Archive of Our Own ^beta

The new teacher made Shouta uncomfortable.

Not for the reason you would think. Midoriya was polite, punctual, and proper. He showed up to work with a smile and left with a grin. His clothes were neat and tidy, although his tie was never done correctly. His undercut always looked fresh and his curls were wild in a way that probably wasn’t intended, but it worked. Wide smiles accompanied him wherever he went, bestowed upon all in his path. He always had something to say, never belittling or bad mouthing anyone, but always interesting. The hell class that Shouta taught heroics to always had something to say about Midoriya, always excited about the newest class on the roster.

Quirk Theory.

Nedzu introduced the class as an option to the teachers during summer break two years ago. None of the current teachers possessed enough knowledge on the subject to teach an actual class on it. They all understood the basics, understood application to an extent. They needed to with a fresh faced crop of hero hopefuls every year.

But none of them possessed the knowledge or application skills the way Midoriya did. 

Curiosity won out at one point. Shouta poked his head in on a lecture, the man using his own mother of all people as an example. 

“Her quirk is relatively simple. She can float small objects towards her.” Midoriya scribbled the quirk on the board and turned to face the class, hands planted on the desk and a feral gleam in his eyes. “Now. Is this quirk dangerous?”

A smattering of snickers went through the class, something Midoriya clearly expected. 

“No disrespect to your mother, Midoriya-sensei, but…floating small objects? Barely useful.” The kid in the back shrugged, his shoulder boulders (no really, this kid’s quirk made him a giant rock) moving up and down.

Midoriya grinned. 

“Ah! But what if she had trained it? How many of you can do something with your quirk now that you couldn’t do when you first got it?” About half the class raised their hands and he nodded. “And how did you do that?”

A tiny slip of a girl up front (Himura Nanasei. She was in his class and could manipulate minerals) held her hand up hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt the way others had. Midoriya gestured for her to proceed.

“We just practiced. We experimented. We just wanted to see what we were capable of.”

Midoriya nodded, seemingly excited to see the wheels turning. “Exactly! Now when you first got your quirk, Himura, what could you do with it?”

Himura frowned, thinking. “I basically just shoved piles of dirt back and forth.”

“And now?”

She smiled and pulled something out of her pocket, what looked to be some sort of metal. “Now? I keep this in my pocket as a fidget toy.” While she spoke, the small cube of metal changed shape, morphing into a dog and then a boat and then a little heart. 

Midoriya waved a hand at Himura, as if to say, I told you so. “So. Think about my mom again and her quirk. Is her quirk dangerous? ”

A long, quiet moment. And then, “She could steal important papers or data?” 

Midoriya smiled, waving his hands for them to continue.

“She could pick-pocket!”

“She could pop out an eyeball!”

Midoriya clapped his hands together, pointing to the student with a grin. “Gruesome, but highly probable! Why am I asking you if my moms quirk is dangerous or not?”

The class looked at each other, a low murmur and it didn’t seem as though they knew the answer to this question.

“Because,” Midoriya said, “there is potential in all of us. Quirks can have many applications. Whether good or bad, you can train your quirks to do incredible things. Think of what kind of hero you want to be and mold your quirk to fit. The same quirk that could, say, pop out an eyeball,” he gave a sly look to the now bright red teenager sinking into his seat. “Could also do incredibly detailed work. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

The rest of the lecture remained lost to Shouta because hands tucked into his pockets, he slunk away from the room, shoulders slumped.

How many times did he wish someone would have been there for his kids? How many of them came to U.A., with years of verbal battering telling them they were villainous? How many of them would have benefited from someone like Midoriya coaxing them out of their shells, telling them they could be a hero?

Shouta paid attention after that. He watched Midoriya wipe away tears and offer comfort to a boy with a fire quirk after scorching his teammates during an awful training block, coaxing a little bit of confidence back in him. He watched as Midoriya plowed through his paperwork, enthusiasm dripping from every pore, even six weeks into the school year.

And he watched, as Midoriya would pause, watching the kids training, and give a bitter smile before fixing the bright facade back in place. He would continue on as if nothing were wrong, but Shouta could see something bothered him. However, he didn’t feel like they were close enough to share personal information.

An unfortunate circumstance because Shouta had so many questions. He prided himself on being able to sniff out information, to find clues on those in his vicinity. 

Midoriya, though? A rather difficult mystery. Shouta didn’t want to resort to mildly illegal means. After all, Nedzu hired Midoriya personally, which meant as far as official records were concerned, the man was a perfect fit.

But Shouta wanted to know the man behind all the paperwork. 

Thank fuck Nemuri understood the assignment.

School breaks were catnip to overworked teachers, even more so when they held down multiple jobs the way U.A. teachers did. And on this particular evening, freshly freed from the stress of classes, Nemuri insisted on a faculty outing.

“I don’t even want to look at this building for 48 hours,” she complained, pulling her long dark hair back into a ponytail. Her civilian clothes fit much differently than her hero outfit, choosing comfort over the practicality of her uniform.

“Not to mention this is the first official faculty outing with Izuku!” Hizashi howled, curling an arm around the newest teachers' shoulders and nearly blowing out his eardrums.

Midoriya winced, but still smiled good-naturedly. “I’m very excited, Mic-sensei.” 

Nemuri clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “None of that. We’re all friends here, Izuku,” she purred, leaning in close. Shouta smirked as Midoriya’s face went flush, the freckles on his face standing out in stark contrast. He squeaked, clearly still unused to the way Nemuri operated.

She cackled as she shifted away. “Oh, you are so adorable. We’ll have so much fun together!” She sauntered away, Hizashi clapping Midoriya on the shoulder and loping ahead to catch up with her. They began hollering, acting like two teenagers rather than the adults they were.

Shouta shook his head, falling in step with Midoriya. “They’re idiots,” he drawled, hands in his pockets. “But they aren’t wrong. You’re one of us now. Might as well act like it.”

Bold talk from a man who couldn’t even use the other teacher's first name in his head. 

Midoriya hesitated, fingers fiddling together as they walked towards the izakaya Higari chose. Most of the staff were already there, but the four of them were running late. Mostly because Nemuri wanted to make sure Midoriya actually moved away from his desk.

He would definitely still be there if she hadn’t intervened.

“I mean…I guess? It’s just…I don’t really fit in here? Which is juvenile, I understand, I just…” Midoriya stumbled over his words, face still flush, hands waving frantically as he spoke. 

And thus the way Midoriya made Shouta uncomfortable, but not in the way you would think. It occurred to Shouta at that very moment, as he watched him fumble through his words, trying to express himself lamely, how absolutely adorable he looked.

It also occurred to Shouta how Midoriya was fifteen years his junior. 

He chanced another look down at Midoriya, who looked back at him expectantly.

So busy having a crisis, Shouta missed everything said to him. “I blanked out,” he replied honestly. 

Midoriya just laughed, head thrown back. “Yeah, I think we’re all a little burned out. Let’s catch up with everyone else and change that.” With a smile and a skip in his step, Midoriya raced ahead of Shouta, with the older man following at a much slower pace.

Shouta took long, deep breaths, cursing himself out for the little situation he managed to put himself in. Because a few things were clicking into place. 

Now, for the record, Shouta’s personal life only consisted of going home and feeding his cat. The mongrel tended to climb up and down his fire escape anyways. Shouta seemed to be more of a pitstop.

But other than that? Severely lackluster. 

Ever since Eri hit high school and applied to Shiketsu (the little traitor), moving into their dorms, Shouta’s life didn’t feel so busy anymore. Only small remnants, the clothes she left over the weekends and new pictures on his wall, remained.

He shifted his entire focus to his students, focused on turning out the best heroes he could. After the hell class that came through his doors eight years ago, everyone else was a piece of cake. And now, Midoriya had caught his eye.

It made sense. Midoriya was competent and kind. He smiled adorably at everyone he met, the apples of his cheeks flushed and freckled every time. As if unlocking some fucked up part of his mind, a stream of images and thoughts flooded Shouta’s imagination.

Images of Midoriya tucked against his side, of him pinned beneath Shouta, of his pretty red lips around Shouta’s cock and ohhhhh -kay, he needed to think of something else immediately. He thought of kittens and grading school papers and the time Kaminari shorted himself unconscious.

Clearing his throat and nonchalantly adjusting his pants while no one was looking, Shouta took a clarifying breath. 

Inappropriate .

Those thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

And he would shove them right out of his head and carry on with his life.

Nodding his resolve, Shouta followed the rowdy crowd of teachers into the izakaya.

**

Except.

Except . Midoriya Izuku smiled like a cherub, freckles and dimples on full display. 

Except . Midoriya Izuku tried to be so, so damn helpful. He helped Nemuri haul stacks of books around school like he got paid to do it. He learned a little bit of sign language so he could still speak to Hizashi when the hearing aids were hurting and he needed to take them out. He made sure fresh coffee lived in the coffee maker at all times of the day. Small things, little things that made Shouta melt under his crusty exterior.

