Aizawa was both relieved and exhausted when he made his way to Midnight’s apartment later that night.  Talking to Shinsou had gone better than he had hoped for and by the time Shinsou was yawning sleepily, Aizawa was already feeling content and at peace with the way things were going between them.

Once he had sternly told Shinsou that he needed to return to the dorms to actually get some sleep, Aizawa had opted to not take his own advice and he instead left his apartment to head to Midnight’s, assuming that both Midnight and Present Mic would likely be waiting for him.

“You two still awake?” he asked as he peered into Midnight’s apartment, opening the unlocked door without bothering to knock.

“Shota!” Midnight called from the couch, dressed in an oversized shirt with her hair twisted up in a bun as she cradled a steaming mug in her hands.  She tilted her head back with a smile as Aizawa slipped into her apartment wearily.  “It’s about time you got here!”

“We were wondering if you’d ever make it here tonight,” Mic added as he sipped from his beer from where he was sprawled on the other side of the couch, his leather jacket slung over a nearby chair and his hair combed out and draped over his shoulders.  Mic pointed with the bottle in his hands towards the coffee table, which was currently covered with bags and boxes of take out.  “You should eat.”

Aizawa nodded, his shoes off and his body already moving forward in the familiar, well-established routine.  He was grateful that the two of them withheld their anxious comments and well-meaning questions as he sorted through the crumpled bags and investigated the contents of the now-cold boxes.  He could feel both of their eyes on him as he helped himself to some food but they didn’t comment as he slumped into a nearby chair.

Midnight, who had retreated briefly to the kitchen, returned with a cup of hot tea for Aizawa and Mic tapped on a whisky bottle with a questioning hum as Aizawa shook his head at the unspoken question.   It wasn’t that sort of a night.

Aizawa gratefully began to eat his dinner, not even minding that it was cold and ignoring Midnight’s exasperated sigh of  you know I have a microwave while Mic laughed.  Aizawa didn’t care.  It had been a long day and he hadn’t eaten since noon.  And Aizawa wasn’t the sort to be picky.  He was hungry and tired and all he wanted to do was consume the cold takeout and then bask in the comfort of his friends.  It was that simple.

Apparently, Mic and Midnight were only able to restrain themselves until Aizawa had gotten halfway through his curry.  Aizawa was mid-chew and about to dip his chopsticks down for another bite, when Midnight broke first.

“Sooooo,” she said, watching Aizawa closely and giving him her most sympathetic expression.  “How’d it go?”

Aizawa repressed a heavy sigh and instead opted for a baleful glance at Midnight.  “How’d what go?” Aizawa asked flatly, chewing his food and ignoring his friends’ resulting scowls.  He had hoped he’d at least be able to finish  most of his late dinner before they started pestering him for details about his talk with Shinsou.

“Shinsou came over, right?” Midnight asked, looking annoyed that Aizawa was even making her clarify her statement.  “I just wanted to see how that went after the meeting.”

“Oh,” Aizawa hummed, sounding less than amused.  “Is  that what you wanted?”

“Shoooo,” Mic whined immediately.  “Don’t shut us out!  We want to know!”

“Want to know  what?” Aizawa asked grumpily, taking another bite.

“How did it go?”

Aizawa swallowed his food and finally put his chopsticks down, looking up at the pair in irritation.  “What do you want to know?” he asked, too wrung out to even begin to play coy about any part of the situation.

Midnight smiled encouragingly.  “We genuinely just want to know how everything went.  Shinsou’s been through a lot lately.  And that meeting was — well, he looked a little shell shocked.”

“We want to know what’s going on,” Mic piped in.  “What’s  really going on.  You can shut Nezu and Hiyori out, but not us, you know.”

Aizawa sighed.  He knew the two meant well.  They  always meant well.  But he was trying so hard to deal with his own issues and uncertainties regarding the entire Lock Box quirk that he wasn’t entirely sure how to vocalize what was going on.

“Everything’s fine,” he said after a moment.

“Fine?” Midnight repeated, her voice lilting in a question.  “What does that mean?”

Aizawa glowered, knowing immediately that Midnight was just trying weasel information out of him.  “I am  not having this discussion with you two,” he said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“Why not?” Midnight grinned widely.  “Unless — ”

“Unless what?”

She looked curiously at Aizawa.  “Unless something happened?”

Mic’s head jerked up in alarm and his face paled instantly.  “Wait — what did you — did you  do something?”

“What?” Aizawa looked up from where he had sunk into the couch.  “No!  What the hell, Zashi,” Aizawa hissed, far too irritated to deal with Mic’s melodrama with any degree of patience.

Midnight smacked Mic’s arm.  “I meant they had a heart-to-heart or something equally out of Sho’s comfort zone,” she scolded.  “Not  that.”

“Well how should I know?” Mic whined.

“We  talked,” Aizawa said firmly, trying to stave off his exhaustion.  “That’s all.”

Midnight and Mic exchanged a look.  “But?” they both asked, tilting their heads in tandem that made it look almost rehearsed instead of just creepily obsessed with the drama.

“But nothing,” Aizawa huffed.

Midnight and Mic exchanged yet another look and Aizawa had to resist the urge to strangle them both right there in Midnight’s living room.

A slow smile appeared on Mic’s face.  “You look all wretched and miserable because you  talked to him?” he asked, looking more amused than sympathetic.

Aizawa shook his head.  “I’m just — I’m terrible at this.”

“Shota,” Mic said, his smile a little too gentle for Aizawa’s tastes, “we’re not here to tease you.  We just wanted to check in.”

“Could have fooled me,” Aizawa huffed.

Midnight smiled kindly.  “Shota, we know how hard this is for you.  But you can trust us, you know?  We just want to help.”

Aizawa let out a breath, trying not to literally growl in frustration.  “You know that — talking to people isn’t exactly one of my talents.”

Mic laughed, leaning back on the couch as he sipped his beer.  “Well, that’s not really a surprise to anyone, Sho.”

Aizawa glared at him.  “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Midnight said, crossing her legs as she settled back into her chair.  “Just tell us what happened.”

Aizawa’s face twisted in annoyance.  This was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it would probably be helpful to run everything by his friends; not only were they more socially adept than he was, but he trusted them and their opinions fully.

“He told me that Lock Box talked to him,” he grunted after a moment.

Midnight nodded, not looking surprised in the slightest.  “Of course she did,” she said wearily.  “Hiyori gave me quite a scolding after the meeting.  She knew we went behind her back to set up Shinsou going to your apartment.”

“We weren’t  that bad,” Mic pointed out.  “We only said we thought it prudent that you had a safe space for the emotional bonding — and I stand by that.”

Aizawa nodded.  “Well, I’m glad she spoke to him in any case.”

“Of course,” Midnight exclaimed before Mic could say anything.  “I’d be concerned if Hiyori  didn’t talk to him after that display.  It’d be downright irresponsible of her not to look into that.”

Aizawa hummed in agreement and picked up his chopsticks again.  “Well, Shinsou said he thought he diverted her suspicions,” Aizawa said, not bothering to elaborate what Lock Box’s suspicions were in the first place.  He instead talked around the issue like he always did.

“Well, that’s good!” Mic exclaimed, looking between Midnight and Aizawa anxiously.  “Right?”

Aizawa took another bite of cold curry while Midnight nodded firmly to Mic in response.

Mic let out a relieved breath.  “Alright, so that’s alright,” he said, combining his fingers through his long locks.  “So what else did Shinsou talk to you about?”

Aizawa chewed slowly, not wanting to discuss Shinsou’s concerns with his friends, but Mic and Midnight were patient and were more than fine waiting for him to speak.  Sighing inwardly, Aizawa once again set his chopsticks down.  “He wanted to know about logistics,” Aizawa said heavily.

“Logistics?” Midnight echoed, his nimble fingers idly beginning to braid a few strands of his hair.

“He wanted to know what the plan was,” Aizawa clarified, reaching for his tea, mostly to give his hands something to do.

“He’s  nervous,” Midnight said, touching her hand to her chest.  “Don’t you get it, Shota?  He’s trying to figure out how to proceed with this logically.”

