaving her hair.

“But we want you to do it, Sensei!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Oh, look at that,” Asui said blandly, holding out limp wrists. “Looks like my hands aren’t working right now. You’ll have to figure something out, ribbit.”

I looked down at the three girls in front of me, all gazing back at me with puppy dog eyes. Well, I couldn’t see Hagakure, but I had to assume.

I did not give in to the soft feelings in my chest. “Your hands look fine to me,” I told Asui bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

“She can't braid right now!” Hagakure hissed. “Obviously!”

The edges of my mouth almost twitched up fondly, but I played it off with a yawn. Close one.

“Sensei?” That was Yaoyorozu. “Can we move closer so we can still see the TV?”

I just grunted, standing up and stretching, joints popping loudly.

“We can’t hear the movie over the sound of your old-man body,” Bakugo snickered.

I rolled my eyes, moving towards the couch with Ashido and Jirou. “This ‘old man’ has the power to expel you, brat.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ashido saw me coming and stretched out over the couch cheekily, “you love us too much!”

I huffed. “As if.”

From their seat next to Midoriya, Hitoshi was fidgeting lazily with their capture scarf. “He likes coffee twice as much as us.”

“Now you get it.” I stepped around Tokoyami on the floor, giving Dark Shadow an absentminded scritch as I went. She preened under my touch.

“But since he loves coffee an astronomical amount,” Hitoshi continued, “that’s really saying he loves us so much.”

I snorted and shooed Ashido with my hands, not dignifying that with a response because the class didn’t need to know Hitoshi was right. Ashido clutched a pillow like a shield and didn’t move. “We only let people sit here who looove the class, isn’t that right, Jirou?”

Jirou, cuddling Ashido and acting as the big spoon, nodded decisively. I turned to the other couch next to me, currently full of a horizontal Sero, Kaminari, and Bakugo. “Scooch.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kaminari denied smoothly. “This is the Bakusquad couch, and you don’t look like Bakusquad material to me, teach.”

I sighed, looking at the other two couches, which were both equally full, their inhabitants subtly stretching out to deter any thought of commandeering a seat.

The elevator dinged, and I looked up to see Kirishima walking out of it in Red Riot pajamas and wet hair. “Oh hey Sensei, you ready to braid my hair or what?”

Hagakure stomped her foot. “Get in line! Also, Sensei, c’mon, just tell Mina you love us!”

“You’re blocking the screen!” Bakugo pushed on my legs.

“Aizawaaaaaaa,” Uraraka whined, “just say it already!”

I thought about Hizashi’s parting words—tell my class how much they meant to me.

And then I shoved that thought out the window.

“Midoriya can just braid your hair, I’m going to go sit back down.”

“Oh no, Sensei,” Midoriya didn’t even look up from Asui’s hair. “Seems like my hands aren’t working either.”

This was starting to feel like some kind of trap. “I can clearly see you’re still braiding.”

“Trick of the light,” Hitoshi drawled with a shit-eating grin.

Bakugo huffed. “Yeah, better get your eyes checked, old man.”

Midoriya and Bakugo working together? Definitely a trap.

“You certainly can’t see it over how brightly I’m twinkling! ☆” cried Aoyama, letting out a lens flare just to spite the laws of nature.

I gave a long-suffering sigh, turning to the class’s reliable paragon of logic. “Nothing to say about how loud the class is, Class Representative?”

Iida fidgeted from his spot next to Aoyama, not looking at me. “Certainly a little loud, but not worth a scolding, wouldn’t you say?”

Absolutely, definitely, undeniably a trap.

I moved to step over Tokoyami, but Dark Shadow flared up, hissing. I activated Erasure for a brief moment. She retreated back, cowed.

“My deepest apologies for Dark Shadow,” Tokoyami said lowly. “She hungers for the Great Bounty.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What boun—”

“Sensei!” I was stopped in my tracks by Hagakure, Yaoyorozu, and Uraraka’s triple puppy dog eyes.

Shit.

I was in trouble, and I knew it. If I didn’t do something drastic, I was going to spill my guts.

Only one option left. My most powerful card.

“Since you are all dedicated to this ridiculous charade, I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Several kids shouted, “No!”

I turned around slowly to look at the couches full of students who suddenly seemed to find the movie extremely interesting.

“No?”

Uraraka put the brush in my hand, and I looked back to see her shaking her head frantically. “No! Our hair! You promised!”

“I can do it another time,” I ground out, setting the brush on the table and dodging around them.

This time Kirishima blocked my path. “Aww man, but I washed my hair for this, Sensei!”

“Don’t you have to do that every night?”

“I mean, yes, but—”

I sidestepped him. “I’m sure Midoriya or Asui’s hands will start working again soon.”

“SenSEIIIIII,” cried Ashido. I glanced over my shoulder to see her stretching her arms out to me from the couch. “I just wanna hear you say you looooove us!”

My heart gave a mutinous lurch. I grimaced and moved to hightail it, dangerously close to destroying the last of my reputation as a hardass professional with no feelings. “I have to sleep.”

Jirou called out, “Is it really so hard to tell us you love us?”

I did not swear as I looked back. Jirou seemed uncertain and oddly fragile. It reminded me of earlier, their wide eyes and too-fast breathing from when I’d asked her to find her missing classmate. The order I’d given had hurt my child —no, student. Unbidden, the memory rose of them almost calling me Dad.

God, no, abort mission, abort mission. I snapped back around to run from the room like a coward, but Hagakure was in front of me.

The girl I thought had been kidnapped on my watch.

“Please?” she whispered, hands reaching up like they were clasped. “I just want you to do my hair, because I feel safe with you by me.”

I felt a sharp stab of affection for her, almost like a physical wound.

“We’re glad you went with us today,” Ojiro piped up.

Shit.

Kaminari’s voice came from under Bakugo and Sero. “Yeah, you gave me earplugs when I lost mine. Otherwise I would’ve been just like Jirou.” 

“You saved us from a villain!” cried Sato. “That’s like, a huge deal!”

From next to Midoriya, Todoroki’s calm voice added, “You were going to get us ice cream. That’s more than my sperm donor’s ever done for me.”

Jirou stepped to my other side. “You—I—I had a pretty bad panic attack. And you carried me so I didn’t get left behind.”

“Any of your teachers would have done that,” I protested weakly, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest.

She looked up at me pleadingly. “But they didn’t. It was you. And I’m glad that it was you.”

Shit, shit, shit.

I didn’t look away from Jirou, but I could hear the tears in Midoriya’s voice when he said, “We love you.”

FUCK.

“I—” The room quieted down. I think someone had even paused the TV.

The only noise in the room was Jirou taking in a big breath. “We just want to hear that you love us,” they visibly steeled themself, “D-dad.”

Shit, fuck, god, OKAY.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m glad I was there for you too. You’re going to give me gray hairs, you little hellions. I wish I’d expelled you all when I had the chance.”

“And?” Jirou prompted, eyes wide and earnest.

I didn’t know if my mouth was going to work, because that would mean that my lungs were getting air to them, which would imply my brain was functioning. And in that moment, it absolutely wasn’t. That’s the only explanation for why I croaked out, “And I love you all, too.”

The class erupted into chaos.

Chapter Text

My kids let out a veritable wall of noise as they all spilled out of their seats, celebrating my admission of love.

The more I looked around, the more I realized they really were just so excited. There was a warm feeling, but also an awful, creeping guilt. If this was how much they wanted it, then why, why hadn’t I ever told them that I loved them before?

Shoji jogged around the group handing out high fives. My attention ping-ponged as Kaminari jumped up and screamed, “My quiz score is SAVED!,” while Todoroki shouted, “WHO ARE YOU MARRIED TO? YOU HAVE TO TELL US!,” and Uraraka cried, “SLEEPOVER SLEEPOVER SLEEPOVER—!”

Hitoshi appeared next to me in the sudden hubbub, pulling my scattered attention to them with a solemn hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome. I will, of course, be partaking in the spoils of war.”

This had grown beyond simple joy and was pinging my bullshit detector in a major way.

I put on my best teacher voice, the kind that could freeze the most unruly of students in place. “What is going on here?”

The exuberance froze on their faces. I vividly recalled my husband, just before he left, exhorting me to tell my class how I felt about them.

I did not swear. “This is Mic’s doing, isn’t it.”

In the sudden quiet, there was only one voice.

“YeeeAAAAA IT’S ME!”

There was the motherfucker himself. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

🎵Canary🎵: CONGRATS ON CONQUERING YOUR EMOTIONS!!! ദ്ദി( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Oh, hell no.Whatever this scheme was, I wanted no part of it.

“Our greatest apologies for this grand deception!” cried Iida, rushing forwards and holding out his phone. “But you see, it truly was for the best of all parties involved!” I swiped it from his hand.

The group text from Hizashi. There was the picture of Bakugo holding all the groceries, and underneath it, a long text from my husband.

Present Mic: AlllllRIGHT LISTENERS HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU! ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ First off, new screensaver as a show of good faith. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Second off, how would you like to stick it to 1-B, get your lowest English quiz dropped, FINALLY get your little class wager on Aizawa’s marriage answered ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡ (bet you thought I didn’t know about that before today lmao),

Oh, god no.

—make Aizawa happy as a coffee-addicted clam, AND spend more time with your second-favorite sensei/resident grump! ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂)۶〜♡

Undeterred by the ‘making him happy’ bit, I decided I was going to wring Hizashi’s neck.

Present Mic: By sticking it to 1-B, I mean that y’all get to make a rockin’ poster to go in their homeroom for a month. ᕙ(  •̀ ᗜ •́  )ᕗ But, if you accept and fail, then they get to put up a poster in your homeroom for a month! ( ˶°ㅁ°) I have it on good authority that Monoma is already hard at work drafting several masterpieces that I want nowhere near my classroom, ya dig? (*ﾟﾛﾟ)

He put my class walls on the line? If they’d failed—I would have had to deal with a Monoma poster in my room for a MONTH?

Present Mic: As for making Aizawa happy, he’d get a rockin’ new coffee machine for the staff room, all thanks to you listeners! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡ And he’d get to chaperone your NEW monthly sleepovers, Nedzu-pre-approved… so long as your class can rise to the challenge! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

God. Alright. That was… admittedly sweet.

Present Mic: I can already hear you listeners going, “Oh yEAH!” But hold up, you gotta read the terms and conditions, ya dig? Here’s the deal: you gotta make your Grumpypants Sensei admit he loves you! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Ah, there it was, the embarrassment and—wait. This had just been some sick joke? My class hadn’t meant what they’d said; they just wanted me to admit that I loved them, by any means necessary? Jirou had called me dad, just to get me to confess. My feelings curdled in my stomach.

Present Mic: But WAIT, is that impossible?!? Well, I’ve got some rules to make it EVEN HARDER! Plus Ultra, amirite?!? ᕕ( ^ヮ^)ᕗ*:･ﾟYou gotta make it happen before midnight, you can’t tell him about this little game until you win, AND you can’t be spittin’ lies to make his confession happen! If he’s gotta be honest, then so do you, ya dig? ദ്ദി( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

My knees almost buckled in relief, the intensity of my feeling surprising me. They… my kids… hadn’t been lying? About any of it? Jirou really saw me as her dad? Hagakure felt safer with me around? The class loved me?

Present Mic: I’M CHEERING FOR YOU!!!

✺(^▽^✺) ✺(^o^)✺ (✺^▽^)✺

Buuuuuut… if you aren’t up to the challenge, then no harm, no foul! What do you say? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

As nice as all of that was—if by ‘nice’ you meant holy shit, I’d like to stop feeling that right now—I was about ready to hold Hizashi upside down and shake their secrets out of them.

Everyone was chomping at the bit to get their wager settled. “WHO’S YOUR PARTNER!” cried Hagakure.

“Wait,” I commanded tiredly, handing back Iida’s phone and pulling out my own. Nedzu’s cackle sounded from its speaker, several messages rolling in at once.

The Rat: For showing emotional growth at the eleventh hour, you have been released from your emotional honesty workshop! 🐾

The Rat: [aizawa_workshop_release_confirmation.pdf]

The Rat: It is unfortunately too late for you to attend a different workshop this semester. Do make sure not to take five years to show growth in your next area of learning. :)

THIS was what the shenanigans were about? Tension left my shoulders and I gave a long exhale. My desire to strangle my husband receded several notches. It was now second, or perhaps even third priority, certainly below figuring out the rest of the situation.

Me: To be clear, my husband made up a scheme to get me to admit I love my class? All in the name of getting me out of the emotional honesty workshop?

The texts came in at lightning speed. I had no idea how Nedzu managed to type so fast.

The Rat: There was a bit more to it than that, but that certainly is the gist!

The Rat: In fact, Yamada was reporting to me on your progress all day! We were rather hoping not to have to resort to scheming to graduate you from your workshop. Alas, every time you seemed to be on the cusp of emotional honesty, you were stymied for one reason or another.

Wow, alright. Something unpleasant unraveled in my chest until I felt soft and fuzzy. I even let it sit for a moment before shoving it away. See, proof of my growth in emotional honesty! I shook myself. God, what am I thinking? I’ve been spending too much time with my husband.

The Rat: When you mentioned that you would do ‘anything’ to get out of your workshop, Yamada reached out to me for permission to make a wager of sorts! They were quite the coordinator.

Oh, there’s the irritation! Welcome back.

Me: And it couldn’t have been a small confession instead of this mess?

The Rat: I believe your partner subscribes to the American phrase ‘go big or go home.’ In other words, Plus Ultra! :)

The Rat: Besides, I was more than happy to provide ample rewards for his little bet. Your new coffee machine will arrive in the morning.

The irritation was washed away by childish glee. I tamped it down.

Me: I don’t suppose you’d tell me what my next area of learning will be?

The Rat: No. :)

I grimaced at my screen.

“SENSEI, we’ve WAITED, TELL US WHO YOU’RE MARRIED TO!” cried Ashido.

Todoroki banged his conspiracy notebook against the couch. “We finished our end of the bargain!”

“Hold on.” I gritted my teeth and clicked on Hizashi’s texts.

Me: if you believe for one second that I’m going to tell my class we’re married, you’re out of your damn mind.

🎵Canary🎵: Knew you’d say that babe! Was already on my way (*0*)7

The door thudded as Hizashi kicked it open. Iida instinctually opened his mouth to tell them off for disrespecting UA property, realized who he was talking to, and closed his mouth.

“YEAAAaaaaa congratulations, Sho!” Hizashi yelled, and I activated Erasure on him to keep the windows from exploding. I made a mental note to ask Nedzu about quirk-resistant glass for the dorms.

I quickly signed, “Where’s Eri?” and pointed at the spot next to him where she should be. Instead of fingerspelling E-R-I, I used the ASL-style name sign that Hizashi had given her, which was a combination of the signs for ‘angel’ and ‘listener.’

Hizashi signed, “N,” over their heart, which was Nemuri’s name sign. Out loud, they said, “I never thought I’d see the day that Mr. If-I-Show-Emotions-I’ll-Eat-My-Hat would admit he loves you all! The real MVP here is Class 1-A! I almost wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t send the video!”

Oh, god. “Video?”

“Yeah,” enthused Sato, “Bakugo got a video of the whole thing!”

I was getting my hands on that and deleting it as soon as humanly possible.

As if he could read my thoughts, Hizashi grinned widely. “Nedzu made sure that the listeners deleted theirs, now it’s safely in the hands of the boss man! He did let me keep it, but I’m under strict orders not to use it for evil!” They wiggled their fingers at me before giving a mock salute to the camera in the corner. It nodded back.

Honestly, better than I was expecting. I relaxed minutely.

“Okaaaaaaay,” whined Ashido, “We played nice, now we wanna know who Sensei’s married to!”

Hagakure brandished a brush at me. “Yeah! While you BRAID OUR HAIR!”

I sat down at my unfortunately well-earned spot next to Ashido and Jirou, secretly pleased that she still wanted me to do her hair. “I can’t promise that the results will be high quality since I can’t see what I’m working with.”

“That’s alright,” and I could hear the smile in Hagakure’s voice as she sat down in front of me, “I’m just glad it’s you that’s doing it.”

Now that I knew that her earlier pronouncement was the truth, and she really did feel safe by me, that statement was almost eye-watering.

Hizashi sat down in the chair next to the couch, giving me a triumphant smile. Yaoyorozu and Uraraka settled on the floor to either side of Hagakure.

“I’m just kinda sad that I’m the only one who gets to see it,” Hagakure said.

My heart seized. I started brushing her hair and cleared my throat, pushing my feelings to the side. “Okay, okay. First, how did you all even figure out I had a partner in the first place?” As a rare hero couple, we were extremely careful not to advertise this fact, since it could potentially be used against us. As I said that, Midoriya patted Asui’s shoulder to signal that he was done with her braid.

“Thank you, ribbit!”

She smiled at him before moving to Uraraka, handing her phone over to get a picture of her remarkably well-done hairdo.

Meanwhile, Midoriya pulled out his notebook, flipping it to a page full of writing. “A month ago I was walking to the teacher’s lounge to ask for clarification on the homework when I heard Yamada-sensei say, ‘Oh, I couldn’t hope to marry Aizawa, his partner is way too hot for me to steal him.’”

Of course my problem child would hear my husband’s joke and kickstart this whole mess. I glared at Hizashi, who raised their hands sheepishly.

Midoriya continued, “And then Aizawa walked in and said, ‘What was that? Marry you? My standards are far too high for that.’ Now, I thought that this could be a joke about Aizawa being married to coffee or something! But then, a few seconds later, Midnight said, ‘What a chaste kiss. Try a little passion!’ And then Aizawa said,”

“We get it,” I cut in tersely, putting the brush to the side and starting a basic French braid as best I could. I actually remembered that moment clearly. It wasn’t often that I did any kind of PDA, but I had been feeling uncharacteristically affectionate towards Hizashi that day, so I had given him a quick peck on the lips.

Midoriya nodded. “So then considering that you kissed someone, your partner would have been in the room with you! I did the next obvious step of isolating what teachers were—”

“Stop muttering!” hissed Bakugo from his cuddle pile with Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima. “You said you’d keep your trap shut.”

“This seems pretty important, though,” said Hizashi, leaning forwards. “Why not let him keep talking?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “So it doesn’t bias the extra’s decisions. Obviously. Deku’s fucking obsessed with figuring shit out, and if the peanut gallery knew what he voted for, they’d just copy him.”

“Guilty as charged!” exclaimed Kaminari, who grinned at Midoriya and raised their hands like they were praying. They stage whispered, “Please take pity on me!”

Midoriya held his notebook to his chest and smiled. “Sorry, nobody knows who I voted for.”

I frowned at my hands, holding hair I couldn’t see. Did I just weave in the wrong strand? God, I hope it’s not looking awful.

“But wait a sec,” interjected Kirishima, “doesn’t that mean you could just say whoever wins was your bet? Not that I think you’d do that, Mido-bro! Cheating’s not manly, and you’re super manly.”

“No, that’s a good question.” Midoriya smiled at him and gave that a moment of thought. “I’ll text my guess to Hitoshi so it’s clear who I voted for, since they’re not participating.”

A moment later, he was typing on his phone. I carefully watched Hitoshi’s face. I wasn’t the only one, judging by Todoroki putting his arm in front of Midoriya’s eyes. “If you see ‘Toshi’s expression, then you’ll know if you were right!”

“Wah, but I’m not going to change my answer anyways!” They devolved into wrestling.

In the hubbub, I had completely forgotten to watch Hitoshi. By the time I realized, they’d already tucked their phone away, and Todoroki’s hold on Midoriya had turned into cuddling.

Next to me, Ashido untangled herself from Jirou and jumped up. “I gotta go pee! If you guys learn who Aizawa’s partner is before I get back, then I’m gonna dye someone’s hair in their sleep!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” mumbled Sero into Kirishima’s shoulder. “Pink would be a good look on Bakugo.”

“If she dyes my hair pink, I’m going to kill you, Elbows.”

“AND I WILL DO IT!” Ashido called back as she sauntered to the elevator.

Sero was indignant. “Why would you kill me if—”

I tuned out their conversation. Pinching the end of Hagakure’s braid between my fingers, I used the other hand to snag Yaoyorozu’s offered hair tie.

A tap on my shoulder. I turned quickly and saw Kouda holding out a rather large packet to me. I took it with the hand holding the hair tie. I checked the label, holding it so Hizashi could see it too. Assorted Flower Clips.

Kouda must have slipped up to their room to grab these. I hadn’t even noticed them go.

I looked up appraisingly at Kouda, and they signed quickly, “These were for a photoshoot for Yuwai. Some flowers are toxic to rabbits, so this was the best option.”

I went to sign back to them but realized with chagrin that my hands were full. Hizashi saw my plight and signed to Kouda for me, “Thank you. I’m sure the girls will love them.”

“Well,” Kouda shifted and then signed haltingly, “Hagakure was saying she wanted others to look at her braids? This will let her do that.”

Hizashi cried, “Awwwww!” and I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Signing, Hizashi continued, “Extremely thoughtful of you, listener. We’ll let her know.”

Kouda shyly signed, “You’re welcome,” and returned to their seat.

I put the hair tie on as best I could and started working the clips into Hagakure’s braids. The flowers on them were beautifully detailed, their almost see-through plastic holding a holographic shimmer; it was no wonder Kouda had gotten them for a photoshoot.

“Sensei?” Hagakure spoke up, “I thought you were almost done?”

I appraised my work and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s finished. How does it look?”

She pulled the braid over her shoulder. “Super messy!” I almost felt bad, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Thanks so mu—OH, flowers!”

“That was Kouda’s idea~” Hizashi sing-songed. “They heard you wanted everyone to see your braids!”

Hagakure squealed and stood abruptly, bounding into the middle of the gathering. “EMERGENCY!” she yelled, “EVERYONE look at the braid Aizawa made me! Kouda added the clips!”

“That’s not what a fuckin’ emergency is!” Bakugo hollered.

“I second this,” Iida chopped furiously.

Uraraka leaped up to Hagakure and held her hands, the two of them jumping in a circle. “Okay, but you look so PRETTY!” Uraraka squealed.

“I love your clips, ribbit,” Asui croaked.

“Your hairdo sparkles just as much as moi! ☆” Aoyama posed glitteringly, his incredible compliment distracting me from the sparkles he manifested around him.

Hagakure broke formation and bounced over to where Kouda was sitting. “THANK YOU, these are SO PRETTY! Can I give you a hug?”

Kouda smiled uncertainly, shrugged, then nodded. Hagakure gave them a big embrace.

“Pictures!” Uraraka called, and suddenly it was a photoshoot. Hagakure was posing charmingly, and Uraraka and Jirou were getting pictures from every angle, with Hizashi calling out poses.

“Silly one! Silly one!”

“I already did! I gave myself bunny ears and nobody said anything!” she laughed. “—Oh. I don’t have my gloves on.”

Tokoyami tossed them to Hagakure, and she tugged them on and did the pose again, to the cheers of her classmates.

“I wanna get one with SENSEI!” she called beseechingly.

I shook my head. “I’m not half as dressed up as you are.”

“I thought you’d say that,” said Hizashi smugly, several clips held between their fingers like weapons. “That’s why I have these for you!”

I opened my mouth to decline, but somehow Hizashi became even more smug. “AND I already put two of them in!”

I touched the back of my head, and sure enough, there were already clips in place.

Kirishima called, “C’mon, Sensei! Decorating your hair is super manly!”

Even though it had been a long time since I’d had to worry about being perceived as a woman, something inside me relaxed, just a bit.

I had to pick my battles, I reminded myself. If I picked them all, then I would be like Bakugo, and the mere thought of it exhausted me.

“Okay,” I sighed. My class cheered.

My husband put on his announcer voice. “Allllllright, ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished guests! One handsome sensei, coming rrrrright up!”

Hizashi descended like a wrathful god. I grumbled and groaned, but before I knew it, they were in my seat, and I was settling onto the floor where the kids had gotten their hair braided. I leaned back against his leg. My husband gently brushed through my hair, and my eyes closed of their own volition. I just enjoyed the moment.

I tuned out the banter, the voices of my class and husband becoming soft. My thoughts unfocused as Hizashi started sectioning my hair.

It’s nice to know that my kids are nearby and not getting attacked by villains or any of the other bullshit they get up to when not immediately under my watchful eye. How do they even do that? God, maybe someone put my whole class under a villain-attracting quirk. I wouldn’t be surprised. Should I look into someone to fix that? No, the Rat would have already checked into it. I should follow up with him.

