Seven-Thirty
Aizawa x Reader, Guys, I might be back 😮
Eri fiddles with the hem of her jacket, a sure-fire way of telling that she’s anxious.
“Everything alright, kiddo?”
“Do you think Aunty will like my present?” She asks, looking up at him.
Shouta smiles. It’s hard not to, when Eri is around. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that you’re thinking of her, even if it’s not exactly her style.”
Eri blanches. “But it’s supposed to be her style!”
Shouta keeps his smile where it is, hoping that it will soothe Eri’s nerves. “I’m just trying to be logical here, princess. You know her better than I do. I’m sure you picked the right thing.”
Internally, though, he wonders if a claw clip in the form of an oversized cat can ever be the style of someone past the age of seven and a half.
“I’m not giving it to her, then,” Eri decides, pulling the pink package from her bag.
“No, you should.”
Eri stops. Stares at the package. Tears are starting to form at her lashline as she panics. “I already told her I was going to give her a gift today! I can’t bring nothing.”
“Listen,” Shouta undertakes the difficult task of getting down on one knee and grabs her gently by the shoulders. “You are a wonderful little girl and the best gift-giver I know. And from what you’ve told me about your Aunty, she’ll appreciate your gift. Good friends are happy even when the gift is terrible. Remember the hat I got from Uncle Hizashi?”
Eri sniffles. “The one with the pompom?”
“You got it. I hate that thing with a burning passion, but I also love it, because it always reminds me of Uncle Hizashi when I spot it on top of my dresser. It tells a story. And what does your gift tell?”
“That cats are great?”
“And that you love your Aunty and want her to have something cute for her hair. Now, come on, we need to get going, or we’re going to be late.”
It’s only when they reach the front door of her school that Eri’s courage falters again.
“Can you give it to her?” She asks, pushing the package into his hands.
“It’s your gift, honey.”
“But-”
“Eri,” your voice calls out. “There you are. I was getting all worried.”
“Aunty,” Eri cheeps. “I-” She turns to Shouta, panic in her eyes. The pink package still rests in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes as you walk over. Your hair’s open today, flowing past your shoulders. Is that a bumblebee on your cardigan? “I’m a little slower when rain’s approaching. I might have slowed us down a little.”
“I understand,” you say, winking. “Now, Eri, do you wanna get into your classroom and start learning with us?”
“Yes, but-” Another panicked look. Shouta reaches out and offers the pink package. “A gift,” he rumbles, embarrassed. “Eri told you about it?”
“Oh, of course.” You take it and move to tuck it into one pocket of your cardigan.
“Don’t you want to open it?” Eri asks, her voice breaking a little.
“Are you nervous I’m not going to like it?” You ask, voice steady and a warm smile ready to soothe her worries. “I’m sure I’m going to love it if it comes from you. But class is about to start. I’m going to open it during lunch break. We can do it together, if you want, but only after you've eaten your lunch. Is that okay?”
“Okay,” Eri nods, taking the hand you offer her. “Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, Eri. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“Oh, Aizawa-san,” you turn a little. “Please don’t forget that we’ve got a Parent-Teacher Night on Thursday. Your spot would be at seven-thirty, but we can change it if another time works better.”
“Seven-thirty,” he repeats, hoping it will help him remember it. “I’ll be there.”
-
“Shhh, be quiet!”
Shouta blinks. There it is again. The faint sound of footsteps in the hallway, a door closing, the deep mrew of his hungriest cat.
His eye finds the flickering red numbers on his alarm clock. It’s much too early for him to be awake, considering how little he’s slept.
The warmth pulls him in again. Maybe he imagined the noise. Eri could be using the toilet, after all. Or maybe Hitoshi crashed at his place after patrol, too tired to go home.
But then, just as he’s ready to slip away again, he hears the telltale sound of a mixer. And at five in the morning, that’s never a good sign.
Banana meets him in the hallway, pushing her lithe body against his human leg. She’s the only one still wary of the cool metal on his right. Shouta leans down to scratch at her ear, yawning.
The mixer stops. More movement. Then, the warm sound of your voice.
“Oh, Eri. I don’t think we needed the shell, too.”
Shouta stills. Thinks about the box of eggs in his fridge and the last time Eri’s tried making fried eggs.
Eri’s voice pipes up next, a little guilty, and a lot more clueless.
“We can try again, right?”
“Oh, of course. But we’ve got to be quiet, so your Daddy doesn’t wake up.”
Sighing, Shouta turns away. He might not be the biggest fan of surprises, but he’d never spoil a gift Eri’s daring to make.
Banana mews to his feet.
