Chapter Text
Three months; it's been three months since you joined the UA faculty team, acting as no less - no more - than a glorified gym teacher. Well, sure, a gym teacher for high schoolers with literal superpowers - and your boss being an actual rodent. But a gym teacher nonetheless.
UA High may be a school for said high schoolers with superpowers, but it is a school still. There wasn't a dire need for an extra teacher but Principal Nezu (your rodent boss) was still happy to take you on board after having finished his look into your past.
With the recent ongoings of villain attacks on the school and its students, Principal Nezu had become even harder on new applicants for his staff, and if even the smallest thing seemed off about you or your background, you’d be dismissed instantly. Thankfully you've lived an inoffensive - albeit a bit boring - life, and your resume looked great on top of that.
Your coworkers were all wonderful, in their own ways, and you quite quickly learned of their weekend routines - that is to say, the weekend drinking. And you learned how heavy certain of said coworkers were when drinking.
Then there were those like All Might and Thirteen who simply joined the get-togethers for the socializing, neither being all too interested in the alcohol itself.
You also learned very quickly to never take on a drinking challenge from Midnight, as she could outrank you before you could blink. The way she downed each drink like a cold glass of water was frankly terrifying.
Then there was him, Shota Aizawa, a man who seemed both uninterested and unfazed by the alcohol. Even after several glasses, he seemed to be acting as though completely sober. There were times you wondered if the drinks given to him were alcoholic at all.
As a gym teacher, drinking wasn't much advice for you, but you couldn't deny the company, nor that the fuzzy feeling in your head a few drinks in felt really nice after a long work week. Besides, you had few opportunities to get to know your co-workers, since they were all almost always busy in some sense or sensitive on time, it was only during the weekends that you had the chance to know what they were like off-hours.
Some of them surprised you - Ectoplasm, for example; was a huge fan of karaoke and searched for nearly any opportunity to sing or suggest a karaoke session. He wasn’t bad at it, either, despite what his ominous voice would have you guess.
You’d spend hours drinking with these people almost every single weekend, and somehow always wake up back at home. And you always figured you had managed to find your way home while blacked out - which was unlikely but not impossible, you didn’t live too far from the bar the staff all frequented.
You thought this for a very long time… But you had failed to notice a certain thing…
Sigh…
This was exactly why he had started to drink less during these nights. Shota glances over at your drunken sleeping body, having started leaning against his shoulder at some point. The first couple of times you did this, he had been bothered - his personal space was one of the most important things to him - but as weekends came and went, he’d grown to expect it.
You weren’t a heavy drinker like Nemuri, but you had a tendency of thinking you can drink just one more.
He hears you mumbling something in your sleep - which was another thing that had bothered him in the beginning. To be honest; you bothered him a lot at first. You weren’t intolerable or annoying or any such. He was just bothered by your energy. Sure, you were a Gym teacher so you had to have some pep, but he found it exhausting at times - as it was like having a second Hizashi.
When you were drunk, this energy would calm, which he much preferred. But he’d started finding charm in your energy as of late. Who he’d thought to be a headache, turned out to be someone very… interesting…
Shota silently sipped his beer, he hadn’t even finished the very first one he’d opened hours ago, he knew that he couldn’t. If he was too drunk, there was no true guarantee you’d make it home safe.
It was about a month and a half ago that it started; a drunken you had been mumbling about waking up in strange places after these nights, Shota had caught this, yet he himself was quite drunk as well. What you didn’t realize was that Shota got drunk, hard. He was just really good at hiding it, fooling even himself.
That night, you’d come to him toward the end of the night and asked him for help.
It was… a beautiful sight…
You must have already blacked out by that point, since you’d never spoken to him about it while sober.
Shota had been quite drunk at the time as well, but was still very conscious, and he’s so happy he was. The sight of you, leaning toward him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes and that flushed face… Needing his help. Needing him. He can’t stop thinking about it. He offered to walk you home that night and you were so happy.
Shota wobbled slightly as he stood up, letting you cling onto his arm - invading that precious space he now shared with you. He asked you where you lived and you would reply with slurred words, but always followed by a giggle, thanking him over and over.
You two had finally made your way to your apartment, Shota asked if you’d be okay from here, but it had seemed the alcohol had taken a strong grip on you by now. He tried asking simple questions instead.
“Where are your keys?”
“Purf…. Purse…”
“Should I get them for you?”
“Hehe… Pleas- please do…!”
He swallowed, something about that ‘please’ hit him hard. He carefully reached to your purse to get your keys. Suddenly you were in his arms, having lost your balance.
“Mm… I’m gonna sleeb… sleep now… Nighty…!” Was the last you said before passing out completely in his arms. Panicked, Shota stood frozen for a while, debating what the right thing here would be. What the rational thing would be.
