bakerstreet | They may bear their teeth to all the world, but never to you

[Beth could potentially work well in either role--she's a lot less feral than a lot of people in her canon, but she's still two years past the turn. So especially for cross-canon CR (or for Alexandria-based AU stuff), she could be a bit of a stray, haha. Interested in both canon and cross-canon CR, happy to do things in her world, your character's world, or a jamjar!]

[Probably the one picking up strays, but open to both.]

[ Definitely would be the stray. ]

[Could either be the one to pick up a stray, or be picked up. Good with both.]

[ more likely to take someone in, but open to both. ]

[ could absolutely be either ]

[ either role. ]

( screams ayesha... how would you feel about being taken in by a grumpy fallen angel slash demon? he's got all the social graces of a teaspoon so it could definitely wind up with ayesha actually doing more for him than vice versa )

[ that sounds great!! i'm canon blind, but very into it!!! ]

[It's not like Azazel makes a habit out of lending a hand to just any human he happens to see having some trouble out in the middle of nowhere. If you asked, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment before clarifying that he'd just as easily have been more than happy to leave Ayesha where he'd stumbled upon her, exhausted and looking ready to keel over on the spot, and go on his merry way. The fact that he hadn't is only because he'd figured she might be able to give him some information -- on the area, on the locals, on any nearby dangers -- rather than because of some pang of sympathy for an innocent enough looking girl who was clearly in the need of some measure of assistance.

That's his story, and he's sticking to it. The last thing Azazel is is a friend of humans.

As for why he's still here now, after having flown off and brought back a decent amount of staple food and water to help her get back up on her feet... well. Some questions are best left unasked, if only for the sake of Azazel's mood. He's leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, taking advantage of the shade for more than just the fact that the sun's blazing overhead, glancing intermittently over at... whatever Ayesha's doing fumbling around her pile of Things(TM), undecided on whether all the clamouring is annoying or curious.]

... What are you doing?

[It's the most he's said to her so far, everything else being a single-word "here," or "drink."]

[ Ayesha is carrying... Way too much with her. Like, an unreasonable amount. Despite her impractical clothing, she is a traveler, so there are a number of reasonable things. Medicines and herbs and food - alright, that's fine. Some small bombs, okay, that... Well, okay. But the rest of it? To the untrained eye, it's junk. Jars of water, jars of mysterious glowing substances, what appear to just be clumps of dirt, and assorted colorful stones.

She looks up to give Azazel a soft, but lingering smile. She's still looking at him with her eyes full of gratitude for the rescue. To be honest, she doesn't get to see a lot of people lately, human or not...

Ayesha lets out a hum in thought. She's just sorting through it all, trying to make it fit in her bags as well as she can. There's a small pile of discarded items to her side.]

Oh, I'm just looking over what I've gathered to make sure it's all worth keeping. [ Again: clumps of dirt have made it into the 'keep' pile. Yeah. ] It's a little bit heavy to carry so much around if I'm not going to use it.

[Azazel has sort of figured out that whatever Ayesha does with her time, it's clearly not the kind of activity that he's grown used to seeing people doing. She's not a knight, evidently enough, but she also doesn't seem to be the frail, homely sort of girl who would have wandered so far out into the open without some confidence in their abilities and a purpose in their actions. He's grateful for the fact that she hasn't attacked or otherwise freaked out at him, but...

well, he's still hanging around, and that's unusual, and just the slightest bit vexing -- almost as much as the fact that when he sees her smiling at him, he doesn't immediately want to just scoff and walk off then and there.]

Then why did you pick all of this up to begin with? If you knew you'd be traveling, then you shouldn't have given yourself the burden of carrying so much uneccesary garbage.

[Whatever 'all of this' is, really -- but Azazel isn't necessarily judging that part of the whole situation, despite the fact that he's faily certain he just saw something in one of those jars move. He's seen his fair share of strange items, both in his own world and in the hands of humans; it's a fact that only seems to become more and more common with the passage of time.

Still, that doesn't stop the way he regards the little piles of bits and pieces with a slight scowl, even as the act itself gives away the fact that he is, on some level, interested, and he pushes off of the tree against his back to stroll over to stand before Ayesha.]

Give them to me.

[... The things she wants to keep that might be a bit more troublesome to carry, that is. Whether it's clear what he means or not, he's holding out a clawed hand all the same, staring her down expectantly.]

Well... Sometimes I can't spend a lot of time in the places I'm gathering from, so I can't go over what I have until later. [ Her slightly nervous tone makes it pretty clear that what she means is: she isn't allowed in these places.

But hey! Let's not talk about her restricted ruin trespassing!

She assumes he's asking for some kind of payment for having rescued her. But despite that presumption seeming a bit rude at a glance - from either side - she finds it reasonable, and starts rummaging through her 'keep' pile for something suitably valuable. Or at least, valuable in a way that a non-alchemist would understand. Maybe an... Ice bomb??? People like bombs, right???? She holds a couple small ice bombs out to him as an offering. ]

I'm sorry, I don't have much money on me at the moment.

[More than likely the person taking in strays! Also more than happy to have non-shipping stuff, too!]

["It's temporary construction." "The principal has said I can't just sleep in the staff room." "I'll be in your care."]

[That was the facts about a week about when Aizawa had practically forced himself into the home of the number one hero. Normally, it would be a completely stupid match up and yet in little tiny ways it worked. The benefit of having an extreme secret identity meant there weren't reporters hanging around the place all the time. It was pretty cozy. Aizawa had settled in like a stray cat, showing up at odd hours and sleeping on odd surfaces. He seemed to pay back the debt of staying by cleaning at odd hours, although never making enough noise at those times to wake the other up. ... Even when there were obvious signs of cleaning in Toshinori Yagi's own room. He probably wasn't supposed to do that.]

[Nor should he really be going through his benefactor's personal effects.]

[Finding a bunch of fan letters is bad enough. All a bunch of drivel from some cult of personality. Finding a bunch of fan love letters, though... He's absolutely irritated and he refuses to acknowledge the reason why.]

All Might. [After work the next day, once he's had a good amount of time to just think about it.] I found some paper trash while cleaning last night, can I go ahead and burn it? [It's obviously a stack of fan letters but his moral code insists he ask, even if he's told no.]

[All Might -- well, here, Toshinori, he supposes, but his real name's always been a subtitle to a boisterous and grand All Might -- had been a little concerned about bringing someone else into his apartment. Yes, apartment, because it just seemed a bit silly to own a house when he was rarely ever at it; not a terrible one, though, carefully kept albeit a bit dusty. He'd preemptively slid all of his medication bottles (courtesy of Recovery Girl) into a rawer in the kitchen he'd hope Aizawa wouldn't poke around in much, and that was that.

But his room wasn't as well-kept, so it's no surprise that Aizawa did compulsively try to tidy it up. Well, no surprise once All Might realized how clean the man could be. For some reason, he pictured him the pinnacle of disrepair when it came to a living space. This was the same fellow who never shaved and slept in sleeping bags like a homeless guy at their school--

He looks up from reading the newspaper (and quietly pining at not being able to do anything for anyone anymore) when his ears catch the other teacher's question. It only takes him a second's glance before he knows exactly what the 'trash' is, and to that he leaps up, thin but large hands politely taking them from Aizawa's grasp.]

No, no, Aizawa-kun! These aren't trash at all -- Far from it!! They're messages from some of the people who wanted to express their gratitude--

... Have you been rearranging my desk, too?

[omfg aizawa]

[Aizawa had expected that to be the reaction. He doesn't even try to grip down on the papers as they're taken away from him. There's a sigh, almost like a petulant teenager, as he listens to the start of an explanation that could probably go on for several minutes. As much respect as he held for the hero, All Might (and a slowly growing respect for Toshinori) that was always going to be something to disagree about. The interruption is welcome, even if it's about his own behavior.]

Hm? [Oh. Right. The casual invasion of privacy.] I did, but never mind that. [He says, as if this were some issue of him borrowing a book without asking instead of looking into someone's personal effects.]

I only skimmed them, [and now he's blatantly admitting to reading the fanmail] but some of those were expressing a lot more than gratitude. [He figured it wasn't something All Might had ever encouraged. He's reasonable enough to assume that; to know that no fangirl sending a letter had any shot in hell of having her feelings returned. Still, the fact they were kept got under his skin like some irritating parasite.]

[All Might chuckles, glancing over the letters a bit absently. Considering how little privacy he's had for many, many years now, Aizawa's invasion of privacy apparently ranks low on a totem poll of reasons to get salty. More than that, he seems fond of the messages. As silly as it is or sometimes creepy as fans can be, especially for someone with as much media exposure as him... it's still nice to see that his work has made some people feel like picking up a pen and writing.]

Aaa, true.... There are the... overzealous fans -- but it mostly comes from a good place in their hearts. I could never give them anything like that back, and especially when you consider how a Pro Hero's life works, but it feels wrong to throw away their feelings.

[Bless them, really.

... He supposes now that he's retired, he'll have more time to look over fanmail.]

[That fond look at the letters gets a disdainful look.]

"Overzealous"... [Aizawa repeats the word sort of like he's staring at an unpleasant bug. It's so like him to minimize it, downplay it, and defend their feelings. It's predictable. He didn't like getting predictable responses yet, here he was, continuing on. He should just leave it be. He doesn't.]

Their feelings are nothing more than one-sided idolatry. [From his perspective, if someone was only in love with a media image, that was similar to people claiming they were in love with a 2D character. Heroes weren't, though, they were people, and as a very private person any interest expressed that way felt invasive. It was disgusting.]

They already threw their feelings away when they wrote it. [Because it would never be returned. Or maybe that's how he justifies his own cruelty here.]

You're wrong there, Aizawa-kun. [He says it with more seriousness, and certainly quite a lot of confidence -- the kind of a man who isn't one to be swayed from his beliefs. He holds the letters firmly.] The idolatry isn't one-sided. Every time I read something from someone -- people who are willing to be themselves, or people who are kind enough to thank the likes of me for something that is merely my job... People who are willing to open their heart for just a moment and be themselves... They inspire me far more than I them.

[He moves, gingerly putting the letters on his desk.

It's been a long time since he's been so honest, really, and the words find him easily.]

... There have been many times in the last five years where I've felt hopelessness, or rather -- alone in my ventures. But when I receive something from someone -- someone who cheers on a person they want to succeed, who uses their time on them, even when unsure if their words will ever reach them... It's one thing that kept me going.

[He puts a hand on the letters.]

These people are among those we've sworn to protect. And regardless of their silly little crushes, they're kind and intelligent and worthy.

[It's not like Aizawa disagrees with what he says. Even if it wasn't something he ever needed or craved, it was nicer to hear than the tirades of certain career heroes. On the scale of motivations, it was up there. So, he can listen patiently to that. At least for a while, until a certain line makes him slam his hand down on the table,]

And whose fault is it you felt alone?! [There's a certain heat to it that doesn't usually hit his words.] It took you how long to cooperate with us? [And if his health had kept up, he wouldn't have even done that. So, the support of fans was all he gave himself to rely on. There's a moment after speaking where he realizes he's out of line, that he wasn't able to hold himself back. That's a brief tensing to his facial muscles. He can't quite say he's sorry, though, because while he didn't mean to say it, he didn't see himself as wrong.]

... I wasn't questioning their worth. I'm simply saying that being too invested in it will leave you disappointed.

[He glares at him as a short and tense silence -- a sharp and unusual sort of glare, from teacher to teacher. One of perhaps offense, or perhaps incredulity. All Might is more than capable of slipping into his own brand of hard teaching, of not cutting around corners and saying what he feels to be true--]

You fool. You critical fool!

Just working alongside you as a fellow employee at the school has put your health in jeopardy. You've been scarred permanently just by association, and I've never once forgotten that. I still struggle every day with even being there at all, for fear I'll be the cause of any one of your demises.

I will not be the reason another hero dies...!

Edited 2017-10-29 04:42 (UTC)

[He turns away, coughing into his fist -- sharp, ugly coughs that spackle blood. When they pass, he's silent for a moment, but his mind is still at work.]

... We've never gotten along, have we? You barely tolerate my company.

So -- why did you pick me, of all people, to stay with?

[He doesn't understand it. They're entirely different, and Aizawa could hardly stand him. It wasn't hard to see -- regardless of it being Aizawa's nature, it still meant he would be miserable here at this small apartment. He feels ridiculous... Housing someone who hardly stands him and his way of life.]

[There's a moment where that sharpness seems to cut, a moment of surprise. He had never for a second placed any blame on All Might for what had happened. He's left for a moment to process and, as he does, it doesn't make him feel chagrined. His hand, still flat against the table, tenses up.]

I'm a hero. I've accepted that my job puts my life on the line. You don't have to shield me. [He can't even muster any sympathy for what the other was feeling. That guilt hinges on the idea that he was something to be protected. They were all things to be protected. With an identity hinged around that, it was bound to come crashing down at some point, especially under forcible retirement. That fact creeps back into his awareness at the cough.]

[Without really thinking about it, he shifts closer, a hand out to warily check after the other. That hand is pulled back to his side at the question.]

That's how you see it? [The questioning edge to it is very soft. He stops, puts his hand up to his mouth, and only continues after taking a moment.]

I see. From that perspective, I must seem completely irrational.

[He shakes his head -- he does have to shield him, if he can. Every hero, every person around him, that's what he's devoted his life to. But more than that, he can't bare being the reason behind... No. He's taken too many risks lately, joining U.A. He needs to be more careful. He's terrified, more than anything, that someone will attack because of him now -- and he'll be de-powered, weak, unable to lift a finger to protect those he's come to care for. There's nothing worse than being a hero and then -- being a civilian under the guise of one. Not because of what it does to him, but because of all the lives he can no longer keep out of harm's way.

Every day since the fight with All for One has been exhausting. But.

He will be cross with himself, if he ever gave in to that mental weariness.]

Ah.... Well... Yes.

Completely irrational.

Ridiculous, really.

Contrary. Self-torture.

Total nonsense.

[should he go on or]

[no, he gets it, thanks]

Dealing with you is certainly its own form of torture. [He'll agree with that, face pulled back in a bit of a grimace. He can say that with complete seriousness and that's part of why it's so easy to just assume that's it. If the surface level is disdain and dislike, why go any further?]

It stands that if I were a rational person who hated you, I wouldn't ever force myself into your hospitality. I should avoid you at all costs, right? I shouldn't push the limits of tolerance like this. [He sighs loudly, letting his hand drop back down to his side.]

So, All Might-san. Which one is more likely? That I'm acting entirely irrationally... or that I've never hated you?

... I wouldn't say hate...

[He glances away, rubbing his hand on his inner shirt -- they're all still too big for him, because he's always had to worry about ripping them. Even now, he's not sure he can change that little fashion tick.]

... I just... am not sure why you subject yourself to frustration.

[He looks at him, this time more curious than anything.]

Especially if fanmail gets you this wound up.

Then take it a step further. [He meets that curious stare and holds it for a moment. The wheels in his head were clearly turning. He might not have intended for the conversation to turn this way, towards himself, but he was anything if not adaptable.]

I've never even disliked you. [He can't say it directly, of course, so it's more a trail of bread crumbs to his true feelings.] I hold the hero, All Might, in great respect. When I was younger, I might have written such a letter. [That's where he pauses to glance away.]

Yagi-san is much more frustrating. [This last year has been a frustrating mess, a flurry of changes. It would have been so much easier to only know the other on a professional basis; to not feel as if he had some responsibility over a man known as the Symbol of Peace. To not have a strong feeling either way about that symbol disappearing and what remained.] Although, I suppose he's never received a confession through fanmail.

[If poor Aizawa is doing his best to direct this conversation toward a truer path of honesty, neither All Might nor Toshinori Yagi pick it up -- or rather, they find things in it that lead them in a different direction entirely. Some measure of guilt and inward disappointment flashes on his features. He's felt it many times before, and he'll certainly feel it a lot more now -- the sensation that he can't be what people need from him.

Or the people on the street who aren't aware of what he looks like now, or before his disguise had been ousted, who look at him and see a creepy 'living skeleton'. He rubs the back of his neck and tries to figure out how to respond.]

A-Aa... I'm... sorry I can't be that hero.

[He's a small smear of blood on his lip, abandoned and missed.]

I can only be... frustrating me.

But if you and the school give me a chance, I will try to live up to any expectations required of me. And -- earn your respect, Aizawa-kun.

Edited (oopsie doopsie!!!) 2017-10-29 06:06 (UTC)

[His focus snaps back. There, he's misspoken again. He can already hear a chorus of chiding in his mind from anyone who's gotten close enough to call him a friend. "Eraser, you need to be more honest!" Hell if he does, he's made it through 30 years like this, he can survive the rest of the conversation.]

Don't put words in my mouth. [Quickly, flatly, irritated despite the fact he'd pretty much handed Toshinori the words and held his mouth open for them.] Although if you'd like to be more cooperative in keeping a safe distance from the practical lessons, that will spare me a heart attack or two.

[He pauses to pinch to bridge of his nose, again, only showing the signs of a foul mood and not the concern beneath it.]

... frustrating you is fine. I've started to prefer it.

[All Might bows his head, shoulders shaking minutely, suddenly, and it almost looks downright painful, like the aches of something held inside that is struggling to bubble to the surface--]

[--and what follows is a sudden burst of boisterous laughter, head tipped back, and although it must clearly hurt to laugh that hard, he's unable to really stop himself; consider it cough-laughing, a sort of sandpapered sound of pure amusement, and he clasps a hand over his sore abdomen and finds he doesn't quite mind this sort of pain at all.]

Preferred -- !!

We're the worst -- opposites...!! How did we even...!!

[... BLERGHK--

OH, YEAH, OVERDID THE JOVIAL LAUGHTER.]

... cough...

You're a strange one, Aizawa-kun.

[There's that tenseness, for a moment, wondering what he said now to trigger this reaction.]

[He didn't want to backpedal on the practical lesson bit, since the other's safety was far more important than any pride or remnants of hero responsibility. Or was it another issue with his body? Was it just so bad to prefer the person in front of him to some blown-up media image?]

[Oh. It's just laughter.]

[followed by blood, great]

[It's finally enough to seem to overcome whatever boundaries Aizawa was trying to maintain. Instead of hovering just outside the realm of worrying and fretting, at some point in that he rested his hand on the other's shoulder in case he needed to be steadied. Then, once the moment was over, he let it stay there, a bit closer than he was before.]

Was it really so funny?... [It's said more as a admonishment of the excessive laughter. He knows exactly why it's so funny. A part of that probably fueled the whole conversation in the first place. All Might could look fondly at love letters from fans, defend them from any perceived insult, but even him saying "I like you better this way" was the kind of thing to pull almost-literally gut-busting laughter.]

[That's sort of what he expected, though. There's the slightest change in his expression, the corner of his lip quirking up in a wry smile.]

You're right, though. We're the worst, opposites... I can't find myself disagreeing with anything you've said. [Including the fact he's strange. He's known that about himself for a long enough time.]

[He gives the hand on his shoulder a friendly pat, letting his coughs settle into his other fist. But despite the small discomfort, he's appeased, eased from that heavier and more intimate sort of conversation about -- well. Him. Him and his state, or the future, or his hero's past.]

Ah, something we can agree on!

This is truly groundbreaking.

[Let it be known, All Might can be a sassy little shit when given an opening.]

... You know, Aizawa-kun, I could always send you a fan letter and even the scales.

["Sassy little shit" is at least a language Aizawa speaks more fluently than sincerity. It lifted the mood of the room, as well, something he wasn't as accustomed to doing. The touch of All Might's hand to his convinces him to leave it a bit longer.]

A fan letter? [He wasn't expecting that and it shows in the little way his eyes widen and how he just parrots the phrase back for a moment.] That's- [Not that there was anything strange about a fan letter. It wouldn't be like the kind that he'd gotten upset over. Still, it would be wrong to say he was uninterested. The idea, despite feeling stupid, did quickly latch itself to his thoughts.]

What would you say in a letter that you wouldn't say to my face? [It's a question in both literal and rhetorical sense. As much as there was a divide between them, he doesn't see any reason why All Might should be bashful saying anything about his own actions. That does bring up a burning curiosity that there might be a reason, though.]

It would be a waste of time. [he pulls his hand back, now, and brings it up to his neck despite the fact there's no capture cloth hanging there to be messed with.] ... I wouldn't stop you from doing it, though. [There it is, the absolute worst way in the world to say he's interested, he'd like to read that, the Aizawa Special of expressing only mild disdain instead of intense disdain.]

Hey now, you don't know what's a waste of time until time is actually wasted, right?

Besides, there's plenty that's easier to say in a letter.

[He chuckles to himself, picturing the thought of hunkering down and scribbling out a legitimate fan letter. Him, himself! He had never really thought to do such a thing in his life, despite having an interest in heroics at a pretty young age. He puts the fan mail back into his drawers, safe and sound, and looks over at Aizawa with a small and confident smirk.]

Just watch -- any day, you'll suddenly come across one. A bunch of your favorite nonsense from a grateful fan.

[There were definitely preemptive wastes of time, but... if he'd made up his mind, it wasn't Aizawa's place to change it. Not when he was actually interested in reading it.]

Is that so. [There it is again, that slightest quirk upwards of his lip, a barely imperceptible smile. Whatever the content of the letter, he'd probably be a bit happy. He'd have to make sure that, when that letter found its way to him, he read it somewhere out of the way. There were too many people in his life that, if they saw a sincere smile out of him, would worry for his mental and emotional health. When he speaks again it's a bit quicker than his more thoughtful, shorter sentences.]

Well, if you're going to waste your time writing it, please don't make it a waste of my time to read. Specific examples, proper handwriting, sincerity... If it's too generic, I'll just throw it out, you know. [he won't, he wouldn't, but the idea of it certainly matches his image when he was just trying to get rid of All Might's]

[He gives a thumbs up, ready to appease Aizawa's dreaded preferences.]

You can depend on me! Why?

Because I have plenty of sincerity and good marks from writing class!

[Save yourself, Aizawa. But time will indeed pass since this incident with the fanmail -- quite a bit of time, actually! Days, perhaps weeks, and the thought will likely vanish from the man's mind with the distance between. But Aizawa will suddenly find, as All Might leaves for personal business in the morning, an envelope leaning against the unlit candle on the dining table in the apartment.

TO ERASERHEAD, it says on the front, with a few cat stickers on the front and back.]

[The delay does at least influence one change in Aizawa's behavior. He'll stop rummaging through the other's desk. It would just be embarrassing to find some draft of a fan letter, right? Maybe it was egotistical in the first place to assume there would be multiple attempts to write such a thing. His own negative thinking gets to him as time passes, disguising itself as "rational" thought. Maybe All Might set down to write it and realized there wasn't too much to be said about Aizawa that couldn't be said of any hero.]

[That was how he thought about it, himself, though. And besides, there were plenty of other places to clean and pry. He could just end up organizing the ex-Number 1 Hero's closet or something.]

[Then, there is is. The presence near the candle makes him smirk a bit, like, ah good, it was conveniently placed to be burned. Not that the thought seriously crossed his mind. He picks it up and turns the envelope over in his hands, stopping to rub his thumb over one of the cat stickers. It's not like he ever intended to hide his interest in them. He just maybe feels a bit silly having that interest so blatantly indulged.]

[... Well, if it was left for him, he should read it before the other gets back. And it's just most efficient to read it right after he's found it. It's not like he's particularly excited to read it or anything. Why would anyone ever assume that.]

[And thus, upon opening the letter, it reads as follows:]

Edited (mild edits shh) 2017-11-08 07:48 (UTC)

[Aizawa reads over it carefully. The little niceties make him stop, exhale a small breath, something like exasperation but laced with fondness. Did he have to write out his "aaah"? Of course he did. Did he need three exclamation marks at the bottom? Of course he did. All those little details that Aizawa would find completely superfluous if writing something himself were nice when powered by someone with extreme sincerity.]