“Yes,” Shouta announces, picking her up. “You’re coming with me.”
-
“Are you even listening to me?” Hizashi asks, sounding very annoyed.
“Yes. Of course. You were talking about your lesson plans,” Shotua answers without taking his eyes off the fat cat claw clip ahead of him. He’d recognize the thing everywhere, which means you’re waiting in line ahead of him. Are you a regular at this place? Has he never noticed you before? Or is this an exception? Have you recognized his voice? Are you not turning around on purpose?
“I have the feeling you’re ignoring me,” Hizashi laments, digging his elbow into Shouta’s side. “Or are you sleeping with your eyes open again?”
Your shoulders flinch, as if you’re trying to suppress a cough, or maybe a chuckle. “I never sleep with my eyes open,” Shouta claims, trying to save his reputation. Why, though, he’s not exactly sure. He’s dressed like a homeless person most of the time, and for reasons, too. This coffee shop has seen the worst of him already. He even has his hair up today.
“Yes, you do,” Hizashi sings, sounding pleased. “You even snore when you do it. I’ve got it on video.”
“Well, you dye your hair,” Shouta retorts dryly, taking a step forward when the line moves.
Hizashi huffs, clearly offended, and stays blissfully silent for all of two minutes. Shouta knows, because he’s counting.
“Could I get your seasonal drink?” You ask in front of him, pointing. “Oh, and do you offer a vegan milk option? Oat? Could you do the Matcha Latte with Oat Milk? That would be great, thanks.”
“You could get my number, too, if you want,” the Barista jokes, tapping the drinks into the register.
“I’m sorry?” You squeak, as Shouta freezes behind you.
“Sorry,” the guy says, smiling. “I don’t usually do this-” Shouta would like to disagree. He’s seen this move five times this month already. “But you’re really cute. I’ll write it on your cup. Which one’s yours?”
“Neither,” you say. “I’m sorry, I’m just getting drinks for my Co-Workers today, I-”
“Oh, no worries, I’ll get you something, too. What do you like? Cocoa? Coffee? Tea?”
“I’d like to pay.”
“Oh,” he seems to finally get the hint. “Sure, right,” he points to the card reader. “My offer still stands.”
Shouta’s not quite sure what he’s doing, or why, but he leans in anyway, tapping his card against the reader as you’re digging through your purse for your wallet.
“I think she got that,” he tells the guy coolly. “We’d like our regular order, to go.”
“I could have paid myself, Aizawa-san,” you point out to his right. “But thank you. I’m sure my colleagues will be very grateful.”
“If it keeps them from envying you, it’s all right.”
“Envying me?” You ask, blinking.
“Well,” he says, feeling utterly ridiculous, “You’ve got the cool Hair clip, after all.”
You laugh. Take your drinks. Send him a smile as you turn away.
“I’ll see you Thursday, Aizawa-san. Seven-Thirty.”
Hizashi does not stop talking about his “lack of flirting skills” all afternoon. He shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.
-
You’re wearing the stupid Pom-Pom Hat.
Hizashi’s known for his elaborate parties, and Shouta still hates him for that.
If not for his friend, he’d be at home right now, spending his weekend reading, sleeping, or taking Eri to the park.
But now he’s trying to maneuver through a group of ridiculously dressed adults, wearing the world's scratchiest All Might wig over a slightly too large costume of the former Pro Hero, looking for his girlfriend. And his kid.
At least he knows you’re wearing the stupid Pom-Pom Hat, because you sent him a picture earlier, the little red and purple Pom-Pom’s matching your make-up.
Eri’s costume is still a secret. Which it shouldn’t be. He needs to be able to find her, especially in a place as packed as this.
“Easy there,” he steps onto Hitoshi’s right foot to keep him in place, his hands occupied. “Have you seen Eri?”
“Ow,” Hitoshi complains. He’s dressed as Aoyama, probably, or a disco ball that exploded. “No, I haven’t seen her. Can you let go of me? I think the barkeeper has a crush on me.”
“The barkeeper is twenty years older than you.” Shouta points out. “And aren’t you still a minor?”
“She’s ten years older,” Hitoshi corrects him. “I checked her profile. And I’m twenty.”
“Exactly,” Shouta nudges his shoulder with his own. “You’re a baby. Now help me find mine.”
“Ew,” Hitoshi pulls a face. “Keep your pet names to yourself.”
“I meant Eri.”
“Sure,” Hitoshi grins, turning. He points to something bright and yellow in the distance. “There.”
“That’s Kaminari.”
“Exacdtly. Easy to spot. Eri’s with him.”
“And you know that why?”