EXCEPT. Midoriya Izuku was like a goddamn wet dream and the man didn’t even realize it. An actual fucking tragedy. Shouta didn’t exaggerate. It served little purpose and everyone would know eventually. But Midoriya ticked off boxes Shouta didn’t even realize he had. Things he didn’t really give a second thought to because they came naturally to him .

One day, when Pro Hero Mockingbird came to visit his old mentor, Midoriya chatted with the Pro like they were old friends, asking questions about his quirk and some of its limits and capabilities. 

Mockingbird, or Shinsou, could only stare wide eyed at the puppy-like man who wanted to know everything. Even now, years later, many people were wary of Shinsou’s quirk, prejudice still a large part of their society and a quirk that could brainwash? Terrifying to most.

But Midoriya just rolled with it, curious and eager to learn. They ended up exchanging numbers, a new friendship blossoming right in front of Shouta. Shinsou told him later how much he appreciated that, to have someone willing to speak to him without reservation. Those people came far and few between.

Check .

Turned out, Midoriya loved cats. One day when Shouta came into the office, teachers were crowded around Midoriya, cooing and sounding far too pleased for 6:00am on a Wednesday.

“Oh! Shouta! Come see!” Nemuri waved him over, making space for him to squeeze into the mass of bodies to investigate the fuss. 

He melted.

Immediately melted. 

On Midoriya’s phone was a picture of a large Maine Coone cat, fluffy and majestic and simply put, perfect.

“Yours?” He asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

Midoriya nodded proudly, bringing the phone closer. Close enough that Shouta could smell his cologne and yeah, that was nice.

Blinking his brain back online, Shouta nodded. “Name?”

Midoriya grinned back up at Shouta, his heart skipping a beat. “Sakura. I found her in spring. Kind of cheesy, but she’s such a princess and it sort of just fit.” Midoriya shrugged, smiling back down at the picture. Shouta nodded stiffly, settling into his office chair and resisting the urge to scream into a void. Fuck .

Check .

Before he knew it, Shouta looked for Midoriya in the halls before and after school, looked for him in the lounge of the teacher apartment complex, and waited for him to make an appearance each morning.

Somehow, despite getting the coffee started before anyone else, Midoriya seemed to keep himself ridiculously busy. He was never in the office when Shouta arrived and only popped in right before his classes.

Shouta made sure to tell the man how much he appreciated the caffeinated beverages though, raising his full, oversized ‘I Sleep Around’ mug (the one Nemuri got him as a gag birthday gift, but jokes on her - he loves it) in a toast. Midoriya always looked delighted, happy to be of service. The little puzzle pieces making up Midoriya kept getting firmer and clearer, forming a picture of someone Shouta would love to be around more often, if he only had the courage to ask.

But their age…

True, Midoriya was an adult, but being fifteen years older than someone could be a large gap to bridge in a relationship.

And why the fuck was he thinking about having a  relationship with Midoriya?

And then… then the nail in the coffin came. 

Once upon a time, when Shouta had both eyes and one leg was not a prosthetic, heroes rescued a little girl with a powerful quirk. She became a ward of the school, mostly under the care of Shouta. She grew up, of course (she started her first year of high school months ago, god), but Eri was still his little girl, his daughter in all but blood.

Shouta sat at his desk in the Faculty Office, lunch half eaten and a text thread open with Hizashi. The idiot was supposed to be teaching English, but his texts were unending and never with good grammar.

He was in the middle of aggressively typing a response telling the loud man to fuck off and do his job when the door burst open. Shouta jumped, one eye glowing red and scarf hovering around his shoulders. He didn’t use it much anymore (losing one eye had almost completely ended his quirk use), but occasionally getting startled would do the trick.

But instead of danger, Eri stood at the door, eyes wide. Her expression melted into a teasing one. “Losing your edge, pops?”

Shouta dropped his quirk, grinning and walking over to Eri. “What are you doing here, kid?” It was the middle of the week, meaning she should be in school. That worried him a little, but she looked fine. “Why are you here and not at Shiketsu?” Flashbacks of schools under attack and villains causing chaos bounced in his mind, but he forced himself to chill. 

Eri was smiling, that’s all that mattered.

Eri bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Nedzu called me in. He said there’s a new staff member who might be able to give me some tips with my quirk.” Eri rubbed the horn on her head, expression thoughtful. “I don’t really use my quirk a lot. I basically shut it off and only use it to dispel some energy when you’re around.” She shrugged, looking back at him. “But Nedzu said Midoriya-Sensei could give me some tips and tricks. I hope he’s right.”

Smiling at the teen, Shouta ruffled her hair. She complained, batting away his hands and puffing out her cheeks. “I spent time doing that, you know,” Eri said, trying to smooth out the mess.

Shouta only laughed, shaking his head. Into his pockets his hands went, shoulders slouched comfortably. He wondered why Nedzu didn’t give him a heads up that his daughter was coming back for the day, but some surprises could be nice. “Well, Midoriya isn’t here right now. I can try to page -”

A blur of green shot past Shouta and Eri, papers drifting from desks in its wake. Midoriya seemed to be on a roll, mumbling with a look of pure concentration as he set down papers.

“The applications of a quirk designed to rewind living matter are endless, but I wonder if it could apply to non living matter too? If she was given a broken microwave, could she restore it to its previous capabilities?”

Midoriya clearly didn’t register the other people in the room, scribbling notes into a book and flipping through pages on what appeared to be a reference book. Shouta could answer a few of those questions without any notebooks. But Midoriya seemed to be on a roll.

Ah. Right. Quirk Theory. The guy most likely had a thousand books on different quirks and their applications. Doing a spot of research right before meeting with someone seemed to be in bad form, though.

Shouta cleared his throat. “Midoriya?”

Midoriya jerked back, eyes wide. “Aizawa! I didn’t realize you were here!” And then his bright viridian eyes slid over to Eri with a twinkle and he smiled so wide, so genuinely, that Eri stood a little taller. “And you must be Eri-chan? I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m so excited to meet you!”

Eri looked dumb struck, pointing to herself. “Me?”

Midoriya nodded fervently, waving her over to his desk. “I’ve been looking into your quirk and it’s so fascinating! You have such a powerful quirk and you’re going to do amazing things!”

The young girl froze, watching Midoriya as he fluttered through his desk, chattering and giving her hypotheticals while he looked.

Well, maybe he wasn’t exceptionally prepared for this occasion, but his enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Now,” Midoriya produced two notebooks, titled Eri #1 and Eri #2. “I was just finishing some notes in the second book, but I’d love to go over some options with you in the first one?”

Neither of them noticed the bright red Shouta in the corner, one hand planted firmly over his face as he revaluated his entire existence.

Fucking check .

***

Shouta couldn’t concentrate. Not for lack of trying. But Midoriya had him distracted. Their desks were directly next to each other, and Midoriya kept looking out the window, shaking his leg, and returning to his work.

When he looked out of the corner of his eye, Shouta watched the distressed look, the wistful way Midoriya looked out at nothing. The man looked unsettled in a way Shouta was unfamiliar with.

“Something bothering you?” Shouta finally asked, not looking over at Midoriya. He didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

He heard clattering, Midoriya startling and dropping something. “O-oh, yeah. I-I’m fine.” He went quiet, and Shouta chanced a look over. For all the bluster, he didn’t look convinced of his own words. 

But Shouta stayed quiet, only raising an eyebrow at Midoriya. 

The man sighed, slumping into his seat. “I’m, uh…I’m just nervous,” he admitted softly. His fingers fiddling with each other, twisting and turning as evidence of his words. “Today we have a couple of Pro Heroes coming in to talk to the classes. It’s just nerve wracking.”

Shouta frowned, confused. “You work around Pros everyday, though? Seasoned ones, at that.”

Midoriya laughed self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, just…yeah, you’re right.” He forced a smile on his face and cheer into his eyes. “It’ll be great! No worries!”

A rough knock on the door brought both of them to attention.

“Oi! Hobo-Sensei we’re -”

The room went quiet, and Shouta watched as his gruffest student stopped in his tracks with several more peeking over his shoulder. Pinky and Red Riot poked at Bakugou, complaining the entire time, but he seemed frozen.

Bakugou, Pro Hero Dynamight (he would not be saying the entire obnoxious name. Ever.), paused in full regalia, staring at the teacher next to Shouta. He swallowed hard, looking oddly unsure and nervous. 

“Deku?”

Midoriya took a deep breath, low enough that only Shouta could hear it. Then he popped up from his seat, forcing cheer in every word. “H-hey, Bakugou-san!” Bakugou flinched, but Midoriya didn’t seem to notice, too busy collecting papers and stacking them together. “J-just sign these p-papers for me and we can get you s-settled. Quirk Theory is room number 104. Here’s the schedule, so just pop in when you’re ready.”

The four Pros (apparently Chargebolt was still in the hallway) squeezed into the room, plucking papers from the outstretched hand of Midoriya. As Bakugou reached out, Midoriya winced, a small thing, but enough for both Shouta and Bakugou to see. 

Bakugou frowned. “Hey, Deku, I -”

“Well, I have to go get things ready in class! Sign those papers and leave them on my desk. I’ll give them to Nedzu later.”

