Archive of Our Own

Aizawa was very good at minding his own business. It was something he took very seriously, seeing as the two people closest to him were as nosy as they come, and someone had to balance them out.

It was the way he lived and he liked it. The less he knew about people the better.

Well, until this damn class came along and did the unthinkable: made him care.

He should have expelled them all on the first day. Before he had to make sure Uraraka could afford the clothes on her back and Yaoyorozu was eating enough, before he learnt to restrict Kirishima’s gym time and always praise Kaminari for answering a question even if he got it wrong, before he told Shoji to spend lunch in his office so that he’d be able to take his mask off and eat comfortably and always keep ibuprofen on his person for Jirou’s headaches and all the other things he had to do and keep in mind because he cared about his students dammit.

Which was also why he was hurrying towards his students’ dorms on his first patrol-free night in weeks, being urged on silently by an anxious Iida.

An even more anxious looking Ashido bounded away from the building to meet them when she spotted them, bursting into rambling that rivalled Midoriya’s for speed.

“I’m so sorry Aizawa-sama, I really didn’t mean to, I- I was asleep and sometimes it just happens and I don’t think Todoroki-san was really hurt but he freaked our super bad, no-one could do anything except I guess Midoriya because he managed to-“

“It’s alright, Ashido,” Aizawa cut in, “it was clearly an accident, whatever happened. What exactly occurred?”

She looked miserable, having to half run to keep up with his quick steps. “We were watching a movie and I fell asleep and the movie made me have a bad dream and when I get those I tend to unconsciously produce some acid, and it got on Todoroki’s face because he was on the floor in front of me and- I think he had a panic attack? The acid was low Ph and should’ve just tingled at most. He scrambled away and everything got cold and iced over and everyone had to leave because it was so cold. Midoriya came down to see what the noise was about and immediately went in.”

Aizawa nodded, taking a second to pat Ashido between the horns reassuringly as she reclaimed a breath after her panicky explanation, before hastening his pace and jogging into the building.

The rest of the students were huddled around nervously, but Aizawa just pushed past quickly, and entered the insanely cold room. No wonder everyone had to leave.

Huddled in the corner was a shaking Todoroki being held by an even shakier Midoriya. Aizawa chalked the latter up to the fact that the green haired boy was coated in a layer of frost, his thin shirt and trousers crunching a little as he moved to look at Aizawa.

He’d been walking Todoroki through a calming technique Aizawa had often used to calm down hysterical civilians or students with severe anxiety, but he paused to make Todoroki aware if the other person in the room. An absent part of Aizawa’s mind wondered how the young boy knew of the technique.

“Look Shouto, it’s sensei, see? Sensei always keeps us safe, nothing will be able to get even close to us now. He won’t let anything happen.”

(He’d dent it fervently, but he maybe got a little emotional about that later when Hizashi asked what happened.)

Todoroki dropped his hand from his face, revealing that his scar and some skin around it looked a little irritated—no doubt from Ashido’s acid—and pried open his frosted eyelids, lashes sticking together with sparkly stubbornness, and pressed closed to Midoriya with a small whine.

The other boy shuddered as Todoroki let off another wave of freezing air and ice, but didn’t move away or flinch back as he listened to what his friend mumbled. Aizawa didn’t know how the poorly dressed teenager was managing it—he was freezing from all the way over at the entrance. 

“He wouldn’t do that if you didn’t want him to,” Midoriya reassured, taking Todoroki’s wrists and… monitoring his pulse? No, pushing down on a pressure point—Chiyo had shown him that one once, said it was useful, what was it called?… Pericardium 6! The anti-stress pressure point—which looked difficult given how much his hands were shaking, before he glanced over. “Right, Aizawa-sensei? You won’t report this or tell Endeavour, would you?”

He blinked, a little confused and more than a little concerned, activating his quirk to keep Todoroki from accidentally freezing his friend anymore as he considered his reply. He’d be breaking school regulations, but… “No, I wouldn’t if you don’t want me to,”—but I want a damn good explanation as to why later, he added in his head. “Can I come over?”