Their hands moved to weaving my hair together. My hold on my thoughts grew even softer.

Wow. This feels so nice. I’m glad that these sleepovers are a thing now. I’ll get to spend more time with my kids. I love that my husband’s good with kids. My kids. And I love when he plays with my hair.

I let myself drift.

Chapter Text

Hizashi’s laughter floated in through my pleasant half-asleep haze.

I could listen to my husband’s voice forever. It’s so nice to just let him take care of me, and be here with everyone, and know they’re all okay because Hizashi’s here too. God, I love my husband. I’m getting so damn sappy, but I’m still Mr-Strong-Sensei or whatever the hell Hizashi called me. And Jirou called me Dad. My kids still think I’m strong. I told them I love them, and they still trust me to protect them.

That thought startled me out of my near doze.

“Woah, hey,” Hizashi put a steadying hand on my shoulder as I whipped my head around, checking on my kids. He continued, “It’s alright, I’m almost done, everyone’s safe, now look forward again.” He grumbled the last part good-naturedly.

I did not look forward again. “They’re alright? How long was I out for?”

“Ten minutes, tops.”

I didn’t see Ashido or Shoji, and I shot to my feet, staggering as my body didn’t adjust quickly enough.

Hizashi grabbed my arm. “Babe!—y steps, hey, don’t go rushing into anything just after just waking up,” they said, playing off calling me ‘babe’ like the professional they were.

“Ashido and Shoji?” I demanded, looking around.

Sato waved his phone. “I gave them permission to raid my room for sleepover snacks.”

“Your kids are safe, now sit back down, Daddy Bear.” Hizashi tugged me back to the ground.

“Isn’t the saying ‘Papa Bear.’” I stated, very quickly deciding to close the lid on whatever feelings were blooming in my chest.

“Yeah! But I’ve got dibs on Papa Bear. We’re both protecting them, cuz we’re their teachers, yeah? Although, on my fem days I’d probably be Momma Bear.”

God. Okay. The lack of subtlety was astounding. Well, if the kids hadn’t figured out we were married yet, then maybe this wouldn’t tip them off.

“Aaaaand here we go, the last pin,” Hizashi fashioned it right behind my ear. “Now go on! Picture time!”

“Hold on,” I said, impulsively pulling a sunflower pin out of the package and tucking it behind his ear, a mirror to mine. “Alright. Now we can take pictures.”

“Here, Sensei!” Uraraka showed me her phone. She’d taken a picture of me looking at Hizashi, and my face was—not frowning. In fact, I looked almost fond. Disgusting.

“Mic-sensei did such a great job on your hair, huh!”

Oh, right, that. My hair was very well done. It was a beautiful four strand braid with the flower clips tucked artfully in just the right places.

“It doesn’t look half bad,” I grudgingly admitted.

“Half bad!” cried Hagakure, affronted, as Hizashi stood and offered me a hand up. I hesitated a moment and took it.

“Don’t worry,” Hizashi winked at her, “that’s Sho-speak for ‘fantastic and amazing and I love it so much that I’ll take you out for drinks later.’”

“I will not—”

“YAAAAAY!” cried Hagakure, pulling us to either side of her.

This time Aoyama called out poses for us. I very grudgingly followed along with one or two, but the rest I just stood stone-faced as the others posed.

“Jump! Now, twinkle with all you’ve got! Do the splits! ☆”

Hizashi and Hagakure both sunk to the floor in the splits, hands up like gymnasts. Show-offs. The class applauded.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re doing a photoshoot without me! Now, BUNNY EARS!” screamed Ashido, as she appeared from the elevator. She and Shoji had arms full of snacks and baked goods.

I just stood there as Hizashi and Hagakure jumped up and reached their hands up behind my head. I did not smile. Still, it’s possible my frown softened a tiny bit.

Ashido dumped her snacks on the coffee table and pulled out her phone, the class snagging treats. “Gimme a lift?” she asked Uraraka, who grinned and gave her a high five.

Ashido started floating off the ground, pointing her phone at us just as Aoyama called, “Say Gouda and spin! ☆”

“C’mon Mr. Grump, cheese!” Hizashi grabbed my hands and spun me in a twirl. I very obligingly did not duck out of it. The class cheered as Hizashi kept twirling and twirling, and I felt myself reminiscing about the time we took Eri to the teacup ride. I stopped myself with a planted foot. Staggering wildly at the change in momentum, I almost tripped onto the coffee table. Hizashi pulled me against them. They held me there as I got my balance back, grinning like a lovesick fool.

Great. Being in love really isn’t logical at all. It does nothing good for my heart. God, how on earth have we managed to keep our partnership a secret for so long? Hizashi is obviously no help in any of it.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I said gruffly, pulling my capture weapon up and stepping back.

“Sending these suuuuper-cute pics to the group chat!” Ashido sang, Uraraka settling her back down into the floor.

Hagakure twirled around again. “Thank you Aoyama!” she turned to us. “And you both did a great job!”

“Of course.” I smiled, or rather turned my frown into a neutral line. I moved back to my seat, and Hizashi settled into his chair next to me, holding a massive red velvet cookie. I slapped the top of my thighs. “Next braid.”

Uraraka tried to scoot in front of me, but Yaoyorozu swooped in instead. “Five strand, please!”

Hagakure giggled, settling into an empty spot on my couch. “You’ll get there one day.”

I patted Uraraka’s shoulder consolingly and set to work. Uraraka groaned and fell back onto the floor, halfheartedly pulling two crumble-topped muffins off a platter and passing one of them to Yaoyorozu. She took it with a smile. I’d already brushed Yaoyorozu’s hair when I was doing her braid before, so I went right into divvying it into five rows, nestling them neatly between my knuckles.

Time to get us back on track. Beginning the meditative task of weaving Yaoyorozu’s hair, I asked, “Was there any other proof of me having a partner?”

Midoriya answered promptly, “Not any that doesn’t bias the leaning in one way or the other,” he ran his fingers over his notebook cover. “Okay, so I think we should do a little table talk, just before we get the answer, and allow people to change their votes if they want. Also, I think Shoto should be allowed another vote.”

A babble of voices sounded. In the sudden hubbub, Todoroki and Hitoshi both pulled out their phones. Todoroki just stared at his screen for a moment and Hitoshi barked a laugh. They both started texting.

Uraraka banged on the new coffee table from where she was sitting next to Yaoyorozu. “Why should he get another one, the sleeping bag thing already failed!”

Todoroki nodded solemnly. “I offer another buy-in.”

“That’s not enough. Price has gone up,” Uraraka said haughtily. “Offer something I can’t refuse.”

I had a sudden vision of her as a Yakuza boss.

Todoroki nodded like he’d been expecting this. “If I lose, I’ll pay for ice cream for each sleepover until the end of the year.”

I could practically see the ¥ symbols in Uraraka’s eyes. “DEAL!” The class made murmurs of agreement.

Hizashi leaned in. “Okay, this has been great and all, but I gotta know who you listeners bet on. The anticipation is killing me!”

Midoriya hummed and flipped to another page. “Hitoshi isn’t participating since they already know. Kirishima, Sero, and Ojiro voted Vlad King.”

Kirishima cut in, “You’re both super manly!“

From underneath Bakugo, Sero piped up, “Yeah, and you have a SUPER fun rivalry!”

Ojiro shrugged, absentmindedly grooming his tail. “It just makes sense. You would have a lot in common, plus it would be nice to have your husband working next door.”

I worked hard to keep the grimace off of my face, glad to be braiding just have something to do with my hands. Vlad was fine, sure, but not my type in the slightest.

Midoriya cleared his throat. “Uraraka said 13.” He plucked half of a thickly frosted cookie out of Hitoshi’s hand and took a bite.

Uraraka thumped the ground playfully. “Space themed and able to kill you? What more could you ask for?”

Midoriya nodded once and continued, “Shoji and Hagakure voted Hound Dog.”

Shoji nodded sagely. “You’re both very intense.”

Hagakure waved one gloved hand, the other holding a marbled brownie. “Also, it would be great to have a partner who would always be able to find you!”

The first free moment I had, I was going to talk to Power Loader about getting her a tracker.

Midoriya continued, “Ashido voted that the whole thing was a fake dating scheme to get out of going to a singles event.”

She stage whispered, “No offense, but I don’t think Mr. Aizawa has enough game to get a partner!” Several kids giggled, and Hizashi and I snorted.

“Midnight was voted by—oh, I need to scratch that out, he’s not on the vote anymore… Uh, Sato, Kouda, and Aoyama voted Lunch Rush.”

That one startled me. “Really? Why?”

Sato leaned forward, a carrot cake cupcake in one hand. “He’d be able to make coffee just how you like it!” A pause, which I took advantage of to undo a mistake in the braid. “Also, Kouda says that they think you’d value someone you can sit in silence with.”

Aoyama threw his hands in the air and sparkled, “What more could you ask for than a husband who has a refined palate and access to many kinds of fancy cheeses! ☆”

That made a surprising amount of sense.

Midoriya cleared his throat. “Yaoyorozu said Cementoss.”

Also wildly not my type.

Yaoyorozu turned to look at me, and I gently used my knuckles to guide her head back forwards. I was almost done with her braid.

“Sorry Sensei,” she rubbed her arm self-consciously. “But um, wouldn’t you want someone who could create whatever you needed? Out of cement?”

She was anxiously waiting for my response, so I gave a comforting hum and briefly rubbed her back with my knuckles. She relaxed subtly.

“Asui voted Power Loader.”

Asui shifted slightly in my periphery, perched on the armrest, a sugar cookie halfway to her mouth. “I can’t see you with a daylight hero, ribbit. Besides, relationships are about complimenting and supporting each other while making up for your faults. As the leader of the support course, Power Loader would be excellent at all of that, ribbit.”

I nodded minutely, mentally turning over everyone’s reasoning. They had good points for the most part, especially Asui, but god was I glad I married Hizashi and not any of the others.

“Hair tie?” Yaoyorozu put her empty hand out to me, pulling the hair tie out of her palm with her middle and ring fingers.

I snagged it with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and secured her hair.

I didn’t get to appraise my work because Uraraka all but pushed her classmate out of the way, excited to finally get her hair braided. She sat sideways, already holding her phone up to get pictures for Yaoyorozu. “Five strand on my side bangs, please!”

I snorted but got to work brushing the one closest to me.

Midoriya paused in his list. “Iida, did you want to cast a last minute vote?” As everyone’s attention shifted to their class president, my well-honed instincts had me watching Midoriya. One of his hands held his notebook, and the other was sneakily typing on his phone. A moment later, Todoroki and Hitoshi pulled out their phones and raised their eyebrows at their screens.

Iida crossed his arms. “A last minute vote? Certainly. I bet it’s someone who is none of our business.”

Ashido slapped the couch. “No fucking fair, you have to bet on something that could be untrue!”

Hizashi snickered knowingly, and Iida sat up even straighter in his seat. “I do not approve of this! It is none of our business, especially considering Aizawa’s partner is quite likely a civilian who will be endangered if their identity is exposed!”

I used the brush to point at Uraraka’s other bang, and she turned so I could untangle it as well.

Midoriya wrote in his notebook while speaking, “A civilian, huh… long shot, but worth betting. The buy-in is ¥2,500.” 

Iida protested hotly, “I am NOT—”

“I’ll cover the buy-in,” Todoroki cut him off. “It’s a boring bet, but that’s what we depend on Iida for.”

Iida had looked about ready to mutiny but was completely derailed by his classmate’s words. “Aww, you recognize how you all rely on me to provide a sense of normalcy to 1-A! Of course, as 1-A’s Class President, it is my duty to strive to be a rock for our class. This way, you all can keep your energy focused on becoming the best heroes you possibly can!”

I snorted quietly at how easy it had been to throw him off track. I put down the brush, partitioning Uraraka’s bang into five careful rows. Yaoyorozu adjusted to use the couch’s armrest as a backrest, and set two small, plastic hair ties on it.

“Keep going on the bets, Deku,” Bakugo grumbled. “We’re not done yet.”

Midoriya nodded. “Kaminari, Jirou, and Bakugo voted for Present Mic.”

Hizashi and I laughed in a way I deeply hoped did not sound forced.

Hizashi said, “Me? Married to Aizawa? Lmao. Who could have ever thought up a thing? Why?”

Jirou fidgeted with their headphone jack with a smile. “You can get him backstage at every event, and you’re so charismatic!”

Kaminari shrugged, twirling a donut on one finger with little success.

Bakugo said, “Just seemed right.”

I raised an eyebrow, keeping an impeccable poker face. “It’s got nothing to do with them being a loud blond daylight hero with a destructive quirk?”

Kaminari frowned and tilted their head to the side. “What would that have to do with anything?”

“…Right,” said Midoriya. “Shoto went all in on sleeping bag-chan, but that’s since been debunked.”

“—Wait a second,” cut in Todoroki, looking like he’d just had the greatest idea of the century.

I was stronger than this. I had faced down murderers, supervillains, and trigger-high criminals without flinching. I could handle whatever was about to come out of my student’s mouth.

“Mr. Aizawa. If your students think of you as a dad… and Midoriya is one of your students… and we ALL know who HIS dad is…”

Oh, here it comes.

“Then you must be married to ALL MIGHT!”

Midoriya and Hitoshi both groaned. Midoriya looked at him exasperatedly. “Are you sure that’s what you want to bet on? Are you sure?”

Todoroki glanced at his phone. “Now that you mention it,” he hummed, “I’d like to place my bet on Present Mic.”

Holy shit? Todoroki being right? Is the world coming to an end? No, Midoriya has to be involved.

Sure enough, my ringtone played, one of the cats meowing.

I carefully held Uraraka’s braid in place with one hand and pulled out my phone.

Lavender Menace: he guessed right but now hes doing this?? i think hes playing 4d chess

Attached was a screenshot of a group chat named “Polycule against endeavor’s kneecaps”.

IceIceBabey🤍❤️: Toshi that’s the worst meme Ive ever seen.

IceIceBabey🤍❤️: Im sending it to my siblings immediately

Me: i cant be held responsible if they disown ur ass

BFwiththebraincell💚: ok hear me out. Shoto pls bet on mic being Aizawa’s partner. You hvae some proof roght

Me: ALZNSLXNAKSN IZU WHY

IceIceBabey🤍❤️: I do. Why would I do this?

BFwiththebraincell💚: jsut trust me.

BFwiththebraincell💚: Yoy can shift to All Might latr!!

IceIceBabey🤍❤️: Okay.

Problem child, what are you up to?

I slipped my phone back in my pocket, going back to working on Uraraka’s braids.

Bakugo made a disgusted noise, climbing out of the cuddle puddle and onto the couch’s back once again.

“If Pikachu and IcyHot are both guessing Present Mic, then I’m jumping ship. Sign me up for Snipe, he’s got a nice flashy quirk, is pretty rational or whatever, and who knows, he might not be totally awful looking under that mask.”

“Hey!” cried Kaminari indignantly, trying and failing to push Bakugo off of the back of the couch. God, that kid’s core strength was incredible. “If you’re gonna ditch us, that just means more of the prize for me, Jirou, and Todoroki! Plus, maybe he’s a messed up clock, or whatever that English saying is!”

“A broken clock is correct twice a day,” Iida dutifully recited in English, and Hizashi gave an enthusiastic burst of applause. Iida bowed slightly.

As I wound one of the hair ties around the end of Uraraka’s bang braid, I watched Midoriya’s face as he busied himself with changing Bakugo’s bet. Just for a moment, he was pleased.

Hmm.

“Next side,” I told Uraraka, and she scooted around to give me access to her other side bang. I started carefully measuring it into five strands.

I watched Midoriya out of my peripheral vision, the meddler of the hour quickly closing his notebook and announcing, “So that’s all the bets!”

“Coward.” The darkness seemed to emanate from the floor between the Bakusquad and polycule couches, and from within it, Tokoyami raised their head. “Say my vote.”

Hitoshi glanced at me, a deep horror in their eyes, and then slid to Midoriya. “Do we have to? Can’t we skip this? I’m literally begging you. There’s no way they’re right! We can just ignore it!”

“But the implications…” whispered Todoroki. “If they ARE right—”

A chill ran down my spine. Whatever this was, I didn’t like it one bit. I started weaving Uraraka’s braid to calm myself.

Hitoshi tugged at their capture scarf unhappily. “They’re LITERALLY NOT.”

Todoroki hissed, “To your knowledge.”

Hitoshi took in a deep, calming breath, using their hands to squish Todoroki’s cheeks. “You know what, you’re right! And if they’re also right, then it’s going to kill me and I’m going to haunt your ass.”

The windup on this was starting to creep towards anxiety. Who could Tokoyami possibly think I was dating? It couldn’t be worse than the sleeping bag, right?

I had my sights set firmly on the braid I was putting together, but I saw Hizashi’s sneaky smile out of the corner of my eye. My husband said, “Well, if your classmates are cowards, then let the record show that I’m no ‘fraidy cat. Tokoyami, who do you think is Aizawa’s partner?”

As Hitoshi and Midoriya froze, Tokoyami crowed gleefully. “I asked the Void who our esteemed Sensei would be dating, and the Void answered, ‘Aizawa is in a polycule with All Might and Nedzu!’”

My soul left my body. 

“Since All Might is involved, that would mean that Izuku is your child as well,” interjected Todoroki, breaking free of Hitoshi’s hands to look directly at me. “And if you had your child in class, you would be giving them special treatment!”

Midoriya and Hitoshi both side eyed Todoroki. Did he not know that Hitoshi was my kid? I couldn’t give it any thought, too busy trying to hold onto the braid and the vestiges of my sanity.

“Y’know,” said Hizashi slowly, “I actually regret asking.”

Dark Shadow whispered something to Tokoyami, who hummed thoughtfully. “We would like to change our answer to something more… understandable.”

“PLEASE,” the class hollered.

“God, yes!” Hitoshi put their palms together like they were praying.

Tokoyami held out their hands. Normally, Midoriya would be fiercely protective of his notebook, but he was so relieved that he didn’t think twice before passing it to Hitoshi, who sent it to Tokoyami. They opened it up, and I could hear the scratching of lead on paper in the unnaturally silent room.

I secured the braid and patted Uraraka on the shoulder. She looked at her braids and smiled at me. The quiet felt too pointed to break, so she gave me two thumbs up. Uraraka gestured to the bag of clips and then to her braids, and I shook my head; the clips were just too big for what she wanted.

Dark Shadow loomed over Tokoyami’s shoulder and gave a firm nod, grabbing the notebook and sending it back.

Hizashi made grabby hands at Uraraka. I nudged her over towards them, and she settled in front of my husband’s chair. He set about putting the clips in her hair.

I looked up to see Hitoshi opening the notebook and staring, their face scrunched like I’d just told them we weren’t getting coffee after our morning run. They pressed the book to their chest and looked at Midoriya with fear in their eyes. 

Oh no?

Midoriya paused, then held a hesitant hand out for it. Hitoshi desperately shook their head. Midoriya stopped, then grimaced and reached again. Hitoshi audibly gulped and handed the notebook back.

Midoriya flipped it open. I would have missed his reaction if I hadn’t been teaching the kid. I’d had to get very good at reading him since he didn’t know his own damn limits and wouldn’t advocate for himself, so I had to know exactly the moment to pull him out of training.

His muscles tensed minutely, and his expression… it didn’t change much, but to my discerning eyes, it screamed dread.

Bakugo’s voice came from the Bakusquad couch, sounding bored. “Whatever, don’t waste my time with some lame-ass opinion, let’s just get on with this shitshow.”

I blinked. It was easy to forget Bakugo was just as capable at reading his childhood friend as I was, if not better. And sometimes he could even be described as thoughtful. Not that anyone could say that to his face and get out unscathed.

Midoriya gave Bakugo a strained but grateful smile. 

“Okay, but what is ittttt,” whined Hagakure. “Just spit it out already!”

“Y’all sure are building this up. I’m ready to hear it!” cried Hizashi. Right, they didn’t know how to read Midoriya like I did. I was about to sign to him when Todoroki grabbed the notebook.

“Tokoyami’s vote is—” He read it, read it again, and slowly handed the notebook back. “I actually don’t think this is my place to say.”

Midoriya took it again, his face struggling to remain neutral.

“Come ONNNN!” cried Ashido. Bakugo gave her a poisonous glare.

Midoriya gulped. “Tokoyami’s vote is that Aizawa’s partners are Nedzu, All Might, and… my mom.”

Chapter Text

I saw the bright light at the end of the tunnel. Dark Shadow licked her lips, reaching for me, but Tokoyami grabbed my spirit and gleefully hurled it back into my body.

“What the fuck.” I gasped out, putting my head between my knees.

“HOW IS THIS MORE ‘UNDERSTANDABLE,’ YOU HOT TOPIC REJECT?!” yelled Hitoshi, and Midoriya threw himself over their lap to keep them from fistfighting Tokoyami.

Dark Shadow crowed, “All Might is Midoriya’s father. Therefore, it’s quite obvious that Midoriya’s mother would join the polycule as well!”

“No,” I groaned. “No, it’s not obvious. I—”

“NO SPOILERS!” screamed Iida.

Hizashi was doubled over with silent laughter, interspersed with quiet wheezes.

At least they’d finished Uraraka’s hair before going down.

She had two flower clips in place, somewhat reminiscent of cat ears. Yaoyorozu was already taking pictures for her.

“Dark Shadow, this is truly genius work,” Todoroki wrote furiously in his conspiracy notebook. “How did I not see that the conspiracy for all the teachers being cis would naturally include a massive polycule?”

Midoriya groaned loudly and pushed Todoroki off of the couch. He hit the floor with a thump but still didn’t stop writing.

“Todoroki,” and there were a million questions I could ask. I snagged one from my swarm of thoughts. “Are you going to switch your answer?”

“No!” he thumped his conspiracy notebook. “The official story is likely you’re dating Present Mic, and then the unofficial story is the tangled web of polycule!”

In response, Hizashi squeaked with laughter and Hitoshi made a sound like their soul was dying.

It was, as Kaminari would say, a ‘big mood.’

If one of the kids ever heard that come out of my mouth, I’d never know another moment of peace.

Jirou hummed uncertainly, leaning into Ashido and twirling her earphone jack. “Just what makes you so sure it’s Present Mic? No offense, but I wouldn’t exactly expect you to spot a relationship when you see it.”

“I have PROOF!” crowed Todoroki, slamming his thick notebook on the coffee table.

I didn’t believe in a higher power, not after all I’d seen, but I found myself praying. God, can you hear me? Please smite this child.

Unbidden, I pictured Nedzu on a cloud about to toss a villain attack down at Todoroki.

Shit. Cancel that smite. My hell class has had enough bullshit for several lifetimes.

Todoroki flipped it open to a page titled, ‘Aizawa: alternate partners to Sleeping Bag-Chan.’

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. Okay. Maybe a little smite? I mentally shook myself. No. No smiting.

Gathering my strength, I brought my hands down and watched as Todoroki skimmed down a list of bullet points.

Todoroki sucked in a big breath. “Aizawa grumbles about Mic-sensei more than he does about any other teacher, and we all know he does that to show affection!”

Uraraka fidgeted with one of her flower clips. “He does occasionally dole out compliments, but I’ve never heard him give one to Mic-sensei? Wouldn’t he, y’know, like to say nice things about his partner?”

Yes! My cautious considerations were paying off. It wasn’t often that I voiced what I liked about someone, but whenever I did so about my husband, I made sure it was only in the presence of people in the know.

“Okay, but that’s not my only point!” Todoroki shook his notebook. “I saw Yamada bring Aizawa lunch once, and Aizawa said thank you!”

“That’s just normal though?” Sato frowned, holding a half-eaten red velvet cookie with a cream center. It looked so good that I was almost tempted to grab one, even though I didn’t care too much for sweets.

Todoroki nodded gravely. “But they TOUCHED HANDS.”

Ashido, cuddling with Jirou next to me, threw her head back and whooped, “GaaAAAAY!”

Can’t argue with that.

“Is… is that it?” Hizashi asked, drumming his fingers impatiently against his legs.

“I’m not done!” Todoroki slid down almost to the bottom of the page. “Mic-sensei is really proud of his funky sock collection, many of which just have choice English words on them, and then I noticed Aizawa wearing Mic’s English swear word socks!”