Midoriya scooted around the four Pros, leaving the room as quick as he could. 

“Deku?” Pinky whispered, her face lighting up with understanding as she glanced worriedly at Bakugou. “As in - ?”

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, hand crumpling the corner of the paper in his hand.

For some reason, the name Deku tickled something at the back of Shouta’s mind. He recalled a long talk with Bakugou in the first year of school, trying to parse the issues the teenager had.

“I don’t know if I belong here,” Bakugou admitted after class. He stood in front of Shouta’s desk, shoulders slumped and hands in his pockets. The kid had potential in spades, but he was holding back. 

Every time he used his quirk on another person, it looked like he pulled back at the last moment. Shouta could only think of a mental block as being part of the problem. Todoroki struggled with the same thing in the Sports Festival. Shouta put him in therapy as quickly as Hound Dog would allow it. And now, he got the sickening feeling Bakugou would need a similar path.

“Bakugou, you have tremendous potential,” Shouta began. But the teen in front of him had already started shaking his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft.

The blond locked his jaw, scowling as best he could with the emotions he clearly tried to parse through. “I want to leave U.A.”

Now that startled Shouta. When the year began, Bakugou easily led the class in skill and determination. Sure, as the year went on, he became more subdued, but now? Now every alarm in Shouta’s mind blared.

“Sit down, Bakugou. Let’s talk about this. Why do you want to leave?”

“Because I’m an asshole, that’s why!” he shouted, chest heaving. Shouta watched as Bakugou dragged his forearm over his eyes. “I’m a bully and a piece of shit who can’t treat people the way a hero should! I don’t even know how my friends stand me! Dammit!” Bakugou kicked a chair, little sparks coming off his hands, but nothing full.

“There are other people who deserve to be here,” he seethed, eyes vacant as he looked back at Shouta. “People who want to save others. People who don’t have the quirk to do it, but deserve one.” 

There was definitely more to this. Shouta stayed quiet, watching his student pace anxiously.

He heaved out a breath, eyes to the ceiling. “I told my childhood friend to jump off the roof of our middle school,” he quietly admitted, not looking at Shouta. “I bullied him, encouraged other kids to do the same thing. All because he didn’t have a quirk.” Bakugou swallowed and Shouta kept his face carefully neutral. He couldn’t give away how shocked he felt about the revelation.

Sure, Bakugou could be rough around the edges. He shouted and yelled and couldn’t remember anyone’s name. But he tutored his friends. He made them practice when they wanted to quit. Shouta once saw him shouting at Kirishima for not having a spotter while he worked out. More than once, Bakugou was in the dorm kitchen, shouting and slamming cupboards as he cooked because, ‘God dammit, shitty hair, take care of yourself, asshole. Get Pinky, Pikachu and Tape Face, I’ll show you what a real meal is! Fuck those ready to eat pieces of shit!’.

Abrasive care seemed to be his primary way of interacting with the world. And his friends understood that. Shouta could see how much Ashido, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima loved being around Bakugou.

“Deku wanted to be a hero, just like anyone else,” he said softly, all the fight leaving him. “And I tried to crush that out of him. I don’t even know where he is now. Don’t know what he’s doing with his life.” Bakugou’s face crumpled. He tried to play it off as a scowl. “I don’t even know if…if…”

Shouta stood, coming around to Bakugou and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Bakugou,” he started, quiet but firm. “I’m not going to tell you what you did was right. I’m not going to tell you you’re forgiven.” Bakugou slumped, defeated. “What I am going to tell you is you’re trying. You deserve to be here, because I’ve seen you get better and better. I see you, Bakugou. And I know you can be a great hero.”

Bakugou shook his head, eyes on the floor.

“How about this?” The teen looked back up at him and he tried to give an encouraging smile. Judging from the snort, he failed. “Hound Dog has an open slot on Wednesdays. Get some help, Bakugou. It’ll do you good, I promise.”

“How do you know?” the boy snarked, wiping his running nose.

Shouta leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Because I’ve been in therapy for years.” Bakugou startled, staring wide eyed at him. “You see a lot of shit in this line of business. Getting you started on therapy early will be good.”

Bakugou hesitated, but nodded. “I’ll be better, Sensei,” he promised. “And someday…someday, I’ll find Deku. And I’ll apologize.”

Well, that explained a lot of things. Midoriya never displayed an outward quirk. Shouta always assumed it was of the mental variety, part of the reason he had been so excited to meet Shinsou. 

But, no. The man didn’t have a quirk. Midoriya taught a class full of hero hopefuls, helping them reach the full potential of their powers, without one of his own.

Suddenly, the moments where Shouta caught Midoriya watching the students training with the wistful look on his face made sense. The moments where he seemed to zone out, trailing off when everyone started to talk about quirks, specifically his.

A lot of small things, little bits of Midoriya that never quite lined up, finally clicked into place. And turning his attention to Bakugou, the man staring at Midoriya’s empty desk, he heaved a sigh.

“Well, this was more drama than I wanted today.”

Just like that, the tension broke with the other Pros, the three hyperactive adults no different from when they were in his classroom. They started chatting, talking over one another as they tried to tell Shouta all about the last few missions and wanting his praise.

But Shouta kept looking back at Bakugou as he signed the paper and dropped it onto Midoriya’s desk. 

He left the room without looking back.

**

Shouta went through the halls, searching for a head of green curls as he went. Most lessons were in session, some teachers (like himself) taking a break and leaving the students to self study. After all, he wanted to know where Midoriya went. The Quirk Theory classes were over by this point, but he never came back to the Faculty Room. Usually, Midoriya made it back to the room before Shouta did. 

Low voices caught his attention down one hall and Shouta used his skills as an underground hero to creep up to the other hall and listen.

“I didn’t know you were working here, Deku,” the voice was gruff, but not unkind. Oddly enough, it sounded … unsure. “I…I would have said no. Or at least give you more of a heads up.”

“It’s fine, Kacchan,” Midoriya replied, voice quiet. Shouta chanced a peek around the corner. Bakugou stood in front of Midoriya, shoulders hunched, looking oddly small even in his hero costume.

Shouta watched the interaction, arms folded across his chest.

Bakugou shook his head, frowning. His mask was pushed up, the blonde spikey hair pinned down by it. “No. No…it’s not. I…” he hesitated and for a moment, Shouta could see the teenager sitting in his class, somehow looking confident as hell and unsure of himself at the same time. Bakugou sighed, looking up to the ceiling before steeling himself. He bowed to Izuku, arms tight at his side. “I’m sorry, Izuku. For everything. You didn’t deserve it and…I’ve never forgiven myself. You don’t have to accept my apology. It doesn’t change anything. I just want you to know.”

The hallway went quiet, only the chirping of birds out the window and the shouts of teenagers outside. 

“I forgave you a long time ago, Kacchan.”

Both Shouta and Bakugou whipped to look at Midoriya. Shouta couldn’t see his face from this vantage, but whatever Bakugou saw there softened his face. Relief flooded the young man and he slowly stood back up to his full height.

“That was a long time ago and…I won’t deny you hurt me,” Midoriya said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “But you’ve grown so much. Look at you! Number 6 Pro Hero Dynamight,” Midoriya moved to stand next to Bakugou, shoving his elbow into his ribs with a teasing face. 

Bakugou rolled his eyes, muttering, “Fuck off, Deku,” but the smile betrayed how he really felt. Something in Shouta’s chest strained at the familiarity, a frown forming. The feeling in his chest grew, twisted and gnarled and tangled into his veins. Shouta swallowed the feeling down. He clearly needed to get his shit together.

“You know,” Midoriya continued, a wistful smile on his face. His hands were clasped in front of him as he spoke. “We both idolized All Might. But you were the one actually in my life. You’d always been my Symbol of Victory, even with all the baggage.”

Shouta couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Bakugou was very pointedly not looking at Midoriya right at that moment. Midoriya bumped his hip into Bakugou, a small smile on his face. “I always knew you were going to be an amazing hero.”

Shouta turned away, slipping back down the hall and pretending he didn’t see the Great Lord Explosion Murder Dynamight cry.

*

Midoriya came back into the Faculty Room looking far better than he did when the day started. His eyes were a little red rimmed, but Shouta acted none the wiser. He kept his eyes on his computer, fingers tapping away at his keyboard while he waited for Midoriya to sit down. Shouta just focused on the papers he needed to still look through, dying a little inside as he reviewed the one for a cousin of Kaminari’s. The kid had heart for days, but the intelligence just was not there.

The chair next to his squeaked and Shouta looked up like he only just noticed Midoriya returned. He flashed Shouta a genuine smile, scooting his chair forward. “The day is almost done!” he cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

“Exciting plans for the evening?” Shouta asked in his normal, dry tone, sounding bored as ever. His interest, though, did not waver.

Midoriya shook his head. “Not really. Just excited to go home and relax.”

Relief flooded Shouta; no plans. No one else.