["In a way, you've made me a little better of a person." He wants to feel more happy about that. He wants to feel that bit of pleased embarrassment that, just maybe, he was somehow noticed even the year of his debut. He never wanted that, of course, and figured it was impossible with people like Kayama, Hizashi, and Tensei all coming out on the scene at the same time. He wants to be pleased that his diligence, in some way, inspired someone so great, someone his senior. Except for the fact that All Might pushing himself Plus Ultra had resulted in the deterioration of his health, forced retirement, and a legacy that inspired a new breed of villain. Couldn't he inspire more than that?]

[... maybe that was key to it. All Might was certainly in another place where he could be uncertain about the future. He still needed to see people keeping the pace, but- maybe it was a chance to do more. While he'd chosen to stay here mainly for his own selfish reasons, maybe he could make even the smallest change in how the other saw him. How to try and change it was a multiheaded hydra of a problem, along with what exactly he wanted... but it was an opportunity.]

[He flips the letter back closed, taking care to not put excessive pressure on the creases. He'd keep it. There will be a small note placed in return that says:]

["Thank you for your support. A proper letter to follow."]

[Returning alone to the apartment after a long day is always both pleasant and depressing all at once -- how that's possible, he's really not sure, but there's always been a sense of "why am I here, when I could be out there?" and worse yet, he's betrayed by the feeling of comfort. He can go lay down or work away the soreness in his joints, or just... not worry as much. As you can imagine, All Might struggles with two halves of the conundrum all the time.

But when he sees the small note where his letter used to be, he feels some strangely worrying anticipation. What if it's a sour note? He can imagine Aizawa placing a written explanation of how he burned the letter into ash or something more morbid, though he likes to think his unlikely roommate is kinder than most people realize.

A sigh of relief, and then a smile, as he reads the message.

Aaah. I'd always support you, my friend.

Heroes need to stick together, right?]

[Heroes need to stick together.]

[So, Aizawa sticks around. He's as busy as ever but whatever free time he has, he spends at the other's apartment. He rarely gets home before the other but he's usually up early. Now, did he sleep and wake up earlier or is he just awake? Who knows. There's at least a presence in the morning. The presence is a way of caring, as is the way that, slowly, over time, Aizawa seems to lose some of his hesitance to use touch. When he needs the other's attention, he'll touch his shoulder or tap in a way that could only be done through layers of awkwardness before. It's still Aizawa, in which the reasons he does it can seem distant, perplexing, or maybe malicious, but it's definitely there.]

[And the letter. Ugh, the letter. It's not a problem of putting words to paper. It's a problem of there being too many words. He never even lets the drafts make it inside the house. Once or twice he even went up to the rooftop to work on it while All Might was sleeping. When he's finally settled on something that sums it up, he knows two things: one, he absolutely has to give it to All Might and get a response and two, he wants to be nowhere nearby when the other reads it.]

[So, there's really only one time to give it. So, he waits. At some point, he realizes he's spent a solid two months leeching off All Might's good will. Which means the topic is brought up, without fanfare, one night, in-between the two of them exchanging commentary on some TV show.]

Ah, right. [he turns his attention from the screen] I'll be moving back tomorrow.

[It's about as sudden and abrupt when he asked to stay. And at an earlier point, he might have just turned back and left it at that. His gaze holds, instead, like looking for any reaction. He'd made up his mind about what he was doing, logically he shouldn't need any incentive or disincentive, and yet...]

[... Oh.

He is surprisingly -- surprised. Caught off guard, looking over with a slight widening of the eyes, a raise of the eyebrows. It's hard to say what it means at first -- pleasant surprise? Disappointment? He stares back until he realizes he's staring and offers a brighter smile instead.]

Finally, huh? That's... good! That's good.

[He looks at the television.]

I'm sure you've missed having your own personal space, aha, ha...

[Just a little laugh, there. Not really an All Might sort of roar of laughter, but Toshinori Yagi isn't really All Might anymore, now is he? Not like he used to be.

He still smiles even when he doesn't feel like it, though.]

[Aizawa doesn't even look back when All Might does, instead keeping his eyes trained on the other. It wasn't like he had ever given the other a time scale. A part of him wonders how long he could have let this go on. That would be selfish, of course, relying on the fact he figured he would never be explicitly kicked out.]

I'm sure you've missed not having your belongings tampered with. [There's a sort of self-deprecating grin as he turns back to the TV. He was an invasive, gloomy houseguest. He could come or go as he wanted. Any time he wanted space he could stay late at work, go to a cat cafe, or just spend time on rooftops in the city. He's been perfectly fine with this. It's so like All Might to phrase it as if he must be glad to go.]

It's not like I brought many belongings to start with, so you don't need to worry about any of that. [as if he'd let the other carry anything for him] ... I'd like you to see me off, though. So, tomorrow. After school.

[He's just sort of counting on the other not having plans.]

... We can walk back here together, first.

Oh, yes, I'll have a little more alone time.

[He rubs the back of his neck with a heady hand. Really, he's...

disappointed. And he feels ridiculous for it. It's a good thing -- a great thing!! -- for Aizawa to get his home back. And really, he's just as secretive a person as Aizawa can be sometimes, too, so feeling self-conscious taking his medications or eating or working on school material would be good, right? And they work together. It's not like Aizawa's vanishing out of his life for good or anything.

He gives Aizawa a pat on the shoulder.]

But I enjoyed having you here, my man! I'll be more than happy to walk with you.

[Without really thinking, his hand comes up to rest on All Might's. His own fingertips were always a bit cold and that tends to match All Might's skeletal levels of poor circulation. That was fine, they could be a living denial and proof of "cold hands, warm heart."]

Ah, good. [It's sort of quiet, vague, unsure of which part of the line he's referring to. There's a little pause, a small glance from the screen to the other then back. He puts his hand back down, to his lap.]

I've enjoyed it, too. [He doesn't say it with a big smile, he doesn't make eye contact while he says it. There's that small gesture where he- slumps a bit- and if his capture cloth was on, it would inch up to cover his face a bit. He doesn't have that defense but the gesture is still ingrained in him. He's being honest.]

[Oh, was his skipping heartbeat a health issue or his own sudden swell of something unidentifiable. Whatever it is, it makes him worried at first, relieved soon after, and his grin is more genuine and slow to build. It's so strange, thinking of the difference between his first day at U.A. and now. Maybe he's made a good impression! It makes him...!!]

[... Terribly happy.]

Maybe we should have a goodbye dinner, then!

[He sounds SUPER SHOUNEN ABOUT IT.

Even though it's... just dinner. But also not!

They don't really have dinner together like that -- which is fair, because he literally can't stomach larger, more logical meals thanks to his lack of a place to keep it all -- but hey! Small portions, a real dinner, that sounds great, right? Not just him with granola and yogurt or eggs and smoothies.]

[jesus all might, don't pull out that voice without warning him]

[There's a moment where Aizawa looks a bit startled by the suggestion, startled enough to look back at the other. He'd made up his mind about what he was doing. He'd set a mental list of what he needed to do. He shouldn't spend any longer, he shouldn't linger, he shouldn't-]

Alright. [His mistake was looking. He was normally one to be able to shut down anyone's good mood with some rational, logical, killjoy excuse. Still, seeing that excitement for something as simple as a dinner... He realizes, sort of hopelessly, that he can't deny All Might's smile. When did that happen? He must be losing his touch. He turns back away, shoulders hunching a bit again in that embarrassed gesture.]

I'm fine with that. [He's already said he enjoyed something once this conversation, he can't just do it twice.]

[Warning takes all the fun out of it, Aizawa!

He is suddenly standing up with newfound zeal, punching the air.]

Alright, then! Or -- All Might then!!

I'll make us a real dinner...! [He's already wandering off toward the kitchen -- maybe because the faster he can get his thoughts away from Aizawa leaving the apartment (why is this a troubling thought) and on being a chef, huh?? Aizawa may find, surprisingly enough, that despite Toshinori's constant small and fast meals, he can actually be quite the chef; the place fills with nice homely smells within the hour.

Like, a big real meal, too. He's not cutting corners.

He won't be able to indulge like Aizawa will be able to, but who cares?

It's a special occasion.]

[It should be noted, for the record, that the "All Might then!!" gets a very flat looking expression. He's not going to say anything about it or argue. He's just going to contribute a Look. Ah, this is the person he likes. He signed up for this. He's deliberated and spent a good deal of mental and emotional effort trying to figure out how to tell this idiot. For this. Amazing.]

[That moment of flat, dull, judgement is just that, though, a moment. For a while he stays on the couch, still taking in details of some show he realizes he really doesn't care about without someone to watch with him. And at some point, as the good smell begins to waft through the area, he's back to his usual hovering. He doesn't hover in the kitchen, that would just make him a nuisance. Instead he's just at the corner of awareness, like he tended to do while in the apartment. It's just less of a gloomy cloud of a presence and a bit more comfortable.]

[He might even look a bit fond.]

You look like one of those parents that make elaborate lunch boxes. [It's teasing but then meaning's there. He looks surprisingly natural in the kitchen for a seven-foot-tall skeleton man. If Aizawa had those kinds of memories of home, it'd definitely remind him. As it stands, he's got not point of reference, but right now he can easily imagine Toshinori cutting up apples to resemble rabbits or something equally cute, pointless, and sentimental.]

[He glances over once Aizawa has stopped hovering in the periphery and has decided to join him in the land of the less socially ungraceful. Toshinori's a tall and tree-like presence wherever he ends up, and it's no different in the small kitchen. But now this tree is donning a little apron that is clearly an All Might themed one you'd find in a hero otaku shop. What? It's not nerdy if it's his own uniform. That's a fact, right?

He's finishing some odd mixture of western and eastern food, fish and rice and a sort of stew.

He clarifies, because it's very important:]

I do make elaborate boxed lunches.

[And ties them neatly with different patterned handkerchiefs. He kind of regrets not doing something like that for Aizawa, actually; some bento boxes. That'd be nice, right? Maybe he'll do that now that he's leaving.... Never too late to be a good friend.]

I'll have to make you one! For tomorrow.

I'm going to have a... lot of leftovers, I think.

[THERE IS SO MUCH. FOR TWO PEOPLE. ONE LACKING A STOMACH.

TOO MUCH.]

[It's still entirely nerdy. Tacky. Silly. Isn't any apron an All Might apron so long as he wears it?]

[... And isn't this way too much food? Aizawa's not going to turn down free food but the amount does start to dawn on him as ridiculous. Even with a boxed lunch of leftovers, he was probably going to have to insist on taking some home with him. Otherwise it was going to sit sadly, unable to be diminished by tiny portions, until it went bad.]

[Still, as someone who's spent a solid decade making and eating single-person meals, he's flummoxed by it... but doesn't hate it.]

If it's just leftovers, that's fine with me. Don't waste time with elaborate or anything, I'm not your child. [The translation being: Yes, please. Along with a pointed note. Since he had mentioned parents, now he was being offered one, and- well, some part of him feels the need to pointedly insist there's no familial feelings here.]

[It'd be easier if any time he'd asked about the other's age hadn't been met with pointed, canned laughter. Not that an answer was going to change how he felt at this point.]

I would never dream of infantilizing your lunch, Aizawa-kun.

[... He's gonna do it isn't he. He's gonna make them all cute, just to be a sassy asshole.

But more to the point! Time and effort produce food! How startling. He's a little unsure about seasoning because he doesn't know Aizawa that well just yet to know what he likes but--!! Oh, just get it over with, All Might, you were a mighty hero once; you can might your way through setting the table. He's carefully putting out all kinds of dishes and little soup bowls, rubbing the back of his head after a moment with a little sheepish grin, mumbling to himself--]

Aaa... I haven't used these dishes in a long time...

[WHAT THE HELL, CHEF GORDON ALMIGHT.]

Edited 2017-11-14 05:11 (UTC)

[Despite literally seeing it all come together, he still has no idea how it all came together like that. It was like a restaurant. It was better than a restaurant because he didn't have to, say, go outside, or talk to a hostess. Honestly, he feels like he should have helped with moving around dishes and such but- well, he'd compromise and insist on helping with the clean up. Even if it was a celebration for him, he was still a guest in this home for one last night.]

It's nice they get to be used again.

[... Then, after a pause, like it's still so against his nature to just let an innocuous statement go without some small barb,]

But was that really a reason to fill all of them? [There were enough portions here- theoretically, Toshinori could make lunch boxes for several staff members. Not that Aizawa wants that, of course. He wants one for himself and himself alone. Even if that makes it an anomaly he has to explain.]

Absolutely! It's an important occasion, isn't it?

Celebration for your living space finally being livable again!

[He wags some chopsticks at him, as if to maestro his reply. Honestly, he's more than happy to spend money on more food, because he's gonna have to shop tomorrow; he makes a pretty decent salary as a hero, obviously -- in fact, perhaps he has more money than he knows what to do with -- but he's always been, in reality, a fairly straight-forward and simple person. It's why this apartment is so sparse. Warm and well-kept, but nothing is particularly lavish for the Number One Hero.

He offers Aizawa some chopsticks as well as he moves to sit.]

Sometimes you really should just take it in and enjoy the moment, you know.

Itadakimasu, as we say!

[Suddenly, Aizawa feels relieved he didn't give the other more warning. It might have gotten even more excessive with time to plan. There might have been decorations. At least there wasn't anything as ridiculous themed around his hero identity, unlike the readily available All Might streamers, All Might noisemakers, or those stupid party hats that mimicked his signature antennae-hair. Something like that and he'd seriously consider locking away his feelings and never confessing ever.]

[... Maybe he's overthinking it. It's just an excuse to celebrate. He'll settle down at the table, chopsticks in hand. He can't help but add,]

I get it, you're just that excited to see me go. [with that kind of toothy smirk he has when he's either intending to hurt feelings or just messing around. Who can really tell, some days.]

Itadakimasu. [Then it's time to eat. When left to his own devices, Aizawa made small, single-serving kind of meals. That didn't mean he wasn't capable of eating a lot when the opportunity presented itself, though. Plus Ultra.]

Hey! You know that's not what I meant.

[He's indignant, but only mildly so; he's well-aware of what a little shit Shouta Aizawa can be. The letters being discovered and the conversation that followed hadn't been their first little disagreement. Funnily, he doesn't find it nearly so nail-biting when Aizawa is polar opposite of him now; he knows that the man... doesn't hate him. Is here not just because he tolerates him. He hadn't wanted to make the aura sappy by proclaiming how happy he is to have a steady friend in his life again -- but he sure finds himself happy to be sitting here with him, eating and enjoying the other's company.

Maybe it had been lonelier in this apartment than he remembers.

Or maybe the reason he can't remember being lonely here is because he had avoided being alone too much in this place... A hero who always smiles can't develop anymore reasons to frown, can he? He can't help but beam a little bit as he eats, too.

... He doesn't eat much, but he enjoys letting Aizawa work on the fruits of his labor.

That's fine enough by him.

By the time he's moving to clean up, he can't help but speak what's lingering on his mind.]

... Um. You're always welcome to come here any time, by the way.

It's not a particularly eventful place, but I don't mind... visitors...

[There's a small, muffled laugh at the response, like it's just the appropriate response in a comedy duo. Of course he knew and of course he had to make the comment to start with. That was comfortable in its own way, a slightly less guarded form of himself than most people saw at school or work.]

[He makes an impressive dent in the mountain of food that was prepared. There will still be a lot of leftovers, but he did what he could. And then, wait,]

Hey. [entirely ignoring what he's saying for a moment, he reaches out to grab Toshinori's wrist.] Go sit down, I'll clean up here.

[... and trying to stick to his mental plan on that means he almost missed what was a glimpse of loneliness. An invitation. A cynical part of him wonders how long that invitation would stay open if he made his feelings known. His mind can easily imagine an awkward rescinding, because while he's happy sitting and talking like friends, it's still not enough. And that was selfish of him.]

... you can clean up after me when I visit. [he corrects, a bit more softly]

[He glances back, then down to the hand encircling his knobby wrist.

It takes a moment for him to actually realize Aizawa's planning to come back sometime.

And it makes him smile a little.]

I guess I'll go finish up that marathon, huh? If you're really okay with it.

[He would usually fight on helping, but. Maybe for once, All Might can try not butting in.]

[If Toshinori were in his hero form, that hand wouldn't so easily make it around the wrist. That didn't really matter, though. They hadn't gotten close enough, during that period of their life, for him to ever do such a pointed little gesture. It was something unique to where they were here and now.]

[He lets go, taking in that smile for a selfish moment before glancing down to the table.]

I am. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't. [And he pushes his chair back, ready to take over and usher Toshinori over to the couch himself if he has to.]

[From there, it's hair tie time, pulling that mess of hair out of the way for clean-up mode. Clean-up goes remarkably smoothly, as if Aizawa needs to remind the general world around him that he's a grown-ass man that is capable of living by himself instead of just crashing with whatever cheery blond he can get (thanks for college, Mic). Occasionally he'll comment on something he hears on the screen, anything too egregiously optimistic. He's about as thorough as he is going through Toshinori's room, even though it falls so opposite his appearance.]

[Then, once he's finished, he'll unceremoniously flop back down on the couch with the faint smell of dish soap lingering on him.]

[Oh, that's a good look for you, Aizawa-kun.

He stares a little bit, but only just a little bit! It's always interesting when he's not a mess of wild black hair, you know. He likes the half-ponytail a lot, too, but he's far too self-aware about it; it's just, it reminds him of his sensei. It makes him a bit wistful. Silly, he knows. It's easy to banter, to be the positive voice that sort of storms with Aizawa's more down-to-earth pessimism.

When Aizawa sits down, Toshinori nearly leans into him, without thinking.

He bumps his shoulder.]

Ah, sorry. Am I already about to doze off? It must've been all that food.

[He rubs the back of his head and pats his stomach with the other, reddening a little.

Way to go, Toshi.]

How about you? We should -- probably get some shut-eye!

[It's a shame, how assuming it would never work has kept Aizawa from trying to most basic girls' magazine tricks in the book: change your hair and see how quickly he notices. To him, it's just a way of keeping his hair from being even more of a mess, nothing more or less. Still, he keeps it that way when settling back down.]

[There's no negative reaction to the bump. Just sort of an expectant look, as if even that weren't too unusual to him anymore.]

Hm. I guess I shouldn't keep you up too late. [Is he tired? Of course he is. Will he sleep? Debatable. As far as he knows, this is the last night he'll allow himself to be here so naturally. Maybe he should rummage through the other's things once more. For old times' sake. Maybe he should re-read the letter he'd penned one more time, find something wrong with it, then re-write the whole thing. He was a busy person, after all.]

... you're not feeling unwell, are you? [There's that faint flush of red, which he'd normally ignore, but certain events of the past month have made him more cautious. There's another casual invasion of space, to hold the back of his hand against the other's cheekbone to check the warmth.]

[Ah--? He looks surprised again before politely swatting Aizawa's hand with all the grace of a young boy trying to tell his mom he's really just fine, thank you. He's not about to admit that Aizawa's a pleasantly sturdy and soft person to lean into.] I'm fine, really. Maybe a little tired; what a surprise, that a school full of teenagers could tire someone out!

[What a solid joke, good job.

He stands up, kneading the sharp juts of his lower spine with a groan.]

Try to actually get some sleep tonight?

[He doesn't expect anything of the sort, but it's habit to say something about it, so.]

[It's a little irritating that all he can do is trust Toshinori regarding that sort of thing. Well, if he was aware enough to not fall asleep on him, he probably wasn't too worn out. Since, clearly, any time there was too much affection it either led to or came from pneumonia.]

Ah, well, I'm pretty close to getting to sleep in my own bed. [He glances back to the television.] I might hold out a while longer.

[... Not that he's expecting too much sleep tomorrow, either. What was on the agenda? Could he nap during a period tomorrow... There's clear careful thought being put into this, alright.]

Mm. Good night, Yagi-san.

[He glances back, giving a smile at the doorway, half masked in the dark of the hallway. He's gonna miss this sort of thing, actually. Ha... ha. He's not going to let his heart twist over something so silly; it's not like Aizawa is someone he has to cut loose or something. That'd be ridiculous to put him in such a place; he'd think he's crazy at such a thought, wouldn't he?

He wags a hand talking without really listening to himself.]

We could always switch! I could take the couch, you the bed.

I promise there's no bed bugs.

[Why was the universe conspiring to make this night so tempting? Don't just say yes, don't just say yes...]

Ah, what, and force you to either curl up or let your legs hang off? [A guy of Toshinori's height shouldn't be forced onto the couch. It was a comical mental image.]

I'm not that cruel. [He's absolutely that cruel. But it lacked some of the appeal, indulging like that when the real thing was around. If the real thing were around, then...]

[... there's a faint flush of pink to his cheeks.]

[Ah, it's like his mind can't even process getting that far. This is a losing battle. His shoulders hunch, like trying to bury himself in capture cloth that isn't there.]

I know how comfortable it is, anyways, don't offer that kind of thing unless you're serious. [... maybe he should have replaced that "don't just say yes" inner mantra with "don't say anything." That would have been the safest of all options. He's not supposed to be the type that blabbers and says too much.]

[Toshinori laughs lightly, pointing towards him.]

Are you sure you're not the one feeling well?

[Why so shy about it, buddy?]

And I'm serious! Why? Because you've slept on the couch plenty here. And believe it or not, I can handle a couch; if I can handle the Toxic Chainsaw, I can handle sleeping across a couch.

[He puts his hands on his hips and smiles, a sort of bright remnant of All Might, not quite so wide and blinding but confident and optimistic.]

[Of course he's not feeling well, he's infected by the most debilitating disease of all: infatuation. It was insidious, painful, and as far as he'd researched there wasn't a simple cure. How irritating.]

Why are you so attached to the idea, now? [he's grumbling, mentally pouring over more reasons to say no. Maybe if he had just said nothing, the whole thing would have gone by, just an idle comment. Serves him right for digging his heels in.]

I'm not going to force you onto the couch in your own home. [Never mind that "force" wasn't involved, he was practically having to force Toshinori to stay in it.] I'm used to sleeping in various places, so it's not worth trading if you end up sore, even for a night. [Ah, before this he was much better at just saying "no" and leaving it at that. Why did he find a need to justify it so many times? Just because it was the last night?] And I'm not ready for Recovery Girl's glare if she finds out I let you do that. [A perfectly rational list of reasons!]

If you insist on making me sleep in a bed, we'd be sharing. [There it is, the gay chicken ultimatum.]

[This is a Predicament.

He stares for a moment, considering his options. Well! He feels a little self-conscious about the thought of sharing a bed -- he's sickly, anyway, and he'd probably cough and roll and make sleep pretty unsettled for Aizawa. And he's so gangly, he'd probably kick him or take the covers or something. And what if he sleeptalks? He can be a little active in his head, when he's out cold. What if he says something entirely embarrassing?

....................

But he doesn't want Aizawa to feel like... he's icky or something.

He trusts the man, and it's not like he'd be lying around with a stranger.

He's shared beds in high school, nothing weird about it.

... Yeah.]

Alright then! If that doesn't bother you!

[Is it gay chicken if Toshinori doesn't remotely think of gay chicken?]

[In his eyes, it's the perfect defense. He wouldn't just let another person so easily into his bed, right? There had to be some sacred barrier there, unlike just the home, where he'd managed to invade. Even if they were friends, that would clearly be an element of "too much." From him, it'd be too direct of a suggestion and Toshinori would refuse and-]

[Ah.]

[He'd clearly not expected it to be accepted. He can't hide the surprise on his face, despite how he tries, with his hand coming up to try and hide part of his expression.]

[There's an out right there. Take it. Say it bothers him. Say it's immensely bothersome. Say that, despite suggesting it, he's 100% opposed and he never expected him to say yes and this whole thing is a mistake.]

... alright, then.

[Was his expression normal, at least? After all, he needed to act like this wasn't some big deal. He needed to act like it was a normal situation of letting a coworker into his bed. As if there was some universe in which that was normal! Nothing about this was normal and his mind is going a thousand kilometers a minute and he's not going to sleep a wink tonight. He's not going to get anything done tonight.]