“He’s trying to be  you, ” Mic added, looking touched but saddened.

Aizawa scowled at that.  “He doesn’t need to be me.  He  shouldn’t be trying to be me.”

“Shota!” Midnight cooed, looking far too enamored for Aizawa’s tastes.

“So,” Mic said, leaning forward, his half-braid forgotten.  “What did you tell him the plan was?”

Aizawa sighed.  “I told him we should discuss a few things first,” he said flatly.  “I asked him how he was doing — I know he’s been asked that a thousand times over but he never answers honestly — and he said his emotional state was fine and he wanted to know the logistics for how we were going to move forward.”

Mic nodded.  “That seems reasonable.”

“I asked him if he was alright with me returning to teach,” Aizawa said after a moment.  He looked down into his mug of tea and watched the steam swirling on the surface of it, feeling suddenly bashful at relaying his conversation with Shinsou to his friends.  “And — ” he added in a quiet voice, “ — I asked him if he would be comfortable going to my actual apartment.”

Midnight raised a brow at that.  “And?”

“He said yes.  And then he — he asked me if  I would be comfortable having him at my apartment.”

Midnight and Mic exchanged a look that was far too knowing and Aizawa pushed past it quickly.

“I told him it was fine,” he said shortly.  “And he said there weren’t any other immediate issues that we needed to discuss, other than figuring out how to bond.”

“Figuring out how to bond?” Mic repeated incredulously with a snort.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aizawa glanced up at Mic and Midnight, then hurriedly redirected his gaze back to his tea cup, but both of his friends had already caught the faint flush on his cheeks.

“Shota!” Midnight exclaimed quietly, looking both delighted and rather pleased.

“What did you tell him?” Mic asked at the same time, with an equally wide grin plastered on his face.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Aizawa huffed.  “I asked him what he thought we should do.”

“You asked  Shinsou what to do?” Mic repeated in a slightly awed voice while Midnight clapped her hand over her mouth either in shock, amusement, minor appalling or some combination of the three.

“He’s the one who was asking about logistics!” Aizawa shot back irritably.

“Shota!” Midnight chastised, despite her delighted grin.

Aizawa scowled.  “Shinsou wanted for us to bond more — to work on emotionally coming closer together.  So, I asked him what he wanted to know — ”

Mic laughed, looking more delighted than Aizawa would have preferred.  “Well, what was he supposed to say to something like that?”

“I don’t know!”  Aizawa huffed.  He sighed after a moment.  “He said the same thing when I asked,” Aizawa admitted quietly while Mic shook his head.

“Well, so what did you say?”

“I — told him my favorite color.”

Mic and Midnight both stared at him, their eyes wide.  Then they both threw their heads back and laughed, cackling at Aizawa’s awkwardness and embarrassment.

“It’s not funny,” he pouted.

“Shota, you’re  hopeless.”

“I didn’t actually tell him that,” Aizawa said with an irritated sigh.  “I was being sarcastic and asked if he knew it.”

“Shota,” Midnight said seriously while Mic continued to shake his head, laughing, “you need to learn how to open up.”

“It’s not something I can just learn overnight,” Aizawa snapped angrily.

“Of course not.  But you’re going to have to get better at it,”  Midnight said, shaking her head.  “Don’t worry, Shota.  We’ll help you.”

Aizawa shook his head helplessly.  “I just — I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.  One minute I’m his teacher and now I’m supposed to be — I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”  His hands curled in frustration.  “I can’t be his teacher, his mentor, and his friend all at the same time.  And I just don’t know which mode I’m supposed to go into when I see him.”  Aizawa looked up, his features twisted.  “I never had to think about it before.  I never had to even give it a thought.  It was just natural.  And now — I don’t know.”

Midnight and Mic exchanged a look.  “Well, Sho,” she said gently, “I think the answer is that you’re not supposed to be any of those things to Shinsou right now.  As hard as this is for you, this entire process is about Shinsou and how to help him.  Not about your relationship with Shinsou.  Whatever is going on between you two might have to get put on the backburner.”

Aizawa growled softly in distress.  “I know.  I know it’s not about me or my feelings.  It’s about helping him.  But I just — I don’t know what he needs.”

“Yes you do,” Mic said quietly, his features softening as he looked at his friend.  “You can’t be Shinsou’s mentor or teacher or colleague right now.  You’re supposed to — essentially — be his boyfriend.”

“This entire experiment is rooted in your emotional bond with him,” Midnight nodded.  “It’s not enough to be close.  You have to love him. You have to take care of him — ”

“I do!” Aizawa said harshly before freezing in surprise.  “I — I mean, of course I will,” he corrected hurriedly.

Midnight and Mic both smiled gently at that and Aizawa busied himself with drinking his tea in order to ignore their responses.

“Well,” Midnight said gently, leaning forward to begin to package up the takeout, “I think this is good.  You both seem to be heading in a positive direction with this.”

Aizawa snorted into his tea at the thought of calling any part of the physical component plan a “positive direction” but he chose not to comment on it for the time being.

“So,” Mic leaned forward, his eyes glimmering as Midnight shuffled to the kitchen to put the leftovers into the refrigerator, “did Shinsou actually end up asking you a question, then?  Or did you just tell him your favorite color and call it a day?”

Aizawa rolled his eyes but knew that both Mic and Midnight would never stop pestering him until he answered.   “He wanted to know what I thought of him.”

Mic blinked as Midnight poked her head out of the kitchen curiously.  “What you — thought of him?”

Aizawa, who was far too grumpy to continue the conversation, crossed his arms sullenly as he settled into the chair.  “What I really thought of him.”

Midnight sank back into her chair, looking both amused and curious.  “So, what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Aizawa said simply.

Mic raised a brow.  “The  whole truth?”

Aizawa’s cheeks darkened slightly.  “Enough of it,” he admitted after a moment.

“Well,” Midnight said with a grin while Mic beamed happily.  “I’d say this really is progress, then.”

Aizawa glared into his mug, doing his best to ignore the cautiously happy expressions on his friends’ faces.

“Good morning” Jirou said cheerfully as Shinsou stumbled into the kitchen.  Without even needing to be asked, she immediately slid an empty mug down the counter to him.

“Thanks,” Shinsou mumbled, still half-asleep as he caught the mug, squinting at the counter for the coffee maker.

Jirou didn’t seem to mind.  She tilted her head at him, one of her ear jacks gesturing at him as she stirred sugar into her tea.  “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but — you look good.”

Shinsou, who was still grappling with his sluggish motor skills in trying to grab and lift the coffee pot to pour its life affirming contents into his mug, blinked as he processed what she said.  “Huh?”

Jirou gently tapped her spoon against the rim of her mug before placing her spoon in the sink.  “You just seem like you’re doing better.”  She offered him a slight smile.  “Right?”

Shinsou’s brain finally caught up to what she was saying.  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly, unsure of how else to respond to her statement.  “Yeah, I feel — I feel like I’m doing a lot better now.”

“That’s good.”  Jirou paused, as if considering, then reached out and touched his shoulder.  “I’m really glad to hear that, Shinsou.”

“Thanks,” he said softly as Jirou exited the kitchen, feeling a warm flutter in his chest;  it was nice to feel cared about.

Things had been steadily getting better and better for Shinsou.  Returning to training had felt like a return to himself.  Going to class was one thing, but going to class, and then training, and then repairing his relationship with Aizawa?  And with Lock Box’s quirk helping set aside the overwhelming emotions of his trauma?  It meant that he felt like he was himself again.  Shinsou Hitoshi, future underground Pro Hero.  It was where he wanted to be and a part of him couldn’t be happier to actively feel himself beginning to rapidly make improvements towards his recovery.

Shinsou leaned against the kitchen counter, inhaling the aroma of the cup of coffee in his hands, and had nearly reached a level of contentment and peace when his tranquil morning was abruptly interrupted by an ear-splitting sound.

“GOOD MORNING, LITTLE LISTENERSSSSSSS,” an impossibly loud voice made Shinsou nearly drop his mug.

He swore, steadying himself and his cup of coffee in his hand, before leaving the kitchen and venturing out into the common room where none other than Present Mic was standing among the couches.