“Hm,” he focused on his screen, adding in a few more notes before pressing save. Looking to his right, Shouta watched the young teacher for a moment, the concentration in his brow as he sorted through the signed sheets from earlier in the day.

“What about you, Aizawa-san?” he asked in turn, looking over at Shouta. “Any fun plans for the evening?” Again with the adorable head tilt.

Plans? Sure. He planned to go home and jerk himself off repeatedly to the cute teacher sitting next to him so he didn’t explode at some point during the next week. After that, he would sit in self-loathing for a hot second, wondering what about his existence brought him to this point. And then, he would slurp down a jelly packet, take a two hour nap, and get ready for his shift on patrol that night.

“No,” Shouta sighed, leaning against his desk. “No good plans.”

***

“Midterms are a bitch,” Hizashi grumbled from across their desks. Shouta peeked over at him, slugging down more coffee as he did. “I swear, sometimes I don’t think anyone is listening. Which is weird considering how fucking loud I am.”

Shouta just shook his head, returning to his tests. His eyes kept catching on the empty seat to his right, however. Midoriya was out sick. His Quirk Theory midterms were all typed up and ready to go. They just needed to be printed and the work had been divided amongst the staff. Shouta just needed to focus and get it done. 

Except…

Except it was hard to focus without the constant mumbling next to him. He enjoyed listening to Midoriya’s observations of their students and oftentimes would chime in with his own context.

It made for a nice exchange and definitely didn’t sink the hook of attraction further into his heart. Shouta was handling it fine, thank you very much.

“Any word on how Midoriya is feeling?”

It  took a moment for Shouta to realize he asked the question and several sets of eyes on their way out the door stared back at him. He forced himself to act natural, choking down the embarrassment and raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

A few staff members shook their heads like they saw a ghost and continued on their way, until only Hizashi and Shouta remained. He tried to pass off the question, tried to let it go, feeling too embarrassed now.

Hizashi, however, knew him far too well. And the manic grin on his face said everything Shouta needed to know. The loudmouth was onto him.

“Do your work, Mic,” he drawled, looking at his own screen but not really seeing anything. He would be going cross eyed at this rate. He rubbed his eye, pulling some drops from the top drawer of his desk. The nature of Shouta’s quirk took a strain and the dry eye got him more often these days, even with only half his vision.

He dropped the liquid into his one good eye, blinking a few times and shaking his head. Tossing the small bottle back into his drawer, Shouta looked across his desk and frowned. “Where the hell did Mic -”

“Right here, buddy.”

Shouta did not jump, but he did kick out at his friend. Hizashi had moved into Midoriya’s seat and was rocking back and forth with a grin that did not bode well for Shouta. “Soooo,” he started, looking over the tops of his glasses. “Wanna tell me what’s happening with you and the green bean?”

The glare with which Shouta leveled Hizashi was totally involuntary and did nothing to distract Hizashi from his mission. With a sigh, Shouta leaned back in his seat. “Nothing. Nothing is happening between myself and Midoriya,” he replied, trying not to sound as upset about it as he felt.

“But you want something to?” Hizashi pressed.

This time, Shouta put effort into his glare and Hizashi looked away, whistling. “It’s highly inappropriate,” Shouta responded. He dropped his head onto his desk, desperate for a midafternoon nap. Damn these midterms.

“How is it inappropriate?” Hizashi asked, bewildered. He had leaned forward, the look on his face just as confused as his tone and Shouta frowned.

“Hizashi, the man is fifteen years younger than me and my coworker to boot. What about that seems logical to you?”

“You realize Nemuri and Snipe fuck on a regular basis right?”

Shouta choked. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

Hizashi laughed, loud and bright and totally unconcerned with the words coming out of his mouth. “Eraser, seriously. You need to pay more attention. No one is going to look twice at you and another staff member getting frisky.”

Instead of knuckling under, accepting an easy way into Midoriya’s life like he so desperately wanted, Shouta held firm. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But there’s still the age to consider. I’m almost 40. He’s in his mid 20’s.” Raising his eyebrows, he added, “It’s not going to happen.” He hoped it sounded convincing.

Green eyes narrowed at him and Hizashi pinned him under his stare. Then he threw his hands up and stood up. “Fine, fine, fine. I’m not one to try and convince you otherwise.” Hizashi then dug around his jacket, searching each pocket until he found what he wanted. A piece of paper was slapped onto Shouta’s desk.

“What is that?” he drawled, dark eyes watching his best friend.

Hizashi shrugged, walking back around to his own desk and gathering his things. “Oh, nothing important. Just Izuku’s address and a list of his favorite foods. My guess is that he’s too sick to cook, let alone go out and get something to eat. I would hate for him to starve, but goodness ,” Hizashi slapped one hand against the side of his face dramatically, looking down at the screen of his phone. “It’s just far too late and I have so much to do. If only someone else would be willing to help!”

And then he was gone, racing out the door like his ass was on fire.

Shouta looked down at the slip of paper like it would bite him, wary and concerned. The folded edges mocked him, the easy access to information he probably shouldn’t have right there in front of him.

With a sigh, Shouta stood, pulling his bag over his shoulders.

He looked at the piece of paper.

And swiped it, shoving the information in his pocket and slinking from the room.

*

The problem facing Shouta at this moment came in two parts. 

For one, did Midoriya even know Hizashi pimped out his address? Did Hizashi even get the address through decent means? Maybe Midoriya didn’t want anyone at his home at the moment.

Secondly, if Midoriya was struggling to sleep, as most people who were sick did, Shouta didn’t want to wake him up. In order for him to heal properly, he needed plenty of rest and medicine. 

Shouta looked down at the bags in his hand, easy to eat meals, yogurt, and electrolyte filled drinks in one. Medicine and cooling patches in the other. With a sigh, Shouta knocked, very gently, on Midoriya’s door. If sleep finally claimed the man, Shouta didn’t want to disturb that.

However, even with the small knock, Shouta heard shuffling on the other side of the door. The lock clicked and the door cracked open. Every string on Shouta’s heart tugged aggressively as Midoriya came into view.

Bags were under his eyes, dark and glaringly obvious against the pale shade of his face. His hair sagged around his face, his eyes red rimmed. Midoriya looked exhausted.

“Aizawa? What are you doing here?” He trailed off at the end, a yawn breaking through his words. His words sounded like they were being dragged over gravel, broken and hoarse. Shouta grimaced, thinking of how painful that must be. Midoriya sagged against the door and Shouta made up his mind then and there. With gentle hands, Shouta pushed the door open and herded Midoriya away from the front of his home. A meow caught his attention and Shouta looked down to see the famous Sakura. The large cat pressed herself against Shouta's leg, weaving an eight pattern between his ankles. He tip-toed around the cat, reaching down to scratch her on the head.

"Good girl," he murmured, standing up and turning his attention back to Midoriya.

“I wanted to check on you,” he replied to the earlier question, stepping out of his boots in the genkan and continuing to herd the younger man. As they entered the main portion of his apartment, Shouta realized Midoriya probably ran out of energy long before he started showing symptoms of his sickness. 

Dishes were stacked in the sink, the couch seemed to be an impromptu laundry basket, and overall, it just needed a good clean. But one look at Midoriya and Shouta knew the guy wouldn’t be able to do any of that alone. 

Shouta steered Midoriya to sit down at his table, one of the only clear places.  He dropped the bags full of food onto the table, getting the bags unloaded onto the table.

“Where are your extra sheets and bedding?” he asked, looking around for a closet. 

Midoriya cocked his head like a puppy. Fucking adorable , Shouta’s brain supplied. “Uh, bathroom closet.” he rasped, jerking forward as he coughed into his hand.

Quickly working, Shouta made his way into the bathroom and tugged open the closet. Indeed, extra bedding was stacked inside and he dragged out pillow cases, a comforter, and sheets.

Without asking permission (he was way past that by this point), Shouta began stripping off the bedding and replacing it with the fresh ones. Bundling it up, he dropped it by the door before walking back out to Midoriya. 

“Midoriya, I - ”

“Izuku.”

Shouta short circuited, pausing his rummaging through the bags he brought to look at the other man. “What?”

Midoriya smiled, a tired little thing, but genuine. “You’re the only one who still calls me Midoriya, you know. You changed my bedding, so I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

The tingly feeling in Shouta’s chest expanded and he took a deep breath, nodding and shoving down the flush. “Uh, yeah. I suppose so.” Looking away, he produced a box of medicine, opening it and popping two tablets out. He cracked one of the drinks he brought and handed the items over to Midor- Izuku. “In that case, you should probably just call me Shouta,” he replied, turning away as soon as Izuku took the offered items.

Izuku just hummed, taking the medicine.

“Go take a shower,” Shouta instructed him, waving him off. “Between the medicine and a shower, you’ll feel much better.” And hopefully sleepy. Izuku needed to get back into bed and pass out for a few hours.

With a nod, Izuku stumbled his way into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. The blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders went into the pile Shouta started with dirty things that needed washing. He found the washer set in a closet by the front door and started it up. Not one to really worry about separating whites and colors, he just shoved fabrics inside. Once it hit the maximum capacity, Shouta shut the lid and went back to the living room. He opened the two windows, pulling back the curtains as well. Light flooded the room and for a moment, Shouta felt a little overwhelmed.