“I asked him to keep an eye on her.”
“You’re a good big brother.”
Hitoshi grimaces. “Don’t get too soft on me now.”
“You’re not going anywhere near that barkeeper.”
Hitoshi laughs, taking one of the drinks. “I wasn’t going to, but now that you’re making it into a challenge…”
Shouta stops listening to him when he spots Eri himself.
Her hair has turned black, somehow, making her almost entirely unrecognizable, save for the telltale horn. But it’s her outfit that has his heart stutter for a few beats. He knows those clothes. They’re his own, a little taken in at some points, the capture weapon slung around her neck faded and damaged in some spots. His old googles move as she hops around.
“Daddy!” She yells when she spots him. “Surprise! I’m you!”
“You’re me!” He manages to get out, a little too choked up for someone with his reputation. “Who got you into this awesome costume?!”
“Aunty did!” Eri exclaims, hugging him. “She’s looking for you.”
“But I said I was going to get drinks,” Shouta sighs. “What’s she dressed as?”
“Uncle Hizashi with a Pom-Pom Hat,” Eri explains. “It looks really funny.”
Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you stay with Hitoshi while I go find her?”
“Too late,” your voice calls out, and then your arm links through his. “Found you first.”
-
“Look, I don’t care what you do in your free time, but that habit isn’t going to help you improve.”
“It was just one smoke,” Hitoshi defends himself. “It’s not like I’d get addicted from trying it one time.”
“You’d be surprised,” Shouta shoots back, and hits the brake a little too hard with his prosthetic, grunting when the seat belt cuts into his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Are you sure you should be driving?” Hitoshi asks, eyeing him. “Are you having a headache again?”
He is, but he’s not going to let the boy know. “What are you? My Dad?”
“No, but you’re acting like you’re mine,” Hitoshi reminds him, grimacing as soon as the words leave his mouth. “That sounded worse than I wanted it to.”
“No, you’re right,” Shouta tells him, careful to keep his voice level. “I’m your teacher, nothing else. And soon I’m not even going to be that.”
“You’re more than just my teacher,” Hitoshi reminds him, and Shouta’s heart breaks a little at the wobble in the boy’s voice.
He wants to say something, reassure him that there’s nothing going to change even when he knows that’s a big fat lie. But they’ve reached the parking lot and Eri’s already waiting, her hand in yours.
“Daddy!” Eri waves, smiling. “Hitoshi!”
“Hey, Princess,” Hitoshi jumps out of his seat. “Did you learn something cool today?”
“We did,” Eri explains, but Shouta can’t quite follow her, not with the way his mind races as he climbs out of his seat.
He’d been training before, and today’s heat hasn’t been kind to him. His shirt sticks to him in all the wrong places, and he’s pretty sure lunch left a stain somewhere.
“Sorry for being late again,” he apologizes, glad that at least his hair is out of his face.
“It’s fine,” you say, sending Eri a quick look. “I don’t mind spending a little more time with her. And I hear you’re really busy. It must be quite the task to teach at U.A. What class do you have?”
“Homeroom,” he says, in favor of explaining the intricacies of his job. “It’s not usually as hectic, but my current class is a lot.”
“I heard that,” Hitoshi rumbles from where he’s helping Eri into the car. Shouta snorts under his breath. “One of my students.”
“Oh?” You turn for another look. “I was under the impression that he’s your son.”
“Something like that,” he grimaces. “It’s complicated.”
“Right,” you clear your throat. Shouta’s not sure how or why, but it feels like there’s a wall between the two of you now, one he must have created by accident, but he’s not pleased with it at all.
“About yesterday, at the coffee shop-”
“I’ll see you later, right?” You interrupt him, checking your watch. “Seven-thirty?”
“What?” He blinks.
“Parent Teacher Conference?”
“Right,” he says, nodding. His mind is racing. How high are the chances that Hizashi can come over and babysit tonight? “Seven-thirty. Do I need to bring something?”
You laugh. The wall between you crumbles, if only a little. “Yourself, preferably. This isn’t a date, Aizawa-san.”
“It could be,” he mutters under his breath, more daring than he’s ever dreamed himself to be. You don’t say anything, but the look you send him tells him that you’ve heard it.
And Hitoshi, too, he finds out as soon as he gets his ass back into the car.
-
“Dad’s asleep,” he hears your voice from somewhere in the room. Shouta blinks, unable to shake the feeling of being separated from his body, just a mind floating around in a warm, dark space. If only sleep could always feel like this.
“Yeah, I know.” That’s Hitoshi. Something in his voice pulls at his consciousness. The boy sounds hurt and tired, like he usually does after Patrol. “It’s nothing serious, I just came by to check in.”