Shinsou scowled — not that he wasn’t happy to see Present Mic — but much like Aizawa, anything with a volume over a decibel of fifty before noon was a crime against humanity in his book.

“Present Mic sensei!” Yaoyorozu said, ever the social diplomat in situations like this.  “Good morning!  It’s good to have you here.”

Bakugou, who was leaning against the wall near Shinsou, his hair still glistening from his early morning run’s shower, glared at the man.  “Who the  fuck is this loud in the morning?” he growled, echoing Shinsou’s sentiments perfectly.

Midoriya, who had come over to the pair, gave Bakugou a pleading look, as if hoping that would make him behave, before smiling shyly at Shinsou as he turned to hear what their English teacher wanted to say.

“I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!”

“We can hear you just fine,” Bakugou said loudly and Shinsou remembered with a jolt that Bakugou was worried about his hearing — in the rush of everything happening to him, Shinsou had nearly forgotten that he wasn’t the only one with issues going on as well.

Mic chuckled and gave a slightly apologetic bow.  “Sorry, sorry,” he said with a grin.  “Force of habit.  Anyways!  I am here to make an announcement!”

“What is it, Mic sensei?” Iida pushed forward, his chest puffed out proudly.

“It’s regarding some changes to your homeroom teacher,” Mic said and Shinsou suddenly realized why Mic was purposefully not making eye contact with him.

“Is Aizawa sensei back?” Uraraka practically squealed while Hagakure and Tsyu nodded eagerly and Tokoyami and Kirishima both pushed themselves to their feet.  Shinsou had to bite back a smile at that;  he hadn’t realized how much his classmates had missed Aizawa.   It seemed they had missed Aizawa almost as much as he had.  And while part of him was a little territorial over that, another part of him was just thankful that the other students cared as much as he did.  Because he  wanted Aizawa to have the love and support of all of his students, not just him.  The man certainly deserved at least that much.

“Yes, Aizawa is back from his mission,” Mic said smoothly and Shinsou had to look down at the ground to hide his blush since Aizawa had  been on campus the entire time, just hiding away from the world as he grappled with the fallout of knowing what happened with Silvertongue and Shinsou.  “He’s back on campus today so you’ll probably see him soon.”

“What about Lock Box sensei?” Ojiro asked while Kaminari continued to pet at the fur on his tail.  “Is she still going to be our teacher or is Aizawa sensei starting back immediately?”

“Lock Box will still remain your primary homeroom teacher for now,” Mic said easily, “although Shota might stop in to observe your class and assist with running some trainings.”

“So — he’s not back?” Kaminari asked, sounding confused.

“He’s back in a partial capacity,” Mic answered.  “We’ll keep you updated once we’re better aware of what’s going on.  But for now, the rest is classified.”  Mic slapped on a broad grin as he looked around at the rest of the students and Shinsou knew enough to clap his hands over his ears to protect himself from Mic’s shout that they BETTER ALL GET GOING OR THEY WERE GOING TO BE LATE FOR CLASS, followed closely by Bakugou yelling in absolute outrage over the unnecessarily loud volume.

The rest of the day was so normal and mundane that Shinsou had almost completely forgotten about Present Mic’s minor visit to Heights Alliance earlier in the morning — until Lock Box ended her lecture nearly two hours early with a slight smile on her face as she announced that they would be spending the rest of the day in a training session.

Shinsou spent the walk over to the training hall not even thinking about what might be coming as he chatted with Ojiro and Kaminari about the latest class drama that happened over lunch (involving some potential drama about some students from Shiketsu High School potentially being poached by some other hero agencies and some minor drama involving a rumor that Jirou and Yaoyorozu might be a little closer than friends).

He was in a good place: happy that his mind was no longer constantly buzzing with panic, happy that he was surrounded by friends, happy that he had had a good and productive conversation with Aizawa the night before, happy that his school and teachers continued to support him, and happy that he was now being allowed to participate in trainings once again.

Things felt normal.  And normal felt  good.

“Shinsou!” Lock Box hailed, grinning brightly as she slipped beside him.

“Lock Box sensei,” Shinsou gave a small bow and a smile as Lock Box fell into pace next to him.

Kaminari and Ojiro slowed their pace, sensing that she was stopping by to check in on Shinsou.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing?” she asked, no lilt of suspicion in her voice and no raised eyebrow to signal that she was trying to point at any ulterior motives.  She genuinely was just checking in on him.

“Good,” Shinsou answered without hesitation.  “I’m just excited to get back to training again.”

Lock Box grinned, a little wickedly this time.  “Oh I’m sure,” she said.  “But you might not be so eager after you see what I have planned.”

From a pace behind Shinsou, Kaminari groaned.  “I can just tell, this isn’t going to be good.”

Kirishima, who had just departed from Bakugou’s side, grinned at Kaminari.  “Hey, man, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he grinned in his typically supportive way.

Lock Box waved the class forward.  “Let’s hurry it up!” she called to the chattering group.  “Don’t be late!”

“Late for what?” Ojiro asked fearfully as he and Kaminari rejoined Shinsou while Lock Box headed to the front doors of the training hall.

Kaminari rubbed at his temples with a preemptive groan.  “I should have taken an aspirin before training, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh, c’mon!” Kirishima said, throwing his arm around Kaminari’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze.  “It won’t be that bad!  We’re almost graduated!  What could Lock Box sensei possibly throw at us at this point?”

Lock Box pushed the front door open and held the door as the class filed inside the training hall.  “Come on in,” she said, still smiling.

Kaminari chuckled with Kirishima as they stepped into the training hall.  “You’re right,” he said, sounding deeply relieved.  “It’s not like they can really throw us for a loop at this point with a training that’s going to kill half of us.  We can definitely handle whatever Lock Box sensei is going to throw at us.”

“I’m so glad you think that, Kaminari,” a familiar flat voice said.

Kaminari froze, the cheerful look on his face stalling as he processed who had spoken, then he immediately fell into shock with the slightest touch of fear and awe on his features.  “Aizawa sensei!”

“Sensei!” Shinsou echoed in surprise as the class walked into the training hall.

Aizawa was leaning against the wall of the training wall, looking utterly at home as if he had never left teaching their class in the first place with his arms crossed and his hair spilling over his shoulders as his dark eyes swept over the chattering students.

Shinsou almost laughed at the chorus of shouts that rang out in the training hall as Aizawa looked over the group, his face set in a bored expression and very much so looking like the indifferent and exhausted teacher he always seemed to be as he looked around the room.

“Aizawa sensei!” Sero exclaimed in surprise while Koda squeaked in alarm and Satou stumbled back in surprise.

“You’re back!” Jirou exclaimed.

“Sensei!” Midoriya said excitedly, running forward to greet his teacher.  “Are you back from your mission?  Did everything go alright?  Did you catch the villain?”

“Calm down, Midoriya,” Aizawa said flatly.  His dark eyes swept the room with his usual keen dispassion.  “I’m back temporarily," Aizawa said, using the same bored tone that he used whenever he was lecturing.  "Lock Box is still running your class until I return in an official capacity — ”

"Did something happen?" Ojiro asked worriedly.

“Why are you not coming back to teach full time?” Ashido asked suspiciously.

“We probably tired him out,” Bakugou muttered with a pleased smirk on his face.

Aizawa sighed, looking like he suddenly very much was regretting returning to Heights Alliance, and Shinsou had to suppress a laugh.  Even though all of the other students were anxious and clamoring over each other with a million questions and concerns — and Aizawa was doing his very best to look annoyed — Shinsou could see the faintest brush of pink on Aizawa's cheeks, he noticed the way Aizawa's lips seem to curve in an almost imperceptible smile when his students pressed forward, and he noticed the way Aizawa's eyes were a severe black, the slight warmth in his flat tone, and the way his teacher's shoulders slumped down, not in exhaustion or discouragement but in genuine relaxation, as if being around his students was a comfort to him.