He kept a pretty minimalistic lifestyle, choosing functionality over aesthetic and usually, even when sick, things didn’t pile up. But Izuku clearly liked having stuff. He had more shirts than he could wear in a month and more cargo shorts than were necessary for one human being. But, Shouta supposed he couldn’t really talk. His collection of sweatpants could put a store out of business.

So he pushed up his sleeves and got to work. By the time Izuku emerged from the shower, looking a little better, a bowl of rice porridge sat on the table, steaming and fresh. A mug of tea sat next to it, filled with lemon and honey to help soothe the gravel in Izuku’s throat.

The dishes were done, stacked neatly in the drainer, and Shouta wiped down the sink with disinfectant he found in the cabinet.

He motioned Izuku to sit, which he did and immediately tucked into the meal. Shouta sipped his coffee, having dug out the coffee maker from the recesses of Izuku’s kitchen, and leaned against the counter.

“Thank you, Shouta,” Izuku said at length, after half the rice porridge disappeared and the mug of tea sat empty. It looked like he wouldn’t be finishing the food, which was fair. There would be more meals to come, anyway. His voice already sounded a little better and Shouta felt a tug of satisfaction. “You didn’t have to come, but I appreciate it.”

Shouta waved off the words, but felt warmth curl into his chest. “Anytime. Now,” he set down his own mug and collected Izuku’s dishes. “Go to bed.” Izuku opened his mouth, possibly to protest, but Shouta held up his hand and armed his face with the look he used to silence his students. It had a 100 percent success rate so far. And from the way Izuku’s mouth clicked shut, his record would continue. “You need sleep and I don’t mind being here. Go to bed.”

Izuku swallowed and nodded, the strings in his body suddenly cutting and he slumped into his chair. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Thank you. For everything.” With one more exhausted tilt of his lips, Izuku disappeared into his bedroom.

The feeling of satisfaction, of happiness persisted for the rest of the evening. Even through the several loads of laundry, even as he shot off a text to Eri to check in on how she was doing. School started the following week, so she’d already headed back to Shiketsu to settled in after summer break. 

He folded clothes to the best of his ability (he didn’t fold his clothes, okay? That’s what a dresser drawer was for) and put them back in the basket. The blankets and sheets were folded (again, to the best of his ability) and put away in the bathroom closet. Shouta even took a little bit of a break to sit on the floor and give Sakura all the bell scratches she wanted, pulled the cannister of treats from the coffee table to bribe his way into her affections. It worked like a charm.

He disinfected doorknobs and counters, wondering if he could do anything else to help. He wouldn’t be texting Hizashi to ask, though. He would never hear the end of it.

In the end, Shouta prepared a little more food, leaving it in a covered dish with a note. Looking around the apartment, it looked much better than when he arrived and as a last minute thought, he scribbled down his number on a piece of paper. He left it near the food and left before he could second guess his actions.

The rest of his weekend passed in a blur and Shouta to his disappointment, didn’t receive any texts from Izuku. He tried to not take it personally. Izuku probably slept most of the weekend anyways.

But as he walked in on Monday, the smell of coffee met him and to his surprise, Izuku was sitting at his desk. He waved at Shouta with a smile, looking far better than the last time Shouta saw him.

“You look better,” he said by way of greeting, plopping down in his seat and turning to face Izuku.

Izuku smiled wide, cheeks scrunched up and eyes squinting. He flexed in a motion so heroic Shouta snorted. “I feel great! Thanks again for stopping by! I’d probably still be feeling awful if you hadn’t.” His eyes sparkled and he added, “Guess that’s a pro hero for you, huh? I’ll have to make it up to you!”

Shouta turned to his screen, feeling his face go red. He could think of several ways Izuku could make it up to him and none of them were wholesome. Shouta adjusted in his seat, trying to focus on the test in front of him needing grading.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, instead of tugging Izuku over to shove his tongue down the other man’s throat. “We have to look out for each other.” Shouta bet he tasted like heaven.

Izuku laughed, a bright sound that Shouta had missed. “Of course, of course. Well, I’ll look for a chance to say thank you somehow.”

Shouta didn’t say how much he looked forward to it.

***

Shouta looked up, sighing. He just crawled through his window, exhaustion pulling at every nerve in his body. But the doorbell didn’t stop ringing and at…he looked at his watch. At six thirty in the morning, it had to be someone he knew.

Eri was already off to an internship. Nothing with patrols, nothing dangerous. But Shiketsu began doing small internships for first and second years, just enough for the kids to get a feel for what being in an agency was like.

From what Eri told him, it was being a glorified secretary and he didn’t tell her how pleased that made him. If Shiketsu started sending kids into full blown internships their first year, he’d sic Nedzu on them. There was a reason U.A. didn’t do it until third year.

All this to say, Shouta had no idea who was at his door.

So he dragged himself over to the door, looking through the peephole and making a noise of surprise. Shouta flipped the lock and swung the door open, revealing Izuku. “Izuku? Is everything okay?”

Izuku looked incredibly unimpressed and held up several bags of food and drinks. “A little birdie told me you’ve been taking back to back shifts.”

Shouta leaned against the doorframe, a long suffering sigh escaping. “A little birdie or an annoying cockatoo?” he asked tiredly, rubbing one palm over his face. Seriously, two more steps and he would be facedown in the genkan.

Cracking a smile, Izuku pushed past Shouta without invitation. “Guilty as charged. You look terrible,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Such sweet words. How are you still single?” Shouta deadpanned in reply, following the shorter man further into his home. Izuku laughed and Shouta felt his heart twist. Izuku dropped the food on the table, looking around Shouta’s home.

“You’ve been pushing it a little too much,” he said softly, raising his eyebrow and giving Shouta a disappointed look. Despite being a teacher himself and having his own brand of disappointment, Shouta cowered under the look. A look such as that coming from Izuku felt like kicking a puppy, all big emerald eyes and pouty lips.

Shaking himself loose, Shouta looked away. “Summer is a great time to remind people I’m still around,” he replied with a shrug. He took off his capture weapon, laying it over the back of his couch and kicking off his boots. The food smelled amazing and when his stomach growled, Shouta realized he may have been eating nothing but jelly pouches and those steamed buns from the 24 mart for a little too long.

Izuku hummed, looking away and digging through the bags to unveil the meal he brought along. Fried rice, teriyaki salmon, egg rolls, gyoza. Shouta could feel his mouth watering and tried to contain himself. All bets were off when he produced the tempura, though.

He sighed heavily. Exhaustion still pulled at every muscle, but seeing Izuku in his apartment bearing the gift of food, well…too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Shouta took the container Izuku pushed in his direction and popped it open. Steam rose from the carton and Shouta broke his chopsticks in a hurry, mumbling out, “Thanks for the food,” before grabbing a piece of gyoza and biting into it.

His eyes flickered shut, groaning. “Shit, this is good. Where’d you go?”

When he looked back up at Izuku, licking the taste of his food from his lips, Shouta found him absolutely red faced. His eyes were on his food, chopsticks clenched between his fingers. 

“You alright? It is kind of hot. Let me hit the fan.”

Izuku nodded quickly, fanning his face. “Yeah. Yeah, the summer is really peaking, huh?”

Shouta flicked on the A/C, adjusting the temperature to a point where they could both feel comfortable. In a moment of brain dead exhaustion, Shouta pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it into his room. Fuck, he needed to clean up a bit.

Instead, he stumbled back to the table in his undershirt, an old white tank top he’d had for years at this point. “It should start feeling better soon,” he told Izuku, plopping gracelessly into his seat and tucking back into his food. 

They sat in companionable silence, a concept Shouta felt infinitely grateful for. While he loved Hizashi and Nemuri like family, neither of them understood how to be quiet. Both extroverted chatterboxes, never liking a dull moment. Izuku, however, seemed to understand Shouta needed a bit of quiet. He would occasionally push another piece of gyoza his way or fill his glass of water again. But he didn’t force Shouta to talk when he didn’t have the mental space to do it.

It was so nice.

And in that quiet moment, tucked away in his apartment, Shouta knew he was fucked. The lust took a backseat, his attraction to Izuku now driven by the genuine connection he felt to the other man.

Many times, Shouta found himself sitting alongside Izuku long after school hours ended, grading papers and sharing a pot of coffee. In those moments, much like this one, Shouta felt a thread curling around his heart and tugging him towards Izuku.

Judging from the amount of times Shouta took himself in hand after a long day, images of emerald eyes and a bright smile at the forefront of his mind, he assumed his attraction was superficial. 

It would make sense. Izuku was young, cute, and competent. His intelligence sometimes astounded Shouta and he loved seeing the new ways his students' quirks could be applied by using the knowledge Izuku provided.

So, yeah. Superficial.

But this...it didn’t feel superficial.

