"AH-CHOO!"
Aizawa screwed his eyes shut, trying to get to sleep. Outside, the rain pounded against the windows, howling winds screamed against the walls, bringing a chill through the drafty windows of UA High School. There was a small shuffling sound, followed by near silence, and Aizawa relaxed, drifting away once again.
"AAAHHHH-," the pause brought a small glimmer of hope, but it was quickly crushed by an even louder explosion of noise, "CHAAAOOOWW!"
Aizawa sat straight up, still cocooned in his favourite sleeping bag.
"Can you at least try to keep it down?" he asked, glaring daggers at the blond man on the couch of the teacher's lounge.
"Anything for you, baby!" Yamada gave a weak smile and sniffed hard.
The forecast had been calling for heavy storms all week, but on this day, of all days, Yamada had decided he wanted to clean the pool. Normally it was the duty of the students, but seeing as their break would be ending soon, the famous people pleaser, Present Mic, wanted to give them an opportunity to use it as soon as possible. He had also made some odd assertion that the rain would help to wash away a lot of the grime that had been built up, which didn't make a whole lot of sense, but there's no use in arguing with a man that can talk louder than you can. The storm had come a lot sooner than any of them had anticipated, however, and in moments, the small team that Yamada had assembled was drenched. Most of them were able to flee and head back home, but not so for Yamada. By the time Aizawa had gotten him inside, dried, warmed, and into a change of clothes, it was too late. Yamada's famously awful immune system had kicked back and taken a vacation day, it seemed, and he was sniffling and sneezing.
"You never listen to me," Aizawa hissed, "probably because you're too busy talking to hear," he added on quietly, hoping Yamada hadn't heard.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Yamada looked over at him pathetically.
Aizawa had contemplated just leaving the other man at the school and going home, but their high-strung relationship might not survive, given the circumstances. The two had been dating for close to two years, though Aizawa hated to put a label on it. The idea of labels and boxes was an issue for him, he found that they often times led to too much wiggle room, didn't give enough definition, with the exception, perhaps, of Hero, and Teacher, he felt the concept of labels was dangerous. What a relationship might mean to him, could mean something entirely different to someone else.
Yamada, on the other hand, would say that not only were they in a romantic relationship, but they were star-crossed lovers, hurtling through space and time, forced to live through disaster and strife lifetime after lifetime, ad infinitum.
Eraserhead pondered if this was one of those disaster/strife moments Yamada would be referring to. The two worked well together, one hyper focused, one lax, and it was that aloof nature that landed them squarely in this situation. But Aizawa's impersonal personality, meant he was going to be trapped here against his will. Somehow, he found comfort in that fact.
"I don't know what's worse, the dizziness, or the stuffed nose," Yamada droned, "or maybe it's the headache. No, definitely the nausea."
For the homeroom teacher of 1-A, he wasn't sure which was worse for himself, seeing his boyfriend in such a wreck, or hearing his voice when he was afflicted. On a clear-headed, healthy day, Present Mic's voice boomed, and kept your attention, even if you didn't want to be focused on him, you had no choice, he was the most impressive thing in the room. But now, with not only his head, but his chest congestion, the bubbling of the mucus, and sore throat, it was less an impressive firework forming words, and more a tin roof, being dragged behind a truck on a wet gravel road for miles. The sound was more than grating, it was physically painful, and Aizawa was afraid that if he felt a liquid running down his face, he wouldn't be able to tell if it was tears, or if he had popped a blood vessel.
"If only Recovery Girl were here, this wouldn't be a problem!" Yamada kicked his feet lazily in the air and let them drop uselessly back onto the couch. Aizawa wormed his way over to the couch and rested his chin next to his boyfriend's lap.
"Is there anything you want me to bring you?" He asked, having finally given up on the concept of sleep.
"Some of my grandma's cookies would be excellent," Yamada managed to cough out. Aizawa just stared at him for a good while, clearly not amused by the joke. After a few long moments of extremely awkward silence, only broken by a few booming sneezes, Yamada raised his eyebrows. "Would some shogayu be asking for too much?" He knew the answer, but phrasing his request in the form of a question was certainly one way to get his partner to do what he wanted.
The sound of the sleeping bag zipper being undone, followed by the rustle of cloth gave way to Aizawa standing at his full height. Like a moth emerging from its pupa, Aizawa stretched his sore muscles and lumbered off to the miniature kitchen on the far end of the room.
"There's absolutely no ginger in here," he said after a moment of looking, "I'm headed to the kitchen. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"Hard to do," the blond man giggled, "you're taking all the stupid with you!"
Aizawa ignored the comments, even as Yamada coughed and hacked with laughter. The walk to the kitchen wasn't far, but it felt lonely. During the daytime, when there was no one at school, it at least felt comfortable. Light coming from outside always felt like a good friend, there when you needed them, always present. But when a storm slammed the building from outside, it was cold, and lonely. The fluorescent bulbs above did nothing to alleviate the tight feeling in Aizawa's gut, but he didn't quicken his pace. He only let the anxiety brew in him, even as he walked into the kitchen, flipping the light switch and bringing life into the still room.
Lunch Rush was not only a great man, but a smart chef. The UA High kitchen was full of various fridges, each one explicitly labeled with what was supposed to be inside. Aizawa checked the label on each one until he found the one he was looking for. Opening the door, he poked around in the crispers and pulled out a bag with several roots of ginger. He took one from the bag and closed it, putting the bag back where it came from, and retrieved the sugar from the cupboard. A minute later, the electric kettle was ready, and he combined his ingredients, stirring carefully and thoroughly. Aizawa returned everything to its rightful place, turned off the lights, and made a brisk walk back to the lounge. The wind had gotten harsher, and it was stressful being out here all by himself.
"That was fast," Yamada said in a slightly wheezy voice.
"I didn't think you'd survive much longer, a Hero can't have someone die on his watch," Aizawa retorted with a chuckle, handing the other man the hot cup and leaned over him, kissing the top of his head while he sipped the beverage.
"Thank you, Shota," Yamada said softly, gazing up at the man he admired so much. Aizawa felt tug after tug at his heartstrings, and his normally sullen face brightened.
"I know you'd do the same for me," Aizawa said before leaning down and planting another kiss on Yamada's lips.
When the two broke away, Yamada coughed, trying to catch the momentary loss of breath, and smirked.
"Careful, you don't want to get sick, too."
Aizawa shrugged and picked up his sleeping bag, already sliding back into the padded tomb that called his name so dearly at all hours of the day. "If that means I have to stay home and be sick together with you, I guess it's not so bad. But I will still publicly blame you, and you will have to grade all of the students' tests."
Yamada gaped as Aizawa laid down next to the couch, drifting off to sleep against the sound of the violent storm outside, his boyfriend's ragged breathing bringing a sense of calm back to his mind. There was only so much time before the students would have to be put through their paces. It was time to get as much rest and relaxation with the person he loved most in this awful world, before the real struggles began.