Todoroki hesitated, then murmured something to Midoriya, which the other boy relayed dutifully. “He says yes, but don’t touch him or crowd him please.”

Nodding, he paused to grab a few blankets off the sofa before coming over to the corner and offering one to each boy. Wordlessly they shared them both instead so they could shuffle closer still, legs tangling together and ribs slotting against each other and heads figuring out where to rest. Midoriya let out a contented little sigh—at Todoroki warming him with his left side Aizawa guessed based off the melting frost, water weighing down his green curls—and pressed his lips to the corner of Todoroki’s scar.

Aizawa hung nearby for a while little longer, but he wasn’t sure how to be of much help and it appeared that for once his problem child had the situation under control, so shortly he stepped out to reassure the rest of his students and check up on Ashido. He’d get the full context from Todoroki later, after a long sleep and a good meal—on the boy’s behalf at least.

Aizawa was going to be very busy launching a small private investigation into Enji Todoroki.

——————————

Three weeks after the last incident, Aizawa was making another impromptu trip to his students’ dorms. It was 2 a.m. and he really wished he wasn’t, but Tinsel, his smoosh-faced rescue, had escaped and he was on cat-hunt.

Hizashi was so sleeping on the sofa for the next week for letting her get out.

After searching his own building, his kids’ students’ dorms were his next stop. Aside from his own home, it was the place Tinsel was most familiar with on campus. He’d brought her here a few times, at first because she was new and wasn’t able to be left alone yet, then later because the students got a kick out of playing with her and it was good to introduce her to lots of social interaction. That was what he said anyways. Really, sometimes one of his students just needed some cat-snuggles to cheer them up.

Speaking of snuggles, Aizawa was not expecting to witness two of his students doing exactly that on the sofa in the common area when he entered, but here they were. Awake at 2 a.m. and out of their dorms after curfew. Also, they were clearly holding his cat hostage with threats of affection overload.

He heard them before he saw them, the quiet murmuring of two people who were disturbing the heavy silence that sat in the place between late night and early morning.

“—and it’s just so, so exhausting, you know? I’m so sick of- of having to be so much more just for the same damn results.  Like- who decides? Who gets to label one quirk evil and one good? What is the moral scale for an ability you’re born with? No one calls the gun evil, they call the shooter evil. No one gets arrested for having hands, they get arrested for breaking someone’s neck with them.”

It wasn’t surprising to hear Shinsou awake at this hour—the insomniac never seemed be in bed when he should. Aizawa had given up sending him back to his dorm by this point, knowing it only made things worse. The hum of understanding came from a more unlikely source though.

Pausing before the door, he really shouldn’t be surprised. He problem child never seemed to be in the right place when he could be in trouble instead.

He was secretly glad this time though, looking at where the green haired boy sat pressed into Shinsou’s side, one arm around his back and the other on his knee, legs laying over his with Tinsel perched on top of the pile of limbs and love.

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya said, propping his chin on Shinsou’s shoulder as he looked up at the other boy, eyes sad, filled with a painful sort of understanding. “Society has normalise pushing others down rather than raising yourself up. Children mimic the tone of adults who speak words of fear they were taught by their parents. I’m sorry the world has been taught to hate you so unfairly.”

Damn, when did this kid get so wise?

Shinsou let out a choked up, frustrated noise that unfurled from somewhere deep in his chest and forced itself out his closed lips. Tinsel matched the noise with a small, rumbling purr as she head butted his collarbone, and he returned the gesture by burying his face in her fur. Midoriya in turn let a tiny, helpless sigh, moving to instead rest his cheek on Shinsou’s shoulder, hugging him a little tighter as he moved a hand from Shinsou’s knee to tangle in his hair instead.

Aizawa watched them for a moment more, taking in the slight shaking in Shinsou’s shoulders and the fierce ache for his friend written into Midoriya’s expression, before turning on silent feet and padding into the kitchen unnoticed. He was in no rush to be anywhere, and Tinsel wasn’t missing anymore. Now was as good a time as any for a nice coffee.