I resolutely swore not to allow socks to do me in.

“There’s a reason for that,” I cut in, “Mic got me those for my birthday, and the day I wore them to class, every other pair of mine was dirty.”

It wasn’t ideal, but what else could I have done that day but walk into class wearing ‘fuck’ socks? Wear my dirty socks? Do my laundry? Ridiculous.

“Be that as it may,” Todoroki hummed as he grabbed a cookie off of one of Sato’s platters. His other hand tapped on the last block of text. “Marriage is where you hate the other person and pretend you aren’t married and also are extremely incompatible. Being near them might make you physically ill. Like when we were at the store and Yamada got very close to Aizawa, and Aizawa said that he was getting sick and that’s why he was flushed.”

“Alright, jumping ship,” Kaminari shook their head sadly. “I‘m with Mina. Fake dating scheme. No way Sensei has enough game for a partner.”

“Maybe Aizawa was making a joke?” Jirou offered uncertainly.

“Give it UP, you know I’m right,” Ashido laughed, rubbing her cheek against Jirou’s shoulder.

I couldn’t help but feel a little insulted, but my attention was quickly diverted by Todoroki looking up at me. “By the way, you mentioned a figure of speech at the store. What does ‘that gets under my skin’ mean.”

“Okaaaay,” clapped Hizashi. “That’s for another day! Glad to have all that proof out of the way so that we can get to the reveal!”

“But I’m not done,” Todoroki stated flatly, and he turned the page. I repressed a grimace at the full block of text, and Todoroki poked a finger at the words like they had personally wronged him. “Yamada and Aizawa separately complain about a neighbor for different reasons!”

My husband and I made awkward eye contact and looked away. I didn’t make a habit of complaining about them to my class, but it happened every once in a while. Besides, I always kept it vague. Did Hizashi do the same? God, was this really going to be the thing that gave us away?

Todoroki raised the notebook above his head with a gleeful flourish. “And I have deduced that this awful neighbor is none other than All Might!”

The class muttered, Midoriya and Hitoshi appraising Todoroki with exasperation. I just looked at Hizashi, who was looking back at me, bewildered.

The teacher dorms were set up in the exact same way the student dorms were, including the 4 lodging floors split into 2 sides. That made a total of 8 de facto floors. With 11 staff living there, and considering that Hizashi and I shared our room, that made 10 rooms and 8 floors. In other words, 2 shared floors. Power Loader was almost never home, so his room was a few doors down from Vlad. And All Might was settled on the 1st floor… with me and Hizashi.

And, well. There were certainly official reasons for this, like ‘If someone is powerful enough to get past the U.A. defenses to attack All Might, then you have a decent chance at erasing their quirk!’ But more to the point, I was certain that The Rat just wanted to see me suffer.

Still, Todoroki and Midoriya had been over to our apartment for family dinners. We hadn’t exactly made an effort to make them think we lived separately, even if Hizashi and I kept a tight lid on our relationship status. Was Todoroki’s evidence from before he’d started dating Hitoshi? After? Fuck, did Todoroki think we WANTED him to think we lived in separate apartments? Trying to figure out his thought process was like looking into a funhouse mirror.

Todoroki‘s expression was intense. “We all know that All Might has a liquid diet. Which explains why Yamada complained that their neighbor eats mostly jelly pouches, which they don’t throw away and just leave scattered around.”

After .6 seconds of thought, I decided that I was okay with All Might taking the fall for this particular sin. It was a bad habit, but in my defense, I threw them away initially. The living room trash was just frequently knocked over by cats, and I didn’t always get around to cleaning up the mess again until the next day. I moved ‘pick up a trash can with a better lid’ further up my to-do list.

Todoroki slapped the notebook on the table and underlined the next point with his finger. “Yamada complained about stepping in cat poop, and we’ve all seen the many, many photos of All Meowt to understand where this is coming from.”

He’s literally pet our cats before. What the fuck. Still, per doctor’s orders for stress relief, All Might had gotten a cat. She was admittedly very cute, and he’d let Midoriya name her. Rookie mistake.

Anyhow, that particular incident was definitely my fault. I had unplugged the automatic litter box to retrieve the metric fuck ton of toys that Mischief had hidden behind it. …And I had possibly forgotten to plug it back in.

Todoroki was smiling now. “Additionally, Yamada said that their neighbor has atrocious fashion sense and only wears the same outfit over and over again. Quote, ‘It’s like he doesn’t know any other colors exist!’” He triumphantly looked up to see everyone’s reactions.

I glared at Hizashi, who was currently closely examining their nails. Really, I can understand the first two, but complaining to your class about my ‘lack of fashion’?

Sato spoke up. “Remember when Mic-sensei was going to bring us cookies, but he said that his neighbor or something messed up the cookie dough so they couldn’t bring them to class? Guys, I don’t think All Might can bake.”

Okay, that one wasn’t me. Hizashi had promised to bring the class homemade cookies if they all passed their English test. The class had split into groups to study, Yaoyorozu stayed up and helped Kaminari go over the material, and on a hunch, Hizashi had printed out Kaminari’s test in a dyslexia-friendly font. The whole class had passed.

The next morning Hizashi had been hard at work making cookies. Creature ran screaming into the kitchen at 6 am, as she was wont to do. She spooked Hitoshi, ninja jumped off of the fridge in an extraordinary feat of acrobatics, and landed face-first into Hizashi’s mixing bowl. (We still had yet to see man or beast replicate that jump.)

Hitoshi and I had cleaned up Creature, while Hizashi, short on time and ingredients, had to buy the class premade cookies instead. They’d sprung for the extra-large kind and made sure that there was enough for everyone to have two. Still, a few members of the class had been quietly disappointed by the lack of homemade cookies, so Sato brought in a batch the next day.

Back in the present, Todoroki speedily wrote down Sato’s words in the margins of the page. “Thank you for this excellent proof!” He steamrolled on. “Meanwhile, Aizawa says his neighbor really is just way too loud.”

This was very specifically about my husband, of course, but I could practically hear the booming, ‘I am HERE!’ that was playing in everyone’s heads.

That could have been one of several days, but I was 75% certain it had been the morning that Hizashi’s favorite song had come on while they were in the shower. No hearing aids in, so the radio was already turned up too high as it was, and then he’d sung along so loudly that it had scared the cats, caused me to go for my earplugs AND noise canceling headphones, and netted Hizashi the following text from Power Loader: “ig i fell into bed and forgot to set my alarm. thx for the wake up!”

Todoroki underlined his next point, “He has also muttered about the ‘annoying blond’ using up ‘too much damn hair gel.’”

Jirou twisted her earphone jack. “It is true that there’s no way All Might’s bangs rest like that normally.”

Yes, Hizashi had made a mess of hair gel on the counter one day. It wouldn’t have been an issue, but before he had a chance to clean it up, Peep had stepped in it. We’d had to spend ten minutes chasing them around the apartment until we could catch the unrepentant kitten and wash it off of their paws.

“Actually,” Midoriya raised a finger. “His Mighty Antennae remain upright even after going through events that by all means should have washed off any gel, like the Suzuki River Rescue, where he saved 14 people from drowning when the bridge collapsed due to shoddy materials and heavy rain weakening the support structures!”

Midoriya hadn’t taken a single breath during that. How on earth.

Hitoshi watched Midoriya lovingly as they played with their capture scarf.

Sero mused, “Could it be he has hero-strength hair gel?”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, judging by Bakugo’s quiet scoff and the way Midoriya’s eyes narrowed at Sero.

“While it is a possibility,” Midoriya said cheerfully, “I wouldn’t say it’s probable. A casual observer could be forgiven for thinking so, but considering that during the promotional interview for his Mighty O’s cereal, he said that—” his voice lowered to under his breath muttering, going to his phone and typing rapidly.

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Oi, Deku! Look it up later, we got shit to do!”

“But, Kacchan, if I don’t do it right now, then I’m going to forget—!”

Hitoshi reached forward and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. Midoriya dropped his phone and hid his red face in his joyfriend’s capture weapon, and god, that was adorable.

Several class members loudly cried, “Aww!”

“I didn’t mean weaponize the nerd’s damn crush,” Bakugo scoffed. “But whatever works.”

This whole situation played out at least once a week, but still, I saw Hizashi snap a picture.

Todoroki used the opportunity to shout, “GAAAAAAY,” nabbing Midoriya’s phone before his boyfriend could recover from his blush.

“Hey!” Midoriya squeaked, thoroughly defeated, his hands still covering his face.

“Works every time. Don’t worry,” Hitoshi said, one hand carding through Midoriya’s hair, the other typing on their phone. “Making a note in the discord to look up the cereal commercial, Izu.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

I was about to nudge Hizashi to send the picture to me, except my ringtone went off and he gave me a thumbs up. I affectionately bumped my arm against his.

Todoroki put Midoriya’s phone to the side and got us back on track. “Aizawa also complained that his neighbor got a ton of their hero merch and scattered it around the common area!”

Now it was my turn to pointedly examine my capture weapon for loose fibers.

Hizashi really had put a lot of merch out, but they had been very excited about how the most recent batch was looking. Still, I just wanted to get through my morning without being judged by my husband and his cadre of Present Mic bobbleheads.

Hizashi had said, “A jelly pouch for breakfast? You need to eat more than that, babe! Crew, back me up on this!” And then he’d flicked the small army of bobbleheads until they were all nodding. Luckily, eating some of Hizashi’s pancakes seemed to satisfy The Crew.

Todoroki stabbed at the last line of text with his finger. “Besides that, both teachers complain that they can’t get their neighbor to rest!”

“Yeah, get ‘em, babe.” Hitoshi gave Todoroki a rub on the shoulder and stuck their tongue out at us.

Hizashi and I snorted, giving each other side eye. At least I nap. Sometimes Hizashi gets hyperfixated on their task and won’t stop until they physically can’t keep going anymore. I’ve had to carry him to bed more than once.

Todoroki lifted the conspiracy notebook up just to smack it grandly on the table. “Checkmate! They MUST BE living together!”

Iida chopped heatedly, “There is an obvious explanation for this entire debacle, which is that their rooms could be on either side of All Might!”

Todoroki shook his head rapidly. “BUT THEY HAVE TO BE LIVING TOGETHER.” He flipped the page back and pointed at a line. “They both have cat hair on their clothes!”

Midoriya was sweating. “B-but, they could just both have cats? Or it’s from All Meowt? Or, it’s because they’re friends?”

“Yeah, Todoroki,” Jirou shook their head, “honestly, the more you talk, the less I feel like you’re right. I was so sure, but you just keep making me want to walk it back. I’m also with Mina.”

Todoroki rapped on the page unhappily. “I don’t know how you can’t see it. They’re obviously living together!”

You’re right about that one.

Jirou rolled her eyes, playing with her headphone jack. “Yeah, they’re like, childhood friends or whatever. They might be roommates, but no offense, Aizawa-sensei, I think Mic-sensei is out of your league.”

“COOOOLD,” Hizashi howled with a shit-eating grin.

Ashido threw her arms up and did jazz hands. “Our ranks are growing!”

“Alright,” I cut them off tersely, “are we done here?”

For a moment, nobody spoke. Midoriya subtly nodded to Todoroki, who took in a breath and grandly announced, “I’m changing my vote to the cis polycule.”

Several students threw their heads back and groaned loudly.

My thoughts whirred. Was everything Todoroki just did for the bit? Or to sow chaos? Then, what about his notebook? I saw the polycule group texts; he couldn’t have known to prepare that ahead of time. How much of this does he ACTUALLY believe? Y’know what, fuck it, I’m still not paid enough for this shit.

Hizashi subtly bumped my arm. It would have been comforting if they weren’t actively trying to keep their giggles down.

“Another vote for the darkness,” Tokoyami said with a low undercurrent of glee.

“Alright,” Midoriya noted it down with a wince, Hitoshi rubbing their shoulder. “Anybody else?”

The room was silent.

“Locking in votes,” Midoriya said as he wrote and then looked up at me. “Alright, time for the big reveal. Sensei?”

I ground my teeth together. How did Hizashi talk me into this? “Alright, you kids can’t let this leave this room. It’s possible for this information to be used against either one of us.”

I thought for a moment about what would make them even more motivated to keep this between the class and hit on the perfect thing. “I know that it will bring you no joy to keep this secret, especially since this will make certain members of Class 1-B furious to know that you have privileged information that they cannot know.” 

Iida chopped furiously, “We are upstanding students who take such information seriously. Of course we would take no joy in keeping this from them!” 

“Speak for yourself!” Bakugo gave a wicked smile from the Bakusquad couch and elbowed Kaminari. “I’m looking forward to giving Copycat a goddamn conniption. Pikachu, you let it slip to him who Sensei’s married to, and I’m killing your ass!” 

Kaminari made an insulted noise. “Why’d you immediately assume I would tell that jerk anything?!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “You gossip like an old lady!”

Not that I was glad that Bakugo was threatening murder, but I was pleased that I’d just used my class’s competitive spirit to make it much less likely for the information to spread to the rest of the school.

Hizashi cleared his throat and broke out his announcer’s voice. “Now the person your old grump of a sensei is married to—drumroll please!”

The class drummed their hands on the couch and their thighs, leaning forwards in anticipation.

With far too much relish, Hizashi announced, “Isssssssss… ME!”

The class erupted with screams. Kaminari grabbed Sero and shook him, Uraraka threw herself to the floor and let out an anguished wail, Iida gazed at us in utter disbelief, while Tokoyami and Todoroki shook their fists at god. Hizashi, Midoriya, and Hitoshi were reveling in the chaos. It is possible that I was enjoying it, too.

Asui leaned out over her armrest. “But you sounded like you hated Present Mic-sensei when you were announcing the sports festival!”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “I was literally in a full-body cast, and Hizashi decided I should be an announcer with them. Of course I sounded like I hated everything.”

Hizashi snorted and made a quick X with his arms. “Hold up, I told you that if you checked yourself out of the hospital early that I’d make you my co-announcer. So that you’d keep resting, ya dig? And then you went ahead and checked out anyway!”

I harrumphed and crossed my arms. “That’s completely beside the point.”

Uraraka slowly sat up out of her dramatic death pose on the floor and looked around. “Wait, nobody won? Then what do we do with the pot?”

“Well, that’s not true,” Hitoshi said, and their smile looked startlingly like my toothy grin. “We have one winner. Behold.” They raised Midoriya’s hand into the air.

“WHAT!”

“No fucking way!”

“Seriously?!”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

Midoriya slipped off of the couch and straightened his shirt. “Time for my presentation!” He pointed to the TV, which no longer held the paused movie. It now showed a PowerPoint slide labeled ‘Why Present Mic and Eraserhead are absolutely married, by Izuku Midoriya’.

Oh my god. When did he get it up there? No, much more importantly, how long has he had this prepared?

Hitoshi dug into their popcorn bowl. And when did they make that? They offered some to Todoroki, who grabbed a handful as he got up and headed towards the kitchen.

“Wait,” Hizashi laughed in disbelief, pointing to the TV. “You’re really going to give a whole PowerPoint?”

“Shh, just let it happen,” Ashido said, and Uraraka lowered Hizashi’s hand.

I pointed at the popcorn with my eyebrows raised, asking for some.

Hitoshi smirked and put the popcorn down in their lap. They signed with gusto, “If you wanted some, you should have brought it.”

Throwing my words back at me from when I denied them a juice pouch. Little punk.

Todoroki came back from the kitchen with a decently sized box. Hitoshi reached into a drawer on the coffee table and unearthed a pile of communal stim toys that I’d stocked the dorms with. “We’re gonna need these.” They started stacking the empty pastry platters to make some room on the coffee table.

By the sound of it, Hagakure was happy stimming by drumming her feet on the floor. “Oh my GOD, Midoriya infodump! HYPE!”

Todoroki opened the box. “For the great cause of Zuku’s PowerPoint.” He poured it out on the coffee table, unleashing a cascade of shiny new stim toys.

“Ten points extra credit,” I awarded him, eyeing the pile appreciatively. I spotted hand rollers, infinity cubes, stress balls, sleek fidget spinners, tangle toys, chew necklaces, water timers, and more. He had it all. And, I realized happily, they were all quiet toys. More than one of my students got agitated when others were stimming noisily. “Make that 20 points extra credit.”

“Bakugo gets the red stress balls,” Midoriya said, pointing them out on the table. “They’re designed to withstand quirks, so hopefully they can handle the nitroglycerin a little longer than the other ones.”

Bakugo grunted, snagging one of them off of the table. “That’s not a completely stupid-ass idea.”

From him, it was a compliment, and Midoriya beamed.

The class gleefully swiped up various stims with thanks, and they passed them around. Todoroki tossed Midoriya an All Might chew necklace. Hitoshi started popping apart several red, white, and blue All Might tangle toys. Bakugo squeezed a stress ball in one hand while he gnawed on a chew necklace, the pendant shaped like a plume of fire. Shouji had a hand roller in the grip of each of his dupliarms. Aoyama was delightedly twisting and turning a water timer with iridescent liquid inside. Jirou was poking a black stress ball over and over again with her earphone jacks, absentmindedly biting a music note chew necklace. Ashido stole one of Bakugo’s red stress balls and was actively trying to melt it.

Todoroki struggled with a puzzle as Iida tried to take his apart faster. “Do not worry, Todoroki! I, your class president, shall defeat this fiendish gadget and assist you in your fight!”

“Uh,” Todoroki held up the seven pieces of the puzzle, “I finished it. I can help you with yours, though.”

“No, no, I must defeat my foe with my own cunning wit!”

Todoroki shrugged, putting the pieces back together again. “If you say so.”

Kouda chewed on a necklace with a rabbit pendant. Uraraka floated a water timer, Hagakure making it spin lazily. Asui had her hands on a fidget spinner with a small cartoon tadpole etched on the top, while wound around her wrist was a frog chew pendant, its tongue forming the red necklace cord. Sero was trying to use his tape to rotate a fidget spinner, and it was going poorly.

Tokoyami held up the infinity cube and announced darkly, “I have Infinite Power!”

Dark Shadow grabbed a galaxy themed water timer, watching it intently. CRACK! She bit the top straight off and guzzled the liquid.

I ignored Hizashi’s gasp of horror to heave my own put-upon sigh. “Don’t destroy the stim toys,” I commanded firmly. “Todoroki got those for the class.”

“Sorry, Sensei,” Ashido and Dark Shadow chorused, each sounding supremely unapologetic.

I pretended I didn’t see Ashido slip Dark Shadow the goopy remains of the red stress ball.

Sato spun a cake themed fidget spinner, where the middle layer of the cake slice spun freely. Kaminari gnawed happily on a lightning bolt chew necklace. Hitoshi finally finished his project, moving aside the blue tangle segments and presenting Todoroki with a tangle that was half white, half red.

This will definitely help my hellions pay attention to this godforsaken PowerPoint.

After the class had their pick, I reached into the pile and retrieved an infinity cube. I’d never used one because they made a faint clicking noise and required the use of both hands, but this seemed like as good a time as any to try it out. I also tossed Hizashi the water timer they were eyeing. He caught it with a grin and a thumbs up.

“Oh, Sensei,” Yaoyorozu looked up at me with a smile. “While you were braiding my hair, I made a bunch of earplugs!”

She took the last bite of her cookie and wiped off her hands with a napkin, pulling open another drawer of the coffee table. Inside there was a rainbow treasure trove of earplugs. Some of them had connecting straps so they would be harder to lose, others had a claw clip on the stem so they could be attached to a bracelet or necklace, and still more were in clear cases.

I was suddenly certain that Yaoyorozu, my saint of a student, was the universe making up for the rest of my hellions. I firmly put her mustard gas incident out of my mind. “Thirty points extra credit.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” Yaoyorozu said, shyly plucking an infinity cube from the table.

I could see Iida already raising his hand and I cut him off. “Yes, Iida, you too can get extra credit by bringing in accessibility aids for the class.”

He didn’t need the points, but even the stim toys that were quirk resistant still weren’t 1-A resistant. A steady supply of replacements might help keep the mayhem down. In fact, that was an excellent idea. I made a mental note to see if Todoroki would set up a monthly delivery of stim toys on Endeavor’s card.

Iida lowered his hand, and Midoriya cleared his throat. The class turned their attention to him, settling into the couches with their new stim toys.

“Now that everyone is ready for the long haul, it’s TIME.”

Midoriya gestured grandly to the TV as the slide changed to one titled, ‘General evidence: married vs partner, babe, papa vs daddy bear, pronouns.’

Pronouns? God, this was going to be a long PowerPoint.

“First off,” Midoriya gestured to the page, “Present Mic said ‘married to’ in his text to the class where he proposed the wager, when the proof we had up to that point said partner, only implying they MIGHT be married. Of course, this knowledge could be because Present Mic and Aizawa have known each other for a long time, and thus he knew of this relationship, but it feels like there’s more to the story, right?” He pointed to the next line. “Yamada also played off calling Aizawa ‘babe’ earlier, and the whole papa vs. daddy bear thing, which was so brazen I’m surprised that none of you picked up on it.”

I looked to glare at Hizashi, and he froze in putting a handful of popcorn up to his mouth.

“Why do they get popcorn?” I signed to Hitoshi irritably.

“Gave me their juice pouch,” they returned with a smug grin.

The next slide was this image:

What the fuck.

“Oh my god,” Hagakure squealed.

Hizashi crowed happily, “That’s a chart topper for sure! Send it to the chat, will ya, listener?”

Midoriya smiled happily, preening. “Of course.”

Asui cocked her head. “How did you edit this in, that JUST happened.”

Midoriya raised an eyebrow, which was something he must have been practicing.

Last month Hitoshi had been taunting him because, and I quote, “I can’t believe you got in the hero course and you can’t even raise your eyebrow. That’s practically a prerequisite for taunting villains. I could do it in general classes.”

When Midoriya had complained about his plight at dinner, Todoroki, Hitoshi, Hizashi, and I all answered him with a single raised brow. He’d stood up and walked straight out of the apartment.

The poor kid hadn’t realized Creature had used the opportunity to escape out the door, and when he stopped by All Might’s apartment on the way out, the cat darted inside. We all ended up hunting Creature through All Might’s home.

All Might, holding All Meowt, asked, “Why won’t you all stop raising one eyebrow?”

“It helps with cat hunting,” Hitoshi answered, deadpan.

All Might shrugged, quirked a brow, and turned around to the kitchen.

Midoriya screamed, “NOT YOU TOO!” dashing past us and flying out the door.

It had been fun teasing him for that.

Back in the present, Midoriya had his eyebrow cocked triumphantly. “How did I make this grade-A meme so quickly, you ask? I have my ways.”

Hitoshi whispered loudly, “It’s a meme on our discord server, and he was so excited to get to use it.”

Wait. They joked about me on their discord server?

Midoriya made a noise of betrayal. “Hey, joyfriends don’t get to tell all their boyfriend’s secrets!”

“I made the meme,” Todoroki announced proudly. “You would not believe how hard it was to find two gay bears to photoshop. For some reason, my search kept coming up with—”

“As I was saying,” Midoriya cut in, saving me from an even worse headache. “Aizawa ALWAYS knows Yamada’s pronouns, even when they shouldn’t have seen each other yet that day.”’

Of all of the things to give us away, I didn’t think that pronouns would be anywhere on the list.

Midoriya gestured at Hitoshi, who chuckled lowly. “And now for my favorite part,” they shoved a handful of popcorn in their mouth and clicked to the next slide with gusto.

It was titled, ‘The Grand Scheme To Definitively Discover Aizawa-Sensei’s Partner’.

Oh, god, no.

Chapter Text

Midoriya pointed at the title of the slide. I rubbed my eyes and read it again, just in case it had changed since I had seen it three seconds ago.

“The Grand Scheme To Definitively Discover Aizawa-Sensei’s Partner.”

Nope. Still the same, and probably going to be the death of me.

Midoriya cleared his throat and nodded at the TV. “The name was chosen by Shoto. I wouldn’t quite call the plan a grand scheme, but uh,” he laughed nervously, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “First off, when I overheard the joke Mic made about Aizawa’s partner being hot, I had to figure out how many people were in the room because Midnight said something about a kiss afterwards, so it HAD to be one of the people around.”

Considering the utter thoroughness of his previous impromptu PowerPoints (on ‘why Stain ain’t shit’ and ‘a few reasons Endeavor should have his hero license revoked right at this exact second’), I felt completely justified in breaking out into a cold sweat.