And Shinsou realized how much Aizawa had truly missed his class.  And — by extension — how much Aizawa truly must care for Shinsou, since Aizawa had been immediately willing to give up his students, if it meant even the slightest chance of helping Shinsou.  And while Shinsou had always known that, seeing proof of it only made something in Shinsou’s chest swell in warmth and fondness towards his teacher.

The other students, however, were not as perceptive as Shinsou when it came to reading Aizawa and all collectively quieted down in minor apprehension when Aizawa sighed irritably at their questions, no doubt fearing that he would scold them for being illogical and emotional.

“He’s not wearing his uniform!” Hagakure whispered loudly to Uraraka while Uraraka made a soft squeak of alarm at the realization that Aizawa was wearing his civilian clothing — which was a rather rare sight for his students to see.

“I’ve only seen Aizawa sensei out of uniform twice!” Midoriya whispered in a hushed, almost awed voice as he nodded in confirmation to the girls.

Shinsou started at that, realizing for the first time that Aizawa was still in civilian clothing and not his typical hero costume.  And at Hagakure’s comment Shinsou suddenly realized that he hadn't actually seen Aizawa in his official Eraserhead uniform since the day he went to Aizawa’s apartment in an attempt to stop him from watching Silvertongue’s video.  To Shinsou’s knowledge, Aizawa hadn’t put it on since.

And part of him had to wonder if Aizawa ever would again.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Lock Box called out, gesturing to the class to be quiet while Aizawa looked around the room in a disingenuous expression of annoyance.

“So you’re here to — observe us?” Ojiro asked, almost hopefully as he looked up at his teacher.  “Right?”

Aizawa’s lips twitched in a slightly sadistic smile.  “No,” he answered.  “I’ll be running your training today.”

Kaminari whimpered in fear while the rest of the class groaned in preemptive pain of what was to come.

It was an impossibly long two hours.

Almost unbearably long.

For two solid hours, Aizawa put the entire class through their paces, making them run laps with weight, using their quirks almost to their breaking point, then teaming them up in three-on-three battles while then giving them whiplash and sending the three-on-three teams into a collision course until it became an entire battle royale with the entire class

By the time the training session was over, the class was beyond exhausted: Kaminari was practically in tears, sending little jolts of electricity through his hair as he sniffled, shuffling forward weakly as he trailed after his classmates; Ojiro’s tail dragged on the ground as he walked; and Yaoyorozu mindlessly shoved mini cupcakes into her mouth that Satou kept numbly pulling from his belt.

Even the top students of the class seemed half-dead: Midoriya was only able to shuffle towards the showers, his trademark grin absent from his features; Todoroki walked wearily, flecks of ice sparkling on his skin as his internal temperature desperately tried to fix itself from overuse; and even Bakugou was uncharacteristically silent as he trudged away from the training hall, his strong shoulders slumped.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa called out, still watching the exhausted and battered class trudge out of the training room.  “A word, please.”

Shinsou blinked.   Right now?  He swallowed down a curse, his entire body aching in protest.  Even Kaminari didn’t have the energy to waggle his eyebrows at Shinsou, although Ashido managed a tired grin as she trudged away wearily.

“Sensei?” Shinsou said, shuffling over to where Aizawa stood.  It almost felt like the way things were before: Aizawa standing off to the side, his tall frame slightly slouched as he jammed his hands in his pockets, surveying the class with a bored expression.  The only thing that was different was that he was no longer wearing his hero uniform and instead was wearing what looked like gym clothes, although the long pants and long-sleeved tshirt were dark and essentially didn’t alter his look too drastically.

“You look worse for wear,” Aizawa observed with more amusement than pity in his voice.

“And whose fault is that?” Shinsou grumbled.  It had been weeks since he had had a proper training session and Aizawa running him ragged around the gym certainly hadn’t helped things.

Aizawa hummed and cocked his head towards the door, making his way towards it without another word while Shinsou repressed a groan and did his best to follow him.

Shinsou winced.  “I can barely walk, you know,” he grumbled as he hobbled after Aizawa.

Aizawa gave a slight smile to Shinsou.  “You’ll survive,” he said dryly, heading out the door in the direction of the teachers’ dorms.

Shinsou winced.  “Is this really necessary?” he grumbled as he hobbled after Aizawa, every cell in his body currently regretting his decision to become a Pro Hero.

“You’ll be fine,” Aizawa said airily, stubbornly going to the stairwell instead of the elevator just because he was a bastard enough to let Shinsou suffer just a little more.

Shinsou groaned but continued to limp after his teacher with a huff.

After climbing four floors of stairs — which took Shinsou longer than he cared to admit — Aizawa finally fished his keys out of his pockets and worked on unlocking the stairwell door while Shinsou leaned heavily against the wall of the landing, struggling to catch his breath.

“What’s on this floor?” he asked, unable to stop the dread he was feeling from coloring his voice.  He knew Aizawa loved to push them to their limits — and as much as he appreciated the push — Shinsou didn’t think he had any more energy for anything else today.

Aizawa grinned at the apprehensive note in Shinsou’s voice and pushed open the stairwell door.  “You’ll see,” he said, gesturing for Shinsou to follow.

When Shinsou stumbled slightly — his traitorous legs almost giving out from the strain of standing — Aizawa caught him and helped him through the door without a word.

Beyond the stairwell, Shinsou found himself standing in a small hallway with what looked like men's and women's locker rooms on either side of two large wooden doors.

Shinsou stopped short.  “More training?” he whispered fearfully, eyeing the large doors as the stairwell door shut behind them with a thud.

“No,” Aizawa said simply before making his way to the large doors at the end of the hallway.

Shinsou hesitated, unsure if he should believe Aizawa, then sighed and obediently hobbled forward after Aizawa.

Aizawa wordlessly flipped through his key ring until he found the right key, ignoring Shinsou’s apprehensive stare.  Once he fit it into the lock, he pushed the door open that was on the side of the hallway with the men’s locker room and let Shinsou through.

“Whoa,” Shinsou breathed, looking around in amazement.  Tucked on the fourth floor of the teachers’ dorms was — much to Shinsou’s surprise — an entire room made to look like a traditional  sentō.

Wood panels and shoji doors lined a small entryway  genkan, with little cubbies and shoe lockers along the walls.  Past that, Shinsou could see a blue curtain pushed to the side for the changing room and beyond that was an enormous bathroom.  The room had a wooden ceiling with soft golden lights glowing and a tiled floor set in an intricate blue and white pattern.  Adorning the walls were gold faucets with wooden stools in front of them and in the back of the room was a huge stone tub filled with steaming water, with an enormous tiled wall depicting a garden scene with blossoming trees and Mount Fuji in the distance behind it.

Aizawa grinned slightly at Shinsou’s reaction.  “Weren’t expecting this, were you?”

Shinsou looked around, openly staring.  “This has been here the entire time?” he whispered, his eyes drinking in the tiled floor, the steaming water, and the warm lantern-like lights.  “Without anyone knowing about it?”

Aizawa hummed.  “It’s not like you have any reason to know it exists.  It’s for the teachers.”  When Shinsou looked up, Aizawa rolled his eyes.  “Do you think Nezu convinced a bunch of adults to give up their apartments and move onto a high school campus just because it was an easier commute?  He had to sweeten the pot with perks.”  He gestured around the room.  “And this is one of them.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle.  “Well, I guess he did a pretty solid job, then.”

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” Aizawa said.  “But I figured after the drills you ran today, you might want this to ease up.  And this is certainly far more relaxing than the baths in the student dorms.”  He hesitated, suddenly looking uncertain.  “I booked the room, so no one will come in here while you’re here — ”

Shinsou immediately understood Aizawa’s sudden and uncharacteristic hesitance:  he was worried that giving Shinsou a place to have a soak was essentially another instance of Aizawa forcing Shinsou to linger naked in a room.  But Shinsou didn’t make that connection at all.  He was far too focused on the steaming water, the smooth, paneled walls, and the soft glowing light all beckoning his tired body into what looked like the most soothing soak in the world.

“No, this is perfect,” Shinsou said quickly.  “And — don’t worry.  With Lock Box’s quirk — it doesn't even bother me at all.”

“It doesn’t?”  Aizawa looked doubtful.