[It's a game of gay chicken with himself and he keeps losing.]

Excellent!!

[He claps his hands together, beaming in victory.

Something they can both appreciate! Only -- give him a moment, because... Ah. He actually looked kind of surprised there for a moment. Was it a bigger deal, was he just teasing him, or? With a slightly smaller smile and a clearing of his throat, he says:]

If I make you uncomfortable at all, I'll leave it to you, though!

[He'd never want to make him feel awkward, that's for sure.]

But I promise to not hog the blankets.

[He gives one of those obnoxious thumbs up. Come along, my friend, let's sleep!

... And then he can realize how awkward it is, once they're both in bed.]

[It's another out, that he won't take. Toshinori was truly both kind and merciless.]

[Instead he gets ready for sleep while suppressing all the nervous energy in his body. Usually he didn't particularly care what he slept in, but he'll change to his ~~formal~~ pink sweatpants and a clean shirt.]

[His first thought is that Toshinori's bed is much more crowded with Toshinori in it. That much should be obvious. And he can't act like he has a point of comparison, here. He ends up lying on his back because the other options (face-to-face? back-to-back?) all seemed more embarrassing. Sure, there wasn't anything inherently off about it, and sure he'd shared beds with people before, but...]

[Honestly, reminding him of sharing a room with Hizashi on the school trip... he really hadn't grown at all when it came to this, had he. It was never easy to share a bed with someone he liked.]

[He's not unused to casual Aizawa, though it is pretty weird to have gotten used to, huh?

God, its weird. He had started that first school year thinking the man hated him. Now...]

If I end up kicking you or something, you can definitely kick back.

[A grin, mischievous.

Toshinori lays on his side after his routine taking of medication, giving a rather pleasant 'good night' with a glance over his shoulder -- and... then... he lays there for a little bit, looking at the wall. Oh. Well, this is unusual. He hadn't actually expected to have a hard time falling asleep; he'd just nearly fallen asleep on the couch, and unlike before his injury, he didn't have the boundless nighttime energy he used to. But you know, the weariness does eventually smother his conflicting thoughts (chiefly, "did Aizawa feel awkward, should I have been sure, why is this sleeping thing taking so long").

The knobby spine that faces Aizawa has a gentle breathing to it, a peaceful sleep. Every once and a while, he coughs softly. And in the middle of Aizawa texting Mic, Toshinori does flip over, his long, skinny arm flopping while the back of his hand stops to rest, just slightly, over the other man's heartbeat.

Laying down, his eyes don't look nearly so sunken as they do in the harder lighting.

He almost looks kinda peaceful, and this time he's not in a damn hospital bed.]

[He'd never hated him. He'd also never gotten the chance to clarify how he'd actually felt. How different would these last months have been if he had said something then? Ah, no point in worrying about it. He's tapping out another reply to Mic when the shift happens, and-]

[It's like before, when he'd had the other man sleeping on his lap, that immediate panicked moment of "is he going to wake up?" So the heartbeat under the other's hand is faster than it should be. He only briefly sees the other's face under the light of the cell phone before it's quickly shifted off, lest the dim light give any reason for the other to wake up. Then it's just him, Toshinori, and his own excited heartbeat.]

[With no Mic as a distraction, what else is there to take his attention but Toshinori? As his eyes adjusted, he could make out little details of the other's face, the rough mess of his hair... Honestly, most of him was a mess. But he liked him, regardless. He briefly considers the idea Hizashi suggested, that maybe this wasn't some hopeless, one-sided thing. As if that sleepy gesture were some sort of sign.]

[Ah, no. That was dangerous. It was better to just indulge as it was. He gently lifts one hand up and places it over Toshinori's, palm to palm. If he didn't sleep at all, then the would definitely wake up before the other, so... Slowly, gently, he laces their fingers together. Such skinny, bony fingers. He definitely shouldn't like this. His heart rate slows, only a little, and his rate of texting slows a lot, now that he has one hand occupied.

[He shifts just slightly, not waking to the touch; instead, his fingers curl a bit instinctively, and despite how thin his hands have gotten, they're still rather behemoth, in the grand scheme of things, against Aizawa's palm. His brow furrows just slightly, as if deep in thought in his own little world beyond sleep, and he mumbles... what was that...?]

... Never fear... why... because... m'here...

[... Hopeless. Bless his stupid heart.

Minutes later, softer, spoken at god knows what:]

... Cute...

[He didn't somehow rummage through the other's things so much without realizing he had a sleeptalking habit. It still made his heart briefly stop, though, before realizing it was just some idle nonsense. Was he rescuing people even in his sleep? No wonder he was overworked.]

[Still, he smiles, a little, at the ridiculousness of it.]

[... not at "cute," though. That was a bit different from the usual sleep-mumbling. And, perhaps, it was delivered right at a moment when Aizawa was prepared to take offense to it. Not that- of course, it had nothing to do with him! It was just coincidentally timed with his moments of weakness, which were in no way cute, and he in no way wanted Toshinori to call him cute.]

Idiot. Who the hell's cute?...

[A quiet response, without really thinking about it.]

[Oh...! The skinny man's half-drooping stare turns toward the flustered hero. You know, what better time to give Aizawa a mild heart attack than when holding his hand, looking at him in the middle of sleeping in the same bed. But unlike the couch, his eyes don't snap open in surprise, and he doesn't cough some apology; he's still kind of asleep, not remotely lucid to the situation.

And then he blinks tiredly, smiles a bit, and turns onto his back with a sigh.]

... Aizawa's...

[Who the hell's cute? There's a pause.]

... cat socks...

[He nestles his chin into the blanket and sleeps. This time, for the rest of the night. No future heart attacks for Eraserhead, it seems. You're welcome, buddy.]

Edited 2017-11-29 20:23 (UTC)

[That was too close to cardiac arrest for Aizawa's taste. He flays flat against the bed for a while, trying to willfully slow down his heart rate.]

[Honestly, things murmured in one's sleep should have no bearing on the real world. So, even if his name came off Toshinori's lips, there, it was nothing to get over-eager about. He tries to not even mention it as he taps out a few more replies to Hizashi. One reply tries to disrupt that calm, again, leading to a rare Aizawa coughing fit that he tries to muffle as best he can. Of course that's the kind of advice Hizashi would give him.]

[... although the fact Toshinori didn't stir too much at that is a bit emboldening. He shifts a bit, sitting up and leaning over the other man in bed. If he wouldn't get to be this close again...]

[Hesitantly, with all the care of defusing a bomb, he presses a kiss to the other's forehead. It was much easier to stare directly at him when he was asleep. He's not going to change his plan, even if lacks guts, but he will quietly say,]

I love you, Toshinori. [There. He said it. Maybe, like cat socks, it would end up echoing in his subconscious, like a dream with no point of origin. He lays back down, holding his phone in one hand and Toshinori's hand in the other. There was still a lot of time to kill in the night. Maybe he could close his eyes for a bit. All those mini-heart attacks did make his eyes feel a little heavier. He'd still wake up before the other, there was no harm in it.]

[The morning will come and Aizawa will not have woken up first and will still conspicuously have the other's hand in his grasp.]

[Did it end up echoing in his subconscious? A age-old question...

He wakes up feeling well-rested, probably far more well-rested than poor Aizawa -- and when he wakes to find his hand curled around Aizawa's, he flusters and chides himself pretty quickly. Goodness, he's terrible when he's asleep...! He'd better get their hands apart before the other wakes up and sees just how ridiculous Toshinori can be -- he swears, he's like a sea anemone or something. Or a -- an octopus.

He rubs the back of his head, his cheeks slightly colored for his minor intrusion.

Aa, but look at that. Tables are turned! And here he is, usually the one sleeping on the other. It tugs at his heart a bit, and before he can even really think of the dangers, he cards his hand over Aizawa's hair like he'd done to him, when he'd fallen asleep on him. You know. Just revenge.

... Yes.

Ehem.

You should probably rise and shine, Aizawa-kun.

The students aren't going to teach themselves...!

No, that's their job; he's got a newfound focus, something to devote his time now that the heroic portion's been all eaten up. And since he may be on a time limit by Nighteye's predictions, he doesn't want to let any of them down -- or Aizawa.

... Last morning getting ready together, huh?

A little different than usual, but...

He looks pretty cute before the 'waking up' part drags any scowls or unimpressed stares. Some days you'd think Aizawa personally had a grudge against the sun itself, like a dracula. He's really hoping, hand holding aside, he didn't do anything silly to warrant future blackmail.

Poor guy hasn't budged, yet, though.

Maybe he'll just let him sleep -- yes, he'll let him sleep!! Do a bit of straightening up around the place since he failed to yesterday. Aaah, he was letting himself get way too messy. Not a good look, for a teacher.

Upon collecting Aizawa's clothes and things to put where he can find them easier, on the armrest of the couch, an envelope peeks its little corner out from the pocket. Ah? Well, revenge again, for snooping through his fanmail...! And he knows how to play a villain now, thanks to the UA.

... it has his name on it...?

Is this...?

He smiles a bit.

Oh, the fan letter...!

He'd nearly forgotten.

... heh.

He opens it up.]

Edited 2017-11-30 16:35 (UTC)

[Aizawa, despite his best efforts, is asleep. When he sleeps, he sleeps like the dead, barely moving or shifting. His dreams tend to be either abstract messes or frighteningly realistic bad situations. He's lucky enough not to dream, even with the gentle touch through his mess of hair.]

[His expression is gentle, although it's easy to imagine how quickly it would sour upon his things being shuffled around. Yes, it was a fair revenge for everything he's done. Objectively, he could understand that. Still, even in his most dramatic nightmares about this situation, he hadn't figured it would be discovered early while he was still comfortably in the other's home.]

[It's a longer letter than Toshinori had written him. The handwriting is neat, deliberate, with no signs of all the edits that had gone into it. After all, it was supposed to be perfect, regardless of how imperfect the delivery would now be.]

[The contents are as follows...]

[He does cough, rather violently at that, and has to shakily wipe up blood with his handkerchief, Aizawa. Very observational of you. Very psychic of you. Because the smile on Toshinori's face dies away fairly quickly when he reaches it -- the I love you. And his fingers crumple the paper just slightly, his lung burning from the iron tang, joints aching, mind whirling. It's a shock. It's a shock because of a lot of things.

He hadn't...

He didn't...

He sits.

He sits down on the couch, barefoot and in his sleepwear, shadows painting his face starkly as he stares at the letter. He looks pale as a ghost, honestly -- horrified, actually. Toshi's turned to lead, to a statue, fixated on the I love you like its a photo from a police line-up. The evidence all pointed to it. Of course it did. But he had not seen it coming a mile away, despite himself. Because he'd been so wrapped up in...

Oh, jesus, Aizawa.]

... Oh, shit.

[The first sign that he's made a mistake is when he opens his eyes and realizes he's alone in bed. He shouldn't have been asleep in the first place. He pushes himself up, fetches his phone from where it had slipped, and checks the time. There was nothing too out of the ordinary about that. Maybe Toshinori had moved in his sleep and dislodged their hands. Maybe it had been overlooked as some silly gesture. As he tabs back past the late-night messages with Hizashi, he tells himself to stay calm. Getting trapped in worries and self-loathing could be done later, once he'd handed over the letter.]

[Or so he'd thought.]

[He's still a bit groggy, dragging his fingers loosely through his hair as some substitute for brushing it as he exits the room. His first thought, upon seeing the other, is a bit more distant. Is it some notice from the hospital? He looked like death. That wouldn't have been delivered so early, though. Then it clicks, seeing his accumulated belongings, the paper gripped in his hand, that-]

[That was the face of seeing his confession.]

[He knew in a distant, logical way that he didn't want to see that expression, whatever it was going to be. There was nothing distant about the sharp pain that pierced his chest. Any reason he'd used to justify his choice faded in the simple fact that he didn't want to see it. The fact he's not naturally very expressive lends itself to him now, at least. He just looks a bit like he's been stabbed, with comparable amounts of shock and pain.]

Ah, well. ["It's ruined, now." There was no way he could just escape this situation without notice. He did have at least a fleeting thought of escaping through a window or something. He knew he had to say something. If he took the weight of breaking the silence and setting the tone himself, that at least spared Toshinori something. Still, he can't hide the fact it is a weight on him to speak, that he'd rather not, that this was painful, stupid, and everything he'd wanted to avoid.]

I suppose this is my fault for sleeping. [Every time he let his diligence lapse in favor of some stupid, affectionate gesture, he was punished for it. He should have learned.]

[Stupid, stupid, stupid. He looks up at Aizawa with unmeasured surprise, looking just as anxious as the first time the man had laid eyes on him, if not... God, he's an idiot. Toshinori, you're a huge idiot, a pathetic idiot, what the hell -- He nearly laughs at that commentary, but then he'd sound manic and kind of crazy over something so...

He's gotten love letters before. All Might got a lot of love letters. Not Toshinori, though. He tries not to crumple it anymore, like it'd be another jab at Aizawa; is he going to keep this one? Of course he is. He'd never be able to discard anything from Aizawa. Not even if it makes his chest ache like this.]

... I don't... understand.

[He drops his head into his hand, trying to think. Of what to say.

He smiles, but it's strained, like a defense.]

This isn't -- You're not teasing me about fanmail, are you? Because... Of all the people you could have had -- the old ghoul who coughs up blood? [He chuckles weakly. He had expected to live whatever was left teaching kids and then -- you know, dying single or whatever. It wasn't even a thought, that he could do that to begin with. After all, is he not just looking out for the person who would damn themselves to a short and painful relationship? He's always sick! He's limited! He scares kids on the sidewalk!]

Why would you do that to yourself, Aizawa-kun?

[He doesn't mean to, but its spoken as if Aizawa is off his rocker. As if he could just choose, even though he knows it's not how it works at all. But... Look at him. What are you doing?

Toshinori just can't fathom it.]

[He wouldn't blame the other for laughing. It's a ridiculous situation. He's known that from the very beginning. He's only seeing more evidence pile up in front of him that he was right. This was the sort of thing to be given, then immediately vanish. That gave the other person space. Instead, here he was, having to deal with all the first reactions to something he'd already had so much time to deliberate over.]

[How much time had he spent being envious of those love letters from fans? How many times in the hospital room had he realized it was serious? How many times had he re-written that letter now, burning the old ones or depositing them in the trash outside his very-intact-not-under-construction place?]

[The two of them were now both metaphorically knocked off their feet. One of them would have to correct themselves in the air and land first. It should be him, right? He's the person with more knowledge in this situation, more time to prepare, it should be him.]

[He doesn't feel like that one bit, though.]

Ah, sorry. [You know, good on Toshinori for not indulging in the manic laughter. Let Aizawa do it instead, just a short, quick laugh. He's got the better face for it, anyways. It's not really clear if he's anywhere near sincere about that "sorry." Maybe sorry about this whole situation.]

Were you under some impression that my eyes were that damaged? [He pushes his bangs up and out of the way with his hand. Unplanned words spill out, like lashing out at- something. Anything. Since he can't lash out at himself.] I know exactly what you look like, Yagi-san. And I know all the reasons I'm unsuited to you. So, if you could not act like I'm just doing this naively... [he stops, grip tightening for a moment, feeling simultaneously exhausted and wired. It's like he still hasn't landed and the entire conversation was just going to be the sensation of falling, all the way down. He hangs his head and lets the hair fall back into place, like a protective curtain.]

... if you're not going to take it seriously, then just burn it. [Short, curt, to the point.]

[... All Might frowns. Toshinori frowns. Whoever.

He doesn't want to -- disappoint him. There's a lot going on in his head right now, so much he feels set to burst. He wanted it to be a joke, some sort of humorous... logical ruse. A way to mock him for his devotion towards fans and their words. But he knew from the moment he got halfway down the page, it was real. He knew better than that, read enough to differentiate, too. He glances up at Aizawa, who is tucking his chin and probably wanting to melt into the floorboards.

He wasn't going to say it to his face... That much is clear.

He folds the letter very carefully, holding it like its glass, intentions clear; he's not going to burn it. Of course he's not. Whatever happens with this, he values Aizawa's honest feelings too much to ever downplay them. To think less of them. Sometime this year... he may not even be here to read this. How unfair is that, that he let this go on, knowing he was potentially standing at a great ravine he couldn't walk away from?

He steps forward, and reaches out, taking the clenched fist in one hand before placing his other hand atop it. It's still... insane, to think he... But he's not going to wave it all away as childish or naive. Because then, what would he be?]

I'm sorry. For saying it so dismissively. Your kindness has been -- invaluable in ways I can't explain. You've even saved my life. [He laughs softer.] But I can't... I need to think. I have to think.

[... He smiles, forlorn, at the ground. Toshinori had been selfish to push his luck, and now Aizawa's paying the price. And yet despite how he wants to bottle it up, hide it from the other to help soothe the sting, it tumbles out of his mouth before he can even think.

Because maybe Aizawa wasn't the only one to take advantage of the situation, to feel this one-sided... something.

Of course, it didn't go to plan. He can't even look him in the eye, he's so ashamed.]

You weren't supposed to love me back.

[He'd just wanted control over how he ruined this. Since it was something so precious to him, he at least wanted that. If he had control over it, he could at least pretend that he was fine. He could be rational about it. Instead, he was here. He was this. He was a mess. And he probably would have been a mess either way, but just not so broadcasted. It truly makes him feel like the immature party here.]

[Staring down at the floor, he sees that familiar pair of knobby, bony feet. He feels his hand taken and while his senses are telling him everything he needs, it all feels distant. Sound hits his ears, an apology, kind words, and things slowly start to make sense. Toshinori would need time to think, that makes sense. In his mind, it's just a postponement of an inevitable rejection but that makes sense. It adheres to his mental picture of how the world should be. It still hurts but it was a hurt he was expecting.]

[His shoulders relax, a little.]

[He parts his lips, as if to say, "That's fine." "I can wait." "Give it proper thought"-]

[-And then it's right back to the unexpected.]

What? [He understood that sentence completely until the "back" part. Without the "back" part, he could accept it entirely. Yet, somehow, defying all reasoning, a single word could change the meaning of a sentence so entirely as to send every process in his brain screeching to a halt.]

[The sheer surprise value of implied reciprocation is enough to make him look up, look for any sign of- He's not sure. A concussion? Some abnormal thing in the background to imply this was a dream? There's nothing of the sort.]

Edited 2017-12-01 02:36 (UTC)

[He did not actually think of how to follow-up with that.

But he's betting neither of them have any clue how to navigate that situation. Hilarious, he thinks, but not really hilarious at all. He'd brought Aizawa into his home without complaint, he'd let him rustle through his things, he'd sat nightly to watch the news and was more than happy to prepare a big dinner, to gush about him to Miyuki... Haaaa, he supposes he'd been lying to himself often enough, explaining it away. I'm just being a good hotel manager. I'm just letting Aizawa get comfortable. I'm just watching the news, and he happens to be nearby. I'm just this, just that, just everything.

But of course it's more than that.

He's surprised he played it so well.

He lets the hand go, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away with a grimace and a blush.]

... We should. Get ready for school.

... Your drinks you like are in the fridge, if you need a quick breakfast.

[He's quick to walk away, to leave Aizawa in surprise as he closes the bedroom door behind him, the other hero to his things on the couch. Time, yes. He needs time to think. Thinking helps. Or doesn't. Does it? Fuck. Shit. Dammit.]

[He intended to give the other time to think anyways. Even with that intention, his reaction is still to reach out,]

Hey, Yagi-san-! [Aaand he's gone. He intended to give the other time to think and yet every fiber of his being wanted to go over, slam his fist against the door, and demand to be answered.]

[That was completely irrational, of course. Love was completely irrational.]

[So, instead, he picks up his capture cloth and lets the weight hang comfortably on his shoulders again. He'd need to change clothes, get ready, but there were some steps that were just more important. Familiar was important, right now. Breakfast didn't feel as important. What about his things? He'd intended to collect them after the school day, but he has no idea how much time Toshinori will need. He has no clue if Toshinori wants to see him during that time.]

[It was probably better to take them now, he decides. He could stuff the bags in the corner of the teacher's office just in case. Once that's decided, his body seems to pick up on the cues of normalcy. He changes clothes, makes sure every last stray paper he was grading has made it into his bag, and represses his emotions like a true pro hero. Towards the end, he does grab one of his drink pouches because it dawns on him that he's probably not getting a lunch box.]

[He can already hear Hizashi yelling at him, "He was going to make you a lunch box? He ONE HUNDRED PERCENT likes you!" and doesn't know how to feel about it.]

[And then the gentle knock on the other's door then isn't to demand answers but to say,]

Yagi-san, I'm going on ahead. [Is it taking the coward's way out? Probably. What was he scared of now that he hadn't been rejected? ... Being accepted? Was that just as strange and terrifying? They both needed time to think. Thinking would help. Or complicate things more. Fuck. Shit. Dammit.]

Edited (pfffedits) 2017-12-01 03:25 (UTC)

[Toshinori hasn't remotely gotten ready yet. His work is a bit later than Aizawa's, but he usually just went with him anyway since the apartment wasn't particularly... the warmest comfort, when you're on your own. But now -- he'd feel pretty silly, offering to go as well. He's pretty damn sure both of them want time for their own introspection.

But --]

Don't forget your -- lunch...!

[He kind of hesitates and immediately feels so foolish; it sounds like something you'd say to a spouse, huh? He's seen enough movies and television to know that, even if he couldn't relate back then. And true to Toshinori's word, there's a bento box wrapped in a fabric patterned with black cats.

How the hell were they going to get through a whole school day like this? Shimura-sensei, give him the strength to survive the torment he's caused the two of them.

Time to think, he'd called it.

More like... time to be the worst teacher, too lost in thought to properly work. He knows Aizawa will at least pick up the professional end of things for when he fumbles. He sucks in a breath and tastes blood; business as usual. Come on, is that not a reminder of what a poor idea it is, to involve someone in his life romantically?

....

Shouta Aizawa loves him.

The guy who sighed and huffed and corrected him, who had limited his time more often to napping than dealing with the boisterous company of All Might...

He loves him back.

What is he going to do?]

Edited 2017-12-01 03:44 (UTC)

[...]

[By the time Toshinori is ready to leave, the cat-patterned bento will be pointedly missing. He's selfish and weak and it would just be wasted otherwise.]

[It's a relief to get to work. Mic can immediately tell something is different, Midnight has a look in her eye, but everything else is usual. Toshinori's messing up, the usual, so Aizawa responds with his usual sharpness. Things are almost normal, for a moment, until they lock eyes and Aizawa immediately turns away and moves ahead with the lesson a little more quickly than before.]

[He vanishes during lunch. If he told Mic there was nothing new to report, he'd be lying, it's easier to just escape to the rooftop and think. It feels like some cliche school scene again. Maybe it was just because the last time he dated anyone had been back then. He'd been in happy disbelief that Hizashi also liked him. And, well, half of that applied to now, as well.]

[He wasn't supposed to love him "back"... Well, he did. Shouldn't that be something to be happy about? He mentally reviews his list of reasons they were incompatible, realizing how simply some had changed with the idea that Toshinori loved him.]

[Unless Toshinori decided to take back what he said... wasn't this actually a good situation?]

[By the end of the day, he's settled into something like normalcy. His brain wasn't racing with potential consequences. He could grade half the class' papers before finding his attention pulled up to look for that abnormally tall head over the top of his computer monitor. He didn't feel the need to go out with Mic and drink, which had been a strong contender for his evening plans this morning. He'll work at his desk, figuring that if Toshinori was ready to talk to him, he'd be readily available. If not, then... cat cafe sounded good tonight.]

[The kids all just kind of assume Aizawa's more annoyed with Toshinori than usual today, because despite their budding... friendship... they're readable enough. But that's actually wrong today, and he's not really sure how to approach it. But god, he's glad he at least took the bento box. He just needs to explain the situation to Aizawa now -- the real situation, the one that hurts any odd of them being... anything.