And he was only doing this because Todoroki always had some fancy imported coffee beans that were nicer than his own, not because he wanted to give his students a moment longer. Why would you even think that?

No, he didn’t take extra long making it, he just wasn’t used to anything other than instant coffee and the machine was very confusing. And god, did these kids have any sort of organisation system? How was he supposed to find the mugs stacked in the cupboard beside the coffee machine? 

And obviously he had to drink his coffee here, since he couldn’t just steal one of their mugs. And he wasn’t just going to sink it like a heathen, coffee had to be drank sip by sip, and he had to wait for it to cool down before anything else. 

And it wouldn’t be an outrage to waste such nice coffee, so he had to finish the pot.

And then of course he wasn’t going to leave his mess for the kids to clean up, so he washed his cup. And dried it. And cleaned the coffee machine.

Having a coffee was a process, okay?

Finally, he walked back into the other room. The two teens were still talking, though about much lighter matters now. It appeared that Midoriya was as good at stopping other people’s tears as he was at bursting into his own.

“Care to explain why you’re currently holding my cat hostage?” Aizawa rumbled, crossing his arms as he looked at his students. 

Midoriya yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin as he turned a panicky look on his teacher and began rambling, while Shinsou just smiled dryly and said over the anxious storm of words, “it’s not a hostage situation, you’re just bitter because she likes us more than you.”

Midoriya looked like he was about to turn as green as his hair as he whipped his head to stare at his friend with wide eyes. “Shut up, I don’t want to end up with double the amount of detentions we’re already going to get!” He hissed, smacking Shinsou’s chest lightly.

“The old man isn’t going to give us a detention,” Shinsou stated at the same time Aizawa said “you aren’t getting a detention.” The latter scowled at the former’s smug smirk, scooping up his cat and turning to leave.

Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “but for that you’re running twice as many laps tomorrow though.” He turned away with his own smug expression as Shinsou’s smirk dropped into a look of instant regret.

——————————

Aizawa really wished he could stop visiting his students’ dorms at night, it never seemed to lead to anything good. Honestly, he was going to go grey before he hit his mid thirties at this rate.

He let himself drop onto the roof of the building, feet finding purchase in the slanted tiles to look around the higher a-frame roof, before dropping down to the section in between, where it was flat and held the entrance—only openable to staff except during an emergency, in which case students could unlock it.

An emergency such as tonight. If one of the students had wandered up here, the otherwise permanently closed roof-access would have given way for them. Not that any of them would try, seen as there hadn’t even been a school-wide alarm sent out. Only the teachers were alerted to the attempted breach, and had handled the group of second-rate aerial intruders easily.

He probably didn’t even need to check on his students, not with how sorry the break-in attempt was, but he was anyway. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight unless he did.

The roof was clear of any of the flight based villains, and the roof hatch was untouched, further proof that everything was fine, but he padded inside anyway, taking the stairs down to the fifth floor.

He knocked quietly on every door in case the student was awake before he opened it to check inside. Satou, Todoroki, Sero, Yaoyorozu, and Asui all present. He moved on to the fourth floor, expecting the same. Ashido, Uraraka were there, fast asleep. Shouji was awake and opened the door, but Aizawa had expected that—the multi armed student always slept with an extra ear formed, in case any of his classmates needed him or the security measures failed (Aizawa would need to talk to him about that, make sure it was just concern and not paranoia, that no problems would arise.)

Kirishima was fast asleep on his floor for whatever reason, and Aizawa took a moment to lift him into bed with his capture weapon before he moved onto the next dorm, which is where it went downhill.

Fucking Bakugou was missing.