Shinsou tilted his head, considering.  “Nope,” he said after a moment and he meant it.  The thought of taking his clothes off in a public place — a place where adult teachers could enter — didn’t make him feel even remotely skittish, which was a far cry from what had happened the last time he had taken a shower at Aizawa’s apartment.  “I feel fine.  And comfortable.”  He eyed the water.  “And I really, really want to jump in the water.”

Aizawa sighed.  “Do  not jump in the water,” he said, sounding exhausted while Shinsou grinned at him.  “Alright, the towels are over there and there’s some spare shoes and clothes to change into if you need them.”

“I have my bag,” Shinsou said, lifting up his gym back with his clean clothes in there.

Aizawa nodded.  “You have an hour, so take as long as you need.  And — ” he hesitated, then handed Shinsou a small water bottle with a slightly tormented look on his face.  “Here.”

Shinsou took the bottle.  “Uh — thanks?” he said but the look on Aizawa’s face made him wonder what it was.  “Is this — not water?”

“It is.  But — ”  He sighed.  “Nezu has a friend. They’re working with some people to imbue quirks into food and things like that.   This is water that was imbued with a healing quirk.”

Shinsou’s brows raised almost up to his hairline.  “This is  magical healing water?” he gasped, genuinely surprised that such a thing existed.

Aizawa rolled his eyes.  “No,” he said flatly.  “The experiment didn’t work.  But they did discover that while it can’t regrow limbs or heal shattered bones or whatever they were hoping for, it does take care of bumps and bruises and sore muscles.  And according to Hizashi, cures hangovers.”  He shrugged.  “From what I heard they’re giving it to athletes and things like that.  It won’t work miracles, but you should be able to walk after this.”

“Really?” Shinsou eyed the bottle, swirling the water in it critically.  “It can do that?”

“I’m guaranteeing nothing,” Aizawa said, sounding almost annoyed by Shinsou’s fascination with the water.  “It will basically be like if you took some ibuprofen and rested for a few hours.  That’s how you’ll feel after drinking it.  It won’t just magically fix your soreness.  It just will help speed things along a bit.”

“But,” Shinsou blinked, still staring at the unmarked bottle in his hands.  “Why would you give this to me?  Wouldn’t it be better suited for you or for — emergencies or something?”

“As I said,” Aizawa’s voice sharpened, as if he realized Shinsou had caught him doing something kind and altruistic and he was trying to deflect, “it doesn’t do anything useful, or I would keep it for emergencies.  This isn’t the old lady’s quirk.  It will just help your muscles not be so sore.”

Shinsou frowned, looking up from the water bottle to Aizawa.  “Why now?  Why not wait until after patrol when I fall off a roof or something?”

“Because it’s my fault you’re in so much pain,” Aizawa said, almost too quickly and too harshly.  He froze as soon as he spoke, then sighed.  “If it wasn’t for — what I did — you would have been in training this entire time and you wouldn't be in pain now.  You’re suffering because you were pulled from training for four months.  It’s my fault you’re limping now.”

Shinsou’s expression softened.  “Sensei, you know I’d be in pain regardless, right?  Your trainings are always brutal, no matter what shape I’m in.”

“Shinsou, just drink the damn water,” Aizawa said softly, looking down at his watch like he didn’t care.

Shinsou knew otherwise.  And so Shinsou twisted open the cap and drank the small water bottle down.  He frowned at the bottle after he finished it.  “I thought it would taste like something,” he mused.

Aizawa sighed and ignored him.  “I’ll text you to remind you when your hour’s up,” Aizawa said, still not really looking at Shinsou.  “Once you’re done, you’re more than welcome to head back to the dorms.  But you’re also more than welcome to stop by my apartment, if you want.  The door will be open.”

Shinsou gave a smile.  “Then I’ll stop by.”

Aizawa nodded and turned to leave the bath.  With his hand on the door, he hesitated.  “And Shinsou?”

“Hmm?”

Aizawa looked up at him blandly.  “Please do not plan on falling off a roof anytime soon.”

Shinsou grinned.  “Noted.”

Shinsou left the fourth floor bath an hour later feeling blessedly refreshed.

His aching joints had been soothed, his grimy, sweat-streaked skin was now fresh and clean, and he felt utterly rejuvenated, like life had been breathed back into him again.

After he changed into his fresh clothes and now gloriously clean, Shinsou felt content as he rode the elevator up to Aizawa’s floor without a single bit of hesitation about visiting his former teacher.  Their talk the night before had calmed the swirling uncertainty in his chest when it came to their relationship and what direction they were going to head in.  Everything about Lock Box’s quirk and the upcoming physical component was still confusing for Shinsou, but his talk with Aizawa had at least soothed some of his anxieties.  For now, he knew they just needed to focus on the emotional component and getting closer to Aizawa was something that Shinsou was both familiar with and comfortable doing.

It felt nice to have a day with his friends, a brutal training, a relaxing soak afterwards, and then an evening to relax and talk to Aizawa.  It felt almost like a routine.  Like they were establishing a pattern of being together.  And Shinsou couldn’t help but like how mature it all felt.  And how comforting it was to have.

“Hey, sensei,” Shinsou greeted as he stepped into Aizawa’s apartment.

Aizawa, who had been resting on the couch looking over what appeared to be a pile of papers, glanced up at Shinsou entered his apartment.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Great,” Shinsou grinned, slipping his shoes off.  “I don’t know if it was the magical healing water or the magical healing bath, but  something definitely did the trick.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, gesturing with his red pen towards the kitchen.  “There’s coffee in the pot,” he said as Shinsou made his way over to the counter, their familiar routine taking shape with ease.  “And stop calling it magical.  There was nothing magical about it.”

Shinsou laughed as he grabbed the spare mug Aizawa had left out for him.  “Would you rather me go full Midoriya and go with an unhinged analysis?”

Aizawa groaned in mock protest.  “Why did I invite you here again?”

“Bonding,” Shinsou supplied, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  “That’s what we’re supposed to be doing, right?”

Aizawa grunted.  “Something like that,” he said, tossing the paper he was looking at facedown on the coffee table as Shinsou came around and eased himself onto his usual side of the couch.  “You look better,” he said with a slightly raised brow.

Shinsou snorted into his cup.  “What?  Are you mad I’m not still limping around?”

“I didn’t push your class that hard,” Aizawa retorted.  “If you’re all struggling that much after  one round of training, then maybe I need to speak to Lock Box about increasing the intensity of your classes — ”

 “Sensei!”

Aizawa allowed himself a slight grin.  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, still looking amused.  “It’s just been a while since I’ve run a training.”

Shinsou grinned, settling back against the couch.  “So, how did it feel being back?”

Aizawa ducked his head into his coffee cup — Shinsou assumed to hide a fond grin — and took a drink before he looked up at Shinsou again, his face carefully blank.  “I certainly had missed it,” he admitted softly.

“I know,” Shinsou said warmly.  “And we missed you, too.  Well — maybe a little less now that you basically tried to kill us.”

“I did not,” Aizawa snorted.

“You kinda did.”

“You all survived.”

“Barely.”

“It’s good preparation for after you graduate.”

Shinsou rolled his eyes.  “If my patrols are like that every night, then I’m just going to quit now.”

Aizawa grinned roughly.  “It was good to see everyone again,” he mused thoughtfully as he sank back into his couch cushion, still cradling his coffee cup.  He glanced at Shinsou.  “And it was good to see you with all of your classmates.”

Shinsou nodded, taking a drink of his coffee.  “Things have been better with them lately.”

Aizawa raised a brow.  “Oh?”

Shinsou shrugged.  “Yeah.  It’s just — it’s good to have friends.  Not just friends — I know that I can trust everyone in my class.  They’re all good people and I know they’re going to be good heroes.  But it’s like for the first time, I have  good friends — people I can really trust.  I’m — I’m not really used to that.”

A faint smile twitched on Aizawa’s lips and he took another long drink of coffee to mask it.  “You deserve that,” he said softly.  “I don’t know what I’d do without Hizashi and Nemuri.”  He tilted his head at Shinsou, his dark eyes filled with warmth.  “I’m glad you have people like that, too.”