Should he, though? Should he explain and give cause for concern? Or should he just... Let it go.

Aizawa will heal over time, after all. And Toshinori doesn't mind pining and feeling an ache, if it means giving the other room to move onto someone better. There are more fish in the sea, as they say!! He just needs to go dating, find someone who is far more in his league and on his level...! Plus ultra!

But, uh. Entering the office and seeing Aizawa's bowed head as he worked was sapping him of willpower to do just that kind of speech. He sighs softly, moving to sit at his cubicle -- which is right across from him. But their faces can be hidden, and maybe this is a good way to be able to say something without having to see the torment or confusion or... or whatever it may be.]

... Hello, Aizawa-kun.

[He glances up after hearing someone enter. Ah, there. They're still at school, so he's able to maintain a level of calm. He should at least try to keep himself honest. He'd written in the letter that he wouldn't let it affect their work.]

Yagi-san. [he nods, very slightly, and sets down the stack of papers he was working on.]

Is this work-related, or...? [Related to the obvious. He's not sure Toshinori's done much thinking today, with all the little flubs and mistakes. He wouldn't be surprised for it to take more time. Maybe, though, he's just a bit more ready to have this conversation than he thought he'd be. He can't know all of Toshinori's worries. He doesn't have all the information, so he can't make a prediction.]

[But, objectively, he knows he's gotten closer to Toshinori than he ever thought possible. Maybe there's a chance.]

[Toshinori bites his lip.

He's learned a lot about Aizawa, but he's not entirely sure if that response is a definite question or him asking this remain work-related. So, he plays it safe, tapping an eraser on his desk.]

... You didn't seem... to agree with some of the quirk exercises laid out for each student. So I wanted to... ask what you think better options for Hagakure and Koda are, since we share the class at this time.

[He does alright at being the Foundational Hero Studies Teacher now that some time and training has passed, but you know. He could do better. Much better. Maybe grade papers a bit more harshly? He's always been a bit too lenient with them.

Maybe Aizawa prefers this topic instead.

Or maybe he's just stupidly dodging the elephant in the room.]

Edited 2017-12-01 06:34 (UTC)

[There's a pause. There's a slight shift, so that just the edge of Aizawa's face is visible from behind the monitor, a single judgmental eye.]

[... No. He said he'd give Toshinori time. He doesn't need to glare an answer out of him. He leans back and answers, professional as always.]

Hagakure has done an excellent job of using her invisibility but she's relying on it too heavily. I'd like to place her in more situations in which her invisibility is compromised. Smoke, dust, paint, or something as simple as providing a sparring partner with thermal goggles from the support class. For Koda, I'd like to expand his functional range. He can't always rely on being close-range with the animals he chooses to cooperate with. He either needs to get louder or innovate.

[Another pause, sitting back up straight to enter a few quick keyboard commands.]

You don't have to make a decision about it right now. You can continue with what you had planned, if you're too distracted. [That "if" was almost kind because his tone really said "you're too distracted."]

Aa, that makes plenty of sense...

I guess I've been a little... distracted. Sorry. I'll do better.

[Despite living quirkless for a while and needing to use his fists the old-fashioned away against the bigger, meaner children (with quirks), he had really no clue how to treat... most quirks. Train them. Because as All Might, he didn't need to hide, he didn't worry about ranges. He was strong enough, fast enough, and resilient enough to not have to think about those sorts of weaknesses. It's understandable that some came to resent him for it; yeah, he got a lot of mail and praise, but All Might came with plenty of disdain, too.

He shrugged it off, mostly, because it hardly deterred him from his goals. As thin a skin as he sometimes has about his appearance when he's normal? There's no being All Might for that many years without being able to turn the other cheek. A lot.

Ugh, he thinks too hard on this. It should really come more naturally.

He starts penning what Aizawa says, tucking his 'Teaching for Dummies' book under the desk.

A firsthand opinion is centuries better.

... From the person who... loves him. And he loves.

He clenches the pen in hand, but keeps at his work. Silence lulls.

And lulls. And settles. And blankets them.]

I suppose I... don't need to make decisions about it right now. But. I don't want to discard your thoughts on the matter, either. I'm just worried I will let you and your class down if my choices are poorly made. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?

[He glances sparingly at the tussled black hair.

You hearing these intense double-meanings?]

["Sorry. I'll do better." If Toshinori weren't going through a period of realizing exactly how much of an idiot he was, Aizawa would take this time to remind him. The sheer difference in how that would have been phrased yesterday, the week before, any period of time before. He was always a certain degree of apologetic and Aizawa would either call him an idiot or say nothing depending on whether or not it was warranted.]

[He's an idiot but Aizawa holds his tongue.]

[The silence sets in between them. For a little bit, Aizawa doesn't continue his own work, he just seems to be waiting. There's no indication if he's waiting for more questions, waiting for a response from this morning, or simply considering how he'd like to be asleep right now.]

[And of course it's when he picks up a paper again that Toshinori starts talking in heavy-handed double-meanings.]

If one poorly made choice is enough to ruin something, it wasn't strong enough in the first place. [And he intended to put the students through hell anyways, if they're mixing metaphors. They're certainly mixing two completely different situations, anyways. How unnecessarily confusing. He's left idly wondering which of the two possible solutions to his confession might be "good intentions."]

[It only makes sense that two grown-ass men skirt around a topic with metaphors. He shuffles his papers, pulling up a History of Heroes quiz to correct; now this, he was good at. He can't help but smile a little when he grades Midoriya's -- it's a+ precision, as always. The boy may have been quirkless at one point, but he had a damn good mind.

It also gives him a moment, to figure out what to say. He grades carefully.]

It wouldn't be the students who weren't strong enough -- it'd be my own incompetence, right? Students with poor teachers tend to be worse off. [Oh, for fuck's sake, what's even the message... He sighs.] I mean... I'm not... going to always be here for them. I would like... my time as a teacher to be used helping... not hurting.

[Just spit it out, Toshi.

Nighteye would have appreciate he do so. Gran Torino, too.]

[There's the gentle sound of keyboard keys clacking as, one by one, grades and notes are entered.]

[There's a small, irritated downward twitch of his lip. That way of speaking was almost masochistic. He can't imagine Toshinori wanted any comfort or coddling. Even with knowledge that Aizawa loved him, he wasn't stupid enough to try such an indirect way of getting attention. So, did he want to be derided? Did he want the whole thing to be a joke, a ruse, because it being true was too difficult?]

[... was Toshinori truly just as bad as him, when it came to negativity?]

[Helping, not hurting. Undeniably he was hurt by being in love with Toshinori. He'd been hurt by his choices as a hero, as well, the simple fact of something hurting didn't make it bad. He'd mentioned something in the hospital, hadn't he, that he wouldn't "trouble" someone with a significant other like that. So, how troublesome was it?]

I suppose, when time is limited, it's easy to overthink that sort of thing.

[He stops, sort of slumping forward to catch his face in his palm, a clear gesture of no work getting done. So, how limited was their time?]

Yagi-san. [he hesitates a bit, closing his eyes and choosing his phrasing carefully.] Do you expect to see this class graduate? [If it was in his power to, the answer should be yes. For being so worried, so self-deprecating, he'd taken to teaching with far more passion than Aizawa. That stupid book tucked away was proof of it. He'd definitely want to see Midoriya graduate, if he could. That would be a bit over two years. Could he have two years, loving Toshinori?]

[He frowns.

Ahh, so here it is. He feels cowardly for having gotten to this without just... saying it. But he doesn't have to be brave ol' All Might for this. Aizawa doesn't prefer him -- he prefers Toshinori Yagi, right? His pen stops on the paper, leaving an ink blot, red and thick like blood. Midoriya had been so terribly distressed -- had argued that they could do something, that it could have changed despite Nighteye's accuracy. Maybe that's true. Maybe if something... anything... pushes hard enough to alter fate...

But what would that something be?

He is a realist in this situation. He's clawed to life, clung onto it for the sake of Midoriya and the students. Back then. Now, he's not sure if he should put Aizawa through the same sort of uncertainty... Does he expect to be alive in two years, to see their rise into heroism?

He scribbles an A+ on Midoriya's quiz.]

... I don't.

I'm not even sure if I will finish this year.

[The silence reigns for another moment. It's not like he'd ever had any sort of fanciful thoughts about the two of them growing old together. He knew about the other's health, he knew any hero could die at any moment. Still, hearing that-]

Ah, I see. [-A part of him is upset. He seems to do a good enough job of masking it, staring at the faintly glowing screen in front of him. It would be reasonable enough to stop there and indulgently soak in the sadness. The person he loved was going to die, not in some far off future sense, but sometime soon. A year ago he would have called the whole situation laughably tragic and not thought a second more on it. As he is now, though, there's a second emotion bubbling up under the facade of indifference.]

[He's angry.]

[So little time left and he was still preoccupied with doing the best for his students. The best for people around him. The best for everyone, anyone but himself. He pulls himself back up to sitting, and when his hand makes its way back to the desk it's with a sharp, pointed slam.]

So, then, Yagi-san, with what we talked about this morning... [He entirely forgets his previous restraint. The mental mantra of "give him time, give him time" is torn as easily as a strip of paper.]

What was I "supposed" to do? [He stands up, leans over, rests his palm over the top of the computer monitor and doesn't bother to hide how tight his grip is. Toshinori was one of the few people he actually had to look up at but here, him standing and the other sitting, he could manage a reasonable glaring down.] Did you expect me to be indifferent? Hope that I would sleep through the funeral? Was your plan to just bury your feelings and hope I wouldn't stick around to bury you?

[Even in some version of reality where he didn't love Toshinori, that was still foolish, insulting, and cruel.]

Of course not...

[He looks up, frowning, keeping his voice lowered, just in case.]

What would you do, Aizawa-kun? If you liked someone and felt it had been -- one-sided, but you knew you were on limited time. That you couldn't offer them anymore than what you had left... It would have been selfish of me to put this on you, not when I thought you could barely tolerate me before what happened in Kamino! I had been relieved enough knowing you enjoyed my company over time...!

[He rubs a hand over his face.]

I've never... been in a relationship. I was okay with that, too.

And I had been content, knowing we could at least be good friends. Had I known you...

[He trails off, unsure, because he doesn't even remotely know what he would have done. Dammit all.]

Edited 2017-12-02 02:15 (UTC)

[He wouldn't have to keep his voice lowered if he had just said reasonably that he wanted to talk about this. They could have gone somewhere else. Well, at least this keeps Aizawa from yelling.]

I thought it was one-sided... and I was so close to just being content with your friendship, you big-hearted idiot. [There's an astounding amount of venom thrown into that word.]

[He would have handed over the letter anyways. If he'd handed it over then, as planned, would they have hit this point? With time to think, would Toshinori have managed to pull himself together and gently reject him, like they'd both envisioned? His grip loosens a bit and he speaks a bit more calmly, next.]

Unlike you, I am selfish. [He was willing to risk Toshinori hating him, becoming uncomfortable with him, and with the idea he'd be around much longer. He was willing to ruin it, so long as it was his to ruin. He'd hesitated because he was so happy. If Toshinori loved him, though, if Toshinori wouldn't be selfish...]

I love you. If you're so resigned to dying, and if you love me, [because, even in the midst of whatever this is, that still matters,] Then give yourself to me. Let me be the only person you've ever dated. Let me own a part of you for as long as you have left. [The words spill out with a dark kind of intensity. It was the sort of thing he'd thought but deemed too selfish to even put in the letter. When he wrote it, of course, he would have just been happy to be the first person to send Toshinori Yagi a love letter and "claim" that. Now his desires could only intensify.]

Let me- [his breath hitches, like he realizes they're still in the office, they're at work. His expression softens. He bows his head again, ducking behind his bangs.] -try and make you happy.

[Toshinori kind of gapes at him for a moment. Because -- well, he knew that Aizawa had his intense moments, but it's kind of hard to put into words how intense it is, when someone looks into your eyes and says that kind of thing. To ask for someone to give themselves over, or to ask to be a part of them, that's... Jesus, that's pretty plus ultra of you, Shouta Aizawa.

He's never really had someone willing to devote so much. Is that what it's supposed to be like? A time where he can devote himself to something and it reach back? It's too good to be true, really, and Aizawa's offering it with a boldness that leaves him without words for a moment.

He decides then and there, with newfound confidence in Aizawa's endearingly intense speech. Standing up slowly, he looks across their mountains of work toward the anticipating man.]

I did have some time. And I did some thinking. Aaa... around the time I got hit upside the head by a dodgeball, actually, is around when I started coming to terms with what happened this morning.

[This is better when you're not glaring and stuttering at each other from over a cubicle, you know? Maybe it's risky at work, but it's pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things.]

I was told six years ago by Sir Nighteye... that I would be killed by a villain, in a terrible fight. It would be... messy, and it would happen six or seven years after the prediction. It was inevitable -- Nighteye's quirk is always accurate, and with every step, I draw closer to that day. I had leaped right for it, determined to at least get as much done as I could before that time would come.

[He stops in front of Aizawa -- looking down with that full foot of height on the other.]

But not so long ago, I told someone I would fight that fate... and I have every intention of doing it, even if it's hopeless and there will come a time I'm at the end of my rope. That kid, they told me that they'd help me fight, too. [I will twist fate with you...! Ha, what a good student. Aizawa surely knows just who brings that little smile across his face.] I would like to claw my way through life for as long as I can, for him and the others... And.

[He hesitates, before pushing some of Aizawa's rampant locks from out of his eyes.]

If you are truly okay with it... If I can be selfish...

Whether this future is capable or not of being changed, I would like to have you there in it.

Perhaps -- eating dinner on the sofa, or... holding hands on a bed... or in a hospital...

If you'll still have me.

[What an old, traditional bastard, sounding so formal.

Basically, the culmination of this response is as summarized:

'Fuck it.']

[If he wasn't going to ruin it with his own hands, he might as well go for it with his own words. That doesn't stop a brief moment of hesitation that he may have said too much or may have appeared too greedy. Why should that matter, though? If Toshinori was willing to sacrifice so much of himself for every little thing, why not him? He would at least be grateful for it.]

[He listens and is struck by the fact that the inevitability of death seems to have moved into the past tense. That was obviously the preference, of course, but some part of his heart- lights up a little, at how he says that. Even if Midoriya was the catalyst for that kind of revelation (because of course he was and maybe someday he'd understand Toshinori's blatant favoritism), he could have a place there, too. There was extra meaning it imparted on when Toshinori had told him he helped twist his fate in the hospital.]

[Here they are again, standing like this, looking at each other. He looks up at the other with a sort of quiet expectation. He just demanded they date; he was truly okay with it. He was asking for so much; it was fine for Toshinori to be selfish. A stranger might not view it as a happy reaction but the tension immediately drains from Aizawa's shoulders like it's such a relief for Toshinori to just say it.]

[He's even relieved enough to look a bit embarrassed when holding hands is mentioned.]

... so, you noticed that... [he lets out a small hiss of breath through his teeth, briefly glancing down at the floor. After a moment's pause, he reaches out to grab the other's hand and pointedly lace their fingers together. Any one of those sounded fine. Even the hospital would be more tolerable, if he could fluster the other by saying "boyfriend" openly. He meets Toshinori's stare.]

Do I look like someone who would change my mind after coming this far? [A firm squeeze of the other's hand, even though his is smaller.] I chose you. I'd make the same choice any number of times... because, I love you.

[He laughs, looking rather humored by the situation -- nervous, yes, but humored.]

Months ago, you were the last person I'd ever expected, holding my hand like this.

[The world is a very funny place. Good funny, a lot of the time. That's why he gave as much as he possibly could to keep it safe. Blood, sweat, and tears stifled by overly large grins.]

All Might notices everything, of course! [That's a lie, but he figures he gets to say this sort of ridiculous stuff. It's in his retirement pamphlet, right? He stands there for a breath, clasping Aizawa's hand back and feeling a little like reeling. Where do they go from here? How do they work this out, working here, living as a hero and retired hero, surrounded by uncertainties? He supposes he's blessed by the fact that Aizawa really does know him inside and out, back at his apartment. There's nothing to really hide anymore.

He takes a hand and scrubs it through Aizawa's hair, almost like he's a kid or little brother.

Really, to tease him right now...]

If I remember right, you also liked to do this sort of thing to people who nap on you. Just like how you buy them socks and eat their bento boxes. [A soft sigh.] Because of things like that... I love you, too -- [A pause. If this was really happening... well.] Shouta-kun.

[So, he could notice everything, he noticed all that, but didn't notice Shouta was in love with him, hm? What a selective superpower. He could slowly work on forgiving him for being such an idiot, at least.]

[Or, well, should they do anything slowly? On one hand, there's the fact it's Toshinori's first relationship (and there's a really selfish sense of satisfaction in that), but on the other if they were limited in time why bother waiting? Maybe he'd just see there the boundaries were and push them when he felt like it. That was enough of a plan for now.]

[He's not ashamed of anything Toshinori lists off, he's not embarrassed to exchange "I love you"s, but...]

[Logically, it shouldn't be a problem, and if Toshinori hadn't he would have started insisting he be called by first name. It's not even a case of underexposure, since Hizashi's always been yelling "Shouta, Shouta" at him for years. So, why the hell are his cheeks getting so warm at hearing it? He dips his chin down, sinking into his capture cloth, which actually does very little to hide how red he's getting.]

Ah, well. [It was love, of course.] You remembered right, Toshinori. [He at least had the edge of trying it out once before, so it didn't feel as awkward on his lips.]

[You're about as sure as he is about how this whole thing goes; his mind's still kind of reeling, and it's happening so quickly, but how else is it supposed to happen? And did it even actually happen quickly? After all, they've been around each other so much recently, it must've just... built up. Now it's said and done and he has no clue how to proceed. It's not like there's a civilian to rescue, or a building to stabilize, or a villain to Texas Smash.

Aizawa-- aah, Shouta goes red, and he can't help but find some satisfation in making the otherwise straight-faced man embarrassed about the whole ordeal. It's cute, just like it had been before, in the hospital. Very cute. Hand still close, he pulls Shouta into a hug, because he's been wanting to do this since forever. He's always looked comfortable to hug, you know. Not in expression, of course; he had his concerns about getting clawed at like he was embracing an unruly cat.]

I'm glad to have come across you, Shouta.

I'll -- do my best to be what you deserve.

[However long he can.

Maybe this is another reason for living he can use to try and keep those embers alive.

... Boy, it'd be awkward if someone walked through that door.]

[The idea of someone coming trough the door is about the first thing to hit Shouta's brain once he's been pulled into the other's arms. He tenses, a little, more a startled cat than one that's ready to scratch. He doesn't push the other away, though, because when it got down to it- it was what he wanted.]

Idiot. [To have "come across" him was akin to giving fate the credit for it. Sure, it was coincidence for the two of them to end up at UA here, at this time. It's just a bit frustrated considering he spent the last two months making a concentrated effort to be in Toshinori's life. If Toshinori "came across" him, it was because he'd been carefully watching his route for days.]

Just giving me what you have is enough. [It's what he'd asked for, after all. It was like him, at least, to promise to try and do better. If he dedicated himself even slightly to being a better partner for him- ... he was going to have to keep an eye out for another stupid "For Dummies" book, wasn't he? Good thing he'd already figured out most of Toshinori's hiding spots. He makes the mistake of relaxing a little, and, as perusual, the universe needs to punish him for it.]

[In the form of- a mouse, a dog, a bear? It's everyone's favorite principal and the second Shouta hears his voice asking "What's going on here?" he's pushing himself away from this hug with lightning speed. It's a more comical panic than earlier, more akin to a teenager that was just walked in on by their parent.]

[There's a moment of silence in which every person in the room knows just about exactly what is happening and now must come to terms with what to say about it.]

Ah, Principal. I was just feeling a bit light-headed. [he says, fully aware that everyone in the room knows it's a lie. He's relying on everyone in the room for this lie. He's got to stare at Nezu in the doorway and hope those black, beady eyes felt mercy today.] I suppose I was tired.

["I see. That was always one of your weaknesses, wasn't it? That reminds me, I was reading about some sleep studies recently, and," as he continues talking, Shouta's entirely unsure if this is mercy or not. Is this going to turn into a lecture. He glances sharply over to Toshinori, in whatever state of recovery from the abrupt shove he was in, with a stare halfway between this is your fault and please help you idiot.]

Yes, just a little... lightheaded...

[He rubs the back of his neck. A-ahaha. He got too wrapped up in the moment, didn't he?

He clears his throat, more seriously. And then, in defeat:]

... I'm sorry, Aizawa-kun, but I can't defend you here.

[He folds his arms, frowning and looking away.]

He'd been pretty off all day, Mr. Principal. I thought he was going to fall over during homeroom, and he nearly fell out of his seat here... And he's really pink in the face, though he wouldn't let me check his forehead... [He waves a hand toward Aizawa.] I know you're not really one to accept help, but I think you should probably visit the nurses station, just in case.

Considering how sickly I'd gotten this month, I think germs are spreading something awful at our school right now. It would be irresponsible of him to continue on this way.

[Admittedly, he didn't have the communicative ability to say help but don't make me look bad with his eyes. That was beyond him. Still, it gives him and out and he's more than willing to take it this time.]

I'm absolutely fine. [He says, more part of the ruse than any actual refusal.] I just need to get some rest. [He brings a hand up to rub at his cheek, like he might dissipate some of the heat there just by trying hard enough. Even if it was excused away as sickness, the heat was embarrassing. The principal looks like he might say something and so Shouta keeps going, despite the fact that interrupting was a cardinal sin.]

I was planning on heading back after this anyways and if All Might wants to talk about responsibility, then he can escort me. [There, he wanted to get that out. It continued the outward appearance of disliking Toshinori while still demanding his attention. He manages to hold Nezu's gaze for maybe thirty seconds before glancing back down at the pile of papers on his desk.]

["Well, then," says Nezu in the tone of voice that really suggests no part of the lie has worked but, since they went to all the trouble of telling it, he'd play along. "I suppose that's acceptable for now." It's small and muted, but Shouta lets out a relieved breath.]

["Don't have too much fun, you two." Any relief from the moment before it entirely spoiled by the fact he knows and even though he clearly wouldn't tell a soul, that's still embarrassing to Shouta on a level he won't admit. There's the tiny tap, tap, tap of sneakers walking away from the office.]

... ... show some restraint while we're at school, please. [Never mind that he liked it, never mind that he wanted to do it, too.]

[He claps his hands together, bowing slightly in apology with a grin. His mouth tastes like blood from having to hold that surprised coughing in, but hey, at least he didn't spew blood in front of their principal. Small victories...!!]

Sorry, sorry...! You just looked like you could use a hug to de-stress.

[.... Nezu totally knows, doesn't he? Shit. He does. He definitely does.

At least he burst in before he'd done something extra bad looking, like, you know. The kiss he'd been planning to try on him. What? They'd just confessed their love, or something. He thinks that what you do. Right? Cough. Cough.

.............

He stands there, rubbing his arm, expression relaxing.]

... Are you still going to go home? After... work?

[Your home, that is. Are you... you know.]

Because I have -- a lot of leftovers. And... Everything.

[Smooth.]

[A hug to de-stress, huh. That sure worked. It's at least a bit comical for anyone to assume that a hug would chill him out when nine times out of ten it would be the opposite. ... Then again, they are together, now.]

Hm? [For a moment, he seems to feign ignorance, considering what Toshinori was saying with a sort of detached interest. It only lasts a moment, though, before a kind of satisfied smile spreads on his lips. Not bad, maybe fifty points. It's was a poor delivery but he knew better than to just let them go back to separate, empty homes.]

I'm going back with you, of course. [And he turns to his desk to start shuffling papers away. He wasn't properly done here but, well- they needed to show proper restraint at school. So he'd like to leave, effective immediately, to go somewhere where restraint was less necessary.]