The next slide was practically covered from corner to corner with the names and pictures of the main staff members.

“So the ones in that room were Aizawa and Midnight, of course, along with All Might, 13, Snipe, Lunch Rush, and Present Mic, with a possibility of Nedzu, but I’ll come back to him in a minute.”

As the kid spoke, circles appeared around the people he mentioned. Comparing it to the dumpster fire of a presentation All Might gave last week, I was impressed with my student’s use of transitions. The detail would have been the main focus of my attention if I hadn’t noticed Tokoyami lean forward towards the screen.

“The polycule…” he rumbled ominously from his place on the floor.

Dark Shadow wound around him and sliced her fingers through a red stress ball. “Quirk resistant?” she giggled, making me see visions of a strange alien landscape, and then the stress ball fell into three neat pieces.

I flashed my quirk, wondering for the umpteenth time why hadn’t I expelled this class immediately.

Midoriya gave a nervous smile and looked into the middle distance. “Not gonna acknowledge that.” Focusing back on his audience, he used his All Might tangle to gesture to the TV. “So, I obviously had to narrow down options for who could be Aizawa’s partner.

“First off, I asked All Might for relationship advice and learned he’d never been in a relationship since work was so all-consuming. He also said that he’s never felt attraction or need for a partner.”

The next slide was an edit of All Might with an aroace flag behind him. “Courtesy of Tumblr user All-Mighty-Pride.”

Huh, that was nicely done.

“Friend!” Kouda signed happily to Asui, who flapped her hands with a wide smile.

As Midoriya went on a side tangent about the Tumblr blog that posted pride edits of various heroes, I looked around to see everyone utterly enraptured with what the kid was saying. I really couldn’t understand why the class was behaving themselves now, so unlike how they’d acted at the movies. I caught Hitoshi’s eye and signed, “Why is everyone so captivated?”

They smiled and tapped their fingers against each other for a moment, thinking. They returned, “It’s like a video essay, but with better memes.”

Huh. Hitoshi and their polycule had recommended me a handful of video essays, and Hitoshi and Midoriya both sent me the same one on the history of Japan’s underground heroes. Intrigued, I had put it on in the background while grading papers.

The video had turned into a ruthless exposé on the Marionette Hero: Porcelain—which, I knew from experience, was warranted. They were extremely ruthless (which got them into all sorts of trouble), but their quirk made them look like an adorable doll (which got them out of trouble). The video contrasted her with several prominent underground heroes, including a few of my colleagues, and then fucking Eraserhead. Me.

That had put me off of video essays for a solid month, and I still had yet to get around to the one Midoriya had recommended to me on the history of some asinine pre-quirk show. This was mainly due to the video being nine hours long. Why on earth would I spend nine hours of my life watching that.

Midoriya absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair. “Back on track. Okay, so, the whole thing I said about All Might being aroace was shared with his permission, by the way! Since he had no reason to lie to me about being in a relationship, I asked him who Eraserhead’s partner was, and he said, ‘Aizawa is in a relationship?’ so I moved on from there.”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline and then furrowed. Hizashi and I literally lived in the same apartment, on the same floor as All Might, and hadn’t intended to keep our relationship a secret from him. How did he not know?

I gazed searchingly at Hizashi, who gave a helpless shrug.

Midoriya gesticulated with one hand, the other working his fidget toy. “I figured that I needed to figure out a way to ask the teachers questions without giving myself away. So I came up with a system! I would ask their sexuality and gender as part of a survey to make it clear that we have teachers who aren’t cis, since I’d been meaning to do it anyway! I also made sure to get permission to share my findings!” Midoriya sent a pointed look to Todoroki, who scoffed.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew for a fact that many of my colleagues weren’t cis, and at least some of them would be happy to explain that for Midoriya’s student survey. Did his findings not sway Todoroki? God.

The slide changed to a picture of me with angry eyebrows drawn on. My speech bubble said, ‘No fun allowed!!’ The class snickered, and I gave a long-suffering sigh.

Midoriya gestured to me.“Of course, I asked Aizawa to answer the survey first, and he said, ‘The day I purposefully give you personal information is a cold day in hell.’”

I was suddenly extremely glad that I had stuck with my gut instinct of ‘there’s shenanigans afoot’ and hadn’t said anything to my student.

Midoriya paced like a caged tiger. “That meant that I had to ask my survey to everyone in that room, and if someone sounded like they could be attracted to Aizawa, then I would ask them for advice on getting a gift for him to see who gave thoughtful, knowledgeable answers.” He planted his fist in his palm.

I looked at Hizashi, who was suddenly pensive, but turned it into a nervous smile when he saw me watching. A bad sign.

The slide changed to 13 in front of a handful of pride flags. “Okay, so 13 said that they’re genderfluid and some kind of aroace lesbian! That automatically removed them from the running.”

Uraraka groaned loudly, and Yaoyorozu patted her back. “Uraraka, aroace lesbians are SO COOL though!”

Uraraka nodded. “You’re right, but that was gonna be mochi money!” She groaned into her palms.

The next screen showed the names and pictures of the teachers who had been in the room when I’d kissed Hizashi.

Midnight, All Might, 13, Snipe, Lunch Rush, Present Mic, and Nedzu. All Might and 13 were crossed out.

Midoriya pointed to Snipe. “He said he didn’t want me sharing what he told me for the survey. I asked him what kind of gift I should get Aizawa, and he said salmiak licorice!”

Oh. Huh. I hadn’t expected him to have a decent answer to that question. It wasn’t exactly a correct answer, but it showed that he’d paid attention. That ticked my opinion of Snipe up a notch.

Midoriya gestured towards the TV. “I was initially worried about Lunch Rush, but that one was really easy to weed out.”

“Awww,” grumbled Sato.

“This guess was still magnifique! ☆” sighed Aoyama.

Midoriya clicked to the next slide.

It was labeled, “Dr. Midoriya gives the L.” For some godforsaken reason, the whole class started laughing, including my husband. I didn’t understand, but the day I asked for clarification on my student’s memes was a cold day in hell.

Midoriya waited for the giggles to die down and continued, “Lunch Rush declined to answer my survey. I moved into phase two and asked for his gift suggestion for Aizawa, and he said, ‘Eraser likes coffee, you could get him a gift card to LottaLatte,’ but I know for a fact that your morning coffee cup always has the logo of KittyCat Coffee, and LottaLatte is much more expensive than them, so I did the logical thing and I tried both places. LottaLatte was about the same quality but they took 30% longer to get me my order and you prize efficiency, plus it didn’t have any cats there, so it wasn’t REALLY a thoughtful gift once you looked at it. To make doubly sure, I dressed up as you and went into KittyCat Coffee, and the cats flocked to me!”

What. Why did my problem child decide to use his considerable talents and minuscule free time to do this? Who was supposed to be keeping him in line? Right, me. At least he didn’t put himself in active danger to, I don’t know, interview actual goddamn villains in their hideouts like he did for his Stain PowerPoint. It was a cold comfort.

The next three slides were all Midoriya interacting with the cats as me, complete with a wig, facial scar, and capture weapon. The class “Aww!”ed in response. The kid’s outfit really was uncannily good. It felt like someone was walking on my grave, and I shivered.

Midoriya continued unabated, “The employee also gave me your ‘usual order’ with minimal prying, which is good because you prize your privacy, and you wouldn’t want to answer questions like ‘why do you suddenly look like a high school student’ and ‘why are your goggles a subtly different shade of yellow, we were pretty sure it was hex code #D4AF41 and not #C8C075!’ Except that it was that color shade, just not underneath the lights at the café! And besides, you couldn’t really see it under the capture weapon. Also, your order was really good, but I actually don’t know what it was because I couldn’t ask or else the ruse would be up so if you could please tell me what it was that would be really great thank you!”

I prided myself on my ability to think on my feet and adapt to any situation that was thrown at me. But what on earth could I say to that?

The only one who had a tongue to speak was Todoroki. He raised his hand like we were in class, but didn’t wait to be called on. “Why didn’t you just look at what they wrote on the cup?”

Midoriya blinked, all of the vigor draining out of his body, and he put his head in his hands. “My life is in shambles.”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, in the face of the grand flood of whatever the fuck he was going on about. Midoriya would be an incredible underground hero if we could just get him some basic training on subtlety, perhaps tact? I eyed the bags under his eyes. Maybe he just needs some goddamn sleep. Have I ever seen what he’s like on a solid 8 hours? God, I doubt it.

Before I could get a sound out, Hizashi howled, “It’s a vanilla sweet cream nitro cold brew with extra whipped cream! Keep going! I’ve gotta know how this ends!”

Several students hollered as Midoriya rocketed his head out of his hands and pumped his fist.

Fucking hell. There goes my black coffee mystique.

He went to pull out his phone to write it down but Todoroki still had possession of it, and waved him off. “Izu, I’ll send it to the discord.”

Midoriya smiled gratefully at him and clicked the next slide.

It was labeled, ‘Supa Hot Mic wins the Gift-Rap Battle.’

Once again, what the fuck.

“How long did you SPEND ON THESE?” cried Ojirou, several students calling in agreement.

“The biggest chunk of time was just getting photographs!” Midoriya said cheerfully. “I have a bunch of pictures of me for past PowerPoint memes, of course, but I also had to get ones of teachers! As a popular daylight hero, Present Mic was easy enough to find. Getting a good one of Lunch Rush was more difficult. Normally I would go to UA’s website to get staff pictures, but it doesn’t list faculty for security reasons. I could have worn a hidden camera to try and get footage, but that was deemed ‘excessive,’” he did air quotes as Todoroki stuck his tongue out at Hitoshi. I gave my child a nod of appreciation.

Midoriya continued, “In the end it was easy enough to get Nedzu to give me some security footage!”

I ran my hands over my face. “And he just, gave you that?”

Hizashi laughed pityingly and patted my back.

Midoriya nodded with entirely too much enthusiasm. “When I told him that I wanted it for memes for my latest PowerPoint, he sent me an email back with ‘lol. Lmao, even.’ And attached several very fitting pictures, including some extras of you and Mic that will go well in my next PowerPoint!”

I wasn’t going to ask. Holy shit was I not going to ask.

I saw Hizashi opening their mouth, and I slapped my capture weapon over it. They gave me a very effective pout but I steeled myself and said, “Continue.”

Midoriya nodded in thanks.

“Okay, so then I went to Yamada, and didn’t need to ask his labels since he’s already come out.”

The slide changed to the promotional photoshoot that Present Mic & Midnight had done for the national LGBTQ+ crisis hotline. They’d taken it last Pride, and the photograph had hung over our mantle ever since. Both of them were posed happily in front of a rainbow arch with the glittering words, ‘IT GETS BETTER.’

Midnight had a rose held prominently between her teeth, showing off its dyed bisexual petals. She wore an aromantic crown proudly atop her head. Her bright red eye mask matched her platform business shoes, and her sharp and sleek pantsuit shone with holographic trans colors. She had her arms linked with Mic.

He was wearing his directional speaker and pink heart glasses. They had a genderfluid-dyed flower crown that, Hizashi told me later, had been specially made with a clasp so it could be applied around their hair. This was paired with a flowing, over-the-top dress in pan flag colors. It was cut in just the right way to accentuate their figure, with a leg slit to show their holographic 7-inch platform boots. They were caught mid-laugh.

God, Mic looked radiant.

The class cheered, and I answered my husband’s grin with a very small almost-smile.

After the noise died down, Midoriya picked back up where he left off.

“I asked Mic, ‘I really want to get a nice gift for Aizawa, what should it be?’” He shuffled to the side and put a finger above his lips, which I amusedly realized stood in for my husband’s mustache. Midoriya continued, “And Yamada said, ‘Well, what’s the occasion?’” He shuffled back, lowering the mustache. “And I said, ‘He’s so nice to us even though he’s outwardly cold, but I can tell he loves us so much. I want to repay the favor somehow. Snipe said I should get him salmiak licorice, and Lunch Rush suggested a gift card to LottaLatte.’”

“Still can’t believe our boy Lunch Rush let us down like that,” Sato shook his head sadly, and Aoyama dramatically offered him something I couldn’t quite make out in the low light.

Sato took it. “A holographic sticker…? It says ‘I’m sorry for your loss’?”

“Oui, it is scratch and sniff! ☆”

Sato rubbed it with a fingernail and held it to his nose with a little trepidation. “Smells like oranges…? Um. Thanks?”

“Je vous en prie! ☆”

The class collectively let that sit a moment.

Midoriya cleared his throat and continued his show of pantomiming being Hizashi. “And Mic-sensei said, ‘Oh, you are the cutest thing. Wow, ok. Don’t get him the licorice; he used to love that stuff but I got him licorice coffee once, and it put him off of any kind of licorice forever. The gift card ain’t a bad idea, but if you really wanna make him sing, here’s Sho-chan’s favorite brand of coffee beans. Get him a bag of that. It’ll be cheaper and he’ll like it more.”

The next slide was the words ‘Sho-chan’ on a pink background with glittery hearts.

Was it possible I could destroy the TV and blame it on the hell children? No, then Midoriya will just give the PowerPoint again in full another time, and god, I don’t want to do this twice.

Midoriya continued, “I think that speaks for itself. So then Yamada said, ‘Here, lemme make something you can add onto the gift because you’re so sweet! DON’T open the envelope, ya dig?’ and of COURSE I said I wouldn’t and then thanked them.”

I felt a surge of affection for my husband, going so far as to take my capture weapon off of his mouth. Wow, Hizashi. That was… extremely sweet.

“Bet you ¥1,500 that the nerd found a way around it and is about to tell us what was in the envelopes,” Bakugo smirked, elbowing Sero, who he was cuddling with.

“You really think I’d take that bet?” Sero huffed teasingly. “Dream on.”

“I’ll do it!” Kaminari interrupted. “Midoriya’s too nice to be sneaky about it!”

“Your funeral, Sparky,” said Ashido.

Hitoshi giggled lowly and exchanged a smug look with Midoriya in a way that rang alarm bells in my head, and then the slide changed. I looked at it for a long moment.

“YEAAAAAAHHHH!” screamed Ashido, with entirely too much glee.

I put my head in my hands.

Chapter Text

I was really regretting not expelling these awful, hellish children.

God, why?

I ran my hands down my face. Just like everything in life, the PowerPoint had to end eventually. But despite my obvious distaste of being the subject matter, I had respect for anyone who could make a PowerPoint into more than a prop for a dry performance evaluation.

I gathered enough strength and lowered my hands, gazing up at the slide. It simply had two pictures on it.

“Oh my GOD!” squealed Ashido.

“But I obviously had to know what was in Yamada’s envelope for Aizawa,” Midoriya smiled, “so I used a flashlight on the outside of the envelope to see the inside, and it was three strips of paper that said ‘x1 pass to use Zashi’s best mug’ with thirteen to seventeen exclamation marks each!”

“AWW DANG,” cried Kaminari.

“How does losing taste, Pikachu?” Bakugo heckled, reaching over and giving them a noogie with his knuckles.

“It SUCKS!” they hollered good-naturedly, swatting his hand away.

I glanced at the TV again and rubbed my face, torn between concern and pride that he’d so neatly circumvented Hizashi. I looked at my husband between my fingers. “Why didn’t you just use the security envelopes that were prestocked in your desk?”

Hizashi scoffed, raising their eyebrows. “Excuse me for not encrypting my best mug passes.”

Iida turned to the budding spy, chopping his hands. “Midoriya! That is a sneaky and underhanded tactic of obtaining information!”

“He followed the instructions, didn’t he?” Hitoshi drawled with a sharp smile, stretching out on their couch, self-satisfied. “If Yamada didn’t want him doing it, then they should have specified.”

Iida pushed up his glasses fervently. “Approaching teachers on false pretenses to gain information absolutely falls under the UA rules of—”

“It wasn’t false pretenses,” I ground out, hating every syllable. “Midoriya actually got me the damned gift.” It had been nice, touching even, knowing he’d gone through the trouble to ask Hizashi what to get me.

Hitoshi nodded, tugging Todoroki up from his floor purgatory and back onto the couch. “It was a gift card to KittyCat Coffee, and his favorite coffee beans, and the best mug passes!”

I’d even used one of the passes that morning, and thoroughly enjoyed my coffee in the limited edition cat-themed Present Mic mug. I was 80% sure Hizashi had another squirreled away for my birthday.

“Wait,” I glared at my child. “You knew about this?”

Hitoshi got situated cuddling Todoroki and pulled their capture weapon between their hands, smirking. “Why, that’s quite the accusation of me being, what, an accessory to you getting a nice gift?”

I gave them an unimpressed glare and turned back to Midoriya. I was ready for this circus to get back on track.

He opened his mouth to continue, but Todoroki beat him to the punch. “Bonus fact about these two memes: I made them both as a bribe to get Izu to commit The Grand Grinder Hack 2.0, but he said no.”

As an underground hero as well as a U.A. teacher, I had developed a healthy sense of self-preservation and wasn’t about to poke the hornet’s nest. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about my class.

“What manner of darkness is this?” Dark Shadow hissed, looming ominously.

“Now now, do not be so hasty to jump to conclusions,” Tokoyami petted her comfortingly. Her inky void lost some of its threatening size, like a cat slowly lowering its hackles.

“The Great Grinder Hack 2.0?” Midoriya tapped his chin. “Shoto came up with the idea of hacking Grindr to potentially find Aizawa’s profile!”

Holy shit, am I ever glad that I deleted that ill-advised app when I started dating Zashi.

Midoriya nodded to me and continued cheerfully, “Since they’d still have that info unless you’d very thoroughly deleted everything, and even then, they were taken to court for keeping secret copies of the records in Grindr vs. The Bull-dozer!”

I broke out in a cold sweat.

Hitoshi gestured grandly with a handful of popcorn, Dark Shadow nabbing an errant piece out of the air. “But this had two issues. One, Grindr already sent him a cease and desist for hacking them.”

Hizashi hissed, “What the fuck.”

Uraraka slapped the couch and leaned forward. “Wait, you already hacked Grindr, and it worked?” she asked wonderingly, like she wanted to ask for tips. It wasn’t hard to figure out her motivation, considering on the way to the movies I’d overheard her talking about her gacha game of the month. She’d said, “If I pull that stank-ass bitch again, I’m going to hack the app and pull my waifu out by force.”

I’d considered forbidding Uraraka from hacking inane children’s games. I had quickly decided it would have to be her cross to bear if she had to explain to her future coworkers that she knew how to hack because of her ‘waifu.’

Todoroki nodded quickly at Uraraka. “I needed to know if Dabi was gay because it would make or break my theory of them being the child of Incinerator who killed his father with his flamboyant gayness—”

That felt like getting sucker punched, but it wasn’t an inaccurate description of how the villain had been killed. He’d been attempting to take a pride parade hostage. There’d been a viral photograph of his body with a rainbow flag sticking out of his chest, captioned ‘Love Wins.’

Unfortunately, Todoroki’s sentence did not stop there.

“—and the other option is that Dabi is secretly my legally deceased older brother who faked his own death, or perhaps his death was faked for him, or he came back from the brink of death because he wouldn’t let god kill him, and then he joined the League of Villains to enact his revenge on our sperm donor!”

I kept my poker face up, trying valiantly to make heads or tails of the word spaghetti Todoroki had just bestowed upon the class, much like a cat leaving their owner a dead rat.

Hizashi gave me a smile that had one awful meaning: ‘I sure am glad that’s your mess to take care of and not mine.’

Traitor.

“Todoroki, could you be realistic for once?” Iida pleaded.

“I am being extremely serious.” Todoroki’s expression was deadpan as he worked his white and red tangle. “Besides, my best boyfriend ever hacked Grindr to find out that not only is Dabi gay, they’re also nonbinary.”

Midoriya beamed at the praise, and Hizashi and I leaned forward. “Hold on,” they said, “you found a member of the League of Villains on Grindr?”

Midoriya nodded and twirled his tangle on his pointer finger. “We found Shigaraki on there too, but the less said about that, the better.”

I was already pulling up my phone to text Nedzu.

Me: League of villains has been using Grindr, could use it to dig for info.

“Weak,” hissed Hitoshi good-naturedly. “Shiggy’s wasn’t half as bad as the others.”

“Oh my GOD, who else did you find?” screamed Ashido, and again, how the hell could I teach them basic fucking self-preservation.

“I mean, it uh, we could leave it to your imagination?” giggled Midoriya nervously, and his twirling tangle leaped from his hand. He speedily snatched it out of the air.

Ashido was quick on the uptake. “Lmao, ok, the funniest thing that could’ve traumatized Midoriya on there, All Might thirst trap, easy.”

To prevent my brain from conjuring that image, I locked down my mind with my training for defending against hostile mental quirks. Notably, this was to mentally blast the most annoying song you could think of. At this exact moment, thanks to Eri’s latest obsession, that was the ‘My Little Pony: Unicorn Magic Love For Your Whole Family’ theme song. The first time Hizashi and Eri had sung it together, it was cute. The 30th time had me longing to pull a Hizashi and turn off my non-existent hearing aids.

Still, Ashido wasn’t done. She ignored Midoriya’s sputtering and said, “Sparky, gimme most cursed!”

Kaminari gave a bright smile from their spot in the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. “Oh, uhhhh, NEDZU.”

That was distracting enough that I could drop my anti-mental quirk defenses. The class laughed, and I even gave a very quiet chuckle. I almost didn’t notice how all of the members of the polycule started sweating.

Hizashi and I stopped laughing at exactly the same moment, giving each other a look full of dread.

I caught Hitoshi signing to Midoriya, “Government secrets lmao,” and Midoriya smothered a nervous giggle.

“Please, for the love of god, tell me that they didn’t just say that,” I hissed urgently to my husband.

Hizashi just whistled like a cartoon character desperately trying to act casual and then said out of the side of their mouth, “Did the camera shift to look at them, or was that just me being paranoid?”

I hissed back, “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”

I saw Jirou in my peripheral vision look wildly alarmed, and I realized that the mere concept of Nedzu having a Grindr had made me forget that she had super hearing. I made a mental note to train their poker face.

I looked down at my phone, which had received a message one minute ago.

The Rat: I was already aware of this, but thank you for bringing this to my attention! Rest assured, this avenue of approach is being thoroughly tested. :)

I stared at the smiley face for a long moment. Mei’s Brain Cleaner™ was looking more tempting by the minute. I recalled when teenage Hizashi would text me, ‘I had to see this so you do too,’ and it was always some awful meme. As extremely late retribution, I nudged my husband and angled my phone towards him. It was extremely gratifying to watch Hizashi’s ‘what the fuck’ smile freeze on their face.

“Hey, why didn’t you guys laugh?” Kaminari asked Hitoshi, Midoriya, and Todoroki, sounding a little hurt. “That was—funny, yeah?”

The polycule all looked at each other for a moment. Todoroki sucked in a breath, and Midoriya and Hitoshi lunged for him, slapping their hands over his mouth.

Visibly panicking, Midoriya shouted, “WE FOUND DARK SHADOW.”

The room was silent for one singular, dreadful moment.

“Also.” Midoriya continued, and he, Todoroki, and Hitoshi all turned to glare at Dark Shadow. “Your atrocity of a profile? Deleted.”

The eldritch abomination wailed like a child having a temper tantrum, if the child was made of dark matter, allegedly older than the state of Japan, and had the ability to curse your family for generations.

We all clapped our hands over our ears. This did nothing to fix the formless void encroaching on the edges of my vision. It whispered offers of dark secrets, but I’d had my fill of those for one day.

“Enough,” I hissed, flashing erasure.

Dark Shadow curled in on herself with one last whimper. The class exhaled as Tokoyami soothingly petted their eldritch being.

Midoriya, always more interested in quirks than his own survival, tapped his tangle on his chin. “Why does erasure work on her, anyway? Since it doesn’t make her disappear.”

Tokoyami bowed his head in acknowledgement. “From what I understand, it makes Dark Shadow feel as though she is being Witnessed and Judged.”

Midoriya nodded happily. “Oh, so just like normal eye contact!”

Ojiro reached for one of the treat platters on the table and tossed a cookie towards Dark Shadow. She caught it in her mouth, and Tokoyami gave Ojiro a nod of thanks.

Hitoshi chuckled darkly. “Anyway, we would have IP banned the whole school from Grindr, but we know for a fact that one of the third years, and possibly several of the teachers, would have tried to murder us.”

