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Izuku didn’t really think that the new HPSC policy was especially bad. As much as he hated it, he could already see positive impacts of it. The decision made a strange sort of sense even as it grated on his every nerve to stand in front of a camera and make moon eyes at ka- …Bakugo.
Japan was in turmoil after the war and morale was lower than ever. Even though they had the truly terrible villains now either dead or safely behind bars, a dozen small fries seemed to pop out of the woodwork for every individual who had been contained. Like vultures coming to clean the bones left behind by more powerful predators.
They weren't especially dangerous or damaging, but the constant hero presence needed to keep things in line made a traumatized public uneasy. Extreme damage had become the norm over the past two years and Izuku couldn’t really blame people for flinching at the sight of a hero battle, even if they were over quick and clean. A few months ago being that close to a hero fight would have been a much more dangerous environment.
The people were scared and they needed something to root for, and what else were heroes for at the end of the day? So the Commission started pairing heroes up left and right. It gave people something to celebrate. It showed them that things were under control. If heroes could relax enough to find love and sit on talk shows, things had to be back to normal - right?
It was only natural that he be paired with Bakugo, and that it happened early. They were two of the most recognizable faces from the new crop of heroes. Saviors of Japan and all that. The Wonder Duo. Except they barely spoke anymore. Bakugo threw himself into his work, taking every patrol shift he could. Any progress they might have made, any hint of the puppy crush he had held for the man, had been burned to ash in the crucible of war and neither man had the willpower to build something new.
A flashblub went off and Izuku blinked back the stinging in his eyes. A PR assistant called out “Hand on his waist. More affectionate please.”
He obeyed, leaning against Bakugo’s warmth and smelling the tang of nitroglycerin as he wrapped his arm around him. He tried to give off a soft smile and tried not to inhale. The scent Nitroglycerin had been permanently paired with the coppery tang of blood. The feeling of dust clogging his lungs and a desperate desire for a sip of water that he simply didn’t have time to stop for. His vision tunneled and the studio faded. Bakugo’s scowling face wasn’t lightly powdered and clean, it was streaked with ash and blood. His eyes were blank and his body unmoving. Izuku’s stomach lurched and he flinched hard when another flash went off and shook him back into the present.
His smile was vacant and his eyes were dead as they finished the photoshoot, but he knew that the marketing team would add in a sparkle in post anyway. It would be fine.
It came to a head at the annual Heroes Gala. He had been directed to make a speech. Something unifying and heroic to mark the first Gala since the end of the war. He took to the podium with steel in his spine. He gave his speech in smooth and perfect cadence. His smile was wide and bright and if his eyes didn’t match, it would be hard to tell under the glare of a spotlight.
Aizawa felt his chest go tight as he looked at Hero Deku’s grin. The boy who used to trip over his words now spoke in a perfectly practiced cadence. The words that fell from his lips were those of a stranger. Lines that were clearly fed to him as he went on about we and them and everyone. Aizawa could tell when someone was bleeding out, and Midoriya was doing it right there on stage.
When the applause came, it was thunderous. The crowd saw their hero- young, steady, the Symbol of Hope there to hold the world together with all of the strength and ability of Atlas. Midoriya exited the stage and Aizawa was thankful for being relegated to the back of the hotel conference room as a retired underground hero. No one noticed him get up from his seat and wind his way down a hallway.
He found Midoriya tucked into a stairwell. The man flinched at the echoing metallic sound of the fire door being pushed open but he settled when his eyes met Aizawa’s. “You can’t fix the world if you break yourself first” was maybe not the most subtle opening line, but Shota was not known for beating around the bush and Midoriya barely huffed in surprise.
They stared at each other for a while but Midoriya didn’t seem to be able to find any words to respond with. His posture did ease slightly as the soft thump of his back hitting the concrete wall reached Aizawa’s ears. Izuku slid down the wall to sit on the floor and Shota sank down beside him with a quiet sigh. The motion was slow and careful and there was a faint clink as his prosthetic leg shifted in front of him.
Shota didn’t press further, he knew that forcing Midoriya to open up would be a bit like poking at an open wound and he didn’t want to accidentally cause further damage. The silence wasnt awkward, just fragile. It was a long while before Aizawa felt the faint pressure of Izuku’s head leaning against his shoulder. It was even longer before the man spoke. Shota had almost thought the man had fallen asleep. “I dont know how to stop. It feels like if I rest, everything we fought for will fall apart”
A few beats later Aizawa barely hears the man when he mutters “I’m so tired of holding it all up”.
For a moment neither of them moved. Aizawa could hear his small, uneven breaths. He shifted slightly, tucking the man under the protection of his arm. Izuku hesitates at first but then sinks into him, like his strings were cut.