He moved much quicker through the rest of the rooms, alerting Nezu that one student wasn’t in his room as he checked each child was in bed, mind racing. It must’ve been targeted specifically to get Bakugou, otherwise they’d have grabbed either Shouji or Uraraka since their rooms were beside the stairs and elevator, and must’ve had some kind of silencing quirk or at least be extremely stealthy to avoid Shouji’s hearing. Floor three, all present. He raced onto floor two, barely even muffling his footsteps in his haste. Tokoyami, Aoyama, both present and asleep, though Tokoyami looked restless and was breathing hard, Dark Shadow looking angry and nearly attacking Aizawa when he opened the door. Was it because of the intruders that he was distressed?

Problem child next. God, if that child wasn’t lying in bed exactly where he was supposed to be Aizawa was going to invest in tracking chips, perhaps a permanent harness so he couldn’t leave his line of sight.

As he pushed open the door a voice said “Aizawa-“ and he was met with the wonderful sight of his trouble-magnet of a child pupil sitting up in his bed, looking at him anxiously (how did that kid always know who was coming before he even saw them? Aizawa’s footsteps barely even made a sound!) but present nevertheless. He nodded and made to leave again, in a hurry to check on the last student and then go searching for Bakugou, when he spotted a familiar mess of spiky blonde hair poking against Midoriya’s stomach.

He froze, turning back around to look properly. Indeed, wrapped up in the hideous All Might covers lay one Bakugou Katsuki, who was in turn wrapped around his long time rival.

Aizawa blinked. He almost rubbed his eyes, sure he must be hallucinating. Was this a quirk? A distraction placed to make him take longer to go after them and find the real Bakugou and Midoriya, who would be bickering like normal,

“Please don’t wake him up,” Midoriya blurted quietly, eyes round, “it’s- he took s-so long to go to slee-sleep, he really needs it, p-please. You can give me detention or mak-ke me clean the dorms for a month but please don’t-t make him go ba-back to his room-m.”

He blinked again, squinting. He activated his quirk, but neither of the teens disappeared. Bakugou shifted slightly, pressing his face further into the other’s stomach with a muttered noise that was the kind of soft he’d never make when awake.

Well, this is something. “Why is Bakugou in your bed, problem child?”

Midoriya cringed, letting his curls hide his face as much as possible, “h-he- it’s- w-w-well you k-know how there w-was that sludge villain at-t-tack before school? It’s- some-t-times he can’t… breathe? He w-wakes up all p-panick-ky and can’t breathe and- and being around me helps, I g-guess? Bec-cause I saved-d him?”

Aizawa considers this. He considers the two boys tangled together in the sheets. He considers the way Bakugou has his arms wrapped around Midoriya’s waist so tight even in sleep, like he’s holding onto a lifeline. He considers the way Midoriya’s hands hover protectively, like he’s not sure his touch is welcome but as if he can’t bare to keep his hands idle as the sleeping boy hugs him.

Aizawa thinks that if Bakugou can keeps holding on to this one, can overcome his anger and resentment and pride in the way he has in this room, then he’ll make a fine hero.

“Make sure you sleep as well, problem child,” he sighed before leaving the room, and thinks that it isn’t his business what the two do anyway.

(He almost has an aneurysm when Shinsou isn’t in the next room over, but relaxes when he finds him sitting in the kitchen floor eating Nutella and frozen peas, deciding that isn’t his problem either.)

——————————

He was so done. This was it. He’s handing in his resignation letter when he gets back. Or at the very least, demanding a raise because he was not paid enough to deal with this.

It had started out as a normal mission, pop in, kick some ass, confiscate the contraband, and hand the perps, clean up and paperwork over to the police. It should’ve hardly been a mission at all, in and out, over in two seconds, just another detour on his patrol.

Except his shadow for this late night excursion was Midoriya “trouble magnet Supreme” Izuku. 

He distinctly remembers telling the boy as they finished tying up the guards that “you’re the fall back. Your job is to watch these guys and making sure no one else enters or exits through any means. That’s it, nothing else, just moniter the situation.”

He very much did not remember telling him to play therapist. And yet, here he was, dragging the last runner down the street back to where Midoriya had collected up all the other apprehended criminals, only to find his problem child sitting on the floor, a handcuffed man sitting on either side of him, sobbing into his shoulder as the others around them also sniffled and did their best to dry their eyes, Midoriya attempting to comfort them all at once.