Shinsou nodded.  “Well, I for one, am happy that you have them.  You deserve to have good friends, too.”

Aizawa let out a melodramatic huff.  “I make due with them the best I can,” he said with a slightly wicked grin.

“Oh, c’mon,” Shinsou laughed.  “You always act like they’re terrible.  They’re not that bad, you know.”

“No,” Aizawa said with a fond chuckle.  “They’re not.”

Shinsou smiled, draining his mug with a faint grin.  He liked that he and Aizawa were able to engage in banter like this, he liked that Aizawa acknowledged that Shinsou understood the relationship Aizawa had with his friends, and he liked that Aizawa recognized that Shinsou had close friendships of his own.

“More?” Aizawa grunted as he eyed Shinsou’s now-empty coffee mug.

Shinsou hummed, happy that Aizawa understood his endless need for coffee without him needing to say a word.

Aizawa took both of their empty mugs and made his way back to the kitchen to get more coffee while Shinsou leaned back against the couch, breathing deeply in contentment.  Despite the looming uncertainty of the upcoming physical component, Shinsou was at least happy that they were definitely making strides with the emotional component of the quirk.

Shinsou was peacefully dozing on the couch, listening to Aizawa bustle around the kitchen,  when Aizawa’s phone suddenly buzzed from where he had left it on the coffee table, jarring Shinsou into alertness.

Much like his own phone, Shinsou frowned at the disruption and ignored the sound, continuing to bask in the quiet comfort of Aizawa’s living room while listening to the sounds of Aizawa move around the kitchen.

Until Aizawa’s phone buzzed again.

Shinsou glanced up with a slight frown.  It was probably nothing.  Plus, Aizawa was coming back in less than a minute, so if it was urgent, he’d see it soon enough.

And then the phone buzzed again.

Shinsou sat up from the couch, his interest finally piqued.  Aizawa wasn’t much of a texter so it was odd that he was getting three texts in a row.  Granted, it was probably Present Mic texting him something stupid or Midnight annoying him about making plans, or something related to hero work or to Eri or to — literally any other countless number of potential things — all of which were none of his business.

And while it was stupid, this was the crux of his problem with Aizawa: no matter how close they grew, it was never close enough.  Shinsou was always stymied by that last wall, the last barrier, the last locked door that Aizawa hid his secrets behind.  And since Aizawa was still terrible at opening up, Shinsou had to take every opportunity that was presented to him to get to know a little bit more about his teacher.

Even if it meant glancing at a phone screen.

Besides, while Aizawa might be in the next room over, he had left his phone out — screen up — on the table.

Shinsou nearly shook his head at how stupid he was being — it was a text message.  It was probably nothing.  It was probably just a cat meme.  It was probably just —

Shinsou shoved his thoughts aside and quietly leaned over from his seat on the couch, his eyes locked on the phone on the coffee table, and tapped at the screen of Aizawa’s phone so it would light up again.

The lock screen appeared — with an image of Eri holding a cat in the background — as well as the phone’s unread notifications.

There was a text from Mic from a good three hours ago, along with a calendar reminder and a news notification — both of which Shinsou assumed Mic or Midnight had set up on Aizawa’s phone and Aizawa had been too lazy or confounded by the process to turn them off — but there were also the three newest texts, all on display on the screen for Shinsou to read.

Emi: LOL since when are you so needy??

Emi: You know I’d do anything for you <3

Emi: My place or yours?

Shinsou swallowed hard.  Emi?  Who the hell was Emi?  And then Shinsou suddenly realized with a ice cold rush of horror in his veins: Ms. Joke.

For years, there had been rumors.  For years, Shinsou had ignored them all, dismissing it as ludicrous that someone like Aizawa would date someone like Ms. Joke.  And, if Shinsou were being perfectly honest, he also failed to see Aizawa dating anyone at all, least of all a woman as unnaturally jolly and loud as Ms. Joke.  But, then again, perhaps all the raised eyebrows that had gone around the room as the girls giggled in delight at the prospect whenever Ms. Joke’s name was brought up (with Aizawa only huffing in response) — maybe it  did mean something?

Maybe the girls were right?

Maybe Aizawa was actually dating Ms. Joke?

Shinsou sank back onto the couch in a daze.   How could he have been so stupid?  So childish?  So fucking stupid?

He hadn’t even bothered to ask if Aizawa was seeing anyone or if he was in any sort of relationship at all.  Shinsou wouldn’t have known, since that was private information and Aizawa was so careful to never reveal anything personal about himself to his students at any time.  And Shinsou had foolishly and conveniently forgotten about all the rumors and teasing about Aizawa and Ms. Joke being an item — or at least  having a thing — while dealing with the Silvertongue fallout.

But now, Shinsou had to wonder:  what if he were wrong?

Shinsou’s stomach turned at the thought of that.  The very thought of Aizawa spending all night patrolling the dark streets of Musutafu with an iron will and a rigid sense of justice, then rushing to class to lecture flatly at his class of students in his bored drawl, trying to teach his students the most important lessons of their lives while also ensuring that they didn’t end up killing each other — with the stoic patience of a saint — to then spend time after school training the hapless Shinsou, and finally rush home to sweep this woman into his arms?

Shinsou ground his teeth angrily.  So all the little pieces of Aizawa he had painstakingly collected over the last few years were just offered  out of pity?  Every little smile Shinsou wrung from Aizawa, every tiny morsel of information that he had carefully collected and assembled into the larger mosaic of the man, every moment Shinsou felt they were growing closer — it was all a lie?

And perhaps that was unfair.  Aizawa could be dating someone and still get close to Shinsou.  It was a perfectly reasonable and normal state of affairs.  But to have Shinsou covet every bit of praise from Aizawa?  To feel proud at guessing something as stupid as his favorite color?  To keep his goddamn sweater in his armoire like a personal talisman?  Shinsou had thought he was one of the only people who was growing close to Aizawa like this, he had thought it meant something.  Not just to him, but to Aizawa as well.  And now to find out that the entire time there was a woman who probably knew Aizawa’s favorite color and food and favorite fucking brand of toothpaste?  And who had access to an entire closet of Aizawa’s sweaters?

It made Shinsou feel childish.

It made him feel pathetic.

 How could he have been so stupid?

And worse — far, far worse — was the fact that Shinsou had apparently not even thought to investigate or inquire about Aizawa’s sexuality.  The entire time they had been discussing Lock Box’s plan, it hadn’t once come up.

Not once.

So Aizawa was dating a woman?  Which meant he was probably straight.  Aizawa probably came home from work to join his girlfriend and his daughter in a perfect little nuclear family, never once even thinking about Shinsou in any way but platonically and probably sick to his stomach at the thought of having to touch Shinsou again.   Shinsou was disgusting for ever wanting such a thing.

Shinsou curled himself into a small huddle on the couch, trying not to cry or scream, even though he suddenly wanted to do both.

After the Silvertongue incident, Shinsou’s entire life had revolved around trying to protect Aizawa from the truth because  he cared deeply and profoundly for Aizawa.  And once Aizawa learned the truth of what had happened, Shinsou’s life became about trying to repair their relationship to restore it to where it once was: with the two of them emotionally and platonically close as mentor and mentee, as potential friends.  And it was only after Shinsou was told about Lock Box’s quirk therapy that he began to really think about what his relationship with Aizawa meant — and where he wanted it to go.

And Shinsou had then become so wrapped up in figuring out not only how to preserve his relationship with Aizawa for after the quirk wore off, but also how he was going to deal with and survive the physical component of Lock Box’s quirk, that he hadn’t really stopped to think about how  Aizawa  might be handling things.

He had, of course, given some thought about how Lock Box’s quirk would affect Aizawa.  He had thought about how Aizawa was being forced to relive the worst night of his life (despite not having any direct memories of it) and how Aizawa was reenacting a traumatic event that could potentially result in him getting fired and destroying his life, all for the sake of Shinsou and his future.  And Shinsou had certainly fixated on Aizawa having to deal with sleeping with him, despite probably not finding Shinsou attractive.