I was watching the security camera out of the corner of my eye, and it moved up and down once, like it was nodding.

I had no idea what I could possibly say to any of that. Midoriya, to my chagrin, evidently didn’t have this problem.

“Anyway, reason two for why I didn’t hack Grindr again!” Midoriya stepped back, removing his hand from Todoroki’s mouth with the extremely unfounded confidence that his boyfriend wasn’t going to burn it all down. “If I found a sexual picture of any of my teachers, I’d be forced to finally test out Mei’s Brain Cleaner™, which is something I’m trying to avoid at all costs, mostly because I went to my doctor and said, ‘In your professional opinion, would it be safe for me to try out Hatsume Industries patented Brain Cleaner™,’ and they said, ‘What the fuck, don’t do that.’ Also, I don’t want to turn green for two to five weeks, or in one unfortunate case, indefinitely.”

What a roller coaster of a sentence. I rubbed my face.

But Midoriya was right about the Brain Cleaner™—one business class student was now much easier to spot due to her highlighter green skin. Last I’d heard, she’d taken to it with surprising vigor, calling it her new ‘iconic’ look.

Good for her, I guess.

“Turning green doesn’t sound all that bad, ribbit,” Asui croaked thoughtfully, adjusting herself on the arm of our couch.

“Not all of us can pull off the cool frog look, Tsu,” signed Kouda with a hesitant smile.

Ashido hummed, tapping the couch uncertainly. “Maybe it would mix with my pink and make me highlighter brown?”

“That’s definitely not a good thing,” Shoji shook his head, dupliarm mouth grimacing.

“Do you think if I used it, you guys could see me?” asked Hagakure with a note of wistfulness, pulling Uraraka off the floor and onto her lap.

I pulled out my phone and texted PowerLoader right at that very moment.

Me: I need a tracker for Hagakure asap. Have to keep tabs on her in battle.

“Well,” Midoriya tapped his chin, “that would depend on if it altered the way light hit your skin or not! If your quirk causes light waves to pass through your body, and it can’t be turned off by Aizawa-sensei’s quirk, which means that it’s likely a mutation, not an emitter as you told me it was, then the Brain Cleaner™ would most likely change the way your skin looks to you, but not to anybody else.”

My phone buzzed.

PowerToTheLoader: it’ll take two weeks, OR mei can make it, you’d get it tomorrow w/ a built in flamethrower

I remembered the wistful note in Hagakure’s voice but vividly recalled how the gym had caught on fire 11 times since the start of the year. 4 of those times had been because of Bakugo and Todoroki, which was to be expected, especially when Todoroki was just getting used to his fire. Yaoyorozu was liable for 1 fire, which was understandable with her canons, while another fire was attributed to Uraraka, which was baffling. Yet, the other 5 fires were from Hagakure. Why? Why?

Me: Giving her a flame thrower would cost us the dorms. Make it a laser that’s incapable of burning down buildings and we have a deal.

It was a win-win. A laser would give Hagakure some much-needed offensive capabilities. Additionally, since she could manipulate light, it would be difficult for her to hurt herself with it.

Midoriya continued unabated in the background, “However, the Brain Cleaner™ is a Mei creation, which means anything is possible, and you could end up semi-invisible or fully visible! You’d need a whole new hero costume for a few weeks at least, and Mei would absolutely do immoral things in order to design it with new built-in babies, so I wouldn’t risk even mentioning this whole thing to her. Anything you might consider using Brain Cleaner™ for is better addressed in therapy. Also, your outfit can be retrofitted to use your DNA so you can actually have armor!”

“Wow,” Hagakure said, “thanks! I’ll keep that in mind!”

PowerToTheLoader: good thinking, mei said the dorms would be an ‘acceptable loss,’ she pouted but I got her to agree to the no burn laser

Me: Good, thanks.

Me: Usually I wait for their 2nd year for drastic costume changes, but I also need a DNA-based hero costume for Hagakure.

I briefly remembered the last time Yaoyorozu had to hold her top open to make a canon.

Me: and for Yaoyorozu too.

Asui gave Hagakure a head pat, and Jirou leaned in on Hagakure’s other side, gently tapping her with an earphone jack. “Y’know, I might not be able to see you, but sometimes I can still hear your heartbeat.”

“Oh,” Hagakure said quietly. “Oh.”

“Ever since you said you had a nightmare about getting left behind at the USJ,” said Shoji quietly, “I make sure to keep track of you in exercises. I’m sorry I got distracted at the theater.”

Suddenly watching my phone through blurry eyes, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That’s not your fault, Shoji. It’s a teacher’s duty to keep track of every student and I am sorry that I failed in that today.”

Hagakure waved her arms, “But, Sensei—”

I cut her off. “Hagakure, your tracker will be ready tomorrow, and you will be expected to wear it on every training exercise and approved excursion from campus, is that clear?”

Hagakure pounded her feet on the floor and squealed to rival Hizashi. “Oh my god, THANK YOU SENSEI! I know you don’t like physical contact, but EEEE!” She reached out to the classmates around her in a big hug. Uraraka on her lap, Jirou, and Asui gave her a happy hug back. Ashido, from next to me, leaned over Jirou to join in the hug as well.

Hagakure’s gloved hand snaked between her classmates and the back of the couch, extending to me in an open invitation to join the celebration. I had the sudden and bizarrely strong urge to shake her hand. I wrestled the instinct back; it represented a level of social awkwardness I could likely never mentally recover from.

Still, I wanted to let Hagakure know that I saw her, and shared her joy at no longer getting left behind. I reached over and gently rubbed the top of her hand.

As a rule, I didn't do physical affection, but I made an exception for my family. I remembered how I had lovingly caressed the top of Hitoshi’s and Hizashi’s hands while we were at the theater. I didn’t want to consider what it meant that I had just made the same exception for Hagakure.

Hizashi’s words from earlier that evening echoed in my ears. “One of your kids calls you ‘dad,’ and suddenly you can’t hide how much of a big softie you are.”

…Shit.

I tucked my hand neatly into my pocket, grabbing my roller stim toy. I continued, “On any future field trip, any time one of you needs to leave the group for any reason, you must stick to the buddy system and tell a chaperone or classmate where you’re going. Iida, would you be so kind as to add it to the dorm rules?”

“Right away, Sensei!” Iida saluted me and sped into the kitchen.

”Wouldn’t be a class outing if we didn’t get a new rule on the fridge!” Kirishima said cheerfully.

My phone buzzed.

PowerToTheLoader: oh Yaoyorozu and Hagakure’s costumes were done by that godawful 3rd year, took a page out of ur book & expelled him, so their costumes needed redoing anyhow, send em over to the lab later

Me: Congratulations. 🎉. Will do.

I looked up just as Iida slid into his seat and Midoriya’s info dump picked back up at breakneck speeds. He pointed back at the TV.

“Okay so I knew that lots of Mic’s answers could just be them being friends and potentially living together, so I asked what Mic’s type was!”

Hizashi gave a somewhat alarmed chuckle. He put on his most placating smile, one I associated with crying children and hostage negotiations. “Now Midoriya, do we really have to bring up the—”

The kid, who had largely been avoiding looking at anyone in particular, intently locked eyes with Hizashi. “Yes.”

My troublemaker sense went off like a lightbulb. (Now if I could get Hizashi to stop fucking calling it my dad sense).

Hitoshi chuckled, and I watched distantly as they made a large, unnecessarily dramatic gesture to click their phone screen.

Like the tide, like the seasons, like my slow dissent into insanity, the slide did a tacky pixel transition into my next headache stressor.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi was controlling this hellish PowerPoint. I glared like I could freeze them in place, but my child only grinned at me, unabashed.

The slide completed its unnecessarily long pixel transition.

From the chair next to where I was seated on the couch, Hizashi gave me a semi-apologetic smile.

How can he be a fully fledged hero and still fall for whatever Midoriya pulled to get this info? They should know better after the first damned PowerPoint.

I turned my attention back to the current threat and grumbled, “Do you kids only have the one picture of me.”

Hitoshi shook their head, cuddling into Todoroki on the polycule couch. “We’ve got a few others, that one just looks the worst.”

“I can send you some!” Hizashi called like he wasn’t in enough hot water already. “Do you have the one where he’s mid—”

“Mid-sneeze, yes,” Todoroki said sagely, “but Izu said that Toshi said that if we used that for evil then Aizawa would hunt us for sport.”

“I WANNA SEE!” cried Kaminari, rocking forwards to slap the couch, threatening to upset the integrity of the Bakusquad cuddle puddle.

“Absolutely not,” I cut in with my no-nonsense teacher voice, speaking over Kaminari’s wailing. “Midoriya, continue.”

He gestured with his tangle and steamrolled ahead, doing the voices for both sides of the conversation. “I asked Mic-sensei his type, and he said, ‘Lil’ ol’ me? Short, dark, and handsome, of course!’ And I said, ‘That kinda sounds like Aizawa!’ And they said, ‘Oh, does he match the criteria? Haha, weird I never noticed. Gotta go!’ And then he sprinted out of his classroom while saying an English swear under his breath, which I know because I’m fully fluent in English, and even if I wasn’t, I would know this one because when Kacchan was four, he looked up ‘the worst English swear’ and then used it every day on principle.”

I mentally sifted through that infodump, caught on ‘short, dark, and handsome,’ groaned and shifted my glare to my husband. “Short? You’re only one inch taller than me, bastard.” I was met with a somewhat embarrassed grin.

Ashido giggled next to me, knocking her shoulder into mine briefly. Jirou snorted and cuddled into Ashido’s side.

They twirled their earphone jack around their finger and said, “So single-minded about dunking on Aizawa that Mic forgot he was talking to Midoriya, king of murder boards and impromptu PowerPoints.”

Midoriya’s chest puffed out a bit. “Thank you, I try!”

On the farthest couch from me, Ojiro’s tail idly swished as he finished off a pastry. “Toru, have you tried the caramel rolls? They’re really good.”

Hagakure squealed happily. “Aww, you remembered that caramel’s my FAVORITE! Could someone grab—? Thanks Tsu!”

She and Uraraka picked up caramel rolls, and Asui used her tongue to put the platter back on the coffee table.

Hagakure took a big bite. A few seconds later she said, “Cream cheese, caramel, AND cinnamon topping? Sato, you’re a genius. Could you pleaaaaase give me the recipe?” It sounded like she was trying for puppy dog eyes.

“Aw thanks,” Sato responded, clearly pleased. “It’s my own invention. I’ll have to dig it out of my notes app and send it to you.”

“Oh, me too, me too, I want the recipe!” squealed Uraraka. “These are SO good.”

Sato spun his cake fidget spinner and grabbed his phone. “Here, I’ll just put it in the group chat.”

Midoriya hummed, eyeing the rapidly dwindling platter. “Save one of those for me, please!”

Todoroki gingerly pulled one out and set it on a napkin, waving at his boyfriend to continue.

“Thanks! Alright, so, there was a lot of circumstantial evidence, but I needed to have a dead ringer, right?” Midoriya tapped his All Might tangle against his chin. “I thought of a couple ways, like I could tell Aizawa that he fit Mic’s type but that then he’d probably give me detention for meddling in his private life, and besides, it still wouldn’t give me the overwhelming proof I needed.”

I was extremely grateful that the threat of detention still worked to keep these baby heroes in line. I could tell that it was only a matter of time before that lost its staying power. Maybe I could use more training as punishment? No, Midoriya would just get in trouble for the extra training time. I could mandate more rest..?

I tabled that musing for another day as Midoriya started pacing again. “Then I thought, maybe if there was an important emergency, and I said, ‘Hey Mic-sensei, emergency, your husband’s in trouble!’ And then they said, ‘What happened to Sho-chan?!’”

The PowerPoint immediately changed to the Sho-Chan slide, complete with even more glittering hearts.

“Sho-chan,” the class parroted smoothly, like some kind of advertisement for a surround sound speaker.

These goddamn kids.

Midoriya continued without missing a beat, “Except that would require very specific circumstances and also potentially waste time in an emergency scenario so I scrapped it. I thought about looking up marriage licenses, but I didn’t know if you were married or not, and besides! Marriage records for heroes are sealed due to the InvestaGator Law, named after the infamous case where—”

“WE GET IT, NERD,” Bakugo hollered irritably. Still, he didn’t set off any explosions that would disturb the other members of the Bakusquad couch, including Sero, who Bakugo was primarily lying on. “Cut to the damn point.”

I couldn’t help but agree with him. I wanted to be a good sport about this, but I had no idea how Midoriya had confirmed Hizashi and I were together, and a tiny trickle of doubt said it could have been my fault.

My phone let out a meow, and I glanced at the screen to see Hitoshi had texted the family group chat.

PurpleGremlin: new ringtone, 4 u papa

[attached: sho-chan.mp3]

Hizashi let out a small gasp of pure delight.

This is going to haunt me.

“Okay, okay,” Midoriya raised his hands placatingly. He made a rolling gesture at Hitoshi, who skipped ahead, showing brief flashes of several frames. From what I could tell, one of them had an uncomfortable shot of Nedzu looking directly at the camera and smiling with too many teeth, and another had a poorly photoshopped picture of what I desperately hoped was not me in a cat ear headband.

“Wait what was—”

“GO BACK!”

“Oh my GOD WAS THAT—”

“I HAVE to see whatever the last slide—”

“Sorry,” Hitoshi said with great satisfaction. “Next time you just gotta let Izu do his thing.”

Thank fucking god.

“WE’RE SORRY!” several classmates despaired.

The current slide simply showed the ominous words, “THE SLEEPOVER.”

“I’m extremely curious what that second slide was,” Yaoyorozu confessed, shifting on the floor by my feet. “Are you sure we can’t see it?”

“He doesn’t go back on his decisions,” Todoroki said. “For you guys, anyway. Skill issue.”

“I’m still upset you all taught him that phrase,” Iida announced. “It has been 0 days since the last skill issue, up from 1.” He punctuated that with a swift hand chop.

Hitoshi smiled a meddler’s grin. “Momo, maybe cuddling someone could help you cope with your skill deficiency.”

I, unfortunately, knew exactly who they were implying she should be cuddling. To my chagrin, Hizashi also understood, judging by his cheeky grin.

Yaoyorozu chuckled nervously. “U-um, it’s fine! I definitely don’t need to cuddle anyone. My old spot is full anyways!” she said, like it would stop the Gay Cupid Brigade.

Hizashi looked over at the couch I was sitting on, gauging that I had taken Yaoyorozu’s spot, and the rest of the couch was full of Ashido, Jirou, Hagakure with Uraraka on her lap, and then Asui on the armrest.

“Oh yeah, the listener was cuddling with Jirou, right?” Hizashi said far too casually for my liking. “Looks like the couch is a sold-out venue, but Jirou’s lap is wide open.”

Yaoyorozu blinked, and blinked again, her face going red. “Oh uh, um, Jirou, you’d be—okay, with that?”

“Um,” said Jirou, resolutely not looking at anyone. “Y-yeah, I mean if you are?”

“Ha, uh, It’s not like it would be romantic! Or anything!” Yaoyorozu frantically waved her hands.

I watched Hitoshi not even bothering to hide a knowing grin.

God, okay.

“Yeah, obviously,” Jirou said in that teen way that was supposed to sound casual but really meant my entire fragile self-esteem is riding on this. “You’re a lesbian so, you’re like, not even into genderfluid people.”

Just as I was considering the merits of knocking myself out with my own capture scarf, Yaoyorozu bolted straight upright. “LESBIANS CAN BE INTO GENDERFLUID PEOPLE AND IT’S STILL GAY.”

Jirou’s eyes went wide, and I could see Hitoshi AND Hizashi sporting pleased grins.

This matchmaking was not a game I wanted to be partial to. Or rather, if I felt like being honest with myself (I didn’t), I mostly wanted to throw a wrench right into Hizashi’s Gay Cupid scheme because I was still salty about how last week’s Nedzu-required team building exercise had gone.

Besides that, I had an important secondary reason to not go along with this. The last time Hizashi had worked their matchmaking magic, sure it had ended in the Todoroki-Midoriya-Hitoshi polycule, but it had started with Hizashi encouraging Midoriya to say something to his crush. And flirting with Todoroki ONE TIME made the poor kid accidentally set the entire gym on fire.

That in mind, I decided to nip this one in the bud. “I’ll just sit in my old chair.”

“Well, wait just a sec,” Hizashi said quickly, “you sat there to braid, and somebody still hasn’t gotten their hair braided! Ain’t that right, Kirishima?”

“Oh HELL YEAH MAN, BRAID TIME!” Kirishima picked his way out of the Bakusquad cuddle puddle and stopped in front of Yaoyorozu, who was sitting at my feet.

In the universal way of teenagers who don’t have to worry about their knees quite yet, Kirishima unceremoniously collapsed into the spot next to her.

“I’ll get out of your way,” Yaoyorozu mumbled, “I can just sit—over here.” She went to scooch over but was blocked by Hagakure’s outstretched pink fuzzy socks and indoor slippers.

Uraraka, from her perch on Hagakure’s lap, leaned into Jirou’s personal space. “You wouldn’t make her sit on the floor, right Jirou?”

Ashido leaned in on the other side. “Not when there’s room in your lap!”

“B-but,” Jirou mumbled, twisting her earphone jack. “I mean, there’s—Mina, you’ve got room too?”

“Oh wow I suddenly have a hankering for—” Ashido reached out and snagged the closest plate of desserts before setting it atop her thighs, “this entire thing of cinnamon rolls, wow! Sorry, no room for cute girls on my lap.”

Jirou’s entire face went red. Yaoyorozu, meanwhile, was looking between Uraraka and Ashido with equal parts gratitude and sheer embarrassment.

She waved her hands frantically. “I’m fine on the floor, really! I would never want to make an esteemed classmate uncomfortable!”

“It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. Um.” Jirou looked like they wanted to pick up their words and shove them back in their mouth. “I mean. If it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“I—it—uh,” Yaoyorozu said, and just as I swore that if this went on for even one more minute I would bathe in Mei’s Brain Cleaner™, Uraraka and Hagakure grabbed Yaoyorozu and hauled her into Jirou’s lap.

Jirou fucking squeaked, hands up like she couldn’t figure out where to put them, and Yaoyorozu perched with an extremely similar expression to Todoroki just before he’d set the gym ablaze.

Kirishima scooted to my feet. I turned my full attention to him and heroically filtered out both the embarrassed teenagers on the couch, as well as Ashido absolutely stuffing her face with cinnamon rolls.

Evidently not wanting to use words in order to keep from interrupting whatever was happening over there, Kirishima held up five fingers, pointed to the back of his head, then to the bag of hair clips that Kouda had brought, and finally gave a double thumbs up.

Five strand braid with hair clips. Doable.

“Take it away! ☆” Aoyama called to Midoriya, who nodded enthusiastically, taking pity on everyone trapped in the room with those poor baby gays.

I nodded at Kirishima, twirling my finger. He gave me a sharp-toothed grin and turned around. Hizashi handed me the abandoned brush, and I took it with a playful glare at him for orchestrating this whole thing. They just grinned back.

Midoriya started up again, “Okay so, Shoto, Toshi, and I were doing a living room sleepover, and everyone had fallen asleep during the Star Wars movie marathon.”

I started brushing the ends of Kirishima’s still-damp hair from washing his gel out, making my way up. Working with my hands left my brain free to direct my thoughts to that Saturday two weeks ago.

All of the class had gone home to stay with family. Miracle of miracles, Hizashi and I were finally back at our actual apartment, thank god. The polycule was taking advantage of this to have a sleepover. Midoriya had had a pretty bad day, if I recalled correctly. The kids made a blanket fort and were having a cuddle puddle in it to help cheer him up.

Eri always gravitated around Midoriya whenever he was over, and she asked if she could join their cuddle puddle. The kids welcomed her with open arms. They understood that it had taken a lot of love, patience, and visits with Hound Dog before Eri would even think about asking for anything.

It was Todoroki’s first time watching Star Wars. I was able to enjoy his reactions from my vantage point grading papers at the kitchen table. Somewhere around the end of the second movie, Eri tugged on my shirt and asked to cuddle with me, so I migrated over to the couch and ended up falling asleep there. I vaguely remembered that Eri had ended back up in the polycule’s cuddle pile, and that Hizashi had gotten back early from his late night radio show.

Looking back on it, I wasn’t sure how Midoriya had figured it out from that day, since Hizashi hadn’t even really been around for it.

The kid continued, “My alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. so I could catch an exclusive All Might loot drop! I set my alarm super carefully so it only woke me up, and Mic had just come home from his late-night radio show. So I obviously pretended to be asleep.”

Hizashi smacked his hand on his thigh, incredulous. “Wait, you were awake? I’m a pro hero! How did a little listener slip that by me like that?”

I just kept brushing, going carefully around Kirishima’s ear so I didn’t snag it.

“WELL,” Midoriya said proudly, “when I was a kid and would sleep over at Kacchan’s, if his mom caught us awake then she’d give us dish duty in the morning, but we REALLY wanted to stay up and practice hero training! Except his mom was weirdly perceptive, and if she caught us faking sleep then we’d get double dish duty, which stacked, so we had to get SUPER good at pretending to be asleep!”

Kirishima did a double take, and I was glad that I wasn’t braiding yet. “Wait, hold on, you and Bakugo were friends?”

I used a few fingers to carefully adjust Kirishima’s head so I could brush the last side.

Still, Midoriya being anything but rivals with Bakugo was news to me, too. They definitely hasn’t strolled in on the first day of school acting buddy-buddy. I made a mental note to ask Hitoshi about it later.

Bakugo growled, “Who cares about that crap! Just get to the good part, nerd!”

I blinked. Was that a tiny note of fondness in Bakugo’s voice? For Midoriya?

Evidently catching onto the same thing, Midoriya happily shook out his hands. “Okay so, Yamada ‘aww’ed and took a picture of us all, and then picked up Aizawa to carry him away to bed. The universe owed me some good luck from when I’d stumbled into two puddles, a villain fight, and fell on my face in the same day.”

I finished working on Kirishima’s hair and set the brush down, deciding it would be better dedicate my full attention to whatever the hell Midoriya was about to say.

“So I had just won a double gold rarity All Might skin for PUANAMFS, or Plus Ultra: All Night All Might Fight Site, AND! While Yamada was carrying Aizawa off, I heard Aizawa go, ‘God, husband… wife? Missed you... gimme kiss,’ and then an over-exaggerated mwah!”

Shit shit SHIT. He heard me being SOFT and FULL OF LOVE.

My hellions turned and gave me shit eating grins. Including, of course, Hizashi.

“GAAAAAAAAAY!” screamed entirely too many goddamn students.

I flashed my quirk, face red. They quieted down enough for my traitorous husband to say, “Awww honey, do you have a crush on me?”

I glared at him. “We’re MARRIED.”

“Still…” Hizashi pouted.

Before I could figure out a way to import Mei’s Brain Cleaner™ on a full class scale, Midoriya interrupted, “HOLD ON, I’m not done!”

Absolutely fucking not.

Midoriya dodged my capture weapon. I reared back for another strike, but Hizashi gently pulled one of my hands into theirs and grabbed a bundle of my capture weapon in their other. Shit.

I mentally weighed my options:

1) Further tarnish the Hardass Aizawa-sensei name by being Damned Soft and not escaping these loving bonds.

2) Get teased relentlessly by my hell children for knocking out, or at the very least incapacitating my actual pro hero husband and then my child’s boyfriend in the next 3 seconds, all to prevent whatever was about to come out of this kid’s mouth, which would inevitably show up another time anyways.

The goddamn polycule would make a fucking discord meme about it, probably, which Hitoshi would turn into his screensaver, and then it would inevitably show up in the next PowerPoint like some sort of twisted karmic retribution. I’d also have to explain to Eri why it was okay for her daddy to go apeshit.

3) Leap directly out the window and into the night, living out my days as a crime-fighting hermit in the forests of Albania.

Did Albania have forests? Unfortunately irrelevant, because what they didn’t have was my three cats, and awful husband, and two children, AND my child’s two boyfriends (because god knows my kid would grumble dramatically forever if I left those two behind), and then one of those children’s mothers. This was because of all of my student’s parents, Inko Midoriya was the most likely to succeed in killing me if I kidnapped her child to a forest in Albania in order to avoid dealing with an awkward social situation.

