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Let me tell you a story about quirks.

Summary:

Or the one where Midoriya tells his kindergartner class a story he made up.

Work Text:

I don’t know whose alarm goes off first and I don’t care. I don’t want to get up. I press my face into Katsuki's shoulder as his arm tightens around me. The alarm continues to scream. “Are you going to turn that off?” He asks his voice rough with sleep. His chin is resting atop my head as I’m snuggled against his chest. He’s fit from years of firefighting.

I mumble something against him. Something I don’t think he could understand and frankly I didn’t understand the words that left my mouth either. I feel his body move and shift against me.

He twists his body to turn off the alarm and I attempt to close my eyes again. I press my body more against his if that’s possible. Instead of being curled against hard muscle cool air hits me where he once was. I open my eyes to see him slowly get me off of me.

I grab the back of his shirt. “Zuku come on. We have to get up,” he says as he starts prying my hand off his shirt.

“Don’t wanna,” I whine as he gets out of bed. I flop onto my back.

He brushes a strand of my hair out of my face. “So you’re going to abandon a bunch of kindergarteners then?”

I groan. He has a point. I hate that he has a point. “Fine,”

With that, I roll out of bed and follow behind him as he goes into the bathroom.

We shower and brush our teeth. Then he changes into his station uniform while I change into my suit. He straightens my tie. “Looking good, Midoriya-sensei,” he teases. I feel my cheeks heat up.

He places a hand on my cheek. “Keep blushing like that and we’ll both be late,” he states dropping his hand down and kissing the top of my head.

We leave the apartment together but go in different directions.

I walk into the building at the same time that Aizawa does. Looking exhausted like always. “Morning!” I call out as I catch up to him.

He mumbles a good morning back as he adjusts the strap of his bag. “Ready for today?” I ask him.

“If by ready you mean prepared to deal with a bunch of first graders who can’t tell the difference between a tree and a bird. Then no,” he sighs before mumbling under his breath. “We don’t get paid enough for this,”

“It’s not so bad,” he glances at me.

“Work here as long as I have and you’ll understand,” Then he stops at his classroom, unlocks the door, and steps inside.

Mine is a little further down the hall. I unlock the door and step inside knowing that in about an hour this room will be filled with kindergarteners.

I flip on the light and walk over to my desk and set my bag down.

Thirty minutes later most of the class is here. I make sure they’re in their seats and that they have placed their bags by the door.

Then I start with story time. I always do. I sit down on the stool in front of the class. “Alright everyone sit on the rug,” and they do. Once they get settled I begin with the story. “Somewhere out there there is a world just like ours. But these people are not like you and me. They have superpowers like ones straight out of the comic books. They call them Quirks…”

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