I'd like a chance to just enjoy being in your bed, after all. [maybe give in and snuggle, too]

[His relief is palpable, but also...

It was a lot easier to talk about sleeping in the same bed when it was just... sleeping... but now that they've established something, it's hard to keep up a 'friends only' illusion for that sort of thing. Hopefully he can get away with his ears going a little red at the thought. God, he's so out of his element. Is Shouta experienced at this? How far behind is Toshinori? He runs a hand through his hair, huffing and smiling apologetically.]

It wasn't that enjoyable before?

[He can guess why. Probably the same reason he had stayed awake a little longer than he expected, staring at the wall until his messed up body complained at him. But then... there are a few things he hasn't told Aizawa, for good reason; he's a little embarrassed at some of his more private thoughts.]

[Shouta has the advantage in that he knew from the first time that it wasn't simply friends only. He's already had that panic. With the idea that their time is limited, it's unreasonable to put it off. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as his computer shuts down.]

I was panicked half the night. [he says, with the usual expression that makes it really difficult to believe he was so flustered. Then again, he was just entirely red in the face in the last twenty minutes. He wouldn't lie about something so embarrassing to himself. He doesn't need to share his previous worries, they were clearly wrong, yet he still feels the need to explain.]

I figured that if I did anything, you'd hate me... or, at least, be disgusted. [Instead, Toshinori loved him and still invited him into his room. Honestly, that's a bit satisfying, that maybe he had even a fraction of the uncomfortable closeness.] So, I restrained myself at great personal cost.

[...]

Mostly.

Edited 2017-12-05 04:46 (UTC)

[He's gonna resist the urge to teasingly grab the other's hand.

Because the last thing they need is someone else filtering in at that exact moment. Though... it does leave him wondering if it's going to be hush-hush in general. He wouldn't mind... but it'll make things quite the espionage mission. And he's never been very good at subtlety like Aizawa. He nearly makes a determined fist at the thought of doing his damnedest. If that's what Ai-- What Shouta wants, anyway.

But another thought hits him, and it makes his heart stutter.

Is he going to be more unrestrained, now?

There's something instantly mortifying about not knowing how to handle a relationship when he's as old as he is. He's entirely green about something he should have learned -- forever ago. God, he knows how to pick 'em.

... He walks with Aizawa, but he's clearly in deep, spiraling thought.

Save him from himself, it's all happening so fast.]

[It's easy enough to grab up all his things that he was going to bring home. It's really just the equivalent of a backpack and a duffel bag that he'd somehow successfully been living out of for two months. There's no way he's going to let Toshinori carry anything, not when he can do so easily. Still, he makes sure to shift things around so that his hand that rests between them as they walk is empty. Even if it's not taken.]

[They'll walk together, make it out of the high-security part of UA together. The atmosphere shifts, a tiny bit, as they're outside of school. There's the briefest brush of their hands together before Shouta realizes that Toshinori's definitely... distracted. Ah, great. Way to make him start to think the whole thing was a bad idea.]

Toshinori. [Think, Shouta, Hizashi always told you it was important to talk in relationships and you're finally in one again. Say something.]

Are you wasting your time [with me] worrying about something pointless? [Yes, that's an excellent way to ask someone what they're thinking about. It definitely doesn't come across as dismissive at all. This is how you open communication pathways in a relationship, he's an expert. ... Or, well, in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is a king.]

I never worry about pointless things!

[He says with some oomph, with the complete obliviousness that he probably does so quite often. But this time it's true either way -- there's nothing more important to worry about! He isn't really sure how to approach the topic without sounding grindingly self-deprecating or insecure, though, and the last thing he wants is for Aiza-- Shouta to give him a routine glower and lecture about it, so he flounders for something to replace his concerns with.]

-- Did you like the bento?

[The rice was cat-shaped, with little whiskers and everything. He wishes today hadn't been such a ball of anxiety for the two of them, but...! He'll make it up to him with another, better box! With less concern over sudden revelations of love. Yep.]

[He absolutely doesn't believe you, Toshinori.]

[Still, the other's able to ask a question, so that moves the conversation along. If they're going to be spending so much time together, he can slowly needle the other into telling him. He was selfish but that didn't mean he wanted the relationship entirely at his own whims. Asking Toshinori to confide in him, being one of the few people who could hear his worries... he selfishly wanted that, too.]

I did. [There's a small shift of his head, a little embarrassed but, not going to lie about it.]

It was- ["cute"] -good. ... it was kind of a shame to eat it. [Since it was so nice, after all. Really, making something cat-shaped then asking him to eat it is just cruel. Logically, he knows there's nothing wrong with it, but...]

[Toshinori is just assuming everything but what Aizawa is actually thinking.]

Aa, don't worry, I can make plenty more. You don't have to worry about running out! [But if it helps, he does finally grab Aizawa's free hand, giving it a firm and supportive squeeze; this came a lot easier when he's dead set on silly comforts -- there, there, the bento will continue being made, it says. With less loud determination:] ... It's nice to make something for someone, really.

[Is he going to turn into a housewife overnight?

Truly, his calling in life. Not symbol of peace, no, maker of cat onigiri. It's just. It's been a long time since he had real company like that. Tsukauchi, maybe. A truly good friend, that detective...! The last few weeks have been admittedly... too good. It's why he didn't expect it to last...]

[Any exasperation over being misunderstood is quickly silenced by Toshinori grabbing his hand. That's a little more comforting. Not natural, not yet, but it's a little more like what he'd want to be natural. He's quietly enjoying it when the second, less boisterous part of the sentence comes out.]

... mm. It's not something I'm used to. [He doesn't say it like it's sad, just that it's a statement of fact. That sort of doting attention, like a housewife or a concerned parent, just wasn't something he'd ever really had. As if to clear the air of that statement, he falls back on his old standby: griping.] And it was a bit embarrassing, you know. If I eat with Mic tomorrow, he's going to say something. He'll probably even whine and try to get me to trade something with him. [Because a cat onigiri made by All Might himself isn't just something you can let slide by. It's a priceless treasure.]

[There's a pause, though, where he realizes he's just griping. He doesn't actually have much to complain about and while with someone like Hizashi he'd just let it stay like that- he's trying to be a bit better. He's trying to be a bit easier for Toshinori who he entirely believed when he said he'd never dated anyone. So, he quickly adds,]

I don't- ... please keep making them, though. [and softly squeezes the other's hand]

[Toshinori listens intently, though even someone as ridiculously worried about screwing this up as he is has to smile a little at the complaint. If it's between Mic poking Shouta for food he made and utterly fucking this up? He'll happily take the poking... Aaah. He wonders if Mic knows...? He's pretty much glued to Aizawa, half the time.

He squeezes the hand in return.]

Even All Might themed ones?

[He looks at him, grinning mischievously.]

[His hero's intuition is horribly off if he assumes there's a universe in which Mic doesn't know. The man knew before Shouta ever told him anything. He would end up sending another text later but that was more a formality than anything.]

[There's an appropriately horrified and mildly disgusted face at the idea of his heartwarming cat bento being replaced with some tacky All Might themed one. For someone in love with All Might, he sure doesn't seem to like All Might much.]

... I'll throw it out, if you do that. [He won't even let Mic touch it, no one's allowed to touch it, it needs to be cleansed from the earth.]

[A-ahaha, he figured...

But...!!]

What if I make myself an Eraserhead themed one to match?

[... Worth a shot?]

[You're paining him, Toshinori, he's in physical pain from this decision right now. He doesn't really like either of these options. There's a slightly longer pause that still isn't a "no."]

... ... I don't know why you'd want to so badly. [Well, he sort of has an idea. Still, the fact Toshinori wants to is winning him over more than anything. Really, he was such a fanboy...]

Just... Just once, if you really want to.

Just once! I'll do it on a special occasion. Like my birthday, or something.

[Never forget -- HAPPY BASSDAY ALLLLL MIIIGHTAHH.

He wonders if Mic-kun just keeps track of all of the dates of birth in the faculty, honestly.

A warm smile follows, and he feels a little more confident as they walk -- because this was them before the confession, too. It was. Just... without the handholding. But it was the same, no doubt. It makes his walk a bit more confident, his stare a bit less worried, like this was all going to fall apart around him at any given moment. It's a good feeling. A good, good feeling.

Casual conversation makes him lose track of distance; they're at his apartment, climbing a few stairs -- he gets a little winded at the top and stops, per usual, to catch his breath -- and then... they're here. Door swinging open, both of them standing in what is so blaringly normal. They saw this often, after work, a little apartment waiting for them. But it's different now...? He's not leaving today. A letter is burning in his pocket, and he thinks about the kitchen. The couch. The bed. How is this going to change things there?

The idea of having to keep up and be worthy intimidates him, but...

He was a hero, once. Plus ultra -- strive, push forward, aim for your goal.

Turning slightly, he smiles.]

Want some tea, Shouta-kun?

[Who could forget Mic's birthday raps. He endured it every year himself, then had to endure it another time. It was almost enough to forsake the free drinks of post-work day teacher drinking parties. Almost.]

[It's a little strange for Toshinori to have told him he was going to die but still so casually talk about his future birthday. Better to plan for the future than just press on pointlessly, he supposed. It's not like he wanted the other to die, either... Well, if Toshinori makes it that far, Shouta will gladly indulge him. Or at least with minimal complaining. That year and the year after that.]

[Then they're back at Toshinori's home (not quite his, yet, that was too presumptuous), where he doesn't have to feel as spied-upon by the world, and before he can say anything-]

[... tea, huh. That wasn't the first thing on his mind. Still, that stupid smile makes him a bit more inclined. He's such a softie.]

Ah, sure. One thing first, though. [There's a quick wave of his finger, motioning for Toshinori to lean down a little. The height gap between them made it a little irritating for things like this. It was hard enough to be spontaneously affectionate.]

[He gets the feeling that Toshinori would just overthink the importance of "firsts," if he approached romance with any fraction of the seriousness he took heroism. While he didn't really think anything of them, he can compromise and get what he wants while preserving some sense of specialness for "firsts." The compromise, if Toshinori will let him, is a quick kiss on the cheek. It's a little scratchy, not perfect, and technically not their first kiss by romantic standards. Still, it satisfies him enough to patient. It will last him through tea, at least.]

[Look, Toshinori is probably going to do anything without question that Aizawa motions for, without concern for what follows -- it's why he obediently leans in, eyes rounded with curiosity, and is immediately and surprisingly rewarded for it with a kiss.

He leans back, blinking, before a hand reaches to smooth the spot.

And then he laughs -- a deep, humored laugh.]

Shouta's been dying to be cute all this time, huh?

[What? If he's going to be the virgin, he can at least get some teasing in before he totally makes an ass of himself later.]

[..... He got teased for it. Ah, he's going to have to text Mic. Somehow, despite a literal decade between dating, he's still somehow picked someone who's only going to get more annoying now that they've confessed.]

[After all, the connection between the two events has to be his preference for idiots. It's not like it could just be him.]

I'm just doing what I want. [His shoulders hunch up a bit as he turns to go start placing his belongings around the apartment again.] If you think it's cute, that's your messed-up eyes. [Anyways, this coming from someone who made cat bento in an apron and said "don't forget your lunch!" after him in the morning? That was definitely cuter!]

[He can't help but keep that mischievous smile for a bit longer, sending Shouta's harmless annoyance. It fades only a bit with a gnawing uncertainty, this time towards the kiss. Which he loved, of course he did -- he'd thought about a kiss for a long time. But would it be too soon to... well, he's not sure. He's also not sure if Aizawa is just taking it slow to relieve him of that fear, that fear of flying too fast and too hard into this new terrain.

He reaches out, grabbing Shouta's arm gently.]

Shouta.

If you want to kiss normally...

[He trails off, but he doesn't sound uncertain about it at all. If this is gonna happen... he needs to just dive into what he knows he can handle. Though... he hates to imagine anyone wanting to kiss this face, he's more than aware how little he tolerates himself and this "new" body. New like it hasn't been 6 years now. Ha.]

I would. Kiss you.

[He was fully prepared to take things excruciating step-by-step, if he had to. Even when talking about his excitement to be in the other's bed, it wasn't so much sexual as just- He could touch the other. He could brush against him and it would be fine. He didn't have to maintain a sense of control over his body, his emotions, and- maybe just allow himself to be called cute. Some would call him surprisingly easy to satisfy.]

[So there's a brief pause at Toshinori's comment, a bit of a probing look to check. Is he just saying that to satisfy him? It's so strange to him, for Toshinori to gently check his boundaries when Shouta has literally rummaged through the other's belongings.]

[He drops one of his bags on the floor, not caring for the noise it makes. He wanted to give his full attention to this.]

Of course I want to. [But he doesn't make a move because, well. Toshinori said he "would."] ... So? [Toshinori's the one who brought it up, so the expectant look is on him.]

A-Aa! Right!

[Oomph, there goes any flicker of confidence. What, you mean he actually has to start this out? He looks at Aizawa with a grimace, rubbing the back of his messy head and trying not to look too much like a kid at their first prom. He's never kissed anyone with a passion or anything before. Perhaps a childhood sweetheart on the playground when he was in elementary school, just on the cheek, but a real... anything? He's looking at this from all angles, trying to figure out how to proceed.

Okay, okay, he's way too experienced at being alive here, to be this ridiculous.

He leans, leans, leans forward, because Aizawa is a short person to him, just like most people are. Only most, though. And then he laughs brightly at how much he has to lean before he's in Aizawa's airspace.]

Maybe doorways aren't my biggest enemy anymore.

[It can officially be kissing range. Hey, did anyone tell you you have nice eyelashes? No? They've never gotten close enough without you cocooning into a yellow caterpillar? Haha.]

[It's a bit selfish, to ask Toshinori to start it. He was embarrassed. Still, even if it took the ex-Number One Hero entirely out of his element, it was what Shouta wanted. Anyone could kiss somebody, or want somebody, and that made being kissed or being wanted far more valuable.]

[It also made hesitation sting a bit more because the brain came up with a multitude of reasons why it might be happening. Maybe it was too fast. Maybe he wasn't ready for it yet. Maybe he had wanted this whole thing on paper but now that it was real he was doubting. How hard is it to just lean in and kiss someone? Then Toshinori stops to laugh and draw more attention to the time it's taking and-]

[-even with his worries, it's still extraordinarily tempting, for them to be this close together.]

... ah. [Fuck it.]

[He'll do it, push himself up to close the small gap between them, for one of the few people that made him feel short. He'll fix the inexcusable fact that their lips weren't touching right this second. Toshinori can get a better look at those eyelashes when his eyes close, because even someone like Shouta Aizawa knows that you close your eyes for this kind of kiss. It's slow, unobtrusive, but purposeful, like a way of proving he wanted to do this, despite the little metallic tinge to the other's mouth. His free hand comes up, to rest on the back of the other's neck, not with any sort of force, just to reinforce that this is happening.]

[From skilled older hero to novice kisser in .5 seconds, flat. A record. He's surprised by it, kind if dizzied by the prospect that this handsome, scraggly friend of his isn't actually just a friend of his and is now initiating a full kiss -- and he worries he's uncomfortably angular and sharp and harsh, and lord, if he chokes on blood at any point during these kisses he's going to throw himself into a pond somewhere--

But he sags, relaxes into it and closes his eyes in return. As much as he wants to look at Aizawa the entire time like some creepy old man, he at least is familiar enough with kissing to follow suit. It's warm, some kind of weird arrow that fires off, sends a dozen barbed tips right into your heart. Like, ah, that's what the hubbub is all about. And Ai--Shouta, Shouta would probably mock his age, if he said that out loud. Hubbub.

Anyway, he can barely think past hubbub, and he's not sure when his hand ended up on Shouta's neck either, but it's nice -- and when it's done and he leaves that metallic tang on Shouta's lips, he stares for a moment in surprise.]

... That was...

Really nice.

[Spoken as if he hadn't been sure any kind of anything was nice like that.

Sure, romance played it up, but... wow.

He goes in for one more. That's cool, right? One more?]

Edited 2017-12-07 19:23 (UTC)

[It's a bit stiff in that awkward, first kiss kind of way. How many times had it taken for Shouta as a teenager to finally feel comfortable with another person like this? He'd never known where to put his hands and just the sensation of Toshinori's fingertips against his neck say he's got a better instinct for it than he ever had.]

[He wasn't going to rush into a relationship just for the sake of having this contact but even that light touch on his neck is like his body screaming finally. He missed it. He wasn't the type to just let others casually touch him which left a void that had been restlessly waiting for a decade. It makes him want to keep his body a little closer to increase their points of contact. It makes his own shoulders sag a bit in that sensation like melting. If he were a cat, he'd be purring.]

[They pull apart and, unconsciously, Shouta licks his lips. He agreed, he agreed entirely, but the way Toshinori said it, so innocently just made him smirk. It set his mind alight with ideas of what to show him later, how to constantly keep him in a state of astonishment. For now, though, this is fine. He wouldn't tease him, wouldn't make a biting comment-]

[-and certainly wouldn't say no to another. There's a soft sound before their lips touch again, not surprise so much as anticipation, because knowing that Toshinori wanted it almost made his heart beat faster than the kiss itself. It made him lean a bit further into it and seem just a bit more wanting than when he was doing it just to initiate.]

[Ah, see, this is a little better. Right? Not just a cheek kiss. Not that Toshinori wouldn't settle for just about anything, but he wanted to at least offer some of himself, give a little of what Aizawa may have wanted... even if Toshi himself couldn't understand the attraction anyone would have toward the hollowed out All Might.

Ah. Right. He's Toshinori Yagi. All Might is, for lack of a better word, dead. Even if some sliver of him resides in this brittle body, that sliver isn't out protecting, or guiding, or being a symbol of anything. He worries, constantly, over the state of things -- he has to trust the heroes who stand tall in his place, but it's so, so hard not to dwell...

He kisses more deeply, curls his fingers in Aizawa's unruly locks, and blanks those insecurities out for the moment. When he finally breaks the kiss, he's a bit breathless, mind fogging.]

... The tea. I'll, um. Make the tea.

[Don't dwell, just kiss.]

[It's difficult to hide how satisfied the kiss has left him. Sure, he'd go as slow as necessary, he's happy with anything, but... Toshinori does want to kiss him. More than just selfishly taking, he can give something back, and maybe both of them feeling like that just makes it a normal relationship. He seems relaxed in a very different way than usual. There's a small, quiet kind of smile on his face.]

[Of course, those lips quirk up to show teeth again at the awkward remembering of tea.]

Right, of course. [He gently runs his fingertips against the back of the other's neck one more time before retracting his arms back to his personal space. He did have to put some things away, after all. But,]

You know, you'll probably have to lean down less on the couch. [Just saying. For once the tea is done.] It's at least worth trying.

[Toshinori's a little disappointed by the break in contact; he's hoping it doesn't show too quickly on his face, because aaaa, how embarrassing, to be that needy. It's just... difficult to explain to even himself, how lacking in that sort of... feeling was. It's not like he's never been without a kind hand, or something. It's nothing so dramatic...! But to have someone in a relationship, who wants to be with you, someone who touches like that...

He nearly sprays blood at the hint of a continuation on the couch. But he'll settle for coughing into his hand and awkwardly shuffling off with that lanky form of his toward the kitchen. Maybe a step too fast. Not that it takes long, with how big his strides can be.]

Tea! Tea, I'll get tea, yes.

[... Go ahead and settle, Shouta, he's gonna work on the tea.

... He wonders if Shouta's hungry, too. They have all those leftovers still...]

[For Shouta, just that was enough to metaphorically recharge his batteries. He still looks tired, that's not going to change with any amount of casual touching, but there's definitely a bit more bounce to his steps. Even when it comes to basic, simple tasks like placing some of his things back in the bathroom, unpacking papers, reclaiming those spaces of Toshinori's place that he had carefully extracted any sign of himself from earlier.]

[If anything, it's a more pointed sign of decoration than he's ever done at his own flat. That apartment was equally sparse except for a few little things with cat motifs he was embarrassed to bring over the first time. He should bring them over now, he thinks idly. He might get called cute again, though. He could wait for sometime that Toshinori did something so embarrassing it would go without question...]

[With everything back in place, he'll settle down on the couch. With some time to spare, he'll text Mic a simple "It worked."]

[Then, maybe bragging a bit, "I'm pretty sure I got his first kiss." The stream of reply texts briefly entertains him before he realizes that if there's just notification after notification he might not get to continue. It's then that he turns his phone off, shoving it into his bag for later and going back to just waiting.]

[Or, well, waiting with pointed looks over to the kitchen where Toshinori is. He'd stolen glances more sparingly before but now he doesn't have to. He doesn't have to pretend to be watching some inane television show, he's watching Toshinori, and taking a heavy amount of satisfaction in any nervous gestures he catches sight of.]

[Toshinori's in the kitchen, certainly having a mini-heart attack while he works. He has to remind himself that this was actually a while coming -- but it doesn't change the fact that it had only all really imploded this morning, all from the letter burning in his pocket. He nearly spills the tea before he forces himself to just relax, geez--

He looks and catches Shouta's gaze before flustering. Oh, he's been watching him act ridiculous, like this is the first time he's had someone over that he's crushing on, or something. Kind of lame, he knows; this isn't remotely new territory now, having Shouta here. After a moment, he returns, placing the tea down in front of them on the small coffee table with a huff.]

You've been enjoying watching me stumble around now, haven't you?

[He sounds humored by it, at least. Even it's kind of embarrassing.]

... Aa, careful, it's still hot.

Absolutely. [There was no point in hiding it. He was obviously watching and obviously enjoying it. He doesn't reach over for the tea, considering it was still hot anyways, and there were more important things to do.]

Did you want to try? [He leans over a bit from his place on the couch. He didn't feel overeager, considering the way Toshinori was preoccupied in the kitchen. He was interested. He'd discovered something new, discovered it was nice, and Shouta was capable of showing him. Somewhere in his mind, he worries that the discovery was all it was. Maybe it wasn't him, it was a desire for affection, to be loved, and anyone would do. There's a quiet grin on his face as he glances over to the table.]

[That would be fine, too. He'd accept that.]

Although, maybe we should just wait for the tea to cool... If you get too distracted, it might end up cold. [One kiss would turn into two kisses and somehow an hour would pass.]

[Stupidly:]

Kissing?

[He almost winces at his own voice.

Just... be yourself, Toshinori. Be what you usually are.

He's just overthinking this. Shouta's just expecting him, not someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing. He looks at him for a moment before huffing, frowning at him. Trying to look serious and failing, really. Good job.]

You're enjoying this, aren't you? You've got that look you get when you're pulling one over on our kids.

[COUGH.]

... Our students. Our students, that is.

[Yes, Toshinori, kissing, this time on the couch. They could also try it in the bed, against a wall, or possibly in the kitchen against the counter. Ah, maybe that would shrink the gap, too, with him sitting on the countertop, but then Toshinori would be standing for a while and...]

[Logistics aside,]

I don't have nearly as much fun with our students as I do with you. ["Our kids," huh. How like Toshinori to view it in that affectionate, familial way. It was another tool to tease him with but Shouta abstains. He could save it for later, if he needed to.]

Should I not tease you so much? [He can restrain himself a little. He likes keeping Toshinori off-balance, he likes the way he seems so out of his element. He just also likes being liked and while he's not good at changing, he can at least hold his tongue.]

Mmm...

Guess I can't complain about it much.

[He stares at him for a moment, before sighing and flopping over to lounge his head in Shouta's lap. You know, just like before, when he'd fallen asleep -- only this time he's taken initiative, because he... actually really liked it, and couldn't ever say it. But of course, looking back, he'd been kind of an oblivious idiot not to connect some dots.

Like, him thinking that Shouta had been... petting him...