Shouta finished his food, feeling delightfully stuffed for the first time in days. He moved to clean up the mess, but Izuku cut him off with a shooing motion. “Don’t worry about it,” he said brightly. “I’ll clean up. Go shower and go to bed.”

The words rang familiar, the way Shouta had shooed Izuku off when the man looked at death's door. He didn’t fight it and only nodded, too tired to put up a fuss. Shouta took the quickest shower of his life, scrubbing himself down with ruthless efficiency. 

He stumbled out of his bathroom, glancing into the kitchen. Izuku already put away the leftovers, the cups they used for their drinks sitting in the sink with the paltry amount of dishes Shouta used. When Izuku didn’t acknowledge him, Shouta decided to take his advice and went to his room, dropping face first into his bed.

He would need to do laundry later. The clothes Eri left behind would need to be washed and put away. Probably needed to clean his bedding at some point, but it hadn’t been that long. He would be fine for another day or two. With the sound of the sink running, dishes clanking together, Shouta closed his eyes and promptly passed out.

When he woke up several hours later, Shouta sluggishly went to the kitchen for a drink. His living room had been picked up, his capture weapon folded into a neat pile and the clothes he'd been carelessly shucking all week were in the dryer. 

His fridge had a little extra food and the kitchen looked cleaner.

A piece of bright blue paper caught his eye, hanging from his fridge, and Shouta pulled it out from under the magnet. The corner of his mouth curled up, a strange satisfaction curling in his chest. He grabbed a clean cup, filling it with water and downed it before folding the note and taking it with him to his bedroom. He could use a little more sleep, anyways.

It’s not an official repayment. But it’s a start. - Izuku

***

“Don’t take summer away from me,” Hizashi cried, hand curled around a glass of beer and forehead on the table. Shouta watched in amusement as Izuku tried to comfort the other man, still unused to his dramatic outbursts. 

“We still have a few days, Hizashi,” he soothed. He pushed another glass of beer towards him and added, “Don’t worry so much! It’s going to be great!”

“You are sickeningly positive,” came the muffled reply.

Izuku huffed out a laugh and shook his head, returning to a conversation on his other side with Snipe and Power Loader. 

“Izuku, hey!”

The entire table looked at the newcomer, finding Kirishima standing there with Bakugou and Kaminari. His sharp teeth were on display as he smiled, reaching out a fist for Izuku. 

“Oh! I didn’t expect to see you all here!” Izuku replied with a grin and bumping his own fist against Kirishima’s.

“Yeah! We just got done with a big bust and decided to celebrate! What are you all celebrating?”

“More like mourning the loss of freedom,” Shouta replied dryly, raising his own glass in a toast before taking a slug.

Kaminari started laughing, leaning on Kirishima. “Man, you’re telling me teachers feel the same way as students?”

“I would wager more than, Kaminari,” Izuku piped in, gesturing to Hizashi as an example. “After all, while the kids have been on summer vacation,” his eyes went vacant and he sighed. “We’ve been getting ready for the new school year for several weeks already.”

Kaminari winced, shaking his head. “Dunno how you do it, Midoriya.”

Interesting. Judging from the level of familiarity, Kirishima and Izuku were much closer than Kaminari and Izuku. Bakugou still hadn’t said anything and Izuku leaned around Kirishima to give him a smile.

“Hi, Kacchan!”

To Shouta’s absolute mortification, Bakugou seemed to fucking melt at the pet name, feeding into the suspicion he had months ago. The way Bakugou stopped by the school occasionally, dropping in to say hello. Or to drop off extra food for the teachers. It was all tailored to Izuku’s taste, of course. But theoretically for everyone and no one was stupid enough to turn down free food.

Bottom line: Bakugou definitely held a torch for Izuku. 

“Hey, Deku,” Bakugou replied, managing to sound soft despite the gruff tone of voice. 

“You should join us!” Nemuri said, jumping up for more chairs and asking the staff if they could push another table next to theirs. “There is nothing more beautiful and awkward than sharing a drink with former teachers!”

Despite the ringing endorsement, the three Pros squeezed in at the table. Somehow, in the musical chairs that followed, Bakugou ended up next to Izuku and Shouta found himself gripping his glass a little harder than warranted.

In the past several weeks since Izuku had popped into his apartment with food and an epiphany for Shouta, he’d done his best to stay in Izuku’s orbit. Small things, just the occasional invitation to get coffee or phone calls to get input on some lesson plans. There really wasn’t any reason he could think of to stay away. At this rate, he might as well just confess his undying affection for the man. 

But Shouta couldn’t think of any words or the right time. And now with school starting back up, maybe there wouldn’t be a right time. However, seeing Izuku laughing with Bakugou, the blond man looking at him with a particular fondness, Shouta felt a flare of possessiveness. 

Bakugou had been a great student. He was clearly a fantastic hero, sitting pretty at number six. However, if he continued making heart eyes at Izuku, Shouta would erase his quirk. Not at a time that would put him in danger, but just enough to embarrass him and take him down a notch. How long would he be able to hold his quiet these days, anyway?

Shouta slammed the rest of his beer back, working to drown out the childish thoughts in his head. What right did he have to Izuku anyway, he wondered, staring (read: glaring) at the two from across the table. Bakugou cut Izuku off years ago. Just because the little green bean had too large of a heart to reject the offer of friendship didn’t mean Bakugou could sniff around for romance.

And that made Shouta go cold. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed. What the hell was he even thinking? Using something so delicate and vulnerable, a secret shared in confidence with an authority figure, as a weapon? Shouta felt sick and it had nothing to do with the way Bakugou looked at Izuku or the alcohol in his belly.

The night passed in slow movements, with loud jokes, and with his former students toasting his colleagues. At some point, Bakugou sank a little deeper into his seat, slouching with a flush high on his cheeks. He wondered how much of that had to do with the alcohol and how much of that had to do with the way he leaned into Izuku.

“I think I’m going to close my tab,” Izuku finally said, albeit a little regretfully. “I don’t want to do anything too stupid,” he joked. Standing up, he swayed just a bit, shaking his head. 

Bakugou jumped out of his seat. “Here, I’ll come with. I…sort of wanted to tell you something anyways.”

Shouta reached over Hizashi and grabbed his drink, taking a huge slug despite the protests. Kirishima was watching Bakugou with a proud sort of look. And the pieces fit together too perfectly. He knew exactly what Bakugou wanted to tell Izuku.

Izuku looked surprised. “Oh, okay. But you have my number. Why didn’t you just text me?”

They were fucking texting, picking up their relationship as if nothing happened. They’d probably been talking for months at this point. Oh, god, Shouta needed to leave. 

Bakugou shrugged, the picture of indifference if Shouta didn’t notice the way he tapped his foot. A nervous habit he tried to help Bakugou get rid of so as to not fall back on it in intense situations. “It’s fine. It’s something I should say in person.”

Izuku still looked confused, but conceded, allowing Bakugou to follow him to the front of the bar while they paid their tabs. Shouta stared at his drink. He could feel the way Hizashi drilled holes into the side of his face, silently wondering if he would be okay. Shouta never explicitly told Hizashi how he felt about Izuku. But their conversations in the past and the way Shouta treated the man were evidence enough. Hizashi didn’t have to be told. He just knew.

Looking up, Shouta watched as Bakugou gently took Izuku’s arm and led him outside. He could still see them clear as day, the nervous way Bakugou scrubbed his undercut, the way Izuku’s eyes widened.

“Damn, Bakugou is just so manly,” Kirishima drew Shouta’s attention, hand squeezed into a fist. “I’m so proud of him! Feeling your feelings is the pinnacle of being a man.”

Those words were the last straw. Shouta yanked his wallet out of his pocket, shoving a handful of bills at Hizashi. “Take care of my tab. I’m going to go home.”

“Sho -” Hizashi started, but Shouta silenced him with a look. With one more glance at the tender scene outside, Shouta took the side door, exiting the building into the warm night air.

He scoffed. He knew he didn’t stand a chance. He knew Izuku never would have wanted him back. But in the rare moments where Shouta chose to acknowledge how he felt, he had hoped.

And as he disappeared into the night, Shouta hated himself for that hope.

***

Shouta avoided phone calls the next day. Hizashi woke him up at the ass crack of dawn (he should have been hungover, what the hell) with a barrage of text messages. But when Shouta refused to answer, the man redirected to one phone call after the other. Nemuri joined in at some point, but when Izuku called, Shouta set his phone to Do Not Disturb. He laid the phone face down on his nightstand, plugged into the charger, and began to take care of some chores.

His bedding needed to be washed. 

He had a basket of laundry to take care of.

The living room needed to be vacuumed. 

One mundane task after the other filled his morning and afternoon, until Shouta sat cross legged on his couch, a documentary about animals in the Amazon playing on his tv. All in all, it was the laziest day he’d had in a long time and he didn’t feel compelled to ruin it with a late night patrol or by preparing assignments for the upcoming school year. 

However, by four pm, his quiet, domestic day came to an end. The doorbell rang once, twice, three times. And by the fourth, Shouta realized they wouldn’t be going away. If Hizashi didn’t leave the second Shouta glared at him, he had no self preservation instincts and deserved whatever happened next.