Aizawa dropped the bound and unconscious man unceremoniously on the floor beside the rest, rubbing his head where the hint of a headache was building.

“Hey!” One of the criminals piped up, scowling through his tears, “you shouldn’t just drop him like that. Deku-san says just because we’re criminals doesn’t mean we’re any less humans and should still receive basic human kindness.”

What the fuck.

“Oh no, Erasurehead-sama is giving you his version of basic human decencies, he just treats everyone like this. Of course, just because something is some else’s normal doesn’t mean you have to accept it or that it isn’t bad, but we can be understanding even as we distance ourselves from those that bring us down. It’s important to remember we all have our issues, so we should be understanding of others’, like Erasurehead-sama’s inability to properly express positive emotions. What do we sat?” Midoriya asked encouragingly.

“We can be understanding of others’ actions even if we can’t accept them,” the group of bound and arrested drug-dealers chorused back.

What. The. Fuck.

“Excellent! You guys are very good at this, His student encouraged, prompting two men to burst into tears again, before turning to Aizawa. “Sensei, do you think it would be possible to have these guys put into a reform or rehab program rather than just sentencing them to jail? You see, they aren’t bad, really, it’s just everything is so expensive and some of them have families or depts or medical problems to take care of, and with so much discrimination and prejudice nowadays it’s so hard to find honest work if you don’t fit into societal norms. None of them even knew what they were getting into until it was too late. It was just supposed to be a bit of light drug trading, bad but not evil, they didn’t know about the trafficking and the fight rings until it was too late-“

“Hold up, wait, what?”

“Oh yeah, apparently this is just a side hustle for a big shadow organisation called The Ninth Circle that does a bunch of messed up stuff that we need to take down. These guys are willing to tell us what they know, they were scared of getting killed for leaking info before but if we promise them witness protection they’d be happy to help now, really.”

What the fuck.

“Also I think some therapy would be good for them, and maybe we could sort out some financial aid? And like I said, a reform program would be life changing for them, and of course protection for their family and-“

“Problem child.”

“Please?”

Aizawa narrowed his gaze at his most troublesome pupil, taking in the sight of him sitting in a puddle of soppy criminals with zero hesitation, eyes round and pleading as he petted the hair of one and had an arm around another. The ears of his hero costume were missing, seemingly used to bandage a long scrape down one man’s arm and to stop the cuffs from irritating the wrists of a grumpy looking guy at the edge of the puppy pile.

He sighed. At the very least, they needed whatever info these guys had. (No, he was not going soft, Tsukauchi, fuck off.)

“… I’ll go make a call.”

——————————

Sometimes Aizawa was thoroughly sick of being a hero. Was 30 too young to retire? Would his moral complex let him? Maybe he could just semi-retire?

He could picture it. He’d spend the school year in the staff dorms as normal, teaching the next generation during the day before patrolling the city, and afterwards he’d curl into bed beside his husband, ready to sleep like the dead until he had to wake once more.

Then summer would roll around, and they’d let their hero costumes collect dust in the closet of a cozy three bed-room house where they’d live until next year, out of the city where Eri could learn to be a child again, getting grass stains on her knees and catching tadpoles in streams and and picking raspberries in the garden.

It would be nice, relaxing. Aizawa thinks he could even be happy, despite the guilt. But oh, there would be so much guilt.

So instead of a peaceful early retirement, Aizawa was trooping back into UA after having thrust Eri at a wary Nezu and dashed off to go take part in an emergency take down of one of the Ninth Circle’s fight rings after they’d gotten word of it last second. He hoped the principal had handled it responsibly and wouldn’t be too mad at having to take care of the nightmare that was Eri after bedtime.

In his defence, Aizawa himself was more than a little unhappy that it’d had to be Nezu as well. The crazy mouse-dog-bear wasn’t known for his value of safety and emotional well-being. But despite his better judgement, Aizawa really did trust him, and there was no other adults on hand.