He lays there looking up at the other, hands crossed over his stomach, feet hanging off the end of the couch. Such a funny fellow, flustered and scowling a little still, mostly in thought now. This spot... is a pretty good spot. Looking up into that mess of hair before, he hadn't gotten to appreciate the view. It swells something in his heart, and for a moment, he sort of forgets all of the complicated gears at work in his life. The vision from Nighteye, losing his powers, his health and Midoriya's harrowing future as a hero... He doesn't even think before he reaches up and thumbs Shouta's chin, brushing his bottom lip. The feel of his stubble is nice; he could never pull it off, himself.

His fingers tracing up to the scar on Aizawa's cheek is... a natural gesture, it feels like. Easy as writing his name. Maybe there's some hope for him after all.]

There -- now you're taller than me, Shouta-kun.

[He knew Toshinori remembered his shameful lapse in judgment when it came to hiding his affection. So he's a bit surprised to suddenly have the other on his lap again, as if it might be some form of counter-teasing. Could it even be comfortable? This was why he didn't want Toshinori sleeping on the couch every, horizontally he was just too much for it. The wave of thoughts is quickly silenced when the other reaches up to him.]

[... Not bad, maybe 80 points.]

[He tilts his head a bit, pressing against the touch. His more teasing smile settles down into something relaxed and fond.]

A creative solution. [And he'll move his hand over to gently push those long bangs to the side, then run his fingers through the other's hair like he did that very first time. It's technically petting but there's a fondness there that says: you're absolutely an oblivious idiot, Toshinori Yagi.]

Although it can be inconvenient in its own ways. [Much harder to kiss, for example, and, well, thankfully the atmosphere between them wasn't too hot or heavy. He's not going to say that, though, lest the other end up jack-knifing up again out of some kind of embarrassment.]

[There is the biggest shit-eating grin on this man's face right now.

Apparently, he knows just what Aizawa's thinking.]

Oh yeah? I thought you were supposed to be the flexible one among the heroes.

[Eraserhead, some sort of gymnast-warrior hybrid, hanging around literally to drop on unsuspecting villain's heads. Toshinori's not exactly that kind of fighter; he'd probably hurt himself trying to pull half the moves Shouta does.]

[Oh... is it on? It's on. It's hard for him to have mercy on an old man when he's so cheeky.]

Hm. [A pause, another brief affectionate touch to the other's hair.]

Toshinori. [With the back of the couch, he doesn't have enough room to really dip down and get close to the other's face. Still, he can lean a bit, let their eyes meet in the corridor of shadow formed by his hair hanging around his face.]

Don't tell me you're already thinking about ways I can be... [One hand stays polite, affectionately run through Toshinori's hair. The other one gets a little more bold, trailing down to rest on the other's thigh, slightly more on the inner side than the out. The final word in the sentence is said with a more husky tone than he usually used in the other's apartment,]

Flexible.

[... Okay now all confidence has been lost.

He looks at him with a slightly bewildered and -- sensually intimidated expression.

There is clearly such a thing, in manner of sultriness. He swallows hard, his stomach fluttering.]

... Maybe a little bit.

Can you really blame me? You're easy to think about.

[It's a bit like seeing him deflate, again. Not that he can really deflate anymore. That little yo-yo of confidence back and forth, back and forth...]

[It makes him sort of look forward to when they can exchange barbs about this as easily as some inane television show.]

Between you and me, I'm really the one more suited to having those kinds of thoughts... [There's a bit less enticement put into that line. It's an indirect way of saying- he does have trouble accepting that he's easy to think about. He doesn't move his hand any further down Toshinori's leg, just pausing to think. He'll keep up the light touch to the other's scalp, half-and-half spicy-and-sweet.]

[............... he'd intended to take things slowly, he wasn't even sure if Toshinori wanted anyone or actually him, and importantly, most importantly... he just really wanted to know.]

Tell me. [...] I want to know what you think about.

[He chuckles, though it's weak, like his breath is stolen. That hand on his thigh, despite not moving, is making him feel all sorts of things -- mainly because of who's touching it. He presses into the hand at his head. Is Shouta... serious? He'd been thinking about him like that? Geez. Mr. Gaunt Face, him? But he's pleased.]

Well... You're the first person I've ever really thought about like this.

................

Probably around when I joined the faculty at UA. It was just some... nagging thought.

[It's not like he feels some surge of happiness at being the first person. That would be ridiculous. That would be unsightly. That would be selfish, and greedy, and he's so pleased.]

Ah, well. That's when my thoughts about you started changing. [It was a slow transformation from the first time he saw Toshinori like this. It was easy to hate All Might, the boisterous, immovable, utterly publicized Symbol of Peace. Then, suddenly, he was trusted with a secret and got to see the first signs of weakness. It's not like he was attracted to weakness, it just got harder to hate him. Once it was hard to hate him, his feelings ended up scrambling in the other direction and ended up at love.]

[... but they were still talking about that way right?]

Even if it was just a nagging thought, to think about me like that then... Are you some kind of masochist?

[He snickers despite himself. So comfy, this spot.]

Aaaa, but you're very attractive. The scruffy look, you know.

I figured if I just thought you were cute and stood aside, I'd be happy enough just working with you.

[He hums, closing his eyes.]

I guess I was a masochist.

Your standards are too low. [he says, without thinking. Sure, he's in the exact same situation, but he barely put any care into his appearance! He didn't even try! Meanwhile, Toshinori... had a mess of brittle-feeling hair, still had a bad habit of wearing clothing not suited to his body, and literally coughed up blood.]

[Still, his standards were too low.]

... is... is that why you brought me that stupid, pointless introductory gift?

[He's a little overwhelmed by the idea that, for all his scheming and planning, Toshinori just- liked him? Before Shouta had ever stopped to decide he liked him first? Had he actually fallen into the other's trap? It's ruining his self-image as a creepy, lovesick stalker!]

[Ha! No really, he barks a Ha! at him.]

My standards are too low? Have you seen what's left of me?

[........ That sounded way harsher than intended. Cough.]

I couldn't at least be your friend if I didn't get past you disliking me. I thought a gift would help. Granted, I probably would have gotten you something anyway... There was a lot more than just formality put into it, regardless...

[He's practically muttering like Midoriya.]

[There was a lot more than just formality put into it... And what had he said at the time? Probably something like "I don't need it." He hadn't and he'd never really looked back on that moment with anything like regret. Still, it's just astounding to think about.]

So you've always had this habit of worrying about things pointlessly. [There's another gentle pet of Toshinori's hair. Never mind that, had he done anything remotely like a confession back then, Shouta would have doubtlessly turned him down. It would have been just as easy as rejecting the gift. More than rejecting it that time, that's what he feels a bit bad about.]

As for what's left of you, though... [That other hand shifts, now, tracing down the length of his leg as far as his arm will allow.] Objectively, it's not what people would consider attractive. [He'd acknowledged that time and time again.]

... Attraction isn't something that works logically for me, though. [He sounds a bit ashamed admitting it. It was a bit easier to swallow that he was illogical while in love. Love made plenty of people act irrationally. Attraction seemed more like it should be wired into the body and his failing to do so for years was just another oddity.] When I have feelings for someone it simply... happens. By the time I'd realized my feelings, this was how you looked most of the time. [he drags his hand back, tracing a finger along the inside of Toshinori's thigh, stopping a bit higher than before, resting his hand on the dip caused by sharp hip bones.]

... So, I've only ever thought about you like this. [He's embarrassed of his own irrationality but not of the fact he loved Toshinori's body. He can meet the other's eyes when he says it. There's not quite the intensity behind it as his earlier moments but there's no uncertainty to his tone.]

[Toshinori can't stop the little shudder that runs through him, especially with the weight of Shouta's hand on his hip. It's as he'd thought -- about being not attractive. Anyone with eyes new he didn't fit any kind of standard of -- even normal looks. He used to be considered that, though. Attractive. And when he was All Might after the injury sucked most of the life out of him, he played pretend a little bit. Everything was normal, everything was fine. He was all right, he was All Might, blah blah blah...

He swallows hard. His injury site is tender, aching, the scarring a constant pulling reminder. Now that he doesn't change form, it never hurts nearly as much as it did then. Now it just speaks to him in a little voice: look how far you fell. But he stamps down that ever-constant voice of self-doubt, the one that sounds suspiciously like him when it calls him pathetic.

At least Shouta likes him as he is. That's... worth something.]

And I'm the masochist.

[He doesn't get it, much like Shouta doesn't get it.

But.

He reaches and pulls Aizawa's hand into his own, his fingers dwarfing the others.]

Usually, I just imagined us doing things like this, this last month.

...........

I mean, mostly. I did dream about us in a hospital bed.

While I was in one.

But to be fair to me, I also dreamed about you folding balloon cats at the time.

I was... heavily medicated.

[Heavily medicated or not, wow Toshi.]

... I imagine that would have been pretty inconvenient, with the oxygen mask. Did you also dream that I was kind enough to let you take it off?

[The teasing comment lets him ignore the fact that he's just as bad as Toshinori. A lot of his thoughts were just little gestures. He could come up behind Toshinori and hug him when he was prepping meals. He could wrap his arms so easily around Toshinori's skinny frame as they slept. He could kiss him. Since that much had seemed impossible, the sexual parts were more few and far between. They were there, a Pandora's box that hadn't been opened since his late teens, but it's a bit- nice, to know their desires could match up.]

[And he was absolutely as much of a masochist as Toshinori. He just occasionally got to flip to the other side of the coin.]

... I don't remember, but I think...

[He's genuinely trying to remember this dream from, like, weeks ago.]

It's no good. I just remember balloon animals, mostly...

[He has gotten one of Shouta's hands in his larger ones, fidgeting and fretting with it absently, as if he's entirely forgotten the intimacy behind hand-holding in general -- only, it's still got its own charm, as he smooths his hands over fingers and kneads carefully at the front of his palm. He stops massaging to blink.]

... Ah, the tea.

[He says as he doesn't budge an inch.

... What, it's comfortable down here.]

[Shouta sighs. So balloons win out in memorability, huh... he'd have to fix that.]

[Not that he's making and bold movements to do so right now. He seems content to let the other mess around with his hand. For being so standoffish normally, here he's entirely pliable. A distant, far-off part of his brain reminds him of work he'll have to do or the generally low level of productivity he's been maintaining these months. He'd expected to double-down twice as hard on his work once he was rejected. Now he has to reconsider his schedule entirely.]

[Going out to do hero work at night didn't sound as practical when he knew there was a spot in a bed for him.]

We can re-heat it later, if you want. [For as much as he would worry about his work, he didn't need to toss that on Toshinori. It's their first day- dating? In a relationship? As lovers? So he could stay as comfortable as he liked.]

... I want to make up for the time we didn't spend like this. [He admits, more softly. Because, from what they've been saying... they could have spent the entire last two months with little sentimental gestures like this. They were both interested. God, they're both idiots.]

[He chuckles weakly, his own thoughts tragically in sync.]

Make up for time... We're both idiots...

[... Should he...? He should. Ask.

It makes his stomach flutter, and he hasn't even asked.]

What, uh. Do you imagine...?

I mean, what do you like? What do you want from -- this?

[Because Toshinori, he's... pretty damn easy to please. The fact that he's not alone in his home and has someone to lay his hand on, that's already something he never considered in a million years that he'd get. He had been... complacent with his lot in life. Romantic feelings sure do strike at the most unlikely times -- he's already how old now, and he's in -- puppy love, he's sure most call this.]

[It's puppy love versus a slowly dissipating stalkerish love. With his feelings being returned, he didn't really need to act so secretive about it. The sort of things he wanted to do could be done openly. So, with the world of possibilities securely on his lap, what did he want?]

... I like this. [He'll admit. It's a big question, probably one he should have had an answer prepared for. He didn't, though, and as the more experienced person in the relationship he feels he should answer.]

I suppose I'd like all of the normal things you'd find in a relationship. Ah, although, [he makes a face] I don't really like going out. [Does he even have to say that? Shouldn't that be obvious already.] ... if you really wanted to, I could manage. [He can imagine Hizashi's disapproving face if he never took Toshinori on a proper date. It shouldn't have an effect on the relationship but he can acknowledge how the absence of that sort of thing makes it look... insincere.]

And don't expect me to baby you like this at work. I'd rather the students not know. [How would they even react to that? They'd already lost their minds once at seeing All Might's true form. No, it was better to keep it away from the school. Even though the principal already knew. Hizashi and Nemuri would probably find out even if he tried to hide it. Especially if Toshinori tried to hide it. He somehow hid his injuries for years but Shouta doubts he'd be able to hide gossip from Midnight.]

[... He remembers the sequences of texts from just last night and has to bite down a short cough remembering tell him you want to Massachusetts Smash him.]

... and I'm happy sharing your bed in both interpretations. I can be patient, though, I won't attack you in your sleep or anything.

[His fingers curl a bit, brushing against the hand that holds them. It's a lot more indirect than his earlier flexibility proposition because, to be honest, he didn't want Toshinori to agree just because it was expected.]

... Unless that's easier for you.

Edited 2017-12-12 22:45 (UTC)

[Toshinori knows full-well what is implied here. He stares up for a moment, feeling apprehensive for a number of reasons, all of which aren't particularly from Shouta himself. He clears his throat, feeling the tickle of a cough alongside the knots in his stomach. Metaphorically, of course. A metaphorical stomach. Speaking of -- he's got no excuses he can pull on Shouta, either. The guy has decided to be this with him, even knowing about his health issues.

He wonders if he'll ever trust himself and Shouta enough with the big secrets. What happened in Kamino, truly. What Midoriya is to him. How he was born Quirkless. So many things... But also, he wants to ask plenty about Shouta, too. All of that is, very quickly, tunneled out of thought, shoved out of the way by SEX in big neon letters.]

I'm not really sure what I even like, at this point...

But -- what's a hero if he doesn't actually try leaping into action?

[He flexes a noodly arm, looking up and solidifying his place as 'nerd' in this relationship.]

[What a nerd. Shouta ruffles his hair excessively, like revenge for him doing it earlier.]

Don't feel like you have to rush for my sake. [A hero who rushes into something just for the action would usually just end up getting hurt, or getting in the way. He would hate to see what the equivalent would be for a relationship. However, if just both of their bodies were to move without thinking... well, that would be pretty heroic. Wouldn't it.]

So long as you figure out what you like with me, I'm satisfied. I asked for you, after all. [Well, more accurately, he asked to own a piece of him. That also ties in with just wanting his attention in general. So, Toshinori should find out what he wants with him. Still, there's no way he's going to say something like "look at me" "touch me" or "do anything you want to me."]

[Toshinori considers the situation with a critical eye -- despite the brute nature of All Might, he was plenty capable of assessing a situation at length! And what it tells him is ultimately pretty straight forward.]

Plan A!

How about... we eat some leftovers, watch some television, and then... we do the same thing we did last night -- but a do-over. Different attempt.

[He curls long fingers in the black fabric of Shouta's shirt hem. Admittedly, he's -- wanted to see him under all that black. It was an alarming thought at first, but like all persistent thoughts, it became a routine desire. Really, Shouta was definitely well built. Definitely. He probably looks wonderful.]

[It's not much different from what they've done before. That's the beauty of it, really. All the same things, just little differences. It would be like taking off training weights and going through the motions, seeing how they felt about it now.]

A do-over, huh? That's fine by me. [He could enjoy it a little more. Ah, he should have gotten less sleep last night. What if he's too alert during it? Well, even if he just lays there awake, it'll be more satisfying and less nerve-destroying. Maybe he'll wrap his arms around him... it'd certainly be easy enough to do, considering how slim his torso was, now.]

[And it Toshinori wants it to be different in that Shouta's shirtless, he'll have to ask. It's not going to come to mind naturally.]

You're going to have to find some other way to cling to me while we're eating, you know. [He doesn't sound too upset by the idea that Toshinori might keep clinging to him, though. If anything, his comment is less a judgement and more an assignment.]

[So begins the do-over, huh? He looks appeased by the thought, because now there's not some quiet awful secret, not from Shouta, not from Toshinori. It makes it both easier and harder all at once when he finally does sit up and make them something to eat. Because you know, before, it was just going through the motions of entertaining the idea of things you thought you couldn't have. Now, it's trying to figure out how to be... worthy. Of this. He's not sure how to explain it.

I have a boyfriend?

It's not wholly awkward, though. He sits and flips to some completely over the top cooking show -- Toshinori will never not laugh and enjoy really ridiculous dramatic reality shows either -- and there's some feeling of released tension in every gesture that isn't steeped in unresolved, hidden feelings. The tea is a little cold, but it tastes pretty damn good in the wake of everything that's happened since this morning.

I have a boyfriend...!

He only excuses himself closer to bedtime to take something that helps him sleep and apply a little scar ointment to his old wound; it pulls and itches sometimes, especially when he's trying to get comfortable. It's all things Shouta is probably at least a little familiar with, though he's never let him see the full process. Because he can't. Can't show him... that. This. The scarring, the crater in his side that feels like weakness. Reconstructed ribs, sewn together and thinning muscle over bone, missing breast that misshapes him...

He wonders if he can just hide it forever.

Or until Nighteye's vision.

The thought makes him shudder.

By the time he returns, he's in a thin and flimsy nightshirt (one of All Might's, if one had to assume) and sweats, looking a little exhausted on his feet. Sometimes a lot's taken out of him, depending on the day, and when he stumbles out of the bedroom bathroom, he looks like a kid woken up out of a dead sleep, hollowed eyes barely open.]

[It's the usual. They have a usual and now, rather than being a "usual" between friends, it was the usual between a couple. Shouta's gestures change a little. Where over the course of the months he'd gotten more used to physical touch, he's downright close now. There's barely an inch between their bodies as they sit on the couch. Shouta, as before, makes cutting commentary about the forced drama in the show. Sometimes his criticism will come with pointed grabbing the other's hand, though, or leaning against the other's side (ah, he's all bone, it's not as comfy as he hoped but he still wants to).]

[Despite being clingy (relatively), he doesn't intrude on Toshinori's space. He feels a bit cold, but it's time to turn his phone on again and deal with the wave of notifications from Mic. He needed to establish, after all, that the long delay in replies was not him stealing the ex-Number One Hero's virginity. It had only been a day!]

[He can tell Mic that there's plenty of time for that sort of thing, even though he knows he's lying.]

[Just knowing about that sort of thing meant he was closer to Toshinori than others. That's what he wanted. He could calmly say they were dating, they were boyfriends, lovers, but to think of being that intimate was what made his heart flutter. He would get to see expressions no one else ever would. His first and only relationship. The first person he'd thought about like that. Ah, he was terrible but maybe Toshinori liked him terrible.]

[Which is why he's completely unashamed to be wearing one of Toshinori's shirts with his sweatpants for sleeping. When did he even grab it. A part of him wonders if Toshinori will even notice, with how drowsy he looks. Still... that's sort of cute, in its own way.]

Ah. [he wants to tease him, a little, but instead he just gestures] Come over here. [He'll save the teasing for when he looks a little more awake. They can just settle down in bed for now.]

[Toshinori Yagi, former #1 hero, wastes no time lumbering over and half-collapsing into the bed like someone who has been on a terribly long road trip. It's not always so overwhelming -- some days, he feels an easy sleep, but some days sleep hits him like a fucking truck and knocks him back a few steps. Which is... frustrating sometimes, to say the least. He curls on his good side, looking at Shouta -- who is close, really close, and knowing he can now, he slides even closer. He hooks a hand on the man's hip with drowsy tenacity. Easier to do when you're hanging onto awakeness.]

... Sorry...

[He laughs, more a breath really, and presses his face against his own shirt.

Guy is totally unaware. The exhaustion had started reading clearly on him an hour ago.]

I was supposed to make this a better deal for you...

[How lame, that he can barely stay awake right now.]

[Since there's no reason for them to act disinterested, Shouta curls on his side, too. The other cuddles up to him and apologizes. He just brings a hand up to run it through the other's hair again.]

Did I say I was dissatisfied? [There was no sign of that when they ate, or during the show, or now. Well, maybe the fact his face was usually disapproving at best. That was why it was important to say so, even if the person hearing it was an exhausted mess.]

... I like getting to see you like this. [He traces his hand down, resting it on the back of the other's neck, a small, possessive gesture.]

Really, Toshinori... [A pause, a teasing smile.] You're the cute one. [Anything he did? Paled in comparison to this.]

[He grumbles in retaliation, burying his face. He doesn't want to admit how completely at ease he is, because it means he has to admit that someone who is the 'pillar of peace' wanted desperately to lean against someone else, to be a sort of weary mess that someone to card fingers through hair for. Things had been so consistent six years ago -- a routine, a regimen, a schedule both hectic and extremely focused all in one. And then, in a flash, six years of stormy seas. Never know what the day'll be like, what challenge was thrown at you, what ache and pain put you down for the hour, day, week.

He's never rested so much in his goddamn life.

... But he could get far more used to it, if it's like this.

He'd apologize for being so bony and cold, but...

He falls asleep.]

[... And wakes up tangled up in sheets and Shouta.

It's a slow blink, one that happens at 5 am, just before any waking up needs to even happen. Dreams are fresh on his mind -- no balloon animals this time -- but it hadn't been as pleasant as he hoped. It was an awful dream, one where he had imagined all of yesterday, one where he had encountered Aizawa at school and he'd coldly turned his shoulder away. It's with seeing him all over again that he relaxes and breathes sweet relief. It was real. Or it is, present tense, and actually -- it's good to see Shouta actually sleeping.

Normally, anyway.

There were plenty of mornings where he'd get up and Shouta was red-eyed and scraggly, looking like he'd never turned the television off to begin with. With that image in mind, he stares at the sleeping hero. A soft him escapes him. With some hesitance, he shifts under the blanket, dragging his hand over the firm muscle of Shouta's back; it's pretty obvious under the thin fabric of an All Might shirt. He's never really felt -- the desire to feel anyone like that, not without jest to himself, but Shouta sort of changed up that whole concept.

It was okay to caress a sleeping lover, right? He doesn't want to be a creep.

All Might definitely prided himself on not being a creep.]

[Shouta was fully capable of sleeping normally, in a bed, like a human being or something. It was just usually too much trouble. His sleep schedule was erratic unless he was exhausted and unfortunately (or fortunately) he'd actually gotten some sleep the night before. Toshinori gets a pleasant, long chunk of black-out to dream during, while Shouta's night is more segmented. That was why he was usually out on the couch, or just kept a sleeping bag handy, because if insomnia struck he could at least get something done.]

[... not that he's unhappy with how it is. With Toshinori asleep he can end up snuggling closer, getting himself further tangled in the other's arms, one leg settles firmly between the other's, until there's barely a place they're not touching. He plants another kiss on the older hero's forehead, blissfully unaware of the rudeness he's enacting in a dream.]

[And he avoids any nightmare of his own by sleeping in small chunks. He's drifted off by the time Toshinori opens his eyes again, breathing slowly and steadily. He shifts slightly under the touch, still staying within the other's grasp. There's a lot of muscle that never gets exposed due to the drab and loose nature of Eraserhead's hero outfit. Shouta would say that's part of its function, as no one expected him to be able to do what he did from appearance.]

[His eyelids flutter a bit, then...]

[... stay closed. Even as his awareness sharpens and he can feel the touch of the other's palm against his back, he'll pretend to sleep a while longer. It's an entirely natural curiosity, to want to know how one's lover acts while you're asleep. That's Shouta's argument, at least.]

[He feels for scars, really, fingers pressing softly against smooth fabric like someone trying their hand at braille. For some reason it's been on his mind, a strange want to know what Shouta's history looks like. He knows about the elbow, and carefully runs a hand over it, feeling rough skin there. His expression softens, sad; should have been faster at getting to him and the students. Carefully, he runs his thumb along the scar under his eye.

He whispers, low, very low:]

... Sorry...

[I'm Sorry, Aizawa-kun, he'd said. He remembers his blood boiling quite well at the time... A few of those punches to Nomu had certainly been dedicated to Eraserhead.]

[There are plenty of small dips for scars and old, forgotten injuries. The latest were the stitches in his shoulder but there's plenty of older ones, as well. He had a quirk that permitted him to be a hero but his body was in no way enhanced by it. Any time he hit a wall, he hit it as hard as a civilian did and he was as easy to cut as anyone else.]