But when Shouta flung the door open, ready to erase Hizashi’s quirk so he could slap him in peace, all those ideas disappeared. Instead of a loud mouth blond, Izuku stood in front of him, unsure smile on his face. Great. Just what he wanted to see. The man he wanted but clearly couldn’t have. Bakugou struck him as the possessive type.

Which, pot calling the kettle black, but fuck it.

“Yes?” Shouta deadpanned, the words dripping with a rude tone.

“Hey. I wanted to check on you after yesterday. You sort of just vanished,” Izuku said with an uncertain chuckle, hands wringing together. “I was hoping we would be able to talk a little bit more last night.”

Shouta watched him, searching for clues, signs of the night he must have had. He couldn’t find any bruises, no marks sucked into the column of his throat. His stomach rolled thinking of where they probably were.

“I’m fine. Surprised you could even get out of bed today,” he snarked, completely unwarranted, but he couldn’t stop the petulant, aching feeling in his chest. His arms crossed, leaning against the doorway.

Izuku’s face twisted in confusion, the smile shaky, and he cocked his head to the side. “I mean, I didn’t drink that much? I don’t really get hangovers because of my high metabolism.”

Was he being purposely obtuse? Shouta narrowed his eyes, trying to figure it out. “Yeah, but a night fucking around with Bakugou probably doesn’t make it easy to walk, you know.” The words were sharp, meant to hurt. The way he said them could have sliced flesh and with how Izuku flinched, Shouta knew he hit his mark.

He hated himself at that moment. But Hizashi always said he could be a stubborn bastard. And if he didn’t want to see Izuku parading his new boyfriend around, he would have to steel himself.

“What the hell, Shouta?” Izuku replied, face scrunched up in pain. “What…you, you think I had sex with Kacchan last night?” he sounded so disbelieving, fire replacing the hurt in his eyes. His hands curled, jaw locking into place. “Maybe if you hadn’t left the minute you started assuming things,” Izuku said darkly, “You’d know Kacchan confessed to me, I rejected him, and then we went our separate ways for the night and it's going to be awkward as hell to see him for the foreseeable future.”

Shouta blinked in surprise. He never even entertained the idea of Izuku not going home with Bakugou. It was a textbook young adult romance. Estranged childhood friends to lovers - the housewives would eat that shit right up.

“You…did?” he replied slowly, brain booting up once more. His arms dropped to his side and with a sigh, Izuku pushed past Shouta and stormed into his apartment.

He kicked off his shoes, mumbling under his breath the entire time. “I cannot fucking believe this beautiful idiot of a man -” Which took Shouta by surprise. Did Izuku mean…him?

Stopping in the living room, Izuku turned and put his hands on his hips, huffing. “Are you going to explain the attitude you just had with me? I expected better from you of all people.” Izuku looked every bit the disappointed teacher, his eyes stern, mouth downturned. Shouta wanted to kiss him. He swallowed the urge.

“I’d rather not,” he said hoarsely. He may have just given too much away at the door, his words just a little too barbed, a little too honest.

Izuku ground his jaw, narrowing his eyes. “So you don’t want to talk about how you fled the scene when I walked outside with Kacchan last night?” Shouta shook his head, lips clamped shut. Izuku took a step forward. “And you don’t want to talk about how close we’ve gotten recently?” Another shake of the head and another step forward. Izuku was right in front of Shouta now, looking up at him with fierce determination. “And you definitely don’t want to talk about how jealous you sounded at your front door?”

“That…seems like a very illogical thing to do,” Shouta said, looking away. Silence stretched between them, nothing but the sound of the air conditioner filling the space. 

Izuku apparently came loaded with a very small amount of patience, because not even twenty seconds had passed when he let out a frustrated noise. “Oh my god, do you like me or not, Shouta?” Izuku shouted, exasperated, hands flung out to the sides. 

“Of course I like you, dumbass!” he snapped automatically, the words ripped from his throat before he could stop them.

“Then would it kill you to just kiss me?”

Shouta pulled Izuku in as the words fled his mouth, catching his lips in a desperate bid for attention. Izuku didn’t pull away, he didn’t push. Instead, his hands slid up Shouta’s bare arms, up to his covered shoulders, and held on.

The way Izuku melted into Shouta set his blood on fire. One of Shouta’s hands tangled into the curly strands of hair, giving an experimental tug. The groan Izuku let out had Shouta pressing forward. With gentle prodding, Shouta parted his lips and licked at the seam of Izuku’s mouth. He responded so easily, and soon, his tongue slid in alongside Izuku’s, a shudder rolling down his spine.

Months. Months of looking at this man, watching him, spending time with him. Months of coming home and taking himself in hand, hoping to empty himself of desire. If Shouta would have known it would end up here, he wouldn’t have wasted all that fucking time.

Shouta pushed Izuku against the wall, leaning into him as they kissed. Izuku was shorter than Shouta by a decent amount and as one hand settled into the curve of Izuku’s waist, the other still gripping green locks, Shouta found how much he liked it. He liked how small Izuku felt next to him, how he could manhandle him into any position with a few well-placed suggestions.

Shouta pulled away, just barely tugging at the buttons of Izuku’s shirt. “I want this off yesterday,” he said gruffly, finally getting his wish and pulling Izuku’s shirt free from his pants. The squeak he let out was high pitched and adorable and Shouta found himself grinning. He licked a line up Izuku's throat, shoving his thigh between Izuku’s legs.

The young man gasped, hands scrambling to twist into Shouta’s shirt. 

Shouta gripped Izuku’s hips, coaxing and encouraging him to grind against Shouta’s thigh. He could feel how hard Izuku was in his pants and groaned. “I think,” he panted, sucking a bruise under Izuku’s jaw. “We would be so much more comfortable in my bed. Don’t you?”

Izuku started nodding before he even finished his sentence, and with the ease coming from years of hero work, Shouta cupped Izuku’s thighs to pick him up. Another squeak left Izuku, legs tightening around Shouta’s hips. Shouta took a steadying breath, hips jerking forward to seek friction. 

Taking the initiative, Izuku tangled his own fingers into Shouta’s hair, mimicking the older man's earlier actions and tugging. Shouta’s mouth fell open on a moan, and Izuku took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, dragging him into a filthy kiss.

Remembering he had a goal here, ending with Izuku face down and ass up, Shouta used herculean effort to pull away and carry Izuku into his room. His bed was a mess, bedding in a halfhearted attempt at being made from when he did his laundry earlier. Izuku didn’t seem to care as Shouta dropped him and immediately started shucking his pants.

Shouta grinned, thrilled he only had to shed sweatpants, and stripped himself as fast as he could. He wasn’t interested in a strip tease and he didn’t really feel like waiting. Especially not with Izuku laying in his bed, struggling to get his boxers and socks off.

He couldn’t help it. Shouta laughed.

Izuku frowned, almost pouting. “I’m trying, alright?”

Shouta pulled off his boxers, propping himself on the bed to help Izuku tug off his socks. “Of course, of course. You’re doing your best,” he teased, throwing the offending pieces of clothing off to the side and laying his full length on top of Izuku. Uninterested in taking his time, Shouta pressed his mouth back to Izuku’s, prying his lips open with his tongue. 

Izuku mewled, rolling his hips forward and one hand holding onto the back of Shouta’s neck. Shouta could feel every breath Izuku took, one hand on his chest and feeling every rapid thump of his heart. They broke apart for only moments, panting into the space between their mouths before reconnecting.

Shouta had imagined many times what it would be like to kiss Izuku. Would he be shy and tentative, sweet with his kisses? Would he let Shouta take the lead, or would he want to run the show?

As it turned out, Izuku just wanted to be an active participant. He met every stroke of Shouta’s tongue with one of his own, rolled his hips to press against the growing erection pressing into his upper thigh, and grabbed at every bit of skin he could. He felt desperate, eager. It felt like he wanted to be there in Shouta’s bed, tangled in his sheets, pinned beneath his body. And that did something to Shouta’s ego. 

Shouta leaned back, sitting on his heels and looked at the gorgeous man below him. Izuku’s chest fell and rose with heavy breaths, green eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed red. A swell of affection filled Shouta’s chest and despite his desire to get the show on the road, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against Izuku’s forehead. A tender gesture, almost too soft for the situation. But he wanted to.

He received a gentle, but blinding smile for his efforts, Izuku brushing his fingers through Shouta’s hair and pushing it away from his face. “You still okay with this?” he asked, staring up at Shouta.

The man blinked dumbly, one eyebrow raising. “I feel like I should be asking you that. Because in what universe would I be categorically not okay with fucking you?”

Izuku wheezed, covering his darkening face with both hands as he laughed. He brushed his hair away from his own face, grinning from ear to ear. “I guess that answers that!” He replied cheerily, reaching out to slide a hand down Shouta’s body to his dick. He softly trailed his fingers up and down the length, a breathy sound leaving Shouta. “Ready when you are.”