Predictably, Nezu was not in his office. No, the evil mastermind simply couldn’t make Aizawa’s life easy for once.

Twenty three minutes later, Aizawa found the two white haired menaces. When he poked his head into this dorm building, it wasn’t with a real belief he’d find them here, and yet it seems his class’ ability to attract trouble hadn’t failed them, because the most intelligent being in existence right now was perched on their kitchen counter, sipping tea and doing research, notably lacking a child.

Music filled the room softly, something old and scratchy, which meant it was pre-quirk era. Aizawa was partial to later music himself, the 20XX period was good, but Nezu was either instrumentals or nature sounds and refused to play anything else, so this clearly wasn’t his doing.

Nope, it was most likely the work of the green haired child standing in the kitchen, swaying softly to the low croon of  “it will take a while to make you smile. Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side.” In his arms, cheek pressed against his collarbone as she drooled on it, arms around his neck and body relaxed, was a sleeping Eri.

Several things stuck out to Aizawa as he walked in on this situation.

1. Nezu hadn’t begun trying to teach Eri how to psychoanalyse innocent bystanders, which was good.

2. Nezu was comfortable enough around the problem child to trust him with a child Aizawa had asked him to look after, and be at ease and distracted in his presence. Peculiar.

3. Nezu was never looking after Eri again. Also, was he playing subway surfer on half of his laptop screen while he did work?

4. Eri was asleep. Holy shit. Midoriya had managed the impossible—wrangling the cranky, emotionally temperamental, exhausted child and somehow corralled her into relaxing enough to sleep.

…Midoriya was definitely going to her babysitter in their hypothetical semi-retirement dream.

Midoriya looked up first, and usually Aizawa would say it was simply because Nezu didn’t feel like acknowledging his presence right now, too busy with his subway surfing, but in this case he honestly believed it might’ve been the boy who’d sensed him first. Always with the footsteps, no matter how quiet or distant. The damn child always knew when someone was there and who it was.

If the stern teacher paused to think about it too long, and his brain happened to go to all the horrible ways he’d failed to try figure out which one could be the reason for why Midoriya did that—well, Aizawa simply didn’t think about it.

…okay, fine, but only on the bad days.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Midoriya chirped, smiling in greeting, his greeting somehow still as loudly enthusiastic as ever despite the fact that it was actually not much more than a whisper, “you’re back! Was the mission okay? Was it the Ninth Circle case? Did you manage to shut down one of the rings?” 

Aizawa shit an accusatory glare at Nezu, who simply gave the closest thing he could to a shrug and waved a paw at his laptop screen, which aside from subway surfers also showed that he was working on the case presently, so all Midoriya would’ve had to do was look over.

Deciding the headache wasn’t it and trusting his student would keep quiet about anything he knew, he opted instead to simply reply with “yeah, we did. It’ll put them on high alert now though, so we’re gonna have to get the rest fast before they go underground.” Then, more a fact than a question, “Eri’s asleep.”

Midoriya nodded, still swaying as he talked. It was making Aizawa feel kind of disconcerted. “I forgot my homework and went to grab it, and bumped into Nezu-san watching Eri on my way back to the dorms. They tagged along and I was happy to play with Eri while Nezu-san helped out with the case behind the scenes, but Eri was really grouchy and tired, but didn’t want to go to bed, so I tried to remember what my mum used to when I was little and put on some-“

“Thank you,” Aizawa slipped in, feeling a little bad about interrupting the boy’s explanation regardless of how long-winded it was, but also Eri was frowning in her sleep and he really didn’t want her to wake up, “for helping with her. Even I struggle to get her to sleep, let alone so easily and deeply as you’ve done. I can take her to bed now.”

Midoriya didn’t appear at all offended at being cut short, seemingly used to having his ramblings nipped at the bud. He merely moved offer to shift Eri into his teacher’s arms cheerily.

