You groan as you enter the training building, dragging your feet as you hobble on your crutches.
How did he get you to agree to this? Better yet, how did he get you to follow through on the agreement? You're not above flaking out on them but for some reason, you feel weird about doing it to Aizawa. By the time you get well inside, you've decided to chalk it up to pity due to his sorry state right now.
"I really don't think you understand Recovery Girl's orders- I'm not supposed to put any weight on this at all."
"You don't need to walk to use your Quirk." Aizawa points at a stool near the center of the large room. You roll your eyes and sit down, placing your crutches carefully on the ground.
"What are we doing, Aizawa?" He deftly drags another stool over with his foot and you stare at him.
"We're gonna talk."
"I- what? Why did we need to come here then? Those crutches aren't comfortable, you know!"
"It's important to keep your other muscles in use when you have an injury so they don't deteriorate. That was the exercise portion of your training."
Aizawa sounds a little too pleased with himself and you roll your eyes. You already want to leave.
"What are we supposed to talk about."
Aizawa sits down with a huff. "Your Quirk. It's origins, limits, potential."
"Okayyyy..." It feels weird to be having a conversation like this. Aizawa has never seemed this interested in anything having to do with you, and although you can't deny you're glad to have his attention for once, it doesn't help you from fidgeting.
"Well, I developed my Quirk around the same time as most kids... nothing unusual there."
"They taught you to hone your Quirk at school?"
You grimace. "Not exactly..."
Aizawa is silent, seemingly waiting for you to finish but you're not willing to share details like that right now.
"I never had a formal education. I was homeschooled when I was a little older by someone with Quirks, and the war started shortly after that."
"Hmm. Makes sense."
You cock your head at him, annoyed you can't read his face from under the bandages.
"What does that mean?"
"You never learned proper Quirk control or usage. The only 'training' you had was all-out warfare, resulting in where we are now."
You cross your arms, trying not to feel as defensive as you instinctively want to.
"Look, I'd never claim to be the most sophisticated hero, but the war taught me plenty. I'm not running off of zero experience- you know combat requires strategy."
He's quiet for a minute, considering your words, before nodding slowly. "Fair enough."
You're surprised. That might be the first time he's explicitly agreed with you.
"However, that doesn't change that you have a lot of learning left to do. Things are different here in Japan, which I hope you're at least somewhat aware of at this point.
Your eyes slit, re-annoyed. "Yes, I'm aware."
"Good. Once you're fully recovered, I'll assess where you are with your Quirk and finalize your training plan. I'm thinking a few hours every week after classes. If all goes well, you might actually become a Pro in the next year or so."
You can't deny you like the sound of that. You've always dreamed of being a Pro Hero, and that title will definitely help you convince the Japanese government you're worth keeping around.
"In the meantime, we have to focus on preparing the class for the Sports Festival. This is the most important event of the year, and we have to take advantage of every opportunity to help these students, especially with these villains getting so bold."
You struggle to your feet, leaning on your crutches heavily. "Then lets get to it."
Training is intense for the students. Between you, Aizawa, and the other teachers, they're being pushed toward their ultimate potential hard.
You've been observing All Might's training sessions in particular to get a better idea of their skills in action and to understand All Might's teaching style. After a few weeks of observing, you've decided you like it.
All Might is a great teacher. He pushes the students, challenging them, and when they step out of line he knows how to do what needs to be done. Bakugo is the biggest instigator, especially when it comes to Midoryia, and All Might doesn't hesitate to keep him in line. At the same time, he has great care for them and looks out for their needs, both physical and emotional.
Before you know it, the day of the festival has almost arrived. Tomorrow morning, your class will be competing against all the other classes.
"That's all we have for you this morning." You tell the class with a smile. You can tell they're all anxious to get out and begin their preparations for tomorrow. "Dismissed!"
Iida's the first student to the door, but when he opens it, there's a massive crowd right outside. All the other classes of students horde outside the door, and you realize as the students talk to them that they're vying to catch a glimpse of the students who actually beat real villains. They're eying up the competition.
Despite the intense trauma of their experience in the USJ, the other students see it as a leg up your class now has on the other students. They all have targets on their backs now, especially when you're informed Bakugo said something to piss off all the other classes. Typical.
It makes sense that the other students see 1-A as their biggest competition. They are. They're remarkable students, fully prepared for the upcoming competition.
You know that, but it doesn't make sleep find you any easier that night. You toss and turn, anxious thoughts plaguing you. What if Izuku gets hurt? What if Bakugou hurts someone else?
You give up on forcing yourself to sleep and crawl out of bed grumpily, wandering out to the shared living space. What might help you get some sleep?
Booze? Tea, maybe? You decide tea would be more appropriate, so you flip through some cabinets and find a tea box, but when you open it there are no teabags like you expected, but loose leaves.
You've never made tea with loose leaves before and as you take out the teapot and other implements you're very lost. You're startled when the water you're boiling starts whistling on the stove loudly and you snatch it off quickly, hoping that didn't wake anyone up. Chuckling from behind you causes you to whip around, now face to face with the one neighbor you'd least likely to see right now.