Shouta took a steadying breath and picked the bottle of lube up, drenching his fingers in the substance. He closed the lid and focused, letting the bottle fall to the wayside as he rubbed the pads of his fingers against Izuku’s hole. 

He frowned, two fingers sliding in easily and he looked up at Izuku. He gave Shouta a cheeky grin, though still red in the face. “I…may have been hoping something would happen when I came over?”

It took longer than it should have for the words to process and when they did, Shouta felt himself go red. Izuku…did he..?

Testing his theory, Shouta pulled his fingers back, breath coming a little faster and slid a third finger along with the first two. Izuku’s body easily gave out and Shouta groaned when his fingers disappeared to the knuckles. 

“Fuck, you’re so damn hot,” he finally choked out, slowly dragging his fingers along Izuku’s walls, listening to the little gasping noises he made. Shouta grabbed the lube again, keeping it ready as he dribbled a little more onto his fingers and adding a fourth.

Izuku was panting as Shouta took him apart piece by piece, leaning forward to gently bite at pink nipples, soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Ah, Shouta,” Izuku sighed, eyes closing and hips rolling.

The thin control remaining on Shouta’s patience snapped. Izuku was ready, willing, and so attractive. He popped his fingers out of Izuku, making the man yelp in surprise, and he laughed unbelievingly at his situation. He pulled on a condom, coating his dick in lube before pressing the tip against Izuku’s fluttering hole.

Izuku took a deep breath, eyes watching Shouta. The man took his lube sticky hand and took Izuku’s cock in his palm, giving gentle tugs and rolling his palm over the head. Izuku outright moaned, body tensing. “Do not tease me, Shouta,” he gasped out. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for literal years, so just -”

Shouta gripped Izuku’s dick just a bit harder, pulling slowly as he pressed inside. He shuddered, the tight and warm cavern of Izuku's body overwhelming him. Izuku was panting, eyes wide as he reached for Shouta. 

Licking his lips, Shouta bent down to meet him, heart in his throat. Years , he said. Not months, but years. Which meant…

“You’ve been following my hero career?” he asked incredulously.

Izuku gave a choked out laugh, watching him unbelievingly. “Is this seriously what you want to talk about with your dick up my ass?”

Which, fair point. To distract from the lapse in vigorous activity, Shouta pulled back, watching the stretch of Izuku’s hole around his cock and slammed back in. The moan it punched out of Izuku set Shouta’s pace, hands gripping hips, fingers pressing white indents into skin.

“Fuck, you could have had anyone, you know?” Shouta lifted one of Izuku’s legs, pressing his knee into his chest, rolling his hips and savoring each cry of pleasure he pulled out of Izuku. “But you want me .”

It was a statement, not a question, but Izuku nodded frantically anyway. “What can I say?” he gasped out, fucked out smile on his face. “Easerhead is the best.”

Shouta pressed Izuku's other leg back, holding the backs of his knees and he grinned. “I don’t want to disappoint.” And then he started to fuck into Izuku with a feral pace. Izuku gripped his pillows, a constant stream of words (mostly praise) and sounds pouring out his lips. 

With frantic rolls of his hips, Shouta railed Izuku into the mattress, feeling his end approaching annoyingly fast. He let go of one leg, grabbing Izuku’s cock to tug at him in time with his thrusts. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Shouta muttered, shifting his hips to try and find exactly where -

Izuku wailed, eyes shooting open and back bowing. Shouta immediately worked himself back to the right spot and within minutes of pounding away at Izuku's prostate, he shot up his chest, body curling in with a long, drawn out sound.

Shouta let go of Izuku’s already softening cock and pulled out. Before Izuku could question it, he grabbed the mans hips and flipped him over. Shouta pulled his hips up, sliding back home in one smooth, brutal thrust. Izuku cried out, fingers twisted into the sheets as he was fucked back into bed. 

And it really hit Shouta at that moment. With his cock disappearing into that perfect ass, Shouta thought about how he assumed he would never have this. Not just getting his dick wet, that was secondary. But over the past several months, Izuku wormed his way under Shouta’s skin, little by little, piece by piece. For the longest time, Shouta just sort of assumed he would be alone forever. Not the worst existence for a teacher. After all, he would meet new kids every year, teachers would get hired, and his friends were there through all of it. But having someone there for him, specifically, seemed to be out of reach. 

Shouta slowed down, switching to long deliberate drags of his cock against Izuku’s walls. The man below him shuddered, hips canting back to try and speed up the pace, but Shouta kept him in place.

Hands smoothed over skin, getting a feel for every available piece Izuku offered up to him. Feeling oddly emotional, Shouta leaned forward, pressing himself right against Izuku. His hands slid up his hips, over his back and to his shoulders. Shouta pressed his lips against the back of Izuku’s neck. One hand shakily reached up, fingers becoming tangled into Shouta’s hair.

Shouta smiled, curling his arm around the body beneath him. Izuku moaned, softening into the bed, melting even. Shouta continued to press kisses against every inch of available skin, picking up his pace. 

“You’re so damn perfect, Izuku,” he mumbled, eventually resting his forehead against Izuku's neck as he reached his end.

The condom filled, a shudder rolling through Shouta as he rode out his orgasm. He sighed heavily, muscles releasing their tension and body going loose as he sunk into the body beneath him. With great effort, he pushed himself up and off of Izuku, doing his best not to crush him. Green hair stuck up in every direction and the man below Shouta groaned as he pulled out completely.

Sliding the condom off, he dropped it in the bin next to his nightstand and pulled some wipes out of the drawer. He dropped the lube in there while he was at it. Using soft gentle motions, Shouta rubbed the excess lube off of Izuku’s ass, swiping up the inside of his thighs for good measure.

He wiped himself down with another one, chucking them both in the bin. By the time he looked back at Izuku, green eyes were already staring back at him, soft and relaxed. He rotated onto his side, one hand tucked under his head and the side of Shouta’s mouth quirked up. He laid back down next to Izuku, facing him and pulled him in, tucking the smaller man into his chest.

Twin sighs of contentment floated into the air. The room smelled like sex, the sheets needed to be changed, and Shouta would be sweaty when he woke up. Happiness filled his heart near to burst. But first…

“Seriously, how long have you been keeping tabs on me?”

An embarrassed whine escaped Izuku and he buried his head in Shouta’s chest. “Why are we discussing this?”

“Because we’re both thirsty as hell and I want to know how long it’s been happening on your end,” Shouta deadpanned, dry and poking Izuku’s side.

Izuku pulled away, face bright red, and he wouldn’t look at Shouta. “Uhm…so…you remember when Kacchan got kidnapped by the league in his first year?” Shouta nodded. He would never forget losing one of his students like that. Thumbs twirled together and if possible, those cheeks were getting redder. “Well…you, uh, you had to go on the news to make a statement? And you were just…” Izuku sighed, a little dreamily, which took Shouta aback. “Listen, you clean up nice, okay? You look great in a suit, you were defending my childhood friend, and when I looked you up later on the underground hero forums, I was good as gone.”

Shouta paused, doing the math in his head. His eyes went wide and he met Izuku's eyes with a shocked smile. “Izuku, you were fucking fifteen!”

“I didn’t try to pin you down and ride your dick, so I think we can ignore that!” Izuku shrieked, pulling a pillow over his face.

Laughter spilled out of Shouta, loose and freeing and so fucking happy. He curled around Izuku, one hand rubbing up and down his back.

He could definitely get used to this.

***

Shouta grabbed his bag the second the clock rolled over to 5:00pm, computer already turned off and papers tucked safely away. He had some papers to grade still, but those were in a folder snuggled into his bag. Those would be an after dinner problem.

Hizashi stared at him in confusion. “You’re in a hurry.” He shut his own computer off, scrambling to catch up to Shouta. The man was already out the door by the time Hizashi got his shit together.

Footsteps hurried next to Shouta, who moved with more purpose than usual. His eyes were glued to his phone, tapping and scrolling with intent.

Hizashi raised an eyebrow, trying to meet Shouta’s eyes. “Seriously, you got a hot date or something?”

Shouta’s lip quirked up. “Or something.”

“Shouta!”

The man in question looked up, eyes softening and his phone immediately went into his pocket. Without even a goodbye, Shouta picked up his pace to meet Izuku, who leaned against the wall next to the entrance of the school. 

As soon as he was within reach, Shouta wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, pulling him in close and dropping a kiss onto that mess of green curls. “You’ve been busy today,” he mumbled.

Izuku laughed, his arm going around Shouta’s waist. “Yeah. I took my class to the USJ to test out some theories for their quirks. It went really well!”

As Izuku launched into a detailed explanation of his class that day, of who best used their imagination and tried to expand their quirks as best they could, Shouta took the opportunity to steer him towards the door.

While he spoke, Shouta took a moment to look over his shoulder where Hizashi stood, eyes wide and mouth open. A corner of his mouth quirked up and Shouta gave him a two finger salute.

There would be a million questions later and he absolutely knew Nemuri and Hizashi would be in his apartment with an interrogation.

But for now, he followed Izuku out the doors, with the younger man tucked firmly against his side.

Fuck the circumstances.