Work Text:
The first time it happened, it was just a little white lie.
Maybe a grey one. Dark grey at best.
Midoriya landed himself in a hospital out of their prefecture after an internship gone wrong (a tradition at that point) and the receptionist, not recognizing either Shouta or Midoriya, refused to let him see the kid.
“I’m his father,” Shouta said, the frustration and tiredness making his tongue slip.
…At least he didn’t say “husband”. That might have worked when Mic was in hospital, but he doubted it’d have gotten him more than a ride to the nearest jail here.
The nurses let him through shortly after, especially when Shouta answered all their follow-up questions correctly.
Or at least he knew he answered them correctly. They seemed to be filling them out, using him to save the time they would have had to spend researching the kid.
He didn’t care, as long as he could still go and make sure Midoriya was alright.
***
The second time was… a little different. He was at the mall in his civilian outfit -- or as civilian as Shouta got -- when he spotted Kaminari, being guided somewhere by the security guards.
A very obviously short-circuited Kaminari.
Abandoning the little shopping list Mic gave him, Shouta swerved to intercept him.
“What happened?” He asked, the authority of an underground hero shining through his voice.
The guards stared at him, unimpressed.
“That’s my kid,” he said, pointing towards Kaminari. Well, it was technically true? As his homeroom teacher, he was responsible for Kaminari’s well-being. “This is what happens when he overuses his quirk, which hasn’t happened in months. So let me ask you again: What. Happened?”
The guards exchanged a look. “He just came into the store like this,” one of them said, shrugging. “Tried to leave with this.”
What he held up was a purse which very clearly had to have gotten onto Kaminari’s arm by accident.
Shouta told the guards exactly what he thought about their deductive skills before flashing his hero license to stop any more potential issues.
He gently guided Kaminari towards the benches around the fountain in the middle of the mall, sitting right next to him as he updated Mic.
The boy kept bobbing a little, unable to sit straight, and there was nothing separating them from the fountain… So obviously, the next logical course of action was to put an arm behind him. If he fell backwards, Shouta would be able to simply catch him before he touched the water.
What Shouta hadn’t considered, however, was Kaminari dropping sideways, head leaning against Shouta’s shoulder.
…It was a safer position, anyway.
Fifteen minutes passed before Kaminari started waking up. The first sign were his hands dropping out of their perpetual double-thumbs-up, one of them moving to rub at Kaminari’s forehead only to overshoot three times in a row.
“Ugh,” Kaminaro groaned, leaning forwards to hide his head between his knees.
“You alright?” Shouta asked.
Kaminari paused for a second before groaning again, tilting his head to look at Shouta from the corner of his eye. “...They called you?”
“No,” Shouta said. He would have left it at that, but Kaminari kept looking at him, expecting more. “I was close by and saw you with the guards,” He added, and only then registered the implications of Kaminari even asking that question in the first place. “How much do you remember?”
“I remember shortening out near a mall,” Kaminari laughed dryly, straightening up a little. “I usually end up in a holding cell somewhere when this happens.”
That… Didn’t sound good at all.
“Did something trigger the discharge?” He asked.
Kaminari blinked, straightening all the way as he looked at Shouta in bafflement. “Usually, people just assume I did it on purpose.”
Shouta just stared at him for a moment, raising a single eyebrow. “I’m your teacher,” he said. “I’ve had you in my class for nearly two years now. I know you wouldn’t make yourself so vulnerable on purpose for no reason.”
Those were definitely tears Kaminari had been trying to quickly blink away, but Shouta pretended not to notice them.
“We’ll get you a panic button,” he decided. “Something that activates when you short out, sending a message with your location to a number of trusted people.”
Kaminari glanced up at him. “But that’ll just mean you’ll get a bunch of notifs all the time! It’d be annoying…”
He trailed off, his eyes widening as he realized he just called Shouta a trusted person without a shred of hesitance, but he didn’t take it back; Good.
“Kaminari, your safety is more important than brief inconvenience,” Shouta said, kind of honoured. He would have said more, but the kid didn’t seem well enough to continue with the topic. “Do you want ice cream?”
***
The third time, he was visiting a new gym. Partially because his usual haunt was closed for repairs, partially because it was a newly opened all-quirks-allowed gym closest to the campus.
He wanted to see if there was any way his kids could get into any trouble there. That fear turned out to be justified; when he entered the building, he spotted familiar figures already at the counter.
Kirishima and Bakugou stood there, seeming to argue with the receptionist.
“I’m sorry,” Shouta caught the man say, his tone of voice not sounding sorry in the slightest. “But we can’t allow you to rent the sparring room. Not without parental permission and supervision.”
Bakugou scowled at that, arms crossed, and Kirishima pouted.
He didn’t even pout at Shouta, they didn’t know he was there, but…
Eh, he already claimed his kids twice. What’s once more?
“Is there a problem here?” He asked, putting his hands on the boys’ shoulders as he approached.
Bakugou seemed to have caught on immediately. “They won’t let us rent a room,” he complained. “They need your signature or some shit.”
Shouta glared at the receptionist until the man helpfully provided a consent form. Filling it in effortlessly, Shouta slid it back.
After they were finally led to the room, Shouta settled on the bench to observe the rest of their surroundings, checking it for any flaws in design.
“Next time you want to spar, just use one of the Gym’s back at UA,” Shouta called as the boys prepared to do their routines.
“They don’t have the machines we need,” Kirishim pointed out helpfully.
Shouta made a mental note to bring that up the next time he saw Nedzu.
***
Alright, so perhaps Shouta let it escalate a little too far.
***
“Has anyone seen Atsui’s father?” Mic had asked on the next teacher-parent conference.
Only the fact he had been bundled up in his sleeping bag at that time stopped Shouta from raising his hand before he realized that wasn’t a question meant for him.
***
There was a loud explosion shaking through the corridor as he passed through the Support wing.
“Honestly, Hatsume!” Cam Power Loader’s voice. “I ought to start billing your parents!”
“I am not paying for that,” Aizawa muttered, throwing up a peace sign as he passed the violently open doors.
He hadn’t realized it was loud enough for both Hatsume and Power Loader to hear.
***
He was in the middle of a lecture.
“This kind of behaviour is completely unacceptable,” he was saying. “As your father, I am legally and contractually obligated to keep you all safe-”
“Uh, sensei?” Mina gingerly lifted her hand, the other held at the awkward angle that indicated she was trying to record him with her phone. “Can you repeat that?”
Shouta mentally groaned. Outwardly, he pretended there was nothing wrong. “As your teacher, I am legally-”
***
He didn’t keep track of the holidays. His calendar was adjusted solely based on his classes, patrols and school-free periods.
As such, he hadn’t realized the significance of that specific day until he crawled into the class only to see all of the kids staring at him expectantly.
He narrowed his eyes.
A couple of the kids glanced towards his podium, guiding his attention to a large package deposited on the teacher’s podium.
Going by the context clues, he assumed it was from the kids.
He opened it slowly, revealing the largest mug of coffee he’s ever seen in his life, filled with a package of high quality beans he preferred. He smelled a Mic-shaped betrayal of his secrets.
“Why?” He asked.
At the very least Mic didn’t tell them his birthday, because it was still ways off.
There was a collective intake of breath just as he noticed the writing on the side of the mug.
“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!” The class yelled.
The mug said the same, surrounded by their signatures and doodles.
Shouta hid a smile in his capture weapon. Good kids.