[He mainly avoided it by getting the drop on his opponents. When he didn't there were large, spindly messes like his elbow. It's around then, the touch there, that Shouta realizes what Toshinori is looking for.]

[... and it's a little irritating, to still be viewed as something to be protected.]

What kind of hero apologizes for saving a life? [He can't hide that irritation when he opens his eyes, tiredly glowering at Mr. Sad & Sentimental. Of course the ex-Number One Hero couldn't just feel him up in his sleep. Of course not. It had to be something like this.]

[Toshinori should have expected that, really, and it pulls a grin out of him despite how sour Shouta is when he opens his eyes. He should probably be mortified at getting caught, but they're together now, so what's an apology in bed?]

... Aaaa, the secret method to summon Eraserhead...

[He huffs, enjoying the fact that their legs are still tangled up together under the sheets. Despite the throb in his side -- and he reminds himself that's his own fault, for sleeping awkwardly on his scar yesterday night to keep them more separated -- he forces himself to scoot a bit closer in.]

... I can't help it. I was late. I feel guilty.

[At least there wasn't an apology for the apology. That would just be ridiculous.]

Don't waste time feeling guilty about it. [He's never wanted an apology for that, after all. The thought of All Might arriving earlier didn't hang over him. The students were all safe. He would have gladly risked more to guarantee their safety. It was his job. Rather than his job, there it was his privilege to keep those children alive. His words are curt, but he doesn't withdraw any part of his body from this cuddle pile.]

I've got plenty of scars. I don't care about having two more. [He's literally gotten more scars since. The increased refractory period on his quirk was probably the worst of it and that change wasn't common knowledge yet. He could still work. He was still here.]

... they clearly didn't make me unattractive to you, anyways.

Of course it didn't. You look great.

[Still... He can't help running a hand along the scarred cheek, thoughtful.

Was he supposed to be -- open? Or is it too soon? It's been a long, long time since he's talked about how he feels about something. Since he's focused on a part of himself, in front of someone else. He hums, feeling at ease in the comfortable bed, secured by Shouta's body heat.]

I didn't have what you'd call an... outstanding childhood. And school was a nightmare, for a long time. Because of it, I guess I wanted to keep people safe... heroes and crushes included. Wherever I could use myself for good... I mean, clearly, it... was a lot to handle, and it took a lot out of me most of the time, but -- it gave me a purpose.

[A soft breath, as he pulls his hand away. And looks at peace, for once.]

I felt like I was living for something bigger than where I came from.

... I just wanted everyone to be happy.

I didn't ask for your praise. [he quietly grumbles at the compliment. He didn't ask but he still sounds a little pleased.]

[He turns to listening, though, when Toshinori speaks again. A person doesn't just get to hear about All Might's childhood. From the perspective of the world, All Might had sprung up from the earth as a fully-formed hero, ready to rid the world of its ills. It had always seemed highly illogical to Shouta, when he glanced over tabloid magazines back in school, that no one seemed to know where he came from. Everyone came from somewhere. Still, to hear it from the person himself...]

[Not an outstanding childhood? School was a nightmare? Those sort of things didn't fit with the puzzle of All Might at all. They were little fragments of Toshinori Yagi, something that had to be carefully hidden from the public eye. And those fragments were now entrusted to him.]

[How many times had he wanted to tell someone and how many times had he held himself back, Shouta wonders idly.]

If you were one of my students, I'd have told you right away that was a stupid goal that would get you killed. [Toshinori must know as much. It's not a surprise for Shouta to say that sort of thing, with a neutral expression, because it's simply a fact. He sighs, though, and closes his eyes again.] ... So, I guess it was a good thing I wasn't around, then. [It's the closest to approval he'll give. While he hated what being All Might had done to Toshinori's body, his state of mind, his sense of worth, it was still important that he was. Wishing for the happiness of everyone in the world, even just everyone in a city, was far too ambitious... but wouldn't it be nice if it could happen.]

... what about now, Toshinori? [The peaceful expression looks good on him but has he learned anything? If he couldn't live for the world, he would live for his students, and so on and so forth, a constant path away from the simple question of what about yourself?]

[Snort.]

Yeah. Good thing. I'd have probably gotten kicked out.

[The question leaves him with a pregnant and thoughtful silence.

He's clearly got Something to Say. But... how to say it.]

... Now... Ahh. There's something you have to understand, Shouta-kun. All Might, he wasn't just -- some persona. Not all of him. It's not like I always looked like this naturally, and it's not like I'm just one or the other, either. I was confident when I was out in the world... and I played it up a lot to keep people unafraid -- and in turn, that kept me going, even when I was terrified. What All Might believed in, what he said, it wasn't just all hot air.

That annoying guy, he was a big part of me, and he's just... gone.

[He scoffs at himself; look at him, waxing poetic. So stupid. But...!]

I mean, you probably find plenty both of us have in common that annoys you, but... Anyway. [He looks at him carefully, his bright blue gaze burning intensely.] Living for others... that's just... who I am. It's not because of what All Might became, or what I thought I had to be as a hero. It wasn't just to be some... symbol. That was also just me.

I'm at my most fulfilled when I'm fighting for the sake of someone else. When I can make them happy.

[Before he can give Shouta a chance to dispute that idea, he reaches over, using his index fingers to push the man's near-constant frown into a smile. He's clearly all too amused at the visual, he to is grinning like a madman in the dim room, albeit of his own volition. His voice is low like they're sharing secrets, even when there's nobody remotely close to listening in.]

If I keep fighting for my friends and students... and keep living for you, is that such a bad idea?

Edited 2017-12-14 06:32 (UTC)

[It's at least an answer with work shown. The final statement, if left alone, would just be frustrating. If it were just that, he might demand a different answer. It's something he's thought about, though. Even if Shouta doesn't personally understand it, he can acknowledge the thought that went into it.]

[He'd seen so many annoying things about Toshinori Yagi. Some of them were those holdovers from having to show confidence his whole life. Some were the new annoying things that came from being completely uprooted from the role he thought he'd die fulfilling. Then there was stuff like the stupid gesture of trying to make him smile. He's not smiling, Toshi! But that sort of thing was just him. Shouta just never got a chance to see it because the only time he ever saw All Might was at work.]

[He grabs one of Toshinori's hands in his own, to pull to away from the corner of his mouth so he can properly respond.]

... If I'm going to accept you living for me, there are two things. [Because, of course, he couldn't just accept it happily. For all his greediness and selfishness he wasn't happy to hear about someone living for him. It went against everything he'd tried to do. If he was trusting Toshinori to not just make him another thing to burn himself out for, he needed terms.]

Firstly, your health is most important. Don't lie to me when you're feeling unwell. Don't overdo it. Stop acting like you have to take your medications when I'm distracted. [That part was simple enough. Nighteye's prediction aside, he didn't want to worry about Toshinori dying in a hospital bed. Not when he apparently had more creative uses for a hospital bed that he couldn't remember.]

Secondly... [This one was harder to say, the words got caught a little.] I'm quite happy right now. [Even if he doesn't look it, criticizing the other while they cuddle under the sheets.] So, promise you won't do anything you're uncomfortable with just because you think I want it. Any time I kiss you, any time I touch you... I don't want to be bothered, worrying that you're just putting up with it to please me.

Got it, All Might? [He was both. He couldn't save everyone, now, but he could teach a class of eager students. He could keep one scruffy man happy. He could maybe even make that scruffy man smile... when he wasn't being such an idiot.]

[He's not remotely surprised that Shouta approaches this like a carefully agreed upon contract -- not by any stretch of coldness, but to be thorough and logical, as he tended to be. One would think it would be too messy a contrast with Toshinori to work, but, well. Here they are, breathing each other's air. More than that, he has to not chuckle at how much of a teacher Shouta's being; sometimes he thinks it's no wonder they ended up roping him into life at UA, even with his expulsion record.

But more than that, he's come to certainly understand that Shouta cares way more than he lets on -- worries plenty for his kids. Toshinori's not about to tease him for it. Yet.]

... Loud and clear.

Health first, comfort necessary, honesty counts.

[He runs a hand along Shouta's back again, just -- because. His scar twinges at the motion, offended by the pull of his muscle, and it reminds him of his greatest weakness -- shielded only by a flimsy shirt. Toshi has very few scars, for how long he's been a hero, but the near killing wound had more than made up for All Might's lack of vulnerabilities. He swallows hard.

The thought of showing Aizawa both terrifies him.

But also, it feels like it would be -- a great relief to just... get it over with.

Delicately, he pulls Aizawa's hand in, moving the palm softly over the old wound, like he's reaching into broken glass, careful not to cut himself or Shouta. Even with a shirt in-between, the unnatural curve of rebuilt muscle and jutting scar tissue is clear, and when he breathes in a deep, worried breath, the rattle of his bones thrums along Aizawa's splayed fingers, ribs sharp under taut skin.]

This is the worst of it... it hurts sometimes, especially when it's cold.

To be honest, I've been afraid that you'd see it.

[It's a stupid, stupid feeling, but. He can't help but imagine revulsion as the first reaction.

Even from Shouta Aizawa.]

[It seems like it should be strange, to so easily tug and boss around Toshinori. Back when they first started working together, it was nearly unheard of for someone to take that sort of dismissive, measured tone with All Might. Still, he'd done it, time and time again. He has the same advantage here that he did as a teacher: Toshinori doesn't know what the hell he's doing. As much as he tries to appear heartless, he can't just stand by and watch someone not know what the hell they're doing.]

[Then they're shifting from one avenue of trust to another. It was one thing to know how wounded Toshinori had been, to be aware of little bottles of medication and dietary restrictions. It was another to feel the curve of his side dip down so precariously. He can take a cue from how gently his hand is moved, resting it down on the fabric with a ghostlike touch.]

Ah. [It's not revulsion, just a sort of quiet surprise playing on his face. That surprise settles down, his eyelids droop a bit again and he carefully moves his fingertips to assess the state of the damage. Would it have been better to have just seen it at some point? His invasive nature hadn't extended to the other's body, that would have been a step too far, even though he could have easily yanked the other's shirt up at some point.]

[His hand moves a little, dragging against the fabric. He pauses,]

So is it better for me to touch it than see it? [It was something he wanted to share, after all. Toshinori wouldn't be so stupid as to immediately break the second clause of Shouta's terms. This was the level he was comfortable with in this moment. His fingers twitch ever so slightly, wanting to use his senses to take in as much information as he could about it.]

You touched mine, after all. [He says it seriously, for as childish as the justification is. His hand dips down a bit, to the hem of Toshinori's shirt, then hesitates there. Restraint.] Or would it be painful?

[The damage is far and vast; when it seems like Shouta should reach an end to it, the jagged scarring just continues on, from breast to belly button. Toshinori sits with a soft, patient expression, trying not to shudder.]

... If you'd like to touch it.

It's sensitive, but it doesn't hurt if you're not forceful.

[He trusts Aizawa to be capable of great caution, more than brutish force.]

It had been re-opened during the fight with Nomu; just my luck, right?

[He doesn't mind the inspection, if it's something Aizawa's not disturbed by. It's a big part of his body, the root cause of why he is the way he is. It'd be weird to deny that part of him to someone who was now sleeping in his bed -- yeah, he was okay with it. He clears his throat after a hearty pause.]

I can't let you see it, right now.

[His voice lowers, admittance like defeat.]

... I can't really look at it, myself, most of the time.

[He accepts what's happened, accepts that he's quirkless again, but...

It's just different, when someone you love faces a body you greatly dislike.]

I'm not surprised. [In answer to a lot of things: that the wound was re-opened by that incident or that it was something he'd be denied for now. Of course, Toshinori saying that ignited an urge to see it, but he wasn't about to cross a boundary he set out himself.]

[It gave him time to adjust to it, as well. When he did see it, he'd have to take every care not to flinch or give Toshinori any reason to hate it more. He could get used to it pieces by piece.]

[With Toshinori's approval, he slips his hand other the other's shirt, quickly making contact with the heavily scarred skin. A bit of skin is exposed by the movement but Shouta doesn't look. His eyes are trained on the older man's face, which could be embarrassing in its own way. He starts to trace his hand up, fingers stretching over the expansive scar as if to make a map of it in his mind.]

[There was a lot to map.]

[So he makes sure to brush against every dip, finding ridges in it that seemed to lead up into a crater of a wound. It felt a bit like a shattered window where, if he were cruel enough to put pressure on it, it would creak and fall apart. So every movement is slow, deliberate, and gentle in its own way. It was analytical, but not cold, the way a scholar deals with a well-worn book. He loses track of time, a little, just feeling the other's scarred skin, finding an outline to it, and forming an image in his mind. The extent of it is obvious, when Shouta's arm is almost entirely up the other's shirt, the scar tissue of his elbow brushing against that radiating wound.]

[He glances down, only slightly, to confirm the position of his hand tenting up the other's shirt. Like it or not, that information would come back to him looking at Toshinori in a suit, or a hospital gown, that there it was, carefully hidden. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath.]

... I think I underestimated how lucky you were to be alive. [He mumbles. Shouta traces over the pectoral muscle- or at least where it should be.] And yet you're still sorry for mine... [There's a small, perhaps self-deprecating smile.]

[He turns a few shades pinker, the contrast obvious against his paler skin, when Shouta's hands roam him. Now this is something nobody has done -- not kindly, anyway. Plenty of villains have grabbed him, twisted their fingers in his skin, tried to tear at him, rip him apart. It makes him shiver as careful fingers brush the flesh of his chest, just over where his left nipple would've been.]

I can't say I'd disagree... Nobody had thought I'd survive the night, at the time.

[He slides his arms around Shouta, pulling him so close, their bodies are pressed warmly.]

Aaa... but just because I'm hard to kill doesn't mean I want to see anyone else in pain, y'know.

[Especially not you, you fool.]

[What a different world it would be, if he hadn't survived that. He's grateful. He's grateful this stupid, nigh-indestructible man is here.]

I've forgotten most of the pain. [He shakes his head a little, dismissively. Certain things were just too painful for the body to forget. It was locked away in the brain, enough to make little aches and pains seem worth complaining about again. A human wasn't built to process that much pain.]

Although, it was really irritating to go about my business with all those bandages. And Mic forcing me to commentate... [he grumbles, as if it were reasonable to complain about that when he could have died. All the while he traces small circular patterns over the other's scar, mapping and thinking.]

... I do remember parts, though. I remember negotiating with my body, "Just let me move a bit more." "Just let me open my eyes one more time." "Whatever happens after that is fine." [As much as he would criticize Toshinori for how he wore himself down, in that moment he was the exact same. He wasn't afraid of dying then, what he was really scared of was..]

... I never thanked you properly. [his hand stills] For saving the students.

[Or himself.]

[Pffft.]

Your thanks is not necessary; I'm a hero, too, after all. But careful -- you'll start to sound like me. [A pause, as he shifts to wrap his leg around Shouta's. They're short compared to his, which is funny, considering the other man's still taller than an average human.] ... It's easy to get lost in the cause, especially when you care with your entire body and soul.

After all, you love your class.

[He has such an impish little smile.]

You're the one who saved them, in the end. I wouldn't have been able to do anything if you didn't defend them first.

[How dare you imply he feel anything but cold, analytical ambivalence about his class. That he clearly cares for deeply. That he hasn't expelled a single member of. He snorts a bit, not denying it out loud.]

Just shut up and accept it. [He half-kicks at the other under the sheets, which is rather useless when they're so entangled. Done tracing the front of the scar, he drags his hand over the other's side to rest on the back.]

If I get credit for saving them, you undeniably saved me. [There was no one reasonable in that bunch of villains. Once his strength gave out and he was no longer fun to play with he would have been unceremoniously ground into the dirt, face first. He was another person that was alive thanks to the Symbol of Peace. He won't risk sounding even more like Toshinori by saying something corny like "my hero." He wasn't some lovestruck fan, he was a lovestruck equal.]

... I'm trying to praise you, idiot... [And he buries his face in the space between Toshinori's chest, now just a petulant mess of bedhead.]

[He laughs deeply, his shoulders shaking with the effort, voice thrumming through his chest -- at Shouta's expense of course, but he at least relents and presses his chin into the unruly black hair. Y'know, if they get any closer, they'd probably fuse into one magical hero at this point. It's a nice feeling, anyway.]

Your praise is with a whole decades worth, with how hard it is to get! I'm rejuvenated! I already feel All Might's powers returning to me from the sheer strength behind your words...!!

[He holds up his hand and makes a huah! noise, an All Might-sized arm pointed up proudly at the ceiling, straining to keep appearance.]

I'm reborn!!

[oh my god he's mocking himself, lookit that]

[sigh]

[There's a quick movement of his fingertips and he searches for the edge of scarred skin, finally dips onto the normal smooth, skin and jabs his finger there as a punishment. It's the equivalent of a forehead flick, like something to say "cut it out," the instinctive way he reacts to it. It's not like he hates it, though. That sort of over-dramatic flair was a part of the package.]

[Although... He can match the comically exaggerated response. That unruly mess of hair flares up, floating a bit in the air, and even though his face is hidden one can tell his eyes are red. After a second, though, it abruptly stops and Shouta pulls back from their one-genre-change-away-from-a-fusion cuddle. There's a pause.]

... eye drops. [That's why. He'll finally slip his arm back out from under the other's shirt, pulling it back to rub his eyes irritably. He'd sort of forgotten what a pain it was to use his quirk so soon after waking up. He doesn't seem to be moving, though. Maybe the comment was less of an explanation and more of an order.]

[Ack, defeated. He flops more comfortably with a grunt of disapproval and the slightest hiss of air, rubbing his own eyes as he tries to process what Shouta's talking about. Oh, oh right! Right, Shouta's eye drops...

He sits up quickly, looking around for Shouta's uniform while his body screams its mild protest; his joints are always stiff as hell in the morning, a cough bubbling up as he stands up like an old man, hand on the dresser and motions looking particularly routine. It's a little cold, and he's already decided he's going to need to find his heating pad -- something he usually does behind closed doors, though he figures if Shouta knew about his fanmail, he'd have snooped enough to find the equipment he's build up an arsenal for by now.]

... Eye drops, eye drops...

[He mumbles it mostly to himself, a determined furrow to his brow as he seeks out the man's supplies. Because Toshinori can't do anything half-heartedly.]

Ah, got it! Over here...

[While one eye is covered by his hand, idly rubbing to get any traces of sleep away, the other stays trained on Toshinori's back. He traces his eyes along where the scar should be, trying to line up his mental map. For as much time as he spent on it... he wanted to touch more. Next time, he's going to take his time to explore everything, scarred or unscarred, every last centimeter.]

[Within reason. Maybe. If he couldn't look, he at least wanted to touch.]

[Impure thoughts aside, it was probably a bit mean to make Toshi go get them. Still, the way he just does it, treating it as importantly as anything else, makes a small smile form on Shouta's lips. And he said he felt fulfilled helping others, right? He could give minor, easy-to-satisfy orders like that while taking care of the important things himself. Not that getting his eyedrops right this minute wasn't world-endingly important. He blinks and it goes so slowly, please help him, All Might, he needs you.]

My hero. [he says, flatly, holding his hand out expectantly.]

[He holds it juuuust out of reach, leaning in on the edge of the bed with a little smile.]

I don't know, Shouta-kun... I might become a villain!

Then who'll give you the eye drops?

[He's in a particularly good mood; usually not the case for him, in the morning. If he's honest. Usually it's just aches and pangs and him being lost in his own thoughts until he can meet Shouta in the living room and kitchen. Now, he's aches and pangs and Shouta in his bed. Big difference. He can't help but be a little happy, even if his joints complain.]

[It's definitely a good mood. He'd initially had the impression that Toshinori must be an insufferable morning person. Once that idea had slowly been distilled by the fact he was so tired in the mornings... he could appreciate a mood like this. It was hard to believe he was a cause for it.]

[Still, it would be nicer if he didn't joke about highly serious matters like eye drops.]

I'd get them from you one way or another. [He doesn't move, though, not even making a token grab for the out-of-reach salvation.]

... and considering you know what I do to villains, [he's still covering one eye petulantly, he'll still smile a bit, half-concealed by his arm.] I'd call you a masochist, again. [He curls the fingers of his extended hand a little in a small, twitchy gesture that either says "Give them now, please," or "I could get up and pin you at any second."]

[He flusters, clearing his throat before diving in -- metaphorically -- headfirst.]

I guess if I'd want anyone to tie me up...

[God, don't finish that, he thinks. He sits down on the edge of the bed fully and carefully gives the eye drops to Aizawa, turning is back for just a moment to him to knead his low back with his thumbs -- trying and failing not to groan a little. Schedule, schedule... Hot shower, medication, dressing, breakfast. It suddenly seems far less enjoyable compared to laying around in bed with Shouta. Aaa, he can't go turning into some lazybones teacher now.]

[His eyebrows raise, just a little, like he's a little surprised but knows he shouldn't be.]

Masochist. [said harmlessly, as if it were just another observation like Toshinori's hair color or eye color. He shifts up to sitting so he can safely tilt his head up for one drop, two drops... the world gets a little less painful to look at. slowly, other thoughts about the day pile in, like what time it was or what he should be doing. He blinks a few times, letting the relief set in. Much better. As much as the morning and their time together was special...]

You should shower. [He presses a hand, softly, against the other's back.] If you look disheveled at work today, Hizashi's going to assume all sorts of things, you know. []

[He scoffs a little. Really, he already expects Yamada-kun to be in the know, all things considered; they're such good friends, Shouta and him, he'd be surprised if nothing slipped through to voice hero Present Mic's radiospace.]

I think he'll probably assume plenty anyway, but... good plan.

[He almost invites Shouta to join him. Almost.

But then he remembers what he looks like under the sweats and shirt, and his confidence flounders.]

I'll be back. Try not to end up sleeping somewhere else in the house while I'm gone.

[He's just trying to save Toshinori choking on his coffee or something when Mic makes a comment asking how many states of smash they got through last night. Shouta's expecting it, the least he can do is give Toshi a warning. He would warn for Nemuri as well, but if Toshinori didn't expect it from the 18+ Hero then he was too stupid to survive.]

I'll try. [Sharing a shower wasn't a good plan for work days anyways. The hours for teaching were less flexible than hero work. It doesn't stop him from idly following Toshinori with his eyes as he goes, thinking about it. Some other time, maybe.]

[The idea of just staying in bed is far less appealing with the blond man out of it, though. Shouta will pull himself out after a few more sluggish minutes. He'll busy himself with some early-morning stretches. It's nothing new for their shared time at the apartment. Some mornings, if he wasn't sitting on the couch as if he'd never settled down to sleep, Toshinori would exit the bedroom to find him in the middle of some absurd set of push-ups. It's nothing so intense this morning, just something to pass the time and work any lingering stiffness out of his own limbs.]

[Man, morning showers are the best for these old worn-out limbs. He turns it fairly hot and lets it scrub away the aches from his middle back and shoulders. His doctor has always scolded him about how terrible his posture is -- but he can't help it, when he needs to bend a bit to be more on people's levels... Fortunately, his shower head's been put up high, so even if his legs can't fit the tub, he at least can enjoy the steam and warmth.

He comes out with his suit pants and undershirt already on (dressing in front of Shouta is too much, too much already, okay -- he can't), and stops for a moment to stare at the exercising man. It's a, um, a uh -- a good look. A really good look. He's also kind of jealous he has the capacity to do any of those push-ups, because he used to do those. Maaan.

... It's... nice... to watch... Shouta... though...

Sorry, he's staring a little. A lot. Now that he's allowed, instead of averting his gaze carefully.]

[The musculature that Toshinori was admiring earlier and tracing over with his fingertips has to come from somewhere. He'll finish up the last couple remaining before pushing himself up off the ground and standing. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, the other coming up to instinctively rub over that scarred skin of his elbow.]