Aizawa didnt move away, he pulls the man closer as Izuku’s form begins to quietly shake. Shota pulls him half into his lap, despite the fact the hero is larger than him, if only in mass and not in height. He allows himself to press his lips into green curls and smells the faint minty scent of Izuku’s shampoo.
They sit there for too long, Shota rocking Izuku slowly and murmuring quiet reassurance in his ear, but Aizawa feels confident that no one is likely to take the stairs- especially with Gala still running strong.
Eventually his leg begins to tingle with numbness and Izuku’s shaking has stopped and his breaths begin to resemble the even cadence of sleep. Aizawa leans Midoriya back against the wall and begins the process of standing. It took effort these days. He slides his good leg under himself and uses the wall to pull himself up. He steps gingerly onto the prosthetic and tests his balance before broadening his stance to lift Midoriya across his shoulders.
He lifts him with practiced movements, and manages not to wake him. Step by step Aizawa begins to climb the stairs, thankful his room is only two floors up. His reflection is clear in the window, with nothing but dark night sky beyond the glass. He ignores the glint of silver at his temple and smiles at the relaxed facial features of the sleeping Izuku in his arms.
He reaches the hotel door, thankful that the hallway remains empty. He manages to snag his hotel card and opens the door witha press of his elbow to the handle.
Aizawa crosses to the bed and lowers Izuku gently, one arm braced on the bed for balance. The mattress bounces gently with the weight of the #4 hero. “S-sensei…?” Midoriya murmurs out sleepily, his right eye fluttering halfway open.
Shota pulls the blanket over the man “You fell asleep” he says quietly “you’re safe here. I will keep watch”
Izuku sinks back into deep sleep at the reassurance, but when Aizawa stands to go to the couch, his hand is snagged and he is drawn back to the bed. He smirks a little and tries to ignore the gooey feeling in his chest. He takes the heavy scarf from his shoulders and there is a mechanical clink as he slides his prosthetic off. He rolls onto the bed next Midoriya on top of the blankets, thankful that his hero uniform is soft and flexible for maneuverability and not the stiff nanoweave armor that makes up most uniforms.
Izuku was in a suit instead of his Deku costume thankfully, but the thought gives him a moments pause. He sits up and lifts the blanket back to pull the man’s dress shoes off. His fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of his suit pants and he cant help but flush slightly as he unbuckles the mans belt and slides it off. It was probably too intimate a gesture, but he felt making Izuku comfortable was the more important concern. Shota slides off a silken green tie and unbottons the startched dress shirt a couple inches. He keeps his eyes on the tired man’s face and pretends he doesnt notice the curved muscled pectoral under his fingers.His hand twitches and he moves it to pet through disheveled green curls. Aizawa tries not to put too much weight behind the way Izuku curls into his touch with a happy little mewl. That night was filled with odd dreams and fitful sleep though he wouldn’t have traded the experience away for anything. They wake at the same time as bright morning light invades the room through a crack in the curtains. Neither man moves as they register the way they had curled around eachother. Aizawa skips addressing it in favor of solving his primary problem. “I don’t care what the commission says.” Shota’s voice is low and steady “You have been carrying too much and this charade needs to end”
Midoriya swallows back anxiety, but for the first time in months he feels like he is almost on stable ground. That there is someone other than himself he can rely on. “I want it to” he chokes out.
Aizawa leans back slightly, his gazae calm but unyielding. “Then let me be there. Fore real. Not as part of some act. You don’t have to shoulder this alone anymore”
Midoriya blinks rapidly and a flush comes to his cheeks. “You really mean that?”
“I do. You are Midoriya Izuku. Not the hero Deku. I think you have forgotten that a bit. You need someone to remind you to be you. I will be that. I wont let you disappear behind that mask.”
The words hang between them like a promise and Midoriya’s shoulders slump and the first true smile hes felt in months tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Okay” he says, voice small but steady.
The next few weeks are a blur of welcome changes. Izuku had fled the apartment he shared with Bakugo and swapped it for mornings where he sits at Shota’s breakfast table half-asleep pouring milk into his cereal as Aizawa sips a cup of coffee. There is a marked lack of meetings with his PR team and more time for himself.
He uses the extra time to add on afternoon training and their evening meals become casual debriefs of their day and quiet camaraderie. Boundaries began to blur even as the lines of tension began to leave Midoriya’s face entirely. Weeks pass and neither man could have told you at what point things flipped, only that one day they found themselves on the couch watching a movie and when their eyes met to share a laugh over an unrealistic fight it was the most natural thing in the world for Aizawa to lean down and taste the joy right from the man’s lips.