“Well, you did,” you say. “Now sit down and let me look at it.”
“It’s nothing.”
“So it won’t hurt to let me have a look.”
Silence. Then the sound of a chair being pushed back. Hitoshi hisses, and you whisper a curse. “That’s going to sting.”
“It hurt the first time. What makes you think this is going to be worse?”
“I was trying to be sympathetic,” you laugh, and then Hitoshi curses loudly, loud enough that it shakes something loose in Shouta’s brain, and he blinks himself awake enough to spot him in the dim kitchen light.
“There, there,” you drag your hand over his shoulders. “It’s clean now. A few stitches and you can go and take a nap, okay?”
“I should get home,” Hitoshi mumbles, head almost on the table now. “You’ve got work in the morning.”
“I’ll kick your ass if you try to leave,” you threaten him. “If I can manage a class hungover, I can surely manage a class when I’m a little tired. Do you wanna take a shower before you sleep? You can take the master bedroom. I don’t think I’ll be able to move Shouta from the Couch on my own.”
“You don’t want me to cuddle up to him.”
“Don’t steal my man, and I’ll let you stay over again,” you tease him, before taking a step back. “Get in the shower, Hitoshi.”
Hitoshi stands. For a minute or so, neither of you speaks.
“You’re good,” Hitoshi says then. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” you say, and while neither of you says it, it feels like a blessing to Shouta.
Tomorrow, he’ll go buy the ring he’s been eyeing for weeks.
-
Shouta isn’t one to believe in signs. At least he likes to tell himself that.
The hallways are empty and quiet as he trudges along them. It feels a little eerie to be left alone in an elementary school, of all places, especially with the sun slowly setting outside, throwing orange light and long shadows through the windows.
Eri’s classroom isn’t far. He’s been there before, on her very first day and a few times in between, to pick her up when she hadn’t felt well.
It’s a short walk, but his heart is racing, and all the logic in the world isn’t helping him today.
Shouta’s not afraid of a simple parent-teacher conference, even though Eri worries him every day, in the best way possible. He’s afraid of his feelings.
The door is wide open.
Shouta stops, unsure how to proceed.
You’re sitting at your desk, head bent. You must have heard him, but you keep on writing for a while before you look up and invite him in with a smile.
“I hope I’m not late.”
You check the time on your wrist. “Seven-thirty-five. I think we could call that fashionably late.”
“No one’s ever called me fashionably before,” Shouta quips, stepping through the door.
His breath catches.
Behind you, a gigantic cloud covers the blackboard.
You turn. “It’s cool, isn’t it?”
“Did you-?”
“Oh, yes, I like to pick a theme for every year. The kids have been creating their Mini-Me’s in the last week, and I helped them place them. Eri’s right on top, see?” You point at something dark sitting on top. Shouta walks closer to inspect it, and isn’t at all surprised to find that Eri has drawn herself as her favorite cat, with a bulging belly and a friendly smile.
“The proportions are a little off,” he remarks, clearing his throat. His hands are itching to touch the cloud, wondering if it would feel like Oboro’s back in the day.
“Yeah,” you laugh. “I went a little overboard, and the kid’s projects were already done when I realized it was a little too big in comparison. But they loved it.” You shrug. “And I love clouds. Sue me. Do you want to touch it? It’s really cool material.”
He sinks his hand into it. You’re right. His breath evens out as he imagines Oboro standing by his side, winking, urging him to say something.
And still, the words come out a little warbly, his voice a little scratched at the edges.
“Do you wanna get coffee?”
“Sure.”
“No, I meant…. as a date.”
“Yeah,” you smile, as you look up at him. “I got that. I’d love to.”
“Really?” He grimaces at his tone. “So you’re forgiving me for that weird behaviour this week at the coffee shop?”
“If anything, I’m glad that didn’t destroy my chances with you. Nothing weirder than getting hit on in front of your crush.”
Shouta laughs. A weight lifts of his shoulders, and he imagines it floating up into the sky, to whatever cloud Oboro is sitting on now.
“Let’s go then?”
“Sure,” you grab your bag and put your pens away. “It’s not weird if we discuss your daughters progress over a drink, right?”
“Not if you don’t have any other parents scheduled after me.”
“Nope,” you lead him out the door. “I was kinda hoping for this when I scheduled you as my last appointment, to be honest.”
His hand reaches for yours. The fat cat claw clip in your hair catches the last light of the dying sun. Behind them, Eri’s cat watches over the darkening classroom.
Yeah, he’s ready.
-
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