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If there was ever a time Yamada Hizashi has considered becoming an alcoholic, it was this very moment. He let out what may very well have been the twentieth sigh of exasperation and exhaustion in the past ten minutes, and took a chance glance over at the clock on the wall. Wonderful, only thirty more minutes left of this horrid class. Granted, this was usually his favorite class of the day. Usually. See occasionally, such as said moment right now, his eager and polite listeners would do this. He wasn’t even sure that his quirk could overpower the level of absurd noise that the bunch was emanating. Bakugou was yelling at something Kaminari had said, who in turn, was also yelling to match Bakugou’s volume. Poor Iida was trying and failing to wrangle the bunch, but his additional squawking only added to the volume levels rather than actually helping. And of course once three of them were yelling, the rest would decide to intermittently add in their own clamorous opinions.
Hizashi couldn’t help but sigh yet again. There was no saving this class period; he might as well throw in the towel now and save his breath. Just as he was about to resign to reclining in his seat behind the large wooden teacher’s desk in the corner, the door to the classroom slammed open revealing a rather haggard Aizawa Shouta. Now this would be good.
The effect was immediate and the entire class settled at once; the eerie speed was enough to send shivers down Hizashi’s spine. No one—Hizashi included—dared to move a muscle as Aizawa stalked into the classroom, stopping once he stood front and center and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Now then,” his gravelly voice rang loud and clear through the unnatural and unnerving silence of the classroom, “who wants to explain to me why my homeroom class could be heard all the way down in the teachers’ lounge?” No one dared to speak, knowing full well that such a question could only be rhetorical. Each and every student—barring a certain invisible one of course—was frozen with that deer-in-the-headlights look that had Hizashi holding back a laugh. “Do not make me come back here again. Is that understood?” Aizawa finished his threat with a brief flash of his quirk, a promise for great punishment if the class were to take his words lightly.
“Yes sensei,” the class chorused in a way that Hizashi found simply adorable—terrifying circumstances be damned. He nodded at Aizawa as the grumpy man took his leave, and began his lecture where he had left off, glad at the new fully attentive group in front of him.
Night patrol was Hizashi’s personal favorite patrol. Of course not because it was the only alone time he got with a certain other prohero! Definitely not that! Said prohero was looking rather good today though if Hizashi was being honest with himself. Black was definitely the other man’s color, and the sight of him stalking through the night streets of Musutafu did things to Hizashi. Namely, make him very distracted. Distracted enough that he didn’t notice when Aizawa turned to look at him.
“You plan on staring at me all night or are you gonna actually do your job at some point?” Hizashi knew the blush that erupted all across his face, neck, and ears was brighter than the stoplight they had just passed.
“I’m not staring! I just thought I saw something over your shoulder!”
“Right.” Smooth. He totally bought that. Hizashi knew better than to get caught again, so he did—unwillingly—turn his attention back to the city around them. Their joint patrol was enjoyable to Hizashi for more than just the fact that he got a chance to ogle Aizawa; he was also allowed a moment of peace. Don’t get him wrong, Hizashi loved being the life of every party he was at, but it got tiring. Being the one to carry a conversation all the time, to be the one always making jokes for the group, to be the one to fill any awkward or tense silences with idle chatter was draining. But with Aizawa, he didn’t have to. When it was just the two of them, Hizashi could sit back and just exist. It was a pleasant thing and something he was beyond grateful for, whether the other was aware of his gratitude or not.
They continued their patrol in relative silence, both happy to just be with each other and take the time to unwind and relish in the peaceful bubble they had created. Or at least until a careening object burst said bubble. The thing, whatever it was, had crashed onto the ground a few feet in front of them, instantly putting the two proheroes on guard. Aizawa made quick work of scanning the surrounding area for the point of origin while Hizashi carefully approached whatever the hell it was that had landed in front of them. As he got closer, he was able to make out a general shape and was that? A radio? The volume was low, seeing as one of its speakers was crushed upon impact, but from what was heard out of the other crackling speaker made goosebumps prick to life across Hizashi’s skin.
“It’s my show,” he whispered, slowly backing away from the offending object on the pavement.
“What?” Aizawa hadn’t moved from the spot he was in when the thing had landed, but now took a few steps closer to inspect for himself. “Huh. It is your show.” The two barely managed to exchange matching worried expressions before another radio landed behind them. And then another. And another. Soon, radios were falling all around them, all broadcasting Hizashi’s early morning radio show ‘Good Morning Musutafu.’ Hizashi chanced a glance up and his breath caught as he could make out several figures atop the building they were stopped next to.