Eri, on the other hand, didn’t seem to like this. Arms tightening around his neck turned it into an iron grip, and her calm expression twisted into one of distress and anguish even in sleep as she was attempted to be passed on.

Heaving a sign, Aizawa offered Midoriya an apologetic grimace, who in turn just grinned back and said “I can bring her to the staff dorms if that’s easier?”

“Worth a shot,” the teacher shrugged, though he doubted his own statement. Eri was extremely clingy in sleep. 

He was right, of course—once there, the little girl still would not let go long enough to be placed in bed.

Midoriya, unbothered, ended up falling asleep on Aizawa’s sofa, the little horned girl curled up into his warmth.

(The next morning, when Hizashi stumbled out of their room at disgusting-o-clock in the morning, he barely managed to contain his screech at the sight. There may or may not be a printed copy of a photo he took on their fridge now.)

——————————

The problem with taking down a giant shadow organisations as quickly as possible on top of his usual routine of long, late patrols, teaching during the day, and looking after a child, was that as much as he was dead on his feet, Aizawa was also constantly buzzing with pent up adrenaline.

So by the time he arrived back on UA grounds at 4 a.m. after patrolling for hours, despite the fact that he’d been doing everything on two hours of sleep a day for the past week and he really needed to be able to rest, he couldn’t make himself go to the staff dorms and lie down in bed. There was electricity crawling beneath his skin, fire beneath his heels if he stopped moving, static crackling in his ears.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he was trapped inside right now, let alone sleep, he took to doing what was becoming his pre-bed ritual; patrolling UA.

It was entirely unnecessary, what with the fact the school grounds were armed to the teeth, but it brought him a strange sense of comfort. At the very least, it soothed his buzzing mind and calmed his tense body. He knew UA well enough that he could traverse it blind if he needed, which meant that he could turn off his brain as he went, let his body follow the familiar path.

Even with his mind unwinding, however, he was still patrolling, and he had too many years of experience to actually zone out while doing this, which is why he spotted the legs dangling off the roof of the Heights Alliance building.

Following the legs, he spotted familiar, scarred hands, then even more scarred arms, skinny but strong shoulders, a tear streaked face under a mop of green curls.

Always his problem child.

Using his capture weapon as he jumped to catapult him up, Aizawa climbed his way up onto and along the dorm roof. It wasn’t built for access, it was an a-frame tiled roof, the only part that was flat and walkable was the middle section, where the door was—which he might add was locked to everyone but staff. Midoriya must’ve gone through quite the scramble to get up to where he was, sitting on the peak of the A-frame at the back of the building. He was staring at the floor.

“Problem child,” Aizawa said as he scuttled—like a very dignified person—up the roof.

Midoriya didn’t startle. He’d known who was there, of course, he always does. Aizawa sits on the roof beside him.

The other sat back a little and put his hands on the roof, no longer looming dangerously forward. Aizawa could hear his uneven breath rasping out of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” came out with one of those breaths. Apologising for being in a restricted area, he supposed. It sounded too heavy for it though, as if he were apologising for much more.

“Don’t be. It’s fine.”

He tried to pretend he didn’t hear the stutter-y gasp for air. He took the hand that was clutching at a cotton pyjama shirt, over where the word ‘pyjamas’ was printed, and pressed it to his own chest instead. “Breathe, problem child, slowly. Can’t have you choking on the thing you need to live.”

Another strangled, gasping breath. Fingers curled in Aizawa’s own shirt, over his heart. He could feel the trembling in them.

The next choked breath was a little deeper, and following it came an almost desperate, “I wasn’t going to jump.”

“I know,” Aizawa said calmly. He didn’t know, but Midoriya’s tone made it sound like the words were as much to convince himself as his teacher, so the hero agreed.

He wished he believed his words. He wished Midoriya believed his.

“I wasn’t,” the boy repeated, pleaded really, desperate to be understood as he battled for everything lungful of oxygen. “I just… wanted to know. I just had to ch-check.”