[He's not surprised when he turns and see Toshinori staring, of course. He heard the door. He's just wondering if it was really so interesting to watch. In certain ways, he could be very predictable. In moments like that, though, he wouldn't have a clue if he was just admiring it or actually having any impulses. There was that aspect of puppy love to it, yet... they were two grown men. Ah, well, communication. Communication about that could wait, considering they had work.]

Ah, there. You look presentable. [It's technically a compliment. He'd always enjoy tired, casual Toshinori more for being something that's for his eyes only. This had its own charms, though, as he gently pats a hand against that shirt that actually fits right. He'll close the space between them and, there it is again, that quick and casual "down here" gesture. Talking about scars had stopped them from having a proper "good morning" kiss before.]

[You know, it was probably pretty damn obvious he was just staring -- he wasn't exactly being covert about it -- but he's still a little embarrassed anyway. Glancing down at the hand (a clear distraction), he's very nearly caught entirely off-guard by the kiss. But it's nice -- really nice, and he leans into it and enjoys it and... did yesterday happen? It really happened, didn't it...?! It surprises him every single damn time, how fast life swerves. Changes.

When the kiss is broken, he smiles a little.]

I hope so... I spent way too much on clothes that actually fit now.

[It's weird to know he'll never really be what he was.

Or rather, even if he wanted to indulge in that split second of All Might form, he'll just ruin all his clothes.

So... best to just not.]

[Life had been changing for a few months now. Still, this was an easily-observable swerve that made both of them stop to realize how much had changed. For Shouta, it was interesting to see how much had stayed the same, how quickly he fell back into old habits. As unsuited to a relationship as he claimed to be, his mind had clicked back into that place quickly and fluidly.]

[He'd never say anything like he missed this feeling, but... maybe his heart was a bit needier than he acknowledged.]

It was worth every penny. [Not only were the clothes nice, they were a part of that mourning process. The idea that, even if he could snap back to that form, it didn't exactly match where his life was now.]

Well, [pulling his hand back,] I'll shower now. [And, since he doesn't have nearly Toshinori's level of body complex, he'll be pulling off his shirt as he goes. He doesn't pause or linger so his back isn't visible long but there are the mess of small, pale scars that could be felt earlier.]

[He curls a hand in the fabric of his collar, strangely relieved by the compliment. Not that he thought Shouta would think any other way (after all, he was a logical creature, wasn't he?), but also by the sheer fact that it was noted. He's been scared to death of 'change', even though his life has been constantly changing the last six years. It's more... this last change was... unquantifiable. Larger than life. More than he's ever lost since the most important loss — Shimura-sensei.

He focuses on a less grave loss. That is, the loss of a shirt, and he can't help but stare at that also. He's almost envious... no, he's definitely envious, that someone could wear scars so handsomely. That they could be a sign of strength and — and look cool. Shiny, soft, but just a little jagged across well-shaped muscle. Scars can be attractive, one of the first-year girls had told him back when he was starting at the academy. Scars can be pretty — 'hot'. Must be why he can't stop looking at Shouta's back as he leaves.]

I'll — um. I'll make dinner. I mean breakfast! I'll make breakfast. Yeah.

[He walks oh-so-gracefully out the bedroom door.

Stupid bone-deep crushes. Stupid feeling like a teenager again.]

[Just the tail-end of babbling that he catches before closing the door behind him is delightful. It's maybe his own shade of adolescent joy, knowing he could catch the attention of the person he loved in such a way. To fluster him. And it was so easy! That was hardly trying, to be honest, there wasn't even a suggestive gesture mixed into it. From his perspective, it just means that Toshinori has the same sort of abnormality he does- overlooking unattractive traits just due to those pesky feelings.]

[Still, he's pleased. He's pleased for his body to not get that sad, remorseful reaction when it came to scars and injuries. That's another change that's not so easily driven home by a change of clothes or something. Sometime, he thinks, idly rubbing the scar over his elbow, he wants them to be even on the idea of who is protecting who.]

[For someone who takes naps all over, Shouta doesn't take too long in the shower. Maybe it's that weird edge of frugality he showed here and there. Maybe it was just illogical to waste water. Maybe he was part cat and only barely tolerated getting wet.]

[So, with less time to get stuck in thoughts about hot scars and new, young boyfriends, Shouta will be back, once again concealed by drab, black, slightly loose clothes. There are still a few things he needs to attach to make his hero outfit complete, including the capture cloth that still lay abandoned. That could be done after some important boyfriend-watching. Or breakfast, whatever.]

[For Shouta, the most terrible fate —

A box of All Might cereal brand cereal, sitting on the counter.

Okay, okay, Toshinori also made toast and egg and soup for Mr. Eraserhead (the simplest, quickest, 'most logical'), but he'd gotten a damn near lifetime supply of the stuff from the company who'd made it — so he tends to snack on them when he thinks he can handle that kind of sugar, no milk, casual as he reads the paper. It's not particularly convenient or healthy-looking, but you gotta live a little, right? Instead of oogling Shouta, he's staring with a furrowed, pensive brow at what he's reading.

He's apparently deeply interested in it, and it's clear to see why — CRIME ON THE RISE, 3% INCREASE SINCE ALL MIGHT'S RETIREMENT: WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?? Among other little headliners and opinion pieces. It's been an ongoing torture game, with Toshi: read the paper, see everything he could have helped to prevent, see what he's failing to fix, failing to support, and recycle. He tries not to... actually vocalize any of this, but the proof's in the pudding.]

Edited 2017-12-27 22:37 (UTC)

[The practical aspect of the cheap and plentiful All Might cereal is at least more palatable than the stuff itself. A lifetime supply of gel packets might twist Eraserhead's arm, too. As it stands, though, he's perfectly fine getting breakfast made for him. Even if the chef is letting himself get distracted.]

[He's distracted with pointless things again. Although, really, Shouta knew it wasn't pointless. He felt his own tinges of guilt, especially to be relaxing and enjoying himself so much. Still, whatever he felt was probably on a far less grand scale. His back-alley patrols weren't going to bring down that 3%. That was something outside his reach and now it was outside of Toshinori's, as well. He just didn't have the baggage of once being able to.]

[Well, that furrowed brow was going to ruin his appetite. That had to be fixed first. Really, any way of making his presence known should work, either through Toshi actually being pleased to see him or realizing he needed to cover up with a smile. He didn't need to do something excessive.]

[He'd maybe do something a bit excessive. Sort of like how a cat interrupts its owner by getting in front of the offending paper, there's the sudden weight of a pair of arms on Toshinori's shoulders. The one good thing about the other's ridiculous height is how, with him sitting, Shouta didn't have to lean down too far to hug him. It's a bit stiff, for a moment, before he's able to relax into it with a clear intention:]

I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I. ["Hey, pay attention to me. Me."]

[As testament to how focused he was on the paper, he jumps under the company of Shouta, and — aaa, was he really so intense just now?! It makes him feel a little ridiculous, which is probably what Shouta was aiming for. He knows, distantly, that there's nothing he has to do for the people. He's heard it so much, from so many people: 'you've done enough, you've gone beyond what you needed to do, it's okay to stop here, it's okay to not be All Might anymore'. But to look at headlines and see it all slowly dissolving...

It makes him want to change form and leap into action.

Only, the embers are all but extinguished. There's not much left within him, and it makes him feel weak. Stupidly. He knows it's a foolish thing, to see it as weakness when all things must plateau, and when strength comes in so many colors... but his were so specific... Aaah, midlife crisis, how he didn't want you.]

Sorry, Shouta-kun....!!

[He shuffles the paper quickly, trying to find a better article that isn't just him mourning the loss of his power.]

But look here! There's a train station nearby with a cat for a station master.

It's pretty cute, isn't it?

[That sort of feeling was important. As much as he'd try to distract Toshinori from it, as much as he could objectively say there was nothing to be done... the fact he felt it was important. Even if Shouta wanted to protect him from it. And even if he couldn't.]

[He hugs a little tighter at the apology, as if to emphasize how unneeded it was. If the fact his hair is still slightly damp bothers him, he should say something, because Shouta's clearly not moving.]

[He shifts a little, peering at the paper.]

I know about it. [Because of course he does.] Tama's a hard worker. [Because of course he knows the cat's name without looking.] And really cute. [Because of course that matters, too.]

[He grins, hand moving to grip the arm around his neck. Like all slightly uncomfortable things in his life, he takes a little wet hair on his skin in stride.]

... I bet we could go meet her personally. I could use my good graces for a quick visit!

[Mostly, he's serious, but he also would love to see Shouta's react to such a thought.]

[There's a pause there while Shouta carefully weighs the option of actually using the excessive, annoying fame his boyfriend came with in order to fulfill even more selfish desires. But what if it turned into a media thing? Still, it's not like he'd be featured in anything. They'd have to do it after work, or on a day off, and what if they were interrupting Tama when she was busy. How could he consider such a thing. The delay in response is a little hard to read, with their positions, but he's just caught up in thoughts.]

... I... [hm] I wouldn't mind that. [He'd really like that.]

If I called it a date, would you overthink it? [You know. Get flustered about it, suddenly care what to wear on it, that sort of thing. Shouta could stand going out, if there was a cute cat involved.]

Probably a little...

[He's an honest person, all things considered, though he's embarrassed to admit it...]

But dates are good things, aren't they? That's what normal couples do. Go on nice dates.

So I'd want to make it a really good one... with dinner and a nice train ride...and cute cats?

[A grin.]

[He chuckles a bit at the honesty.]

Sometimes normal couples just go on normal dates. Sometimes even bad ones. [he'll finally untangle himself, since it would be a shame to let the breakfast prepared for him get cold. It's not like it was even what Toshinori would eat. It was his duty to eat it, just like all the leftovers.]

... We can try for a really good one, though. [The real secret, that Toshinori would probably discover, was that any date was a nice date when you were hopelessly endeared to someone. He could let him worry a little, at least, within reason. It might be fun to watch.]

[It's crazy that they only just started being this. Or... maybe they were always this, just... unofficially. After all, they both had admittedly been daydreaming about the thought of it — did they play pretend, only not pretend, in the end? He can't help but chuckle at it.]

You know, as weird as a date sounds, the rest of this is...

... Aaah, it's all so normal. I feel like nothing's changed...

[He's kind of awed by it; he thought it'd go... differently. Feel different.

It's hardly a bad thing, judging by his tone.]

[Slowly, quietly, they'd already been doing the things they wanted to, starting with Shouta selfishly getting into Toshinori's place and going through his things.]

I've been here for months, after all. [And part of that still made him feel like some sort of invader. He couldn't have dreamed he'd succeed at becoming a normal, regular fixture of Toshinori's place. He has to remind himself that he couldn't have done any sort of manipulation if the other teacher had been interested in him as early as their first days working together...] I guess some part of you has gotten less self-conscious around me...

[A pause, a bite of toast.]

When my shirt is on, at least.

[... Drat, Shouta got him there.

... Honestly, he'd like to press his cheek on all those scars, and put his ear to Shouta's chest to listen to healthy lungs and a healthy heart, and he'd like to maybe do more when he's faced with those defined muscles, but he's still not entirely sure what that even means for himself. This part is normal. It's when he steps into the next realm of possibility that it feels like a fever dream. As long as he can make Shouta happy... that's kind of a turn-on, the idea of getting the other man to smile or enjoy himself...?

Humored by his own ridiculous feelings, he smiles a bit behind a hand.]

Maybe I'm still in the hospital, and this is just a nice coma dream.

Like that movie we watched a few nights ago.

[His eyes flick up, tracking the reaction on the other man's face. As simply as he'd told Toshinori to be open and honest, there was still a part of him weighing when to take each small step forward. Technically, none of his advances had been refused there was just some natural hesitation. It was just another unbelievable factor. Even when he'd had fantasies, it was always him touching the other. The idea of it being reciprocated was that absurd.]

Ah, right, the one with the incomprehensible sequences. [a short agreement, in between eating] And the pointless romantic subplot. [funny how he could still call it pointless when here he was, indulging in his own. There's another brief pause before he addresses the issue,]

Really, even if you were still in the hospital, where I stayed with you as long as they'd allow me and let the nurse call us boyfriends... [All of the evidence was still in place. Even then, he had these irritating feelings. Of course, he'd ignored his own trail of evidence, too. He'd assumed Toshinori was just too much of a pushover, too kind, and that anyone could get this kind of treatment. Anything short of an outright confession could be reasoned away and, even then, Toshinori had asked him if it had been a joke...]

It's not a dream. [This was more productive than dallying in hypotheticals.] We've confessed our mutual feelings, right here in reality.

[a pause, another bite]

... Mm. This is really good. [He says, completely separate from what they were just talking about. His meals were always scattered, few and far between, and sometimes he'd have to reassure the other he was getting enough food over the two months. That was when he still felt he was an intruder in the house. Now... Was this going to be normal, now? Routine, home-cooked food?]

[He somehow manages to feel even luckier about his situation.]

[Toshinori stares at him, eating some of that dry cereal from the cereal bowl, expression interested and attentive. But slowly as Shouta explains, he can't help but feel more and more humored — because here he is, sitting and eating breakfast while someone explains in vivid detail the reasons he's logically not in a coma. And then to suddenly trail off like that...

He stares. And stares more. And then chuckles, his laugh paper-light. He changes the subject.

Or really doesn't.]

Aaa... I love you.

[The explanation was simply more rational than admitting that he had the same kind of thoughts: that this was too good to be true, or couldn't be happening to him. He'd thought of a million reasons why his feelings were fated to fail, to crash into a wall of indifference or quiet denial, and yet here they were.]

[And he never would have imagined it as a logical outcome of his selfish decision to stay at Toshinori's place. He was now welcome to stay as long as he wanted. He was wanted here. He was loved. The reassurance to Toshinori had just as much been for him. He pauses to touch at his neck, that embarrassed gesture that couldn't even be blamed on his capture cloth slipping out of place because he hadn't put it on yet.]

... I love you. [These were mutual feelings.]

[All of those reasons why it wouldn't work just fell away in the fact that they loved each other. So, it would work out. They could deal with the issues as they arose. This was their "normal."]

[Could be either/or.]

[With Ren as the stray, would you be interested in prompts 1, 4, 15, and/or 22? Ren's naturally someone who doesn't have a permanent place to stay beyond a few months at a time, and he was raised within a cult that controlled even his education to an extreme. He's also transgender, as a note.

[He's mad affectionate, though? :)]

[I'm not interested, sorry!]

[Probably the one taking in strays.]

[Former stay adopting strays, pretty fitting]

[ooc: hello! would elias be interested in taking in an ex-prostitute trying to get back on her feet?]

[ooc: Hey gangsta! Sure go ahead! C:]

[ooc: omg! You're the first person Ive tagged here to know it! I kinda just..rolled with this. let me know if you want me to change anything!]

Alex isn't sure why he took her in. She'd been wandering the streets aimlessly, no longer able to return to the place she thought she might be able to call home. She had no where else to go, or so she thought.

Now she was at his--Elias's place. Honestly, she still hadn't wrapped her head around how he got them there, or what he was-- or all the magical things that seemed to be a part of his house. She'd actually wondered if she was starting to hallucinate again. What boggled her the most was why he'd even help her. The same question she had when Worrick and Nic decided to do so too. Was this..going to be like that? Where she grows attached, only to have what she's grown to care for torn away from her?

He'd had her cleaned up, fed, and even gave her a place to sleep. When she would sleep..which wasn't much. Whenever she did, she dreamt of monsters. Not the ones they tell you about in stories. This night was one of those nights, and she woke up with a start. Not wanting to stay in bed, Alex decided to take a walk around the house. Maybe grab a glass of water.

[wow really? lol ya i saw the anime not long ago and I picked up the manga because for whatever reason they stopped making the anime but I have yet to dig into the manga yet...got side tracked with this bonehead lol]

Elias had been looking for a companion since his last past away some years back due to her own magical abilities becoming overwhelming. He'd done everything he could and more, but it hadn't been enough. He'd never felt devastation such as he had and for months he despaired. Ruth left, and Silver grieved in her own way, eventually even managing to help him out of the hole he'd sunk into and get some normalcy back.

The years past and he resumed his usual work. Once in awhile he'd walk the streets, disguised of course with a little magic, what he was looking for, he didn't know, until he found Alex.

A new companion. Odd choice one might say, a former prostitute and druggie with no magical abilities whatsoever, with dealings with...what were they called? Twilights? Something of the sort. But he wasn't bothered.

But Silver was worried, though she spoke not a word. Perhaps she thought he was trying to fill the emptiness Chise had left behind. While nothing and no one could replace his apprentice and wife, he'd found he couldn't mope around for the rest of his days. Even if he only managed to teach Alex basic magical things like mixing potions and identifying plants for them, that would be enough.

He let her wash herself up, the tub filled with hot water and a few special herbs to help soothe her mind and body.

Silver made her dinner and then showed her her room before letting her sleep.

Elias had not yet gone to bed and she'd find him sitting by the fire, reading. He looked up when he heard her come down. "Everything all right?" he asked.

[The studio working on the anime closed down sadly. Hopefully another picks it up.]

It wasn’t surprising to find Elias there. She approaches, stopping by the couch. “I could ask you the same thing.” She glanced at the book in his hand. “Do you ever sleep?”

[ah, that explains it, went through a lot of that when Geneon closed in the middle of dubbing Helling Ultimate so there were delays upon delays. Fortunately it was a big enough hit that it wasn't shoved to the side]

"Of course" he replied, closing the book and setting it down on the coffee table and then standing. "Its not all that late though." he pointed out. Not even midnight just yet according to the clock on the mantel. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked.

Perhaps today had been too much for her to process. A little exercise to tire the body would likely do her good.

[ooc: Also it's cool to see a magus bride character here! I really enjoyed the manga]

Was it really that early still? Her body clock really was a mess. "Sure," she sighed. It was better than laying in bed doing nothing. "Oh, I'm not bothering your reading time, am I?"

[:D Ya I like the manga and the anime is shaping up nicely too]

"Not in the least." he said, retrieving his coat from the hanger and leading the way out of the house. The night was comfortably warm and fireflies lit up the meadow the cottage was situated in. He walked the path then turned left and headed for the woods.

"Please, speak your mind." he encouraged quietly, waiting for her to walk beside him rather than in front of him. "This is your home now. I'm sorry if it feels so sudden but I suppose you did not have much else to go to."

[cool cool!]

Alex followed him outside, feeling calmer with the sights around her. "You don't need to apologize..I'm grateful, really. I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't found me."

It was very possible she would have ended up dead, or worse, back to working the streets. "It's very beautiful here. Sometimes..I think I'm dreaming."

"Its all quite real" Elias assured her, though of course if she was dreaming, that didn't help. Still, he did his best.

"You like it here at least?" he asked, passing into the treeline. "I mean, you're not unhappy with your new predicament?"

It was a rather big change from streets to countryside, let alone more or less pass into the magical world.

He was really concerned about it, wasn't he? Alex gave him a reassuring smile. "It's more than I could have asked for, Elias."

He played a big part in it too. A beautiful place was just a place, but he had been so welcoming and made her feel...at home. "It's nice..being with you."

“Is it?” Was his company pleasant? He supposed she’d not say so if it wasn’t. Strange to hear though, perhaps because these last few years had been so unpleasant, surely he must be as well.

“While you don’t have any magical ability within you, I hope to teach you a little of what I can. There are several potions for example that you may be able to make.” An apprentice of sorts...though limited by what she could do.

"It is. You're..relaxing to be around." He was a very calming presence. Her tumultuous feelings seemed to settle when he was there.

Though she did wonder if having an apprentice was his reason for keeping her around. Still, "I'll do my best," was her reply. He was doing so much her, it only felt fair to put in the same effort for him.

Elias cocked his head. Hm, interesting. He didn't recall ever being someone that was such. Perhaps because her life had been so chaotic she really didn't have anything to compare him to.

"Tomorrow we'll work in the garden for awhile, won't get you started on magic for another day or so." he said, preferring her to settle in first before beginning anything of the sort.

"Ever done any gardening?" he asked, curious if she'd spent any time around plants, coming from a city and all.

Alex gave him an apologetic smile, shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm afraid that's another thing you'll have to teach me." There really wasn't much plant life in Ergastulum, nor did she ever have the chance to take care of any. She was relieved ,however, to do something less..fantastical. With something like that, she might be less disappointing.

"Then I suppose I'll teach you that as well, its a good skill to have, especially out here." he said.

They walked in quiet for awhile, pausing to watch some fireflies float and blink in the woods before pressing on, frogs and crickets the only noise.

"Forgive me, you must have questions of your own. Please do not hesitate to ask." he said, wanting her to be comfortable around him. Okay with knowing he was not a monster or the like, despite her assurance earlier that he was calming to her.

Alex would raise her hand every now and then beneath the fireflies, but not going close enough to touch them. She looks back at him when he speaks again, taking a moment to think about it. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but now that he opened the line for that, she couldn't think of any right away.

"Why..did you pick me?" It was the same question she had for the last people that helped her, but she never got an answer.

Ah, the question any new apprentice wanted to know.

"Truthfully, I went with my instinct and little more. I've been looking for a companion and while Silver is pleasant, she's...well, Silver. You seemed like you needed help, that you would rather be anywhere or do anything if it meant getting out of your current predicament."

He paused in his step. "So here we are. Does that answer your question?"

A companion..

"Yes..But what kind of companion?" Yes, she did get something out of this, but what did he get?

"A friend." Someone to talk to. Someone to share the world with him...

"Why? Did you assume more?" he asked, his bonehead lowering some to look her in the eye a bit better. Did she...did she want more?

Elias wouldn't take advantage of her nor of her trust...But such a companion...

That..sounded lonely. She's about to say something when he suddenly asks what she may have been insinuating, surprised to find him right by her face. Her face goes red at the realization, both at her words and their proximity.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean to imply that your motives-- I just meant--" Alright, admittedly part of her initially wondered if he picked her up for the same reason all the other men did, but he'd proven her wrong. After spending more time with him, she realized that someone as refined as Elias..there's no way he'd have a need or interest in someone such as herself. She did feel a kind of pang in her chest when she came to this conclusion, but she was determined to find a way to repay him..something that made her worth keeping around.

"Yes...," she finally admits. "I..did at some point think...you were after more but.."

He raised his head again and then touched her shoulder. "Its not why I picked you up." he assured her.

He wasn't human after all, such...base needs were given very little thought. But he'd not turn her down either should she want it. If that's how she'd like to spend time with him then so be it, he wouldn't mind.

Elias might look like an animal, but he was not one.

The hand on her shoulder was gentle, just like how he always was with her. Hesitating for a moment, she reaches up to touch it lightly with the tip of her fingers. "You're really...too kind, Elias."

And that scared her. Alex had warned herself about growing attached, having been hurt by that before, but Elias made that difficult.

He didn't flinch at her touch, letting her feel the smooth bone before he withdrew, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Come, let us head back and get some sleep hm? Silver is an early riser and likes one to be prompt for breakfast." he said, and they headed back to the house.

[gonna pause this one for now until we're done with the other ok?]

[Could be either, but I think playing the stray side could be fun. I'm also more than happy to play cross-canon and non-shippy threads!]

[ The stray! ]

[voicetesting! likely the stray, but could be either!]

[The stray, serial killer teenager in the making.]

[Totally the stray.]

(the stray)

[either the stray or the taker in. :) ]

[Can go either way, M/F for ships and OTA for gen/cast.]

They may bear their teeth to all the world, but never to you

beth greene | the walking dead | ota

Gabriel Reyes // Overwatch // OTA25+

Piper {Drive Angry}

Ranmaru Mori | Samurai Warriors | M/M

Luxanna 'Lux' Crownguard | League of Legends - ota

Clementine | The Walking Dead | OTA

Ayesha Altugle | Atelier Ayesha | ota

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1/3/13 + anything else you wanna throw in..!

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Toshinori Yagi / All Might | Boku No Hero Academia

14

bursts in late with starbucks

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this is the cutest thing i've ever seen

he does his best

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