“Looks like we got company Eras-” Suddenly, Hizashi’s voice cut out entirely, leaving him grappling for his throat with a hoarse wheeze. Aizawa, having already looked up, immediately kicked into fight mode. Running up the nearby fire escape, Aizawa took off after the small group while Hizashi followed on the ground as they began to jump to a nearby building. Deciding Aizawa was well equipped to hold his own for a moment, Hizashi surged ahead and climbed up the fire escape of the building in front of him, intent on cutting the group off before they made it any further. Just as he made it up the last steps, the final members of the little gang hopped over to the roof with Aizawa not far behind them.
“Nowhere to run now, and I’m not really in the mood for a fight so let’s make this simple.” Aizawa’s hair had already begun floating around his head, eyes glowing as red as Hizashi had flushed minutes earlier.
“If you want Present Mic to ever speak again, then you’ll let us go,” one of the group, the leader if Hizashi had to guess, stepped forward towards Aizawa. Slowly, he unfurled his fist, holding a glowing turquoise orb in the palm of his hand. “One good squeeze and his career is over!”
Aizawa hesitated a moment, and the leader seemed smug for a moment, until of course he was roundhouse kicked from the back by an infuriated Present Mic behind him. Before the scoundrel was able to collect himself, Hizashi snatched up the orb and held it in his own hand triumphantly.
“Right. Well, I suppose that solves that.” The group of wannabe villains shuddered as Aizawa gave them one of his classic disturbing—cute in Hizashi’s opinion of course—smiles before continuing. “I suppose I am in the mood for a good fight after all.”
It wasn’t long after that that the two made quick work of the group, revealed later to be young fans of a rival morning radio show doing what they perceived to be “service” for their radio idol. Hizashi could only shake his head in wonder and disgust that someone would think so low to weaponize a group of fans in such a way. Granted, that was all he could do at the moment, but still. The orb, glowing and warm nestled in his palm, had yet to release his voice, and now he was getting impatient. The groupies were being difficult, refusing to give up the secret to the quirk that had silenced him, but Aizawa had promised he’d get an answer out of them sooner or later. Hizashi really hoped it would be sooner; he had quite the lecture to share with those kids. Although, he supposed it was cool in a way to see the materialized form of his voice within his hand like that, but he was really getting tired of not being able to speak.
Luckily, Aizawa came back just then with a promising look on his face. Hizashi instantly sat up in the seat he had been preoccupying while he waited for the interrogation to be over. He cocked his head to the side and gestured towards the orb in his hand.
“I don’t know,” Aizawa began smugly, “I kinda enjoy a mute Present Mic.” Hizashi could do no more than scrunch his face and let out a huff in what he hoped would portray his frustrations. Thankfully Aizawa was able to gather Hizashi’s irritation and with a laugh, gave up what he was supposed to do.
Feeling himself again, Hizashi cleared his throat before speaking. “Well if I knew all I had to do was eat the damn thing, I would’ve been speaking a hell of a long time ago!” Aizawa laughed the laugh that Hizashi liked to think he alone was privy to, and the two took their leave. Hizashi had quite the subject to address in his next show; specifically to a certain enemy radio host.
Hizashi loved his dear friend Kayama Nemuri as much as one could platonically love someone—maybe even more—but boy could that woman talk! The two were out on what was supposed to be a weekly “UA Staff Night,” but the two of them were usually the only ones who attended. He could understand the other’s hesitance—seeing as two of the loudest and “most obnoxious” coworkers would be drinking till they dropped—but it still tended to sour his mood a bit. He was fortunate enough that he could drag Aizawa with him occasionally, if only under the guise of his and Nemuri’s designated driver for the evening. Tonight was one of said nights, but all his precious talking-to-his-crush-while-using-being-drunk-as-an-excuse-for-anything-down-bad-he-would-say time was being taken up by a certain someone who was babbling away about her own desolate love life.
“I’m just saying! I’m hot! I’m young!” Hizashi snorted and Nemuri shot him a glare before continuing, “I’m famous for crying out loud! And no one wants to date me! It’s not fairrrrrr!” Aizawa rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Hizashi who was seated across from him.
“Y’know Ne-”
“And yes I get it, maybe it’s just because I’m a prohero or even that I flirt with too many people but still! You’d date me if we weren’t friends, right Sho?” If cutting him off like she did hadn’t irritated Hizashi, calling the guy she knew he had been pining over for more than a decade now by his first name so casually most definitely did.