But Shinsou had failed to even once begin to consider that Aizawa might not be attracted to Shinsou because Shinsou was Shinsou; and that perhaps Aizawa was not attracted to Shinsou because Aizawa was attracted to  women.

He hadn’t even thought about it.

Shinsou swallowed hard, trying to think if he had any indication that Aizawa was even interested in men in the first place.  And of course, Aizawa was so private that Shinsou had no idea.  Some part of him had assumed that Aizawa had known what he was doing that awful night because he had experience with men — but no part of that night was fair to judge any part of Aizawa’s character on.  Which meant that Shinsou actually had no idea about Aizawa’s preferences.

The orders that Silvertongue had given Aizawa rang hollowly through Shinsou’s head:  ‘you are now deeply and utterly filled with an overwhelming lust toward Shinsou Hitoshi… You feel only the need to sate yourself and use your student as an instrument of pleasure until you are completely spent.’

Shinsou blinked, trying hard not to choke at the sudden realization that Aizawa had been filled with lust towards Shinsou because he had been  commanded to be aroused.  Not because there was any part of him that wanted Shinsou in that way.

And the entire time they had been planning to engage in the physical component of Lock Box’s quirk, Aizawa — the altruistic, self-sacrificing asshole that he was — hadn’t said a word to Shinsou or anyone else about what sleeping with Shinsou would emotionally do to him.

Because why would he?  Lock Box’s quirk meant that they needed to reenact what happened.  That they physically needed to sleep together.  Which meant that their sexual preferences didn’t matter.  Aizawa had been brainwashed into having sex with Shinsou.  And Shinsou had no choice in it.  So when they discussed the physical component of Lock Box’s plan, their actual wants and desires hadn't even been a factor.  Because it wasn’t before.  So it wasn’t now.

So maybe Aizawa was straight.  Maybe he thought Shinsou was, too?  Maybe Aizawa thought Shinsou’s crush and desperation for his approval was actually just like Midoriya’s love and obsession with All Might: born out of intense admiration, hero adoration, and  platonic love.

Shinsou closed his eyes, trying to will himself not to cry.

And of course Aizawa had agreed to do this.  He truly didn’t  want to, but he would do it for Shinsou.  He nearly died for his students before.  He had no issue sacrificing this part of himself, too, apparently.

And Shinsou had felt guilty because a part of him wanted it.  A little bit.  Some part of him was curious.  Some part of him craved that closeness.  But now that he knew that Aizawa was only doing it out of pity made him want to vomit.  Because it was wrong.  It was all horribly, horribly wrong.  And it was even worse that Shinsou was forcing Aizawa into this mess.

He felt sick.  He felt angry.  He felt lost.

 What was he supposed to do?

“Shinsou?” Aizawa’s voice broke into Shinsou’s thoughts, startling him out of his spiral of despair.  He looked up in alarm to find Aizawa watching him from the doorway of the kitchen holding two cups of coffee in his hands and frowning in concern.  “Are you alright?” Aizawa asked as he set the mugs down on the coffee table.

Shinsou nodded dumbly, his thoughts still whirring in his head.  “I’m fine,” he whispered.

Aizawa’s eyes widened slightly and he immediately sank into the seat next to Shinsou — careful to keep a space between them, as he always did.  Was it because he was trying to be respectful of Shinsou’s space and trying not to trigger him again, or was it because he was a straight man who was currently dating a woman?

Shinsou cringed at the thought.

“Shinsou?” Aizawa asked softly, his dark eyes softening in concern to the deep, stormy gray color that always made something ache in Shinsou’s chest.

 Not anymore,  Shinsou told himself fiercely.  “I’m fine, sensei,” Shinsou said softly, still trying to work out what to say with Ms. Joke’s text messages branded into his mind.   It was fine .  Aizawa was an adult.  He was allowed to have relationships and dalliances and fun and whatever else he could call it.  Aizawa was allowed to go home to Ms. Joke and laugh and kiss her and tell her all his secrets and have sex with her like a normal, functional adult while Shinsou would just be left alone with his sexual dysfunctions, fear of relationships, and general distrust of people.

Shinsou wasn’t hurt at all.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa said quietly and Shinsou could hear the concern and the confusion in his voice.  “You don’t seem alright.  Did — did something happen?”

“Sorry,” Shinsou managed.  “It’s nothing.  I just — ”

Aizawa still looked startled by Shinsou’s sudden change in demeanor.  “You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly.  “You just — look upset.  And I — ”

“Will you be okay?” Shinsou whispered, unable to help himself.  He turned, finally looking up at his teacher.  “If we — if we do this — if we go through with it — will you be okay?”

Aizawa blinked, looking a little surprised at the question.  He swallowed and looked away, a strange emotion in the depths of his gaze.  “What do you mean — will  I be okay?” he finally asked after a long moment had passed.

Shinsou shook his head.  “All of this — the focus is always on me and if I’m comfortable and if I’m okay with things.  No one has really asked about you.  And — I,” Shinsou faltered, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts, “I just don’t want doing this to affect your life.”

Aizawa frowned, a look Shinsou couldn’t quite discern darkened his expression before he smoothed it out again.  “Where is this coming from, Shinsou?”

Shinsou said quietly.  “I just — I just don’t want to force you or make you do something that makes you uncomfortable — ”

Aizawa frowned, clearly uncertain what prompted the conversation.  “Shinsou,” he said slowly, his brow knit, “you’re not forcing me — ”

“Fine,” Shinsou huffed, already tired of circling around the issue.  He had no idea how to bring up that proceeding with the physical component would cause a rift in Aizawa’s relationship with Emi.  He had no idea how to ask Aizawa about his sexual preferences and if sleeping with Shinsou was going to cause some sort of mental breakdown.  And he had absolutely no idea how to voice the grief and betrayal at suddenly discovering that the man that Shinsou had known for years and who had slowly grown to encapsulate Shinsou’s affections didn’t return them at all.  “You said we should be honest with each other, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then — then I want to know if — doing this — if it’s going to mess you up.”

Aizawa blinked.  “Mess me up?” he repeated.

Shinsou let out a slow breath.  “I mean — if doing this is going to — have a negative affect on your mental health.”

Aizawa stared at Shinsou.  He seemed to know that Shinsou wasn’t exactly saying what he meant but at the same time, Aizawa didn’t seem to quite understand what Shinsou was trying to uncover.  Aizawa folded his hands in his lap.  “Whatever you’re worried about,” he said finally.  “Don’t be.  You don’t need to worry about me.  I’ll be fine.”

Shinsou nodded, swallowing thickly as he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.    Aizawa really was doing all of this to help Shinsou, even at the expense of Aizawa’s own mental well being.  Aizawa’s kindness and willingness to engage in the physical component had nothing to do with some love for Shinsou.  It was about his guilt.  And his willingness to throw his life away on the chance it would help a student.  That was all.

“Would you tell me — if you weren’t?”

“Shinsou,” Aizawa said softly.  “What’s going on?  What brought this up all of a sudden?”

Shinsou lifted his chin, trying to keep his expression calm even though his heart was beating wildly in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to cry at what felt like a loss.  But he knew that was foolish — he never had Aizawa in the first place.

“I was just thinking,” Shinsou said, keeping his voice steady, “about how I want you to know that I feel guilty for making you do this.  And I feel like you’re resisting doing — any of this — because you don’t want to.  And that you’re only doing this out of guilt over what happened.”

Aizawa blinked.  “Shinsou — Shinsou, I’m not  resisting,” he said, his typically flat voice coloring with an emotion Shinsou couldn’t place.  “I’m just trying to be cognizant of your feelings and of what you’ve been through.  I have to take that into consideration.  Not to mention — ”

“I know,” Shinsou cut him off.  “We’ve been through this a thousand times before.  I don’t need to hear it again about how you need to be careful because you’re my teacher and because I’ve been traumatized and how this is horribly illegal.   I know.  We’ve been over it.”

Aizawa pressed his lips into a thin line.  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice so carefully delicate that Shinsou wanted to scream.  “I know this isn’t — ”

Shinsou groaned loudly, cutting Aizawa off.  “Will you just  stop  that?” he snarled in annoyance, Aizawa’s endless stream of apologies filling his head with a mocking echo.