“Okay,” he accepted. Didn’t push. Didn’t move. He only remembered to breathe himself so that Midoriya could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“I mean it,” painful breath in, shaking exhale, “I ju-just wanted to check- to make sure I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Aizawa asked softly.

“Want to die again.”

“And do you?”

Silence.

He made himself remember to breathe.

Midoriya tilted his back a bit, squeezing his eyes shut as he curled his fingers tighter in Aizawa’s shirt before spasming and he dropped them, letting out a small, pained whine.

Aizawa took his hand hand held it between his own, pressing the cold digits between his palms as he waited for Midoriya to reply. Finally, the kid (kid, kid, kid. A child. This child. His child) spoke. “I couldn’t convince myself this time.”

Aizawa waited for him to explain. Or not to explain, if he didn’t want to. He just waited.

“I can always think of an excuse. When I’m walking up to a roof, I try make a list. You can’t jump because… so I don’t. I lean over the edge and I remember all my lists. It didn’t work today. All my excuses felt like more reasons why I should.”

And what can he even say to that? How can he fix this? He’s a hero, he’s supposed to save people. How does he save this child?

How do you save someone from themself?

I dunno. You should though, you did it.

What do you mean? 

You saved me, Oboro.

No. You saved yourself, Shou, I just helped you to want to.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to sit out here until you can think of one that doesn’t then,” was what came out of Aizawa’s mouth.

Midoriya looked at him then, expression crinkled into an amalgamation of emotion, something surprised and pained and scared all at once, before he seemed to crumble a little. All the fight melting from his body, he didn’t even react as Aizawa tugged him a little so that the boy was leaning on his shoulder.

“I’m so tired of coming up with reasons to live,” he whispered, pressing his face into the dip between his teacher’s shoulder and collarbone.

“That’s alright,” Aizawa replied, unwinding his capture weapon and grabbing the end. He turned Midoriya’s shaking hand over and gently wound the scarf around it, just tight enough to get the job done but not so tight as to cut off circulation. 

 Midoriya flinched at first, pain lancing up his nervous system, but watched with a distant sort of curiosity anyway as, slowly and surely, the pain faded beneath the bindings and he found the pressure actually made his hand ache less.

Then, much to his horror, Aizawa grabbed a special switch blade he kept in his utility belt to cut the weapon should it get tangled, and sliced through the alloy a bit of a length down from where he’d finished wrapping it. “Sensei! You can’t- why would you- your capture weapon!” Midoriya protested, eyes filling with tears.

A little alarmed, Aizawa hurried to assure the boy. “It’s fine, I have loads of this stuff. I have to cut some off all the time during fights when it offers an advantage to the enemy.”

“But- but that stuffs expensive, I don’t want you to waste it on me. Why are you even doing that?” He asked, sniffling, as Aizawa began to wrap his other hand as well, trying to pull away only to get a light bop on the head and a stern glare telling him to stop.

“You get hand tremors, right?” At the shocked expression on his student’s face, he rolled his eyes. “I’m a hero, problem child, do you think I’ve never seen the lasting effects of injuries before? Hell, do you think I don’t have some myself? I know what chronic pain looks like.” He finished wrapping the other hand and sliced that strip off as well, tucking the knife away again.

“I hadn’t… I didn’t realise,” Midoriya admitted quietly, a little embarrassed perhaps. 

Aizawa sighed and put a fist on the his head, something between comforting and admonishing. “Later, once you’ve slept, I’ll teach you how to bind them like that yourself.”

Big green eyes blinked up at him, the first glow of sunrise making them seem to glow. After a moment, he whispered, “I’ve got a reason for my list, I think. Thank you, Sensei,”

Something painful stuttered Aizawa’s chest, but he managed to keep his voice clear as he said, “that’s good, problem child. That’s really good.”

And I’ll keep helping you find more, no matter what, until you don’t need them.

Maybe his future semi-retirement three bed-room country house wouldn’t have a guests room after all.

As the sun rose above the horizon, Aizawa pulled Izuku into a hug of his own for once.