Work Text:
Aizawa let out an exhausted sigh as he made his way to the Class 1-A Heights Alliance complex.
How exactly his students always managed to not be aware that it was past curfew was amazing to him.
Yet here he was.
As he approached the front doors, he heard loud shouts coming from inside.
Great. Just what I needed tonight.
Although the volume of the screaming was loud enough to rattle the building itself, Aizawa could only begin to make out the actual words once he began to unlock the door.
“SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP WEIRD HAIR!” came the all-too-familiar voice of Bakugo .
“YOU KNOW WHAT?! MAKE ME!” came the response from who sounded like Kirishima.
“OH! IS THAT A THREAT?”
“MAYBE IT IS!”
“Guys, stop!” Midoriya’s unmistakable voice cried.
“SHUT UP!” Bakugo and Kirishima shouted simultaneously.
Suddenly, Aizawa could hear explosions crackling and the sound of Kirishima hardening himself.
What could’ve caused the two friends (if they could be called that) to begin arguing like this, the homeroom teacher did not even want to begin to guess. All he knew was if he didn’t get inside soon, someone was going to get hurt.
That is, if someone wasn’t already.
Finally hearing the click, he pushed the door open and activated his quirk.
“That’s enough!” he snapped, only to find Kirishima and Bakugo utterly unharmed.
Before he could utter another word, he heard a chorus of voices shout, “Happy Birthday, Mr. Aizawa!!”
The two offending students moved and revealed his entire class in the back of the common area standing around a decorated cake. He looked at each individual student and saw that all of them were wearing a proud smile.
Aizawa was in shock to say the least.
“Does someone want to explain the meaning of this?” he managed after a few seconds of silence, which the class found nerve-wracking.
Iida stepped forward and bowed slightly.
“We wanted to do something to show our appreciation for you, Sensei!”
Yaoyorozu, his Vice-President, joined him, saying, “Present Mic-Sensei mentioned in class that today was your birthday, so we thought this was the best opportunity to truly thank you for everything you do for us.”
“We spent all day after classes decorating, ribbit,” Asui admitted.
“And Sato made the cake!” Ashido exclaimed, grabbing the baker’s shoulders.
“When Jiro heard your footsteps, Bakugo and I started pretending to fight so you’d rush in without thinking!” Kirishima finished, obviously taking pride in their work.
Aizawa took a look around the room.
He could tell that they worked hard to do this for him.
Whatever. They can miss curfew for one night, I suppose.
“Just blow out the stupid candle so I can go to bed!!” Bakugo barked.
“BAKUGO!” the class responded, reprimanding his attitude.
Bakugo scoffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t venture any further complaint.
“Make a wish, Sensei!” Uraraka urged as the erasure hero approached the cake.
Aizawa took a breath.
Wishes. What a childish notion. Aizawa thought to himself. But if he had to make one:
Become great heroes, and keep each other safe.
His class cheered as he blew out the candle, and Sato made his way through the crowd to begin slicing the cake. He offered the first piece to his teacher, but Aizawa tried to refuse.
“No, thank you,” he said, attempting to be polite. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not typically one for sweets.”
Instantly, he watched as Sato’s face deflated into disappointment and something akin to hurt, and suddenly 19 voices were all but begging him to have it.
“Just this once!” cried Hagakure.
“C’mon, Sensei!” Jiro joined in.
“He did work hard on it,” the monotone voice of Todoroki added.
Aizawa looked at the cake once more and sighed, taking the plate from Sato’s hands into his own.
“Thanks,” he said simply.
As more and more of the class got pieces of their own, they all began to drift into their own groups and converse among themselves. Not that Aizawa minded— he never wanted any sort of spotlight anyways.
The more he watched them, he started to find himself glad they did this.
Having attended UA himself, he understood the rigorous coursework, not to mention internships, work studies, and personal training.
If having to endure an hour or so of attention is what it takes for his kids to get some time to be normal teenagers, then that’s what he would do.
The party continued without any more songs, cheering, or general loud noises, but Aizawa preferred it that way.
The sun sank lower and lower, the evening sky slowly turning into a starry blue.
The homeroom teacher stood by the window and took a breath, soaking in the view of his problem children enjoying themselves.
He considered that, perhaps, being the center of attention for once was not the absolute worst fate in the world.
Aizawa put his empty plate in the sink as the very last hints of red were fading out and addressed his class.
“Make sure you all clean this up before morning,” he told them, then added as a warning, “And I expect to see you all in class on time tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sensei!!” his class responded enthusiastically.
Having their assurance, Aizawa made his way to the front door and held it open, but he stopped himself just short of leaving.
“Oh, and for the record,” he said, turning to face the class, “you’ve never needed to thank me. But I suppose I should be thanking you all. I don’t typically do a lot to celebrate my birthday, so thanks for making this one bearable.”
He made a mental note to have a word with Present Mic the next time he saw him, but seeing the smiles that formed on the faces of his Class 1-A made it all worth it.