Aizawa faltered and looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes dazed with worry, as if he thought that Shinsou was somehow once again offended by whatever he had said or done or not said or any of the other litany of reasons why.

Shinsou shook his head.  “Just — stop saying that you’re sorry that I have to do this.  Stop making it sound like sleeping with you is torture.”

“Shinsou,” Aizawa said carefully, “you  were  tortured by being forced to sleep with me — ”

“No, I wasn’t!”  Shinsou closed his eyes.  He couldn’t even be grateful that Aizawa at least wasn’t calling it rape this time.  “Don’t you get it?  Having sex with you wasn’t the torture!”

Aizawa stared at him suddenly confused.

“It was having sex with you and knowing that you didn’t have a say in it,” Shinsou hissed miserably.  “And now — when you act like this — it’s like it’s happening all over again.  But instead of Silvertongue forcing you, you’re forcing yourself.”  Shinsou stared at Aizawa angrily.  “Do you really think that’s what I want?  Have you  ever even stopped to ask me what it is that I want?”

Aizawa stared at him.  “Shinsou — ” he murmured quietly, utterly at a loss.

“No,” Shinsou pushed past the wretched look on Aizawa’s face.  “You were too busy assuming that even being near you was torture for me.  And instead, you’ve just been making it worse by apologizing over and over again.  Like being close to you is so unbearable.  Like you being close to me is some sort of — abomination.  Like I — ” He stopped short, his voice caught in his throat.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa said carefully.  “I don’t mean to overwhelm you with apologies.  I just — I don’t know what else to say.  And I don’t want to make things worse.”

Shinsou snorted.  “You don’t want to make things worse?” he asked roughly.  “Then how about you actually be honest with me for once.”

“Honest about what?”

“If you actually want to do this.”

“If I — if I  want to have sex with a student whom I brutalized and attacked?” Aizawa repeated numbly.  He looked almost angry at the very thought.  “Of course I don’t want to do this!  Why would I ever — ” He froze, suddenly catching the expression on Shinsou’s face.  “Shinsou, no, that’s — that’s not what I meant — ”

Shinsou shrugged, trying to smooth his face into his typical expression of vague indifference, but the damage was already done.  “It’s alright,” he said casually as if he weren’t actually hurt by his teacher sounding absolutely repulsed by the notion of being intimate with him.   Of course the thought of having sex with Shinsou repulsed Aizawa.  He should have known that all along and he was a fool for only just now figuring it out.  “I don’t blame you.”

“Shinsou,  no.”    Aizawa looked flustered and upset, his voice low and hoarse as he rushed to get the words out.  “I — what I was trying to say is that I don’t want to do this because I just don’t want to make things worse.  I’m not — good at these sorts of things.  And I — I couldn’t bear it if you somehow ended up in a worse state because of what I did.  I — I just don’t want to make everything worse.”

Shinsou shrugged, still staring off at a spot on the wall and trying not to lash out any more than he already had.  Everything about having to sleep with Shinsou probably made Aizawa want to recoil in disgust and yet, Aizawa was pushing through his revulsion for Shinsou’s sake.  And Shinsou didn’t want Aizawa to do that.

Shinsou looked up at Aizawa.  “I don’t think any of this could get worse,” he admitted softly.  “For me, at least.  That’s why I thought I could do this.  But — when I realized how much it’s going to mess you up — it’s not worth it to me if it does.”

The entire reason he had lied and kept quiet about the truth of what happened to Silvertongue was to protect Aizawa and to spare him from the trauma of knowing what happened.  And now that Shinsou realized that Aizawa being forced to sleep with Shinsou wasn’t just uncomfortable from a moral standpoint for Aizawa — but that it would also be a traumatic violation of Aizawa’s preferences — Shinsou suddenly realized that having Aizawa go through with the physical component was simply no longer a viable option.  Just as Aizawa cared about Shinsou so much that he was willing to go through with the physical component for Shinsou’s sake, so too was Shinsou willing to  not go through with the physical component, if it meant sparing Aizawa further suffering.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa protested softly, “I know it’s not ideal.  And I can’t say it won’t have an affect on me, but — but I can do this.  You don’t need to take my feelings into consideration about this, alright?”

Shinsou suddenly felt like he wanted to throw up.  Aizawa once again was trying to push his own needs and feelings aside for Shinsou’s sake.  And Shinsou  refused to be the cause of more trauma for Aizawa.  “No,” Shinsou muttered, pushing himself to his feet abruptly.  “Just — forget it.”

Aizawa stood up as well, looking startled.  “Shinsou!” he said weakly.

“No,” Shinsou said again, pulling his bag over his shoulder angrily as he headed towards the door.  “I told you that I wasn’t going to do this if this hurt you and  clearly  this is going to hurt you.  So it’s not worth it to me.”

“Shinsou, this is not going to hurt me,” Aizawa said firmly.

Shinsou stared at Aizawa, wishing he could believe him.  But he knew it was a lie.

Shinsou turned away and grabbed his shoes from the  genkan.

“Shinsou, wait!”

“No,” Shinsou said sharply as he jammed his feet into his shoes.  “This is my choice, sensei.  It’s my life.  And if doing the physical component is going to fuck you up, then we’re not going to do it.  So we’re done.”

“Shinsou, I said I’d be fine — ”

“Stop lying to me!” Shinsou snapped.  He wanted to lash out and yell about the text messages and tell Aizawa he knew he was dating someone.  He wanted to remind Aizawa that he made a commitment to his partner and to Eri.  That Aizawa had to stop throwing his life away only because he felt guilty over what he did to Shinsou.

Aizawa looked dazed at Shinsou’s sudden turnabout.  “I don’t understand — what — ”

Shinsou wished there was a way for him to vocalize how hurt he was over the fact that he never had a chance with Aizawa in the first place.  That for all his pining and hoping that their relationship would continue to develop and grow into something more, that it was all futile.  It wasn’t Aizawa’s fault that he would never love Shinsou the way Shinsou wanted him to.

Aizawa opened his mouth, his eyes wide, but he seemed unable to speak.  He looked lost and confused and even a little hurt, but Shinsou didn’t care.  Aizawa had lied to him and Shinsou was done letting Aizawa’s guilt control both of their lives.

“I’m not going to do this if it hurts you,” Shinsou said firmly, well aware that refusing to proceed with the physical component would likely result in him failing to get his hero license back.  He knew that he was making a decision that would most likely result in him not being able to become a hero.  But how could he ever be a hero if he used, sacrificed, and then discarded all of the people who had helped him along the way?  A true hero wouldn’t do that.

And with or without his license, Shinsou at the very least knew how to act like a hero.  And he knew that destroying Aizawa’s life just to help himself was not heroic in the slightest.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Shinsou said, his voice softening.  “I’m sorry for all the time you spent training me and for all the grief that I’ve brought you, but — I can’t go through with the physical component.  I won’t do it.”

“Shinsou!” Aizawa exclaimed quietly.  “If we don’t do the physical component, then most likely you won’t — ”

“I know,” Shinsou said softly, trying to ignore the tears stinging in his eyes.  He knew he was doing the right thing by turning Aizawa away, even if it meant Shinsou losing a chance at getting his license back and becoming a hero.

“Shinsou, I know that this is hard,” Aizawa tried again.  “I know that you don’t want to do this, but — Shinsou, being a hero is your dream.  You can’t give up on that.”

Shinsou swallowed thickly.  “I’m not,” he said quietly.  “We can — we can still try the emotional component.  There’s still a chance that it might work.”

“Shinsou — ” Aizawa said again, his voice soft and confused and hurt.

“Good night, sensei,” Shinsou said stiffly.

Shinsou didn’t turn around at Aizawa calling his name.

He didn’t stop, he didn’t try to pretend to listen or like he wanted to hear Aizawa’s excuses or his pleas.  Shinsou knew he needed to leave, he needed to not be swayed by Aizawa’s arguments, he needed to let Aizawa go so he didn’t ruin his life all over again.

Shinsou left the apartment and headed back to the dorms, trying to blink past his tears.