Besides, if I were being honest with myself, my hell children would absolutely not rest until they tracked me down.

I had a sudden vision of a few days into my retreat into the woods. The class parachuting out of a Yaoyorozu-made plane, powered by Kaminari’s electricity and Iida on a treadmill. Bakugo shouting, “Your replacement is All Might and he doesn’t know how to teach for shit, come back or I’ll kill your ass!” And finally, Midoriya looking at me with his water fountain eyes and saying something awful and sappy.

That had to be avoided at all costs. Besides, I absolutely could not let All Might be the hell children’s homeroom teacher. That man couldn’t teach his way out of a wet paper bag.

I pictured my home office corkboard that Hitoshi decorated for me. It was covered in pictures of my hell class and said ‘do it for them.’

Shit, shit, shit. Tarnish the Hardass Aizawa-Sensei name it is.

When I didn’t break out of Hizashi’s grasp, they cried, “Go! I’ve got him!”

Midoriya needed no other encouragement, stepping behind the TV just in case. He had the class’s full attention and was about to wield it like a knife.

“So Aizawa said,” Midoriya’s voice took on a slow, tired quality, “‘Mhm… Loooove… you…’ And Yamada said, ‘Love you too, babe.’

I stiffened and considered the forests more seriously, because fuck, was it really sleep-deprived 3 a.m. me that gave the whole thing away?

Like a slow-motion train wreck, I watched as Midoriya gestured grandly with his tangle, “I cracked open one eye just enough to see Aizawa nuzzle his head into Yamada’s neck, who went, ‘Awww, Mr. Eepy in the mood for cuddles with his wife?’ AND AIZAWA SAID, ‘Ough… loooooooove… wife.’ And that’s how I figured out Aizawa was married to Yamada for sure!”

FUCK.

The class rioted.

Chapter Text

“HEROES IN LOVE!” called Hagakure from a few seats down on my couch. On her lap, Uraraka drummed her fists on the cushions.

“Loving your wife is MANLY AS FUCK.”

“I still think Power Loader would be a great partner, but that’s adorable, ribbit.”

“I uphold that we had no business knowing this, but now that we do, I congratulate you both on a successful hero relationship.”

I scanned the crowd and was fairly certain that a few students were… hopeful. I decided that I had to do something with my hands to distract myself from the gremlin’s emotions, picking back up with Kirishima’s hair. I divvied the damp strands with overly precise movements.

One voice cut through the din of the class. “WHAT THE FUCK. SO WHY DID ICYHOT BAT FOR YOU TWO?”

Midoriya had been making his way out from behind the TV, but now he moved back. “Well, uh, I kind of told him to do that? The rule was I couldn’t tell anyone what I was voting for, not that I couldn’t tell someone else who to vote for!”

Bakugo turned his wrathful glare on Todoroki, who was cuddled into Hitoshi. “Then, IcyHot, why the fuck did you change your answer to the nightmare blunt rotation polycule?”

On one side of me, Hizashi couldn’t hold his laughter in and slammed his fist on the armrest, and on my other side, Ashido gave a loud giggle-snort. I tuned them out and started to carefully weave Kirishima’s braid.

Todoroki carded his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair, giving a curt nod to acknowledge Bakugo. “Izuku is extremely smart. He must have foreseen the outcome where I drove everyone away from Present Mic and Eraserhead. That meant that he had likely staked that answer for himself or merely wished to sow chaos. Either way, he had already won, and so I changed my answer to one that would have made me a winner as well. That way we could share a victory in some sense.”

“What about me? Don’t I get to share the win?” asked Hitoshi with a mock pout.

Todoroki nuzzled his head into Hitoshi’s. “You got to watch Izu’s PowerPoint with my memes. That’s a victory all on its own.”

Hitoshi smiled and pressed a quick kiss against their boyfriend’s temple, making him blush. “You right.”

“Wait, he told you enough about this for you to make memes?” Sato asked curiously, absentmindedly flicking his cake-shaped fidget spinner.

Todoroki shrugged. “It was mostly a 3 am brainstorming session to figure out ways to win. I said, ‘Lmao, you could hack Grindr again,’ and he said, ‘Hmm. No, I don’t think I will.’ And then I made the memes as bribes.”

“That still didn’t work,” Hitoshi stage whispered, rubbing his boyfriend’s arm. “Better luck next time.”

I continued the braid, deftly weaving the damp strands in between my fingers. 5 strand was difficult, but I’d had a lot of practice already that day.

Todoroki paused. “I asked for advice on how to make your boyfriend do crimes for the bit, and Hitoshi said, ‘Git good.’”

“Oop! Skill issue!” Ashido giggled gleefully.

Hitoshi resolutely did not meet my glare.

“Iida, please add ‘Don’t urge others to commit crimes’ to the list.”

“On it!” he cried, already sprinting to the kitchen.

“AWW DANG,” Kaminari groaned, flopping farther onto the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. “Truth or dare is gonna be SO BORING.”

Bakugo used the back of his hand to shove Kaminari’s head off of him and more onto Sero. “Idiot, you’re really going to say that shit in front of two teachers?”

“I ain’t no snitch,” Hizashi grinned broadly, leaning dramatically onto the arm of the couch between us.

I used my elbow to swipe them off of it. “If you encourage the hell children to commit crimes, I won’t kill bugs in the apartment for a month.”

“Never mind!” Hizashi backpedaled quickly. “No crimes for the kiddos!”

“SNITCH!” Uraraka and Hagakure hissed in a threatening chorus.

“Noooooooo!” Hizashi made a show of putting their hand on their face and fainting on the couch arm like a Victorian maiden.

“But we’re GAY. We have to do crimes!” cried Kaminari dramatically.

I glared at them, activating erasure.

“Okay maybe we can be gay and do no crimes,” they giggled nervously. “Probably?”

“No probably.” I realized that I had just made a mistake in the braid. Shit, there was another error in the middle. I picked the braid apart to get to it and started reweaving.

“Besides that,” Todoroki said louder than the others, “making Izu the sole winner of the bet was my greater priority, considering he would be bringing in money to use to pay for polycule activities. Men enjoy paying for dates because it lets them show off their hunting skills.”

Still using the TV like a shield, Midoriya made a confused noise. “But I showed off my hunting skills last week?”

God, had he ever.

I resisted the impulse to scrub my hands over my face as I thought back to it. The kids had drawn lots for teams and been told to track a villain around Ground Beta, with Jirou and Shoji ending up as a pair. I had been certain they’d be the fastest squad, except Midoriya had put his nose in the air and sprinted straight for the path the villain had taken, looking for all the world like a deranged bloodhound.

“I still wanna know how your loser squad got first place, nerd,” Bakugo growled, like he had any room to be huffy about performance. His team had gotten fifth only because his frustrated explosions had scared away the wildlife, making his partner, Kouda, work hard to find a squirrel to show them the way.

“O-oh, well, it’s because the villain was All Might in disguise, of course!” Midoriya smiled like this explained everything. Looking around at our still-confused expressions, he frowned slightly. “He was wearing his extremely distinctive signature All Might cologne? The United Scents of Smash?”

I continued weaving the braid and breathed deeply. “You caught the trail of All Might based on the cologne he was wearing when he’d traveled through that area half an hour beforehand?”

“No, yea,” Bakugo snorted, adjusting to be more comfortable in the Bakusquad cuddle puddle, “that checks out. Deku’s nose is fine-tuned for nerd bullshit.”

Hagakure waved her hands around. “I think you’re all skipping over the part where Aizawa and Yamada are married!”

Shaking his head, Todoroki eyed Hizashi with distaste. “I can believe you’re married, but only because you want the extra EraserBag we made for Aizawa’s partner.”

I did not groan. Still, it was a close thing; Hizashi was going to be absolutely insufferable about this. They adored matching with me. We were probably going to have to buy another photo album to hold the inevitable photoshoot. I pushed away my fondness.

“Oh, we’ll have to pull out the extra EraserBag later!” Yaoyorozu said happily from Jirou’s lap, two seats down on my couch.

“You’ll look très magnifique! ☆” Aoyama sparkled.

Ojiro nodded, his swishing tail pushing some of the strange cartoon glitter back towards his shimmering couch neighbor. “Glad we had the foresight to ask you to make an extra, Yaoyorozu.”

She had, for reasons unknown to both god and man, made sleeping bags for the entire class. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been the end of the world; in fact, I would have welcomed them getting some rest. The issue was that Yaoyorozu had specifically made all of the sleeping bags look like mine and put my face on them. While zipped up, it looked like I was inside the sleeping bag and making judgmental eye contact.

The first time I’d seen an EraserBag was on the classroom floor, and it had slowly, ominously unzipped to reveal Hitoshi. They’d even slurped a damn jelly pouch. Midoriya had likened the whole situation to the videos of cats seeing themselves in the mirror. It didn’t help that Todoroki had started writing furiously in his notebook, the tab on the top proclaiming ‘Secret Love Children.’

No amount of raises could get me to touch that situation with a ten foot pole. Perhaps a ten foot capture scarf? …Hmm.

Back in the present, Hizashi clapped excitedly. “Oh MAN, I DO want that! Sho-chan and I will get to match~! But Todoroki, Aizawa and I have actually been together for a long time! Midoriya, you done with the TV?”

Midoriya nodded his head, finally stepping out from behind the TV shield and going to cuddle back into the polycule couch. Hitoshi rubbed their head on Midoriya to welcome him back. It was just like Mischief liked to do.

I finally finished the braid, and before I could ask for a hairband, Ashido passed me one from Yaoyorozu. I grabbed it with a nod, holding the end of the braid with my other hand. I tied the hair securely in place.

“Alriiight,” Hizashi pulled out his phone, gave it a few taps, and a photograph of a box-filled, one bedroom apartment appeared on the TV.

“Here are some pics we took when we were moving into our first place!”

I grabbed the bag of hair clips and glanced at the screen. It showed a blur moving up the apartment complex’s stairs with boxes in his arms, barely identifiable as Tensei. The slideshow continued on: Hizashi carrying a stack of vintage records while I carried the record player. Nemuri got a selfie with me as I tried to duck out of the picture, obfuscating that I was carrying an armful of stuffed animals, while Hizashi leaned into the frame with a peace sign.

“Oh man, I remember that old black xe/xem bracelet,” Hizashi said wistfully, looking at his wrist on the screen. “It broke while on a patrol a few years back, and I had to replace it with a purple one, but it’s totally not the same. Oh, here’s us adopting our first gremlin, which is code for Sho fishing a cat out of the dumpster and me saying ‘no!’”

The screen showed a younger me using a towel to carefully cradle a tiny brown and black kitten, who was looking up at me with pure love. I had a mushy expression that I wouldn’t quite call a smile, but damn, it was close. I felt myself soften.

“Oh my god, oh my gOOOOOOD!” Ashido cried, pointing at the screen. “I didn’t know you could make that face!”

I scowled at that, but Hizashi just kept on going. “Yeaaaaah, Sho’s a big softie. We’ve still got the kitty, his name’s Mischief.”

“Are you done?” whispered Kirishima, twisting to look back at me.

I answered by holding up the flower clip, opening and closing it once, its iridescence catching the light. Kirishima gave me a thumbs up and turned back in time to catch the next picture.

The kitten, now a full sized cat, loafed on Eri’s lap. She was looking down at him with stars in her eyes. The class “Aww”ed loudly, and I felt a strong sense of approval.

As I hooked the first clip in place, I couldn’t help but reminisce fondly. That had been a good day. As it had Eri’s first time at our apartment, we hadn’t been sure if the cats were going to accept her. We’d given Eri some treats to offer our two cats, since we hadn’t gotten a third kitten quite yet, and they’d eaten right out of her hand. Both had decided then and there that they liked our soon-to-be daughter.

Hizashi gestured at the screen. “Here’s our second cat, Creature, who sat on our doorstep and yowled at the top of her lungs until we let her in.”

It showed a picture of a scraggly black cat with a scarred ear hissing in Hizashi’s lap.

“She liked biting almost as much as she liked wet food,” I chuckled lowly, carefully clipping in a second flower. “We tried training it out of her, and she bites less now, but she’s still a stubborn old bastard and does what she wants.”

Hizashi nodded. “And our most recent hire, Peep. We got ‘em as a real little thing.”

It showed a video of me holding a tiny blue-grey kitten and feeding them with a formula syringe. As Peep suckled, their little ears wiggled.

“Holy shit,” breathed Jirou. “Oh my god.”

“That’s the manliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kirishima said, wiping a tear away. I couldn’t bring myself to guide his face forwards again.

“I would die for Peep!” cried Uraraka vigorously, quickly echoed by many of the students.

“You will,” intoned Hitoshi, and I shook my head at their dramatics, pulling the last flower clip from the bag.

“No, Peep wants you to live for them,” Todoroki twisted to look at Hitoshi with great certainty. “At least, when Izu and I said we’d die for Peep, that’s what Eri told us.”

I felt a shot of approval for Eri. Where had she heard that? Oh, right, there was a My Little Pony episode about that, or maybe in that magical girl show she liked. They all ran together in my head. I shook it off and pushed the flower into place, admiring my work.

“I WILL live for Peep!” Uraraka raised her fist to the sky and then looked around at the rest of the class. “We will ALL live for Peep!”

The class raised their fists and yelled as one.

I determined that the braid and clips were well done, patting Kirishima’s shoulders.

He jumped up and gave me a quick smile. “Thank you, Sensei!”

“C’mere, I’ll take pics for you!” said Ashido from next to me, already pulling out her phone.

“Thanks, Mina!” he said, going straight into a pose and flexing, and they started a mini photo shoot.

“Peep’s army is of greater use to them alive,” Tokoyami said darkly, petting Dark Shadow. They were sitting on the ground and leaning up against the Bakusquad couch. Dark Shadow reared back and grinned, diving in to bite the couch, and I activated my quirk.

“No chewing on the furniture. I’ll give you another water timer to play with, but you have to give Kaminari their fidget back.”

Kaminari poked their head out from the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. “Wait, when did you take my—”

Dark Shadow grumblingly pulled the lightning chew fidget from her body. Kaminari swiped it with a growl, immediately bringing it up to their lips, but Tokoyami grabbed their arm warningly.

Kaminari scoffed. “What, not like it needs to be washed or whatever, yeah?”

My edgiest student stared back unblinkingly. “Germs cannot survive The Void, but they are not the only Things to be wary of.”

Kaminari gave an uncertain chuckle, pulling the fidget away from their mouth. “Jeez, would it kill you to be a little less ominous literally always?”

As Tokoyami took a little too long pondering that, Kirishima clambered back into the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. I pulled another water timer off of the table, this one themed like the beach with mini umbrellas floating inside, and I tossed it to Dark Shadow. She caught it with a small growl of thanks.

I caught sight of Kouda waving to get Hizashi’s attention, and I elbowed my husband, nodding to Kouda.

“How’d Peep get their name?” they signed to us.

Hizashi smiled widely and signed along with their next words. “Kouda wants to know why we decided on the name Peep. Bet you all can guess!”

The next picture on the TV showed a set of blue eyes watching around a shadowy corner. The next one was taken by me as I was sitting on our couch, the camera pointed down to catch my leg and the carpet, but the focus was on the head of the gray-blue kitten sticking out from under the couch and the single paw latched onto my sock. The last picture was Peep in the massive pouch of my Present Mic blanket hoodie, only one eye visible, but their paw was clawing the nose of Hitoshi’s incredibly large rainbow worm on a string.

“After we let them have free rein of the place, I swear the little listener barely showed their face for two weeks,” Hizashi smiled, putting their fingers around their eyes like goggles. “You could only see their peepers! But now Peep’s the most outgoing little baby.”

The next picture showed a larger kitten mid-leap, their paws about to close around a chick toy.

Hitoshi smiled teasingly from the polycule couch, their hand carding lazily through Midoriya’s hair. “Yeah, Shoto, putting up with all of that is real love right there.” Hitoshi rubbed their head on Todoroki like an affectionate cat. “You still think they’re not married?”

I could hear the front door open just as Todoroki smiled and hissed, “Love? This is proof they’re roommates, not that they’re in love. They almost seem to like each other, so I can hardly believe they’re married.”

“DADDY!” a small voice cried.

I looked back in time to see a little form racing around the corner.

Eri!

Chapter Text

“Daddy!” Eri cried happily, arms out. I leaned forward in my seat and swept her up into a hug.

Nemuri rounded the corner at a more relaxed pace.

I was glad that we had her as a babysitter. We couldn’t let just any staff member watch Eri just in case her quirk decided to show up out of the blue. Rewind only went wild when Eri was feeling high emotions, but that was always a risk with complex PTSD. Somnambulist was capable of putting Eri right to sleep, which helped her quirk calm down—just as long as she’d taken her nightmare medication. We really didn’t need a repeat of her waking up sobbing from her awful dream, only to discover she’d sleep-rewound her second-favorite plushie into cotton seeds, wisps of wool, bits of plastic, and two buttons.

That had been a rough night for everyone.

“Hello, everyone!” Nemuri waved, winking cheekily. “Sorry to drop your little darling off early, but it seems I got here just in time to solve your controversy! It’s true that Mic and Eraser are married. As a matter of fact, I was Mic’s best man at the wedding, and my little Sushi was the ring bearer! He’s a tuxedo cat, so we got him a little bow tie and it was adorable. I’m sure I can dig up the photos to show you in class tomorrow.”

The conversation faded to a pleasant hum as I reminisced. We’d had a more American-style wedding, mostly because Hizashi had gleefully volunteered as head wedding planner, with Nemuri as his energetic second in command. I’d had my hands full with the small mountain of paperwork that came with a superhero marriage. It hadn’t been easy to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, but I would have rather done that than be dragged to the umpteenth wedding store. (It truly astounded me how much energy those two had for shopping.)

In the present, Eri waved slyly at Hizashi over the armrest. My husband blew her a kiss, and she caught it, giggling, and mimed eating it. (She’d gotten that move from Hitoshi.) Hizashi reeled back dramatically and started sending her rapid-fire air smooches. She quickly set to work gobbling them out of the air, which left her open for my sneak attack tickles.

Busy as I was with wrangling the giggling child in my arms, I almost didn’t tune back into the conversation in time.

Nemuri said, “My my, Todoroki, you still don’t believe me? For their wedding gift, I got them—”

I was suddenly extremely aware that both of my children and the entirety of my hell class were in the room. I stopped my tickle attack and cut Nemuri off, “Continue that sentence, and I’ll tell them what you did at our reception.”

Nemuri had gotten absolutely shitfaced off of the punch that she herself had spiked. She’d decided it was the perfect time to make a speech. We could tell she was winding up for it to be long, embarrassing, and with entirely too many high school memories that should’ve remained buried. Hizashi and I were trying to figure out a way to make her stop when she collapsed into the punch bowl.

We’d had to fish her back out, but she wouldn’t let go of the bowl, and we more or less had to drag her out of the wedding hall like that. (We let her keep the bowl and insisted she use it at every occasion.)

Nemuri huffed playfully. “My my, I know how to take a hint, you know. I’ll go; I need to get my beauty rest. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Eri grumbled and rubbed her head on my chest like Mischief did when he wanted attention.

I ran my hand over Eri’s back. “Hizashi’s sleep schedule is worse than mine is, what with them being a teacher, hero, radio announcer, and head of a hero agency. At least I get six hours of uninterrupted sleep at night, plus whatever I can get during the day. Meanwhile, here’s Mr. Four hours of sleep and an hour nap is all I need.”

“Wha!” Hizashi cried indignantly. “Why you gotta do me like that!” With a blatant pivot, they said, “Midnight, before you go, I got a surprise for you!” They offered her a smile. “The little listeners all got ice cream. I nabbed you vanilla ‘cuz I know how you like to add your own toppings. It’s already in the staff freezer. I’ll share my triple chocolate, too; just try not to dig into the little listener’s ice cream, yeah?”

Nemuri blew a kiss to Hizashi, “Awww, thank you, and no promises!” She waltzed out the door.

I turned my attention to the little girl in my lap. “Did you and Auntie Nem have a good time?” I absentmindedly fixed one of her sparkly barrettes that was falling out of her hair.

Eri held still as I set the clip back in place. “We painted our nails, and mine are all sparkly!” She raised her hands to show off her white, pink, and red polish, which had a healthy coating of glitter. “Do you like them, Daddy?”

My mouth quirked up a bit at one corner, just for half a second. Eri calling me daddy never got old. “They match you nicely.”

“Woah, those are chart toppers for sure!” Hizashi cried, leaning over to hold one of her hands up.

“I’m jealous. Those look soooo nice!” Hagakure called, and I could hear her light stomping on the floor.

“Thank you, um, and why do you do the stomps?”

“Oh,” Hagakure laughed, “I do it when I’m happy, because then everyone can tell I’m happy, too!”

“I’m glad that my nails made you feel good, too. Auntie Nem did them for me so I could match Magical Enby Sunny!” Eri flapped her hands happily, and it did my heart good to see her look carefree like any little girl should. “They’re my favorite magical enby ballerina!”

I didn’t understand how there were so many shows about magical enbies and their many, many pursuits. Just last week, Hizashi had dug up a series about a magical enby idol café, and Eri had fallen in love with the mascot character, Egg the ermine. They just looked like a ferret to me, but Eri was dead set on making sure I got it right. We’d already ordered an Egg plush to replace the stuffed animal she’d rewound.

Eri continued happily, “We also did coloring, and I made drawings for Daddy and—” She turned to me and shifted into the little girl whisper that really wasn’t very quiet at all, “Since they know you’re married, does that mean I get to call ‘Zashi Papa now?” She looked at me with serious eyes. “Um. Please?”

Hizashi grabbed their chest like they were experiencing physical pain, letting out one tiny note. I found myself commiserating deeply.

I nodded back to our daughter, equally serious. “You can call Hizashi ‘Papa,’ but only around my class and the teachers, understood?”

Eri lit up like a Christmas tree. “Papa!” she leaped out of my lap and determinedly clambered over the couch’s armrest, where Hizashi welcomed her with open arms.

“Ohhhhh, my sweet baby,” my husband said happily, holding our daughter to his chest. “Were you good for Auntie Nem?”

Eri nodded vigorously, “Uh-huh!”

Hizashi kissed her forehead and then gave her tummy a gentle poke. “And in order to be good, do you have to behave all the time?”

Hound Dog had told us that frequent reminders like this were important for Eri’s recovery. We had a rotating list we worked through.

My little girl paused for a moment, putting a finger to her chin like Hitoshi did when they were thinking, and then shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I know you said that, um. Being bad sometimes was okay?”

“Sure is, little listener!” Hizashi booped her nose. “But being bad isn’t the same thing as misbehaving. You’ll always be good, no matter what, okay?” He cradled her face in his hand, and she put her small hand on top of his, gazing at him adoringly.

Several students “Aww”ed quietly.

I speedily tugged my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture. God, that was beautiful. New screensaver.

I immediately sent it to Nemuri.

Me: Thanks for babysitting.

Me: [sunshine.png]

“I’ll always be good,” Eri dutifully repeated. “Even if I’m. Um. Not following the rules exactly right.”

Hizashi beamed. “That’s excellent, Angel! And remember that all your rules are there for very important reasons, ya dig?” They rubbed her cheek with their thumb.

Eri nodded. “Like don’t have too many sweets before bed or else I’ll have an icky tummy?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a WINNER!” Hizashi kissed her forehead.

“Can the winner get, um, a yummy prize?” Eri asked softly, rocking back and forth on Hizashi’s lap.

“Sure. But only one. No icky tummies on my watch, ya dig?”

“I actually made something for Tokoyami and Eri,” Sato said, leaning over Aoyama to point to a small covered paper plate on one of the coffee table platters. Dark Shadow pulled it off to reveal taiyaki. The fish-shaped pastries oozed a tasty-looking sauce.

“I made an apple filling for them,” Sato said proudly.

“Yaaaaay! Could I have that one, please?” Eri looked at me pleadingly.

I nodded, picking up the plate and holding it out to Eri.

She reverently picked one up and bit into it.

Dark Shadow pulled the plate out of my hands and set a single pastry to the side, and then wolfed down the two taiyaki and the paper plate. “Fumi, you’ve gotta try one of these!”

Tokoyami carefully took the last pastry off of the platter and took a bite.

“Truly, a treat worth killing and dying for.”