Before he had a chance to voice his annoyance however, Aizawa spoke up. “I think Hizashi actually had something to say.” The two turned their attention to him just as his poor drunken brain short circuited at the sound of Aizawa—Shouta now?—saying his name so casually like that. Not to mention sticking up for him! Hizashi could die a happy man right then and there. He felt himself burn an even brighter red as he realized the two were waiting on his response.
“Oh I was. Uh. I was just gonna say that uh. You. Uhm. Nemuri I think you’re just looking in the wrong uh places? Y’know bars aren’t where you make lifelong connections. It’s more about the experience you share with each other.” Hizashi was no longer a happy man and now simply wanted to die of mortification as he could feel Aizawa’s stare beckoning him to make eye contact, but Hizashi knew if he did, the odds of him combusting on the spot would be at a startling 100%.
Thankfully Nemuri was too drunk to realize Hizashi’s impending death by shame and hummed in thought. “I guess you’re right. I just wish I had something like what you guys have. That connection with someone y’know?” Hizashi had clearly died and gone to hell. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. He definitely needed some more drinks.
UA Staff Nights? Very fun, very exciting, something to look forward to. UA Staff Meetings? Very dreadful, very terrible, something that made Hizashi wish he was no longer a teacher. Nedzu had been droning on and on about something that Hizashi could no longer follow along with, and he feared that there may never be an end to it. He chanced a glance at Shouta—a common pastime of his—who seemed even more bored and dazed than Hizashi did himself. However, with everyone distracted by whatever Nedzu had pulled up on the projector, Hizashi got a chance to unabashedly take in the sight of a casual Aizawa Shouta. His relaxed posture and baggy clothes did nothing to hide his sturdy physique, and Hizashi could only imagine what it would feel like to have those firm arms wrapped around him. Had he not been fully submerged in a daydream of what it would be like to cuddle with a man he could definitely say he was in love with, he would have realized that Nedzu had stopped talking. He also would have realized that it was his turn to start talking as the head of the English department at UA. And he most definitely would have realized that everyone in the room had turned to look at him, who was in turn gazing longingly at Shouta.
A dramatic cough and elbow to the gut from Nemuri sitting next to him made him realize just how screwed he was as he was brought back down to earth where he was sitting in the middle of a silent staff meeting. Hmm. Excellent. This is very good. He hadn’t been planning on retiring early, but perhaps it was time to reconsider. With a nervous chuckle he stood up and made his way over to the projector, ready to present the slides filled with updates on his department.
“Right, uh. Sorry everyone, I must’ve gotten a little lost in thought there. Anyways this month we’ve seen a dr-”
“Gee Eraser, didn’t realize you had changed your name to ‘thought,’” snide remark be damned—Hizashi wasn’t even quite sure where it had come from—the problem was the ensuing round of laughter from the rest of his coworkers. Hizashi frowned; it wasn’t even that good of a joke! However, being the only interesting thing to happen thus far, brought a release of taut energy from the rest of the group that reduced into chuckles and more smart remarks about Hizashi that he could most definitely do without.
“If you would all be a bit more professional so we could get this meeting over with,” Shouta’s hard gaze scanned the room, immediately bringing an end to the ruckus that had briefly sidetracked the meeting, “I believe Present Mic had a few words about the English department for this month.”
The ability Shouta had to silence a room with a mere glare was one Hizashi could admit he envied greatly. “Right. Thank you Eraserhead. As I was saying…”
Shouta had always considered himself a patient man—he had to be, what with being a teacher and all—but listening to another one of All Might’s retellings about “life at his prime” made him want to become a very violent person.
“And of course,” not to mention the volume level the large man spoke at; it was like he was forever stuck on max, “not to mention my wonderful friend Dave who at the time-”
“Oh hey big guy!” Great just what he needed, the appearance of another loud blond. “What story are ya telling this time?” Shouta rolled his eyes. Leave it to Hizashi to get him started all over again.
With a booming laugh and a clap on his shoulder—in a way that Shouta knew must’ve hurt if the wince on Hizashi’s face was anything to go by—All Might began reiterating his story from the very beginning, with a sole focus on Hizashi this time. Shouta caught the knowing wink the smaller blond shot him as the two began to walk off, Hizashi loudly interjecting as necessary with over the top “oohs” and “ahhs” for a story Shouta knew they had both heard several times before.
It was moments like these, small ones that went unnoticed by most, that Shouta knew deep in his heart that the feelings that thrummed under his skin and made his pulse race were ones of affection so strong, they could only be described as love. He loved his best friend more than he would ever know, if not only because he would never be able to put it into the right words. After all, there was no way to describe a love, admiration, and adoration so strong it made him weak in the knees. But until he could find the words, he knew that he would just have to say how he felt however else he was able.