Aizawa doesn't usually struggle sleeping. He's a big fan of daytime naps and will take any opportunity he can to rest from his physically and mentally taxing job, both as a pro hero and as a teacher. In a lifetime of difficulty, sleep is comfort and safety. It's a moment of respite in the chaos.
Nighttime is a time of refuge for him, especially when he's working on a set schedule as a teacher. He actually stays up late most nights, reveling in the peacefulness, maybe smoking on his balcony. It's meditative for him in the solitude, the quiet, and an almost sacred time he has for himself. Tonight is no exception, and with the festival looming overhead, Aizawa is planning out the next steps for every single student in his class from in the serene, crisp night air. A sound from the kitchen inside the quad catches his ear and he gets up to investigate, snuffing out his blunt on his ashtray.
He opens his door slowly, and easily spots her in the dim light of the stove. She's fluttering around, snatching the kettle off the stove in a panic, and the sight is so absurd yet comforting he's unaware of the low quiet laugh rumbling out of him until she spins around, startled.
You frown as he laughs at you, even as your pulse spikes as you take in the baggy pants low on his hips and his loose, unbuttoned pajama shirt. It hangs open as he leans against the door frame, and your eyes take in the exposed skin of his chest greedily. It distracts you even as you try to chastise him for sneaking up on you.
"What's so funny?" You manage to get out, reminding yourself you're supposed to be annoyed. He rolls his eyes at your snark, the corners of his mouth pulled up in the ghost of a smile.
"You. What are you doing?"
You glance around at the chaos surrounding you and shrug. "Making tea."
"Have you ever made tea before?"
His usual stinging drawl is back and you frown again. "Yeah, of course. Just... not this kind."
Aizawa laughs again and your cheeks burn. "Are you just gonna watch me?"
He doesn't know why he's so amused. Maybe it's the way her face is scrunched up in a frown and her arms are planted on her hips indignantly, trying to exude an air of "don't fuck with me" even as her tousled hair sticks out every which way, highlighted in the silhouetting stove light. It could be the way she walks lopsided in her medical boot, able to put just enough pressure on her injured leg now to take a few gentle steps, but each one reminding Aizawa how she threw herself into harm's way for their students, and for him, with no hesitation. Or maybe it's just the weed. Either way, he decides to help her. Just a little.
"I can't help, my arms..." he reminds her about the thick bandages and splints. He has some use of his arms back, but she doesn't need to know that right now. "But I can tell you what to do. If you'll actually listen to my instructions."
You roll your eyes at him but agree. "Fine."
"Teaspoon."
You pull open a drawer and retrieve the utensil.
"Two scoops of leaves. In the teapot."
He walks you slowly through the process of making fresh tea, only making fun of you a little bit as he does. You follow his instructions dutifully with only a few snide comments, wanting to learn this skill regardless. You enter a sort of flow state, finding you really enjoy the simple yet meditative process of making tea.
It's a comforting and homely experience, made strange by the fact you're doing this in the middle of the night with Aizawa of all people. He stays by your side the whole time, and you keep finding yourself closer to him than is likely proper, but he doesn't recoil from you.
Soon enough you have a steeping pot ready. "Don't spill it." He reminds you gently when you start laughing while pouring a cup for each of you. His hand instinctively moves to steady the teapot you're holding, forgetting he can't help you with his injuries before lowering it when you catch yourself and hold it still.
You set down the teapot and slowly turn to him with both cups in hand. You hold your breath. He's too close. His eyes are boring into you, unmasked by his hair as it's pulled back in a messy bun. You see the deep scar under his right eye he earned defending you and your students nearly to the death, and find you want to reach out and touch it. Panicked by that thought, you hold his cup out to him instead. "Here." Suddenly you remember his splints. "Oh... do you want a straw or something?"
"I'll manage," is all he says, flashing you the cheekiest smirk before taking it with both hands. "Thanks."
Your eyebrows raise but you say nothing as he takes it back to his room. You roll your eyes at his dickish behavior but find it more charming than hurtful as you sip your own tea thoughtfully.
It's so strange how unnerved Aizawa makes you feel. Usually, it's because you know he's judging you, looking for fuck ups, for weaknesses. You're slowly getting used to that as much as you hate it. What's freaking you out now is how when you looked at his expression just now, you didn't see a sliver of judgment behind his somber eyes. As always, they were analyzing, and searching, but for once, you have no idea what for.
You go through two cups of tea before your eyelids start growing heavy, and when you get in bed this time, it's thoughts about your mysterious, dark-haired coworker floating through your head as sleep finally finds you.
Aizawa didn't expect his night to go like that. It was their most peaceful interaction to date, so unnervingly domestic, and so alarmingly enjoyable. God, he almost touched her, and not just when he was going to steady the teapot she almost dropped, but as she flitted around the kitchen, listening to his instructions carefully. Aizawa had to continually stop himself from grazing her arm or setting a hand on the small of her back. Inappropriate, he kept reminding himself, both as her coworker, sort of boss even, and as probably the last person she'd ever want touching her anyways.
He knows she was weirded out by him staring at her, she always catches him when he's looking too long- but if allowing himself the occasional lingering look continues to prevent him from committing an even graver mistake, he can live with that. He has to.