Eri nodded her head in agreement. “Woah! These are really yummy! Thank you very much, Mr. Sato! This is even yummier than your apple pie, and that’s, um, my second favorite!”

“You’re welcome!” Sato smiled. “I like to keep an eye out for apple recipes, since you two like them so much.”

“Awwwwww!” cried Uraraka. “That’s so sweet!”

Hizashi turned back to Eri. “You said you had drawings?”

“Yeah!” she said with a smile, wiping the crumbs from one hand off onto her kitty-printed skirt before clambering down from Hizashi’s lap. She was rustling around at our feet when a buzz drew my attention back to my phone.

Sleeping Beauty: oh, that’s ADORABLE. Was wanting a new Hizashi contact pic

Sleeping Beauty: btw how’d the movie go?

Me: The usual. Nobody needed Recovery Girl at least.

Sleeping Beauty: better than last movie time then! What was the worst part?

Me: Asui put her entire tongue in Uraraka’s popcorn bucket, which had 20 pumps of butter in it.

Sleeping Beauty: zashi said you got attacked by a villain. But I can absolutely believe the popcorn thing was the worst part

Me: God was it ever. Eri’s handing out her coloring pages now. Enjoy your ice cream. Night.

Sleeping Beauty: sweet dreams 😘

Eri held up several papers triumphantly, and I slipped my phone in my pocket.

“This is for Papa,” she said, taking another bite of her taiyaki. Nemuri must have gotten her a hero-themed coloring book, because she was handing Hizashi a messy marker-colored page of Present Mic yelling ‘YEAH!!!!’ at a group of cartoony bank robbers.

I watched my husband try not to tear up, and for a tiny moment it almost made me wish I was a daylight hero, if only so my child could color in pages of Eraserhead using a capture weapon on villains. I quickly remembered I could just commission one of Hizashi’s merch artists to make Eraserhead art for Eri to color, and I wouldn’t have to deal with daylight hero politics or be forced to play nice with the press.

Hmm. Certainly worth considering.

Eri looked up at Hizashi, happily rocking on her heels. “Is it good enough for the rocky road hall oh fame?”

Hizashi held it up for the class to see. “Aww, this is absolutely going up in the rock ‘n’ roll hall of fame as SOON as we get back!”

“Hall of fame?” whispered Shoji from the farthest couch, using his dupliarm to bridge the gap towards the Polycule couch.

“Fridge,” answered Midoriya.

It was already pretty full of Eri’s art, but we could find room.

“That looks great, Eri!” called Sero, craning his head to see the paper from the bottom of the Bakusquad cuddle puddle.

Hizashi pointed to something in the corner of the drawing. “Oh, is that a ball of yarn that needs some help?”

Eri shook her head. “That’s Toshi, and Daddy’s got him in his scarf because Toshi was gonna fight the bad guys on their own, and Daddy didn’t want them to do that, so he wrapped them up really good!” She took the last bite of her taiyaki.

Hitoshi groaned loudly, turning their head into Midoriya’s shoulder. “It was one time. One time!”

“One time too many,” I groused. “You will not pull any more Midoriyas.”

Farther down on my couch, Hagakure gasped and stomped her feet as best she could with Uraraka on her lap. “Oh my god, did you guys coin a whole term after Midoriya and not tell me? Okay okay, it HAS to do with breaking your bones, right?”

Todoroki nodded sagely. “Where you go off to fight an overpowered enemy alone instead of asking for help, like any other sane person who wants to get out of the fight without breaking half their bones, yes.”

Hagakure laughed. “Fu—REAKING CALLED IT!”

I gave her the side eye for her near slip-up, and she used her gloved hand to sign, “Sorry.”

Eri bounced on the balls of her feet. “Daddy, for you!” She handed me a drawing of The MoonCat Hero: Selune, a popular twilight hero who could make cats grow up to five feet tall, complete with eyes that glowed like the moon.

I’d actually spoken to Selune once. They’d wanted to go all in on the cat theme, but the Wild Wild Pussycats had that market cornered.

Eri had colored them like my hero costume. She’d also made the large cat they were riding resemble Mischief, turning the horde of smaller cats into Creature and Peep.

I swallowed thickly. “I love it, sweetheart.” I gave her a big hug, and she threw her arms around my neck. “You did a great job. It’s going up on the fridge for sure.”

“Hey, she’s still got more art, and you’re hogging all the hugs,” Hitoshi called teasingly.

It had taken my little girl some time to be okay with physical affection, to equate it with being loved. Eri had turned out to be extremely touch-starved. She loved being carried, held, and cuddled, but she was still terrified of letting her quirk loose on someone by accident. She was getting better at harnessing it with every week; still, she tended to shy away from physical contact. But my Erasure was the ultimate safety net. According to Hizashi, the moment I entered the room, Eri visibly relaxed and became a ‘certified cuddle bug.’ I made it a point to give her lots of physical affection.

I kept Eri in my hold for a few more seconds, rubbing her back with my thumb. I gently set her down on the floor. She smiled brightly at me before spinning around and making her way to the polycule couch.

“Deku, I made you All Might,” she handed him a page and he started crying immediately. “Toshi, I made you All Might but green because you like Deku and he likes All Might and Deku’s all green, and Shoto, I made you this!”

Todoroki held up the picture, face scrunching a small amount. “You… colored Endeavor half blue?”

“Mhm! Deku said Endeavor was a meanie, and you’re nice, and I only color good heroes, so I colored you!”

Todoroki—wildly unused to people saying something nice about him and anything unkind about Endeavor in the same breath (let alone paired with the simple gift of a child)—may have started crying on the spot.

The polycule all swept my little girl into a hug.

“You did fantastic, Eri!” Midoriya sniffled.

“This will be a family heirloom, passed down through the generations,” Hitoshi said solemnly.

Todoroki took in a steadying breath. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

They released Eri.

Meanwhile, Bakugo had a pressing question of his own for Eri, a little bit of his rough edge sanded off. “Did you bring a page for me?”

Eri shook her head. Her next words were enough to garner my immediate attention, along with Hizashi, all 20 students, and the security camera. “Daddy said that you don’t get any drawings ever if I hear you say the fuck word.”

Chapter Text

Several people spluttered, and still more hid gleeful smiles.

I prayed for strength and looked at Hizashi, who had been on ‘don’t let the small child say that’ duty last and, as such, should have taken care of the problem.

Hizashi straightened up and put on his dad voice. “Eri, what did I say about that word?”

Our daughter shuffled a bit. “You said, ‘Call it the f-word,’ but I said, ‘There are a lotta words that start with f, and since you said that we don’t have punishments if you don’t know exactly what you did wrong, then you gotta tell them exactly the word not to say,’ and then you said, ‘Uh-huh I’ll think about that and tell you what I figure out, okay,’ and then you didn’t do that. Am I in trouble?”

It had been an uphill battle to convince this little girl that she wouldn’t be punished for no reason, let alone for anything that might be construed as ‘not doing exactly what she was told at all times.’ It was a small miracle that she was comfortable enough to ask questions. This was a testament to her bi-weekly meetings with Hound Dog, along with my and Hizashi’s tireless work at being there whenever and wherever she needed us. Equally important was making sure Eri understood every rule and the reasons for them, and then being consistent with those rules.

“Eri, you didn’t do anything wrong, come here,” I said with a glance at Hizashi, who gave an I’m-in-trouble-and-I-know-it smile. “Just make sure not to say that word, since it’s only for adults, okay?”

Eri skipped over, her paw-print-patterned skirt twirling. “Does that mean Bakugo is an adult?”

“No. He’s just a brat.” I turned my glare on my most explosive student, who was mostly buried in the Bakusquad cuddle puddle and likely couldn’t see my ire. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

I gave Eri my most patient expression. It was what Hizashi called my ‘resting tired face’ with slightly raised eyebrows, but it got the job done.

“Brats can say um.” Eri looked at me imploringly. “The adult word?”

I didn’t sigh. Raising my voice slightly to ensure my whole class heard me loud and clear, I said, “No. That’s why they’re brats. They’re not supposed to say it, either.”

My class shifted guiltily in their seats.

Eri frowned slightly, tapping her chin. “So, once you’re a brat, you can say it as much as you want, and you’ll just be a brat? So you can say it none or lots? And since I said it, I’m a brat?”

“Oop!” hissed Hagakure, and Uraraka slapped a hand over her own sudden giggle.

Hitoshi whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Brats rise up,” and Jirou gave an ugly snort that she hastily turned into a fake cough.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and looked at my husband with a ‘this is your mess now fix it’ look.

Hizashi reached down and gently grabbed Eri’s hand. “You’re not a brat. You’re my little angel.”

Eri tilted her head, her other hand tugging anxiously at the hem of her Magical Might shirt. (Midoriya must have gotten it for her; I’d never even known that a magical girl All Might existed before I’d seen the awful magical girl Cardboard Might in the closet shrine.) She worriedly asked, “But I said the adult word?”

Hizashi rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “And you’re not saying it again, right?”

Eri shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

Hizashi put on a bright and cheery tone and booped her nose. “Then you’re not a brat!”

“Um.” Eri pensively tapped the toe of her shoe onto the floor. “Okay.”

She’s definitely going to have more tough questions later, like, ‘So you get one swear without being a brat? Is it one of each swear word or just one?’ But I’m going to let that be future Shouta’s problem.

Kirishima swooped in to address another pressing issue. He hissed, “Bakugo, dude, you said the f-word around Eri?”

“It was once!” Bakugo cried from the cuddle puddle. “And I even apologized!”

I snorted. “Was that before, after, or during when you said, ‘Sure is rough that little kids can’t swear. Sucks to be you.’”

Kaminari whooped, slapping the Bakusquad couch armrest. “Dang, Dad’s got receipts!”

I ignored the sudden influx of feelings. Oh my god. Dad, again? ANOTHER?

“Oh shi—oot, it’s SPREADING!” Ashido crowed from next to me. She evaded my glare and leaned out to look at my daughter. “Hey Eri, you mind if we call Aizawa Dad, too?”

Oh, fucking hell. This is going to ruin me.

On the other side of Ashido, Jirou hid their face in the back of Yaoyorozu’s shirt. Yaoyorozu sat stiffly in Jirou’s lap and tried to hide her blush with her hands.

“Um.” Eri looked up at Ashido wonderingly. “Would that make you my big sister?”

Oh god, oh no, I absolutely cannot have all of my hellions as Eri’s role models. It’s bad enough that she looks up to Shoto ‘Hand Crusher’ Todoroki and idolizes Izuku ‘Bone Breaker’ Midoriya.

“Yup!” cried Uraraka from Hagakure’s lap at the other end of the couch. “And we’d be the BEST big siblings EVER!”

I could see with painful clarity that Eri was so caught up in this that she was about to say, ‘I already have the best big sibling ever!’ And while that wouldn’t be bad, we had specifically not said anything to the class about Hitoshi’s adoption for largely the same reasons why Hizashi and I kept our relationship a secret. I also wasn’t about to volunteer a single speck of personal information. Ultimately, though, we wanted it to be Hitoshi’s choice.

Before I could open my mouth and stop Eri, Hitoshi cut in. “Eri, you just gotta ask Dad first.”

The little fucker smirked at me because they knew I couldn’t just say no to Eri without an extremely good reason, and even then it was a struggle; it had taken an entire two weeks before she had been able to ask us for anything so basic as, ‘Could you brush my hair with the soft brush instead, please?’

Eri turned to me, face scrunched up like she got when she was anxiously trying to do something exactly right. “Daddy? Can they call you Dad too?”

Hizashi nudged her shoulder. “What are the polite words?”

Eri held up her fists as if she was preparing to fight social niceties and win. “Oh! Thank you and peas!”

“Please,” Ashido whispered to her, nodding encouragingly.

“Please!” Eri echoed fiercely.

Burying my face in my hands, I ground out, “…My class is going to be the biggest nuisance.”

“Is that a yeeeeeeeeeeees?” Hizashi asked, pressing their head up against mine.

I nodded into my hands.

“WOOOOOO!” The class cheered, Hizashi scooping Eri up to celebrate. He had the foresight to turn down his volume so he didn’t blow out her eardrums.

“ERI G.O.A.T.!” called Sero, pointing to her.

“I’m the goat!” she said happily, putting a finger on the left side of her forehead to mime a second horn.

I will never survive this. “They just want to see me suffer,” I hissed under my breath.

“Ohhhh, he was mumbling,” Ashido elbowed Jirou, “What’d he say, what’d he SAY!”

From their place still pressed into Yaoyorozu’s back, Jirou’s earphone jacks twitched. “That we obviously just want to see him suffer.”

“WroOOOONG,” Hagakure sang, “well MAAAAYBE we want to see you suffer from our looooove, AND we also wanna call you Dad!”

My heart gave a mutinous lurch, and Hizashi didn’t even bother to smother his laughter. Bastard.

I glared at Hagakure, trying to make her see logic. “You already have a father.”

Ashido leaned into my line of sight, grinning. “You’re a better dad than like, half the class has, cough Todoroki, Shoji, Midoriya, Sparky, Sharky, Kouda, Tokoyami, Shinsou.”

I choked on my spit, Hitoshi sputtered, and Hizashi cackled.

“No arguments here,” Shoji said, heart-achingly matter-of-fact. He had been flanked by empty chairs for every parent-teacher conference.

Koda nodded, firmly signing, “Better without Dad around.”

Kirishima hummed uncertainly from the Bakusquad couch, draped over Kaminari’s lap. “Kami and I don’t have a dad, though?”

“Pretty sure that’s the point,” Sero elbowed him gently.

Flexing their lightning chew stim between their fingers, Kaminari said, “My mom works harder than any dad, not gonna lie.”

Midoriya nodded, still playing with Hitoshi’s capture weapon. “Same.”

Kirishima tossed a stress ball between his hands and grinned. “Sometimes kids would tell me that their dad could beat up my dad, but I’m pretty sure my moms could beat up anyone’s dad, Todoroki’s included.”

Todoroki stuck his head up over the armrest of the polycule couch, his deadpan expression betraying a glimmer of interest. “I would like to see this.”

Hitoshi rubbed their hands together. “I would also like to see this.”

Midoriya gave a distracted hum, already pulling his phone out and typing furiously. “What are their quirks? I could probably figure out how to get them a battle in their favor.”

“I mean—” Kirishima started.

“Absolutely not,” I cut off, incredulous. “No.”

Hizashi grimaced, throwing their head back. “Y’all can’t be planning crimes in front of us.”

On his lap, Eri copied him, putting her hands in the air. “Yeah!”

“Yeah!” Hizashi echoed delightedly. “The littlest listener knows what’s up!”

“I—That’s hardly the problem here,” I protested, watching my husband hand our little troublemaker a unicorn-themed tangle fidget.

“Right,” Midoriya hummed thoughtfully, still typing. “I have to be more judicious. Why set two moms against Endeavor when I could—?”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I hissed tiredly. “You’re all terrible influences on Eri.”

Now Todoroki and Hitoshi were both furiously typing. God, what were they all doing?

“Oh right, Eri,” Midoriya said, distracted, looking up at her for a moment. “Work smarter, not harder, and always go to Dad and Nedzu when you need help with something big.”

Dad. It sent a cascade of fuzzy feelings through my chest. They all trusted me. To protect them, to keep them safe, to do the right thing when they come to me with something big.

My husband’s knowing grin made me duck my head into my capture scarf.

“Got it, Deku!” Eri chirped with two big thumbs up, just like Hizashi loved to do.

It was so adorable that it almost made me miss Midoriya and Hitoshi both giving Todoroki a kiss on the cheek, and then my phone going off. I fished it out of my pocket.

Group Chat: The Rat, Problem Child #1

Problem Child #1: Hi! I’m being a good influence! :)

Problem Child #1: Without further ado! [Why-Endeavor-Deserves-To-Be-Put-Down.txt]

Problem Child #1: It includes dates, news articles, graphs, two spreadsheets, and about 20 different sources from the UA databases!

Problem Child #1: I made sure to get this first! It’s a confirmation of accuracy and his go-ahead to pass it along to you. [Shoto-Todorokis-Confirmation-And-Permission.png]

Holy shit. We had been building a case against Endeavor—although it was on a purely hypothetical basis, just in case the bastard tried to get around his ban from campus. I’d been planning on asking Todoroki—god, did he still want to be called that?—Shoto, if he wanted us to make it an official investigation. This would make things a lot smoother. 

Nedzu’s response came in as soon as I was done reading the text.

The Rat: Midoriya, I thank you and Todoroki for bringing this to our attention. Rest assured, we will do everything in our power to deal with Endeavor.

My finger was hovering over the file just when Nedzu’s cackle came from my phone, and I redirected to the text he’d sent me directly.

The Rat: Aizawa, as much as I’m sure you’d like to read the list that Midoriya has so helpfully provided, I ask that you refrain until the 1-A sleepover is done. Going over the list in the detail it demands would likely make it difficult for you to adequately focus on protecting your students. :)

That translated to, ‘It’s long as hell, and you’re going to want to choke out Endeavor immediately.’

This didn’t bode well. Even with what I already knew about the man, I would have welcomed turning his flames off and just letting Mic scream that bastard unconscious. I reminded myself that Todo—Shoto, was right there, under my protection, and I would be alerted immediately if Endeavor took even one step onto campus.

Me: Noted.

Still, I had other things to attend to. I toggled back to the chat with Nedzu and Midoriya.

Me: Good going, kid. We’ll take care of it.

I clicked into my direct messages and paused a long moment before finally sending one more text to Midoriya and Shoto.

Me: I’m proud of you two.

I sent Shoto an individual message as well.

Me: What would you like me to call you? Just Shoto?

I received an answer immediately.

Shoto Todoroki: yes.

Me: Understood.

I changed his contact, then shoved my phone back into my pocket and tuned into the conversation again.

Ashido laughed delightedly. “Tokoyami, Shinsou, did I get it right about Aizawa being a better dad?”

Hitoshi made a choked noise. “What made you include me in that?”

Ashido waved her hand. “Oh, you and Tokoyami just radiate daddy issues.”

Tokoyami nodded solemnly from his spot on the floor, petting Dark Shadow. “I never knew my father.”

“See? SEE?” Ashido crowed happily.

Tokoyami continued unabated, “The singular occasion I asked my mother about my father, she said that he was one of the 7 Princes of the Christian Hell. I am fairly certain that she was joking, on account of Dark Shadow not being a Christian.”

Dark Shadow preened. “I do not believe in or respect the christian god. Still, that didn’t stop me from devouring him whole.”

In the silence that followed that statement, I had a vivid flashback to the first joint class sparring with 1-B, which had been full of unfortunately memorable firsts and lasts. Included among the pile was the only time Shiozaki and Tokoyami had been paired together.

Shiozaki had bared her cross, shouting, “You and your ilk are a blight upon this land! I will cleanse you and your unholy influence!”

Dark Shadow had shot back finger guns and said, “Right back at’cha, sister!”

Although some level of trash talk was to be expected, Shiozaki’s had felt a little too pointed. I had been about to tell her to take it down a notch when Monoma unleashed a blast of Todoroki’s ice straight into Bakugo’s face—and he hadn’t even been paired with Bakugo, what the hell. I had to go put out that unfortunately literal fire, because unlike Todoroki, Monoma had no deep-seated aversion to using that half of the quirk. Never in my life had I been so glad for daddy issues.

By the time I’d gotten them sorted out, I had come back to find Shiozaki curled up, holding her hands over her ears and blankly muttering about, “Secrets a mere follower of Christ should never know.”

Tokoyami had walked up next to me, holding two water bottles. They’d tossed one whole in Dark Shadow’s maw. “Destroying the Devoted’s Dreams always makes her thirsty,” they’d said, like that was all the explanation I needed.

Then Dark Shadow was licking her lips at the broken remains of Shiozaki’s cross. I almost told her not to eat other students’ things, except I’d had to sprint off to keep Honenuki from floating into the goddamn stratosphere, Uraraka why.

(“He can’t make the ground all wobbly when he’s in the air!” she’d chirped, and I added her in next to Midoriya for kids I needed to teach some goddamn moderation.)

In the end I’d ruled that Tokoyami’s psychological warfare was a valid strategy. Still, they and Shiozaki would never face each other again.

In the present I considered Dark Shadow. Of all of the class to find and kill any god, I had been certain that Midoriya would be first on the list. Still, I could absolutely believe that Dark Shadow would be a close second. Did I have to add ‘Don’t eat entire deities’ to the dorm rules list? Why was this class so goddamn plus ultra?

Eri said, “God is dead?”

Chapter Text

Goddammit, problem children. How am I supposed to answer that? ‘God IS dead because Dark Shadow apparently ate him. But only that god. There’s more, possibly, but nobody knows for sure besides the woman from Italy who claims to have a god-seeing quirk, and she said that the Christian God and devil killed each other—’

Dark Shadow opened her mouth to answer Eri, but thankfully Hizashi beat her to the punch. “Maybe!” he said brightly, grabbing Eri’s hand and twirling her. “Hey, wanna know what we did while we were gone?”

Eri nodded quickly. “Yeah!”

“Oh! Oh!” Uraraka called from Hagakure’s lap. “Toru and I got to play rock paper scissors!” She smiled and did jazz hands. “Who do you think won?”

“Um,” Eri put her hand to her chin, swaying gently in place. “Toru is all invisible? But Chako is all, ‘Grrrr, gumhead marble arts!’” Eri punched the air. “And then you slam ‘em down. So, um, I think that big sis Chako won.”

Hagakure groaned, and Uraraka passed her a chocolate croissant off the coffee table. Half of it disappeared quickly.

Uraraka smiled brightly. “You’re right!”

Eri held her hands out, and Uraraka lifted her up onto her lap, both of them giggling.

“Sato, these are really tasty,” Hagakure said sadly. “They distract me from the sting of defeat.”

“Uh, thanks!” Sato said uncertainly. He leaned over to Kouda. “Was that a compliment?”

Kouda just shrugged.

“You put up a great fight, ribbit,” Asui croaked consolingly from the armchair, patting Hagakure’s head.

“Wait,” the invisible girl said unhappily, flopping partially onto Asui. “Ochako gets to be big sister and I get nothing?”

“In order to be a big sister, you have to succeed in ritual combat,” Uraraka sniffed haughtily, leaning back onto Hagakure.

“It’s true,” there was a smug note in Ashido’s voice. “Basically every time I fought a dude, I got a new honorary little sibling out of it. Fact. Like when I saved those girls from that villain creep! I still text them, like, all the time!”

Hagakure tried to stomp, but couldn’t make it work with both Uraraka and Eri on her lap. “Augh! Then I’m going to—”

“Iida,” I interrupted. “Add to the rules, ‘Don’t kill anyone.’”

“It’s already on the list, Sensei,” Iida piped up, not even having the good sense to look contrite.

The camera in the corner nodded up and down.

“Oh, right.” I rolled my eyes. “I sure am glad I can depend on my students not to attempt to kill anyone as long as the rule is sharpied on the fridge.”

From his place at the bottom of the Bakusquad cuddle puddle, Sero hissed, “That seem weirdly pointed to anyone else?”

Next to him, Kaminari loudly whispered, “I dunno man, I just live here.”

Sato thumbed warily at the camera on the wall. “Remind me why we need that thing again?”

I didn’t sigh. Instead, I raised a finger to tick off the points. “Several reasons. One, it was requested by one of the student’s parents after Bakugo’s kidnapping and was only set up after all of you, along with your parents and guardians, gave us consent to do so.”

Specifically, it had been requested by Hagakure’s parents, not that I would tell the kids that. Her dads had been worried about their child being kidnapped with no record of where she’d gone. We’d also installed a motion sensor on Hagakure’s window that beeped when she opened it, just in case she tried to sleepwalk out of her dorm window again. Once had been terrifying enough.

I raised another finger. “Two, insurance purposes. It’s much easier to get them to replace the table when there’s video evidence that you did, in fact, melt it to the ground in an inane game of truth or dare, or that the couch is broken because it was floated into the air to get the pencil that rolled under it and dropped too quickly because there was a bug.”

Hizashi crowed, “JUSTIFIED!”

Uraraka pointed at them so emphatically that she almost hit Yaoyorozu, who escaped getting smacked by quickly leaning back onto Jirou’s lap. “You GET ME.”

I glared at Hizashi finger-gunning back. “Stop encouraging property damage.”

He just gave me an unapologetic grin.