Surely it’d be to simply get you to bed?
Shota took a deep breath, and fumbled with the key, having a hard time inserting it due to his own drunken state. He finally succeeded and looked down at you.
“Can I pick you up?” He asked
You uttered no words, just sweet murmurs and sounds of comfort.
‘I’ll have to take this as a yes…’
He carefully lifted you up into his arms and entered the apartment, looking for your bedroom.
After a while he’d found it, sighing with relief, he began to lower you onto your bed. That’s when your hands shot out and grabbed at his shirt, uttering sounds of protest, as if upset that he’d let go of you.
A shiver ran down his spine.
No.
He carefully pulled your hands off his shirt, dragging the blanket over you, he dared not touch your clothes - not even your shoes, you’d have to deal with that on your own.
Taking one last look at you, he left quietly, leaving your purse and keys on your nightstand.
Ever since that day, Shota had started slowing down on the alcohol, so he could assure you’d get home safe. Sometimes you’d pass out right there with the others, and when that happened, he’d just quietly pick you up and leave - the others hadn’t ever questioned.
There were some days you would leave on your own, Shota hated those days. He didn’t hate you being able to leave on your own, no no. He just hated the thought of you not always needing him. There was a certain comfort he felt as he would carry you.
Or was it a feeling of power? He was not sure, but he loved the feeling regardless.
And now - today - you had passed out once more, which meant he could hold you. He finished the rest of his drink and carefully picked you up. As he left the bar with you, he lowered his head and took a deep breath in…
“Heh… Coconut? That’s an odd choice for you,” he chuckled as he watched your peaceful face, “Did you want to try out something new for me?”
Of course, you didn’t respond.
“Mhm… How kind of you. Come, let’s get you home,” and he began walking.
It didn’t take long before he had arrived in front of your apartment, he retrieved the key from your pocket with ease - you’d stopped bringing your purse a few weeks ago - and opened the apartment door, carrying you inside.
He was making his way to your room when…
“Mmmnn… hm…?” You began to stir in his arms.
Shota froze, were you going to wake up? What would you think if you’d woken up and saw him carry you like this?
You stopped stirring.
Shota paused for a bit before taking a deep breath, false alarm.
He laid you down on your bed, removing your shoes. He’d overheard you talking with other colleagues that you’d wake up in an overheat during these weekends, so he’d started removing your shoes and jacket. More than that, he dared not.
“Mmmn…”
His eyes shot up, your face… You had a displeased look… But you were very much still asleep. Were you having a bad dream?
He kept his gaze on your face for a while before carefully peeling off your jacket.
“Mnnn… … ota…”
He froze once again. If you woke up now he’d be screwed.
“... Sh… Shot… Shota…”
Shota felt his chest tighten, a flame somewhere within him beginning to spark. You were saying his name… His first name… You’d always called him Aizawa. So, why…?
He felt a heat within his body, his breath staggering. He misheard, right?
After some time, he carefully reached his hand to yours. Your hand closed around his and he could see a small smile on your face.
Shota couldn’t look away, he wet his lips as he stared. He felt your hand squeeze around his, and you let out sounds of content. A shiver went down his spine as he heard you mutter his name again.
With shaky breathing, he slowly reached out his other hand to cup your cheek, and the way you rubbed into his hand… The fire grew hotter.
He whispered your name. You mumbled something back with a smile.
He repeated this several times, the sounds you made…
He felt something shift on the bed and looked down, underneath your blanket, your legs were moving in an odd way… You started making more sounds… Good sounds…
“... S… Shota…”
“I’m here,” he said without thinking.
“Mnn… Mmm…”
He caressed your cheek gently, watching you practically melt into his touch.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, you looked so… vulnerable…
Your hand squeezed his own, hard, and he squeezed back. He could hear his heart beating.
You were right there, you were telling him you needed him there.
Shit, the door.
He slowly let go of your hand and began to move toward the apartment door which he’d left open, usually he’s not here this long, so he leaves the door open so he can just lay you down and leave quickly. He’d gotten distracted, he reached out for the door to close it.
… Close it? Isn’t he supposed to leave by now…?
Wait, what the hell was he doing?
Shota groans and rubs his forehead, what the hell had he been thinking about doing to you? Nothing could make those thoughts sound rational in the slightest. He’d almost betrayed you.
Could he blame the alcohol? No, not really, he’d only drank a can of beer… Is this what he truly thinks of you…? Is this really who he was? He thinks back to the comment he’d made earlier, fuck, maybe he was deranged…
Shota lets his hand drag down his face and lets out a sigh, he’d have to leave, quick.
He shook his head, turned off the lights and left the keys on your nightstand, taking one last look at your peaceful face before taking his leave.