I raised another finger. “Reason three, in case of intruders.”

Shoji coughed politely. “But we already have the panic buttons scattered around the building?”

I couldn’t hold back my sigh. “Yes, but that only works if you elect to USE the panic button and not try and fight them head-on because you, quote, ‘Don’t need any help fighting these bastards, just watch me.’“

Bakugo harrumphed from his cuddle puddle. “I got them, didn’t I?”

I glared at him. “Not the point. Fourth reason, it made it so everyone’s parents could safely visit the first floor of the dorms.”

That had been a stopgap measure against Endeavor when we had been working on pushing through the red tape associated with banning the #1 hero from campus. Insurance threw a fit about not having the #1 hero on campus to help in case of a emergency villain attack. But Endeavor was just as likely to set a calm lobby on fire as he was to catch a villain. And that was before the HPSC had tried to get involved because of the ‘potential scandal.’ It had been a veritable nightmare.

Nedzu had bared his fangs in a bright smile and called in several favors, written more cheerfully terrifying emails than I wanted to contemplate, and subtly blackmailed several key players in the HPSC. All in three days flat.

The issue had been thoroughly resolved.

Still, we’d kept the policy in place due to its safety net for the students. Parents were not allowed in the students’ rooms under any circumstances, but being in the common area was a middle ground that my class had agreed to.

I put up a fifth finger. “Lastly, it’s for your own safety. Such as, if someone were to tape you up on the wall for four hours with no way to get back down or call for help.”

Kaminari put a hand up from the depths of the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. “In my defense, I won that bet. Sero even left my hands free to play on my phone so I could call when the bet was done, and it wasn’t like it was gonna get a dead battery, right?”

Kirishima chuckled from his place on the enby’s lap. “Yeah, but we didn’t think you’d drop it!”

Kaminari shrugged with little remorse. “I mean, I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, same,” sighed Sero.

Ashido leaned out next to me to narrow her eyes at the polycule couch. “What was Shinsou doing? Just watching my boi Kaminari hang there for four hours?”

Hitoshi rubbed Shoto’s back. “Excuse me, I was actually sleeping, for once.”

Kaminari hummed dramatically, rolling their head around to look at Hitoshi. “Kinda sus, not gonna lie.”

My kid scoffed. “Can’t an enby sleep, occasionally, like once a week?”

Several people answered at once. “No.”

I cut them off. “I will reiterate, the camera is not being actively monitored unless the computer detects suspicious or high-risk behavior.”

Iida sat up even straighter, if such a thing was even possible. “Suspicious or high-risk behavior? Do you have any examples, Sensei?”

Like a sleepover. Instead, I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that beyond what I’ve already said, because then some of you hellions would definitely try to get around it.”

“Guilty as charged!” Kaminari grinned and kicked their feet.

It was registered to be sent to Nedzu if it detected any suspicious activity, such as someone saying, ‘I just had a GREAT idea!,’ ‘Hey guys, watch this!,’ ‘Rock, paper, scissors for it?,’ ‘Wouldn’t it be hilarious if—,’ ‘I’m about to make BoneGate 2, the sequel to bone-hurting juice!’ or, even more terrifying, ‘Hi, Mei!’

Mic had tried to suggest that it called the police any time it heard, ‘someBODY ONCE TOLD ME—.’ This was suggested in a tone that implied it was a joke, but the pain on his face had been all too real. Unfortunately, Nedzu said that it was not actually illegal for Ashido to use her movie night vote to fight for Shrek 3, seven times in a row, and subsequently celebrate her victory by playing All Star by Smash Mouth.

The security system still needed a bit more fine-tuning. It detected Shinsou sleeping and Bakugo winning at Mario Kart as suspicious but had found nothing amiss when the class had cocooned Mineta in tape and punted him out the window.

Eri waved at Midoriya from Uraraka’s lap. “Was the movie good? You said you’d tell me about it!”

Midoriya sat up on his couch, heedless of both Hitoshi and Todoroki attempting to pull him back horizontal. He said excitedly, “Well, there was a mean villain lady who thought she could take us hostage! But your daddy went boom, pow, and took her down!” He punched the air to demonstrate my moves.

Eri looked at me, eyes shining. “WOW! You got ‘em good?”

I nodded. “It would be more accurate to say that Midoriya took down the villain, but I did secure her. And afterwards we went and got ice cream. Aoyama found a special one just for you.”

Eri’s head tilted slightly. “What’s ice cream?”

Hitoshi was already vaulting off of the couch. “I’ll get it!”

“Two scoops only!” Hizashi called after then.

“Understood!” Hitoshi gave a mock salute and disappeared into the kitchen.

Speaking of kids getting to try a new dessert. I looked to the Polycule couch. “Shoto, did you enjoy all your ice cream?”

He nodded decisively. “I ended up only trying Izu’s Neapolitan ice cream but discovered I am partial to strawberry. I’ll eat more tomorrow.”

“Toshi liked moose tracks better than plain chocolate,” Midoriya said enthusiastically, “but they might find a flavor they like better tomorrow.”

I exchanged a contrite glance with Hizashi. We’d certainly need to get some more ice cream for both our kids. They’d both had a flood of firsts that had slowly petered out as time went on. We’d need to do some digging and find out if there were any more fun ones we could do as a family.

I was working to keep a smile off of my face as my mind flitted to one of those early memories: their first-ever game of laser tag.

Hitoshi had invited their polycule. In fact, it had been a thinly veiled excuse to keep Shoto out of his house after the #1 hero had had a rough week in the press.

Shoto had been great at evasion but a surprisingly awful shot. Eri had ridden on Midoriya’s shoulders and cheered loudly whenever either of them got a shot off on the enemy. I’d purposefully gone easy on them to see Eri’s smile when she hit my target.

It had been even more fun when Eri had signaled that she wanted me to use my capture weapon to steal her from Midoriya’s shoulders.We destroyed the competition. Hizashi was trying to poorly evade Shoto’s shots, somehow making my student’s aim even worse, but it let Eri get a few shots off on them. When Hizashi had dramatically laid on the ground, loudly proclaiming himself perished, Eri wiggled free and ran to his side. A kiss on the cheek handily revived the fallen soldier. Hizashi had set Eri up on his shoulders and they’d absolutely decimated the rest of the game.

It had been plain to see that Hitoshi wanted their turn with their sister but figured that they weren’t going to outmaneuver Hizashi to nab Eri. Nobody had accounted for Eri jumping ship into Hitoshi’s arms. The siblings became an unstoppable force. It was possible that their hours playing video games together had led them to be quite the team.

In the present, Ashido leaned over into my space. “Hold on! You called Todoroki by his first name? How come you don’t do that for any of the rest of us, namely ME?”

“I remain professional unless circumstances logically dictate otherwise,” I managed, leaning slightly back towards Hizashi.

Ashido drummed her hands on the couch, swiveling to look at Shoto. “How do you get logical circumstances or whatever! Spill!”

Shoto’s eyes drifted from Ashido to me, asking for… permission, perhaps? I nodded at him, and he relaxed just a bit.

Midoriya petted Shoto’s hair, trying to reassure him that he didn’t have to say anything, but Shoto sat up regardless. “My sperm donor is a bastard. I’m not Todoroki anymore.” He hesitated. “I’ll probably end up Shoto Himura, after my mom, but for now I’m more comfortable just being called Shoto.”

As the class erupted into enthusiastic, supportive chatter, Shoto shrunk back slightly into Midoriya. 

Hitoshi ran out of the kitchen with the ice cream. It was in Eri’s favorite bowl, a gaudy, pink thing covered with My Little Pony characters. They’d also washed one of the small spoons for her.

Eri clapped and slid off of Uraraka’s lap, meeting Hitoshi halfway, her hands held out for the bowl. “Thanks so much, Toshi!”

“Don’t eat that too fast, alright?” Hitoshi made sure that their little sister had a good grip on the bowl before letting go.

Eri put a spoonful in her mouth, and her eyes sparkled. She stomped her feet on the floor just like Hagakure had done, and her magical girl light up shoes flashed with the motion.

She tried to tear through the ice cream, but my husband waved at her to slow down. “Didn’t want you getting a brain freeze!” they said cheerfully. “Those ain’t rocking at all.”

Eri nodded seriously and slowly finished her ice cream. “This is so yummy, I love it so much—it tastes just like candied apple! But it’s cold and also different! Thanks so much, Daddy!”

I nodded towards the far couch. “You can thank Aoyama for finding that.”

Eri whirled to face him. “Thank you, Mr. Prince!”

Aoyama nodded glitteringly. “You are quite welcome, mademoiselle! I appreciate your light-up shoes. I once exclusively wore custom light-up Heelys, but they had a tragic and mysterious ending, forcing me to retire them for more practical footwear. You have quite the style!”

I took a look at my daughter. She was wearing some of the clothes that I had helped her pick out. The others had to temper my fashion sense, but it was hard to tell what a little girl would want. It turned out that she was picky about fabrics, which was extremely understandable, and now she went with Hizashi whenever she needed new clothes. Her leggings had sprinkles and cats on them, her ruffled skirt had unicorns all over, and her shirt had Magical Girl Might. Okay, the shirt I hadn’t gotten her; likewise, her handful of friendship bracelets were from some of my class.

Eri grinned widely. “Thank you! I like how you sparkle like a cartoon guy!”

She turned to me, suddenly bashful. “Can I have this ice cream more, um, please? I really like it.”

Hitoshi grabbed her bowl and went to go put it in the kitchen. I tracked them with my eyes and hummed. “Possibly. Aoyama didn’t want to say where he found it.”

Hizashi tapped me on the arm. I ignored Eri whirling around to grill Aoyama, instead turning my attention to my husband.

They whispered, “C’mere, I looked it up; this is all I could find.”

They held out their phone, and I leaned over the armrest to see a 7-year-old Reddit thread in English. I was no Hizashi, but I could read it without too much difficulty.

I grimaced at it.

Eri was suddenly in my face. “How come you got to say you’re married? You said people didn’t get to know.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “Papa made a promise to tell the class if they did something really good for your daddy, and they did it. So we got to tell them.” 

I had been keeping tabs on Shoto in my periphery, and I registered his gaze traveling from Eri to me, and I didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“Speaking of which,” he said quickly. “Ms. Midnight vouches that the two of you are married. So I accept that, but I draw the line at believing you’re in love.”

Hitoshi rolled their eyes, walking back out of the kitchen. “I bet you’re about to ask them for evidence.”

Shoto nodded solemnly. “Yes. I’d like you to prove it by doing something that only people in love do. Kissing.”

Chapter Text

Shoto wants me to kiss Hizashi? In front of the whole class?

“PDA?” I broke out into a cold sweat, grasping at any subject change. “Eri, you still have a coloring page in your bag. Who’s that for?”

“It’s for Nedzu!” she smiled, stooping to pull it out. She held it up proudly, turning in a circle to show everyone in the class.

“I know you made the page into Nedzu, but still, you put The Big Cheese in a suit,” Hitoshi nodded with approval. “A distinguished choice.”

A hero coloring book not including Nedzu, but instead The Big Cheese Rat: That Motherfucker, AKA The Big Cheese? It was… an uncomfortable decision, certainly.

My mind flashed back to when I had gone out for drinks with Naomasa after he had interrogated the awful creature.

The detective had taken in a too-big breath. “Being legally classified as a vigilante, we put quirk-suppressing cuffs on The Big Cheese.”

I winced. I’d accidentally hit Nedzu with Erasure precisely one time, and it had been… bad. He’d been out of sorts for weeks after. You just didn’t suppress animal intelligence quirks unless you had no other choice.

Naomasa looked deeply into his sake. “Eraser. The cuffs did nothing.”

I had gazed at him with horror. “But they—”

“Don’t,” Naomasa had hissed. “No pronouns. I asked what pronouns The Big Cheese wanted on record. The rat said, and I quote, ‘Fuck outta here with that gender shit. The day someone genders The Big Cheese is the day they die by my hand.’ Eraser, it was the truth.”

I actually found that extremely understandable but couldn’t bring myself to say that to the detective’s haunted expression. I changed tactics. “Okay, the—The Big Cheese, is a talking rat with no quirk?”

Naomasa slammed the sake, which was bad form, but I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Yes.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as Naomasa set the empty sake cup back to the side. He hissed, “I asked, Aizawa. I said, ‘Do you have a quirk?’ And the answer—the answer—was, ‘The only quirk here is thinking you have the right to talk to The Big Cheese.’” Naomasa slumped face-first onto the bar counter. He wheezed out, “Truth.”

I couldn’t keep the grimace off of my face. “You brought the Big Cheese in to ask about the uranium that disappeared from the terrorist group that the Big Cheese took down, correct?”

“Of course I asked about the goddamn uranium.” The detective glared at me from the bartop. “The rat said, ‘Fucking eated.’ And I said, ‘To be entirely clear, you ate the uranium?’ And The Big Cheese said, ‘Yeahg.’ ‘Yeahg’, Aizawa.”

The eye contact was starting to burn. I looked away.

Naomasa continued, “And it was the truth!” He broke down into sobs.

They hadn’t been able to hold the apparently quirkless Big Cheese on account of vigilantes being people who used their quirks to take down villains. The creature became a widely memed transgender icon and even met Star & Stripe, the famous, trans, American hero.

I had read about it in the paper the next day. ‘The Big Cheese: Immune To Star & Stripe’s Quirk!’

‘The Big Cheese goes on the record: ‘Star & Stripe is a friend and cannot harm me because her great power requires a name. The Big Cheese is merely an ideal. A dream of prosperity for all ratkind. Yeahg.’’

It had made me shiver in fear. I’d immediately unearthed my sake stash and gone straight to Naomasa.

And now Eri had drawn the Big Cheese in Nedzu’s suit.

Sure, it was merely the poorly drawn scribbles of a child. But just the thought that their strange rodent alliance could exist was chilling. I wished I had saved some of that sake.

Had Nedzu ever spoken of The Big Cheese? Could they be friends? Lovers? Could Nedzu have met The Big Cheese on Grindr?

I looked pleadingly at Hizashi, asking for him to figure out a subject change.

They discreetly elbowed me. “The Big Cheese or a kiss?”

I very quickly pulled a subject change out of the ether. “So Midoriya, for your PowerPoint, you said you were going to come back to Nedzu? He was in the room, but you’d ruled him out.”

“Oh, right!” Midoriya nodded, fidgeting with Hitoshi’s capture scarf as the two cuddled on the polycule couch. “I’m… 92% sure he wasn’t in the room, but I wasn’t able to narrow down his location completely.” He grimaced. “I believe he was in the vents.”

I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but Eri climbed into my lap, and I got her situated instead. I sighed. “Did you ask him?”

Midoriya snorted derisively. “You think I didn’t try? Nedzu declined to answer the survey, saying that for the gift, I should simply ask you myself. He also wouldn’t tell me who your partner was because it would ‘ruin the sport.’ I agreed. I asked him where he had been, but he wanted to play a game of chess for it. I knew that if he won, then he’d want something from me, so ultimately I decided it was too risky, and I would have to obtain the information another way.”

Todoro—Shoto, I reminded myself, had a glimmer of interest in his voice. “So, the person that Aizawa was kissing in the staff room COULD have been Nedzu?”

“No,” I sighed heavily, thumbing at my husband. “Hizashi kissed me.”

“Prove it,” Shoto said quickly. “Kiss them!”

Hizashi leaned over the armrest towards me with a wide smile. “Okayyyyy, Sho c’mere!”

Eri giggled loudly, and I judiciously used my elbow to push Hizashi back into their seat. “Absolutely not.”

They leaned across the gap to pout against my arm. “It’s not often I get to kiss my husband outside of the house. I just want one kiss, babe! For your favorite husband who got you out of emotional honesty class!”

At the foot of the Bakusquad couch, Tokoyami jolted ominously. “Favorite husband? THERE’S MORE? THE AWFUL POLYCULE NEEDS REVISION.”

I desperately tried to ignore how Hitoshi and Midoriya were wrestling Shoto’s notebook out of his hands, instead saying, “I can barely stand one as it is.” I wracked my brain for another subject change. “Oh, right, Mic, what did you get out of the emotional honesty deal?”

“Me?” Hizashi grinned widely. “I got to see my husband happy!” 

“Mhm.” I eyed him with open disbelief.

My husband pouted with a fervor I associated with five-year-olds and first-year students who wanted a deadline extension. “Well, and I thought maaaaaaybe I’d get to bring your good cat mug to work.”

That was the mug with cat ears on the rim that would poke you in the eyes if you weren’t careful. Hitoshi called it ‘danger coffee.’

“You can use my kitty mug!” Eri piped up from my lap, giving Hizashi a pat on the head.

When we’d officially adopted Hitoshi and Eri, we took them to pick out Good Mugs. They both came home with cat-themed ones, truly children after my own heart. Hitoshi’s mug was big so they could make large mug brownies. It showed many simplistic cats sleeping on a person, along with the text, ‘Wish I was here.’ Eri’s mug was properly proportioned for her small hands and said ‘magical kitty princess’ in glittering letters.

“Thank you, littlest listener!” Hizashi blew her a kiss. “That’s real generous of you. I will absolutely take you up on that. I’m also hoping your daddy will be as generous as you, as thanks for helping him out and all!”

I crossed my arms around Eri, and she crossed hers to match. I said, “I had already had to tell my class that we were married, AND you want to show up to school with my best mug?” Granted, it wasn’t like I could bring the mug to my class—it would last all of two minutes before the hellions broke it—but it was the principle of the thing.

“The mug and a kiss!” Hizashi said cheerfully.

Damn, I’d been hoping he’d forgotten about that. I decided on the ultimatum. “You can have either a kiss now or the mug occasionally.”

“Boooooo,” called Ashido next to me.

The class picked up the call. Eri looked around and started booing, too. Hitoshi even joined in grandly. Betrayal from all sides.

“You’re all gremlins.” I shook my head. “I can understand Shoto and Mic, but why are the rest of you doing this?”

Midoriya hummed. “I try to support my boyfriend in his conspiracies when they aren’t about me.”

I nodded tiredly. “Logical.”

Hitoshi rubbed their head on Shoto, looking over to me. “Committing to your partner is a noble thing. But me, personally? Committing to the bit.” There were mumbles of agreement from the class.

I turned a shrewd eye to Uraraka. “And it has nothing to do with you planning on redistributing the bet money if it turns out that none of you were correct?”

She quickly put away her calculator and visor. “No, no, I would never!”

Eri whispered loudly to me, “I think she’s lying.”

“I’ll give you a cut of the profits if you quit talking,” Uraraka hissed.

“Big Sis Chako has never lied, ever,” Eri chirped, sliding off my lap and running to Uraraka.

If only it were that easy to get her to go to bed.

Jirou spoke from under Yaoyorozu, two seats down from me. “I mean, Shoto’s already paying for ice cream for our sleepovers basically forever, yeah? Anything else is a bonus.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Yaoyorozu nodded.

Kaminari piped up from the Bakusquad cuddle puddle. “Yeah. This whole thing was mostly me committing to the bit. But now I’m actually a little invested?”

There was a murmur of assent from around the room.

Hagakure kicked her legs, and Uraraka held onto the couch arm to keep her balance. Hagakure said, “Plus, you think I’m going to miss out on a gay hero kiss?”

Several members of the class made noises of agreement, drumming their hands on their thighs and the couch.

That one hit me in the heart. I remembered what it was like when I was a hero trainee. There hadn’t been many gay heroes at the time, let alone trans ones, and I had longed to see myself in them. My students just wanted that for themselves. How could I deny them?

Besides that, I was secretly a little pleased to show Hizashi the affection they deserved. I gave a put-upon sigh and grabbed their hand. “Okay, fine, you can have both.”

Uraraka lifted Eri onto her lap as Hagakure squealed happily.

Hitoshi backpedaled, shaking their head and raising their hands. “Wait, I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

“Coward,” Shoto hissed. “Commit!”

Hizashi leaned into my space, grinning. “Just so y’know, between the mug and the kiss? Smooch, hands down. Not often I get to love on ya outside the house, ya dig?”

A warm tendril of affection snaked through my chest. “Enjoying calling me your husband, huh?” I put a gentle hand on his chest.

Hizashi stood up, reaching out and snagging a few strands of my capture weapon and using it to pull me up out of my seat, close to their face. “Sure am,” he said softly, using his other hand to cradle my head. “That a problem?”

Shit, I’m not immune to being flirted at by my husband. I kept myself from turning red by a truly Herculean effort. Still, I couldn’t resist rubbing my cheek into his hand like a pleased cat.

“C’mon, a kiss is bad enough, but FLIRTING?” cried Hitoshi. “THAT wasn’t part of the deal!”

Hagakure squealed loudly and stomped her feet, an impressive act with Uraraka and Eri on her lap. “Shut UP. You don’t have to watch, but if you make me miss a gay hero kiss, I’ll fistfight you in a Denny’s parking lot!”

Hitoshi snorted derisively. “Jokes on you, I have home court advantage!”

I wasn’t looking at my class, too busy making eyes at my husband—wow, that was a little heady. But I could hear the distinctive sound of my oldest child getting destroyed by an airborne pillow.

“WHA!” Hitoshi hollered indignantly.

“Toshi, if you make me miss this evidence,” Shoto hissed, “I will join her in this crusade.”

Eye contact was fraught at the best of times, but if it was with Hizashi, I was fine. He leaned in a little closer, our noses almost touching. There was nowhere to look but his beautiful green eyes.

He whispered, “God, you’re such a cutie. I’m gonna make this kiss count.” Their smile got even bigger as the goddamned blush started creeping up my face.

Hitoshi threw the pillow at us. “Get a room!”

My husband effortlessly pulled it out of the air and tossed it to the side.

From the ground in front of the Bakusquad couch, Tokoyami hissed, “Shinsou. You have betrayed your commitment to both the bit and your boyfriend, bringing darkness upon your family line.”

Hitoshi cried, “I’m fine with dishonor or whatever, just as long as I don’t have to watch my teachers kiss!”

I could hear a tussle from the polycule couch. Shoto hissed, “No, I need to make sure they’re actually in love!”

Eri said, “Yeah! If you two love each other, then you gotta kiss. That’s a rule.”

“See!” Ashido called, smacking the couch cushion. “A rule!”

It definitely was not a rule, but I was a bit too distracted to explain the nuances of the different relationship types. I admired Hizashi’s lips, watching as they quirked up at the corners.

They said, “You’re gonna be red as a tomato.”

Their soft voice made me push down a loving look.

“Isn’t this enough?” Hitoshi cried, and I could hear them getting pulled back into the cuddle puddle.

Shoto huffed. “Absolutely not. Plus Ultra evidence is enough.”

Hitoshi gave a loud groan. “We do not need to go Plus Ultra right now!”

I put my hand on top of Hizashi’s hand just as there was a playful scoff from Midoriya. “I had no idea you hated U.A.! I’ll have you know my boyfriend and joyfriend both attend.”

I tuned out their bantering and settled one hand on Hizashi’s shoulder blade, the other slowly caught by his hand and softly settled on his neck. They slid their other hand over my ribs and around my back.

The positioning reminded me of the western ballroom dance from the optional, third-year hero, dance class. It was primarily taken by a specific brand of daylight heroes and those angling for the undercover type of underground heroics, yet Hizashi had pestered me into taking it with him anyways, and now he and Nemuri taught the third years. I used that training for occasional night waltzing with Hizashi in our bedroom. Still, this brought me back to when I’d first danced with them, uncertain, absolutely falling in love, and doing my damndest not to step on their toes.

In the present, Hizashi grinned at me, sentimental and dopey and loving, and god, I was smitten. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said softer than I intended.

“I’m dipping you,” they announced with a grin. That was an important step because the first and only time he had done that by surprise, instinct had had me flipping out of the hold and punching him in the solar plexus.

Instead, I merely raised my eyebrows as the gravity shifted, Hizashi’s arm against my back, taking my weight, and their other arm sweeping under my knees until I was completely off of the floor. He was suddenly over me, gazing at me with all the tenderness in the world. I melted, closing my eyes just as my husband’s lips pressed into mine.

It was soft, sweet, and loving. I caressed his neck, his hand around my back anchoring me firmly in place. I felt safe in my husband’s arms.

 My husband! God, if that gloomy little third-year could see me now, a real hero, legal name changed, fully transitioned as a man, kissing Hizashi?

Hope. He’d have hope.

——