A/N: Got to thinking about this when I was, oddly enough, up at 3 AM with back pain. So here's some fluffy Erasermic. Enjoy.
Hizashi was a heavy sleeper. Quite ironic, given his booming tone, but everyone that lived within 10 miles of the hero were surely not complaining that he generally slept soundly through the night. Living alone, he had almost no reason to be up in the early hours of the mornings so there was usually peace and silence.
However, tonight had just been a little different, starting off with the person that had come home with him. Again, not unusual, but what was unusual about this particular encounter was that it was his best friend, who had his own place and absolutely no reason to spend the night with him.
Maybe they had both had a little too much to drink at dinner, but Hizashi was just glad he got the sad-looking man to do something other than spend another night away from his apartment asleep on his desk. It wasn't often Aizawa could be swayed from the promises of a nap, be it on his bed, his desk, or the classroom floor. Hizashi knew he rarely went home.
He had been stumbling quite badly when they entered the apartment, a fair ways more inebriated than Aizawa, and laughing so loudly at almost midnight, the other teacher had to tell him to be quiet. His response? Pull his friend down onto the sofa with him that almost was not big enough to hold the two of them.
His memory was hazy after that so he assumed he fell asleep shortly after. But he did however remember that Aizawa had struggled in his arms for just a moment before succumbing to his fate and falling into a slumber.
Now, since he was a heavy sleeper, it was hard to wake him up. He had the loudest alarm possible and two backups just in case the first didn't do the trick. So surely the lack of presence in his arms wasn't enough to rouse him.
Except it was.
Before he truly awoke, his hands felt around blindly for the missing form and when they found nothing, the green eyes finally inched open, peering out into the pitch blackness of his living room. Hizashi was indeed alone.
Shifting his still-drowsy body, he rose to a sitting position and felt around his pants for his phone he hadn't even removed before crashing. The clock on the screen read 3:38 AM.
Surely Aizawa hadn't woken up and thought now would be a good time to leave. And sure, his alarms usually failed to wake him, but Hizashi liked to think the sound of the front door opening and closing actually would.
"Shouta?" he called as quietly as he could before scooting to the edge of the couch and swinging his legs off the side. At least, he thought, he had had the decency to remove his shoes before going to bed on the sofa. The heavy boots sat on the floor beside his bare feet, alongside a pair that wasn't his own.
Now he knew he wasn't alone. But just where had the other teacher gone?
Digging his palms into his eyes, the hero stood up and wandered out of the living room to the hall. At the end, the last door on the right was closed and the light on, spilling out from the crack onto the floor. Distantly, he could hear water running.
Ah, he should have known. Nothing to worry about; surely Aizawa would come back once he was finished. Content with the turnout of his little investigation, Hizashi merrily made his way back to the couch to crash once more, for he could already feel the tugging on his eyelids again.
He laid there on his back for the longest time, eyes closed, but very much awake, because he was never joined on the sofa again. In fact, if he strained his ears, he could hear the faucet in the bathroom still running and the door had never opened.
It stopped once, for a little while, then it resumed. Aizawa deserved his privacy and he didn't want to intrude, but it was close to 4 in the morning, a quick glance at his phone in the dark confirmed, and he was still sealed up in the bathroom. Frankly, that was worrying him.
Unable to rest with the predicament on his mind, Hizashi rose once more and headed back to the hallway.
The running water had stopped again, leaving the apartment in an uncomfortable silence. Padding over to the door, the hero kept his voice low as not to spook the reclusive teacher.
"Shouta?"
Something inside the room fell on the floor with a clatter. He supposed his best efforts to not startle his friend had been in vain.
"I'm fine," came the gruff reply. "I'll be out in a moment."
Hizashi waited patiently in the hall, listening to the rustle of fabric behind the door and becoming increasingly worried. Had he been ill? Aizawa should known he could have woken him up over such a thing!
Finally, after what felt like forever, the door opened and blinded him with light for just a moment before Aizawa clicked it off. Standing before him in the doorway, somehow the man looked a little more haggard than usual.
"Were you sick?" Hizashi asked. Aizawa hadn't had much to drink at dinner, at least he thought, but he also didn't go out drinking with him often enough to know his reaction.
"I'm fine," he stated, "I'm tired still. Let's go back to sleep." With that, he slipped past Hizashi and continued down the hall back to the living room. Feeling a bit awkward, the hero frowned, but followed after him nonetheless.
"Why did you wake up?" he inquired once more, far too concerned at this point to give it up. "You were in there for a long time-"
"I said that I'm fine, Hizashi."
If anything confirmed the fact he hadn't been fine, it was the teacher's use of his name. It was something that bothered him many years ago, but he had grown to live with it; Aizawa did not like using first names with his co-workers. Hizashi had accepted his name as Present Mic and barely recognized the difference in being called by his hero name or real name, especially concerning how Aizawa referred to him.
He hadn't called him by his first name in years, never consistently since they were in school 15 years before. Something was definitely, definitely wrong. And he wasn't one to let it go.
"Shouta." Hizashi sat on the sofa, hands folded uncomfortably on his lap while Aizawa sat beside him. "Don't lie to me. We've known each other far too long for such childish behavior."
He could see the look of annoyance on the other man's face even in the darkness. Aizawa hesitated, looked away, then moved a hand up to rub his damp face and hair.
"I woke up in pain. I thought that hot water might help and it did some," he responded under his breath.
"What?!" The level of noise caused Aizawa's hands to fly over the other hero's mouth. "Why didn't you just wake me up? Why were you in pain? Where did it hurt?" Everything that came out after was muffled.
The string of questions only looked to be furthering the annoyed look on Aizawa's face, but he couldn't blame him. Hizashi cared for his well-being when not many people did. The concern, while obnoxious, was still heartwarming.
"You sleep like the dead. And I can handle it on my own." A hand made its way to his shoulder blade, marking the source of his pain. Hizashi's eyes trailed down to the spot, taking on a sympathetic look.
"Shouta, it's okay to ask for help." Before Aizawa could complain, Hizashi's hands were on him, pulling him closer roughly while still maintaining a gentle touch on the sensitive area. He grunted at the fingertips on the tender flesh, but otherwise didn't make a sound.
"Why does it hurt?" he asked again, quieter as he examined the afflicted spot, unable to tell any difference in there and any other section of his flesh. Well, other than the fact it was deeply scarred.
Oh.
"Phantom pains," he replied in a murmur, keeping his head turned to the side to avoid Hizashi's gaze.
Suddenly putting the pieces together, Hizashi felt bad for pressuring him so. Scars were usually a sensitive subject for anyone and Aizawa had never been one to get into detail about his escapades.
Hizashi suddenly found himself aware of the position they were in, his hands still on the teacher's shoulders. He had his left leg propped on the couch, the right on the floor, and Aizawa seated in between, begrudgingly putting up with the examination.
"O-Oh," he muttered, "I'm sorry." The hero took his hands back to himself, but Aizawa still sat where he was, unmoving. Was that an invitation to talk more? As someone who dealt with people and social cues regularly and even having known Aizawa for almost 20 years, he was still too damn hard to read.
"I, er..." Reaching up to run a hand through his tangled blonde tresses, Hizashi stared at his friend's back. "What are those scars from?"
There was a notable tense in the other hero's shoulders, leading Hizashi to believe he had said the wrong thing, but then he relaxed.
"When those villains attacked the students at the O.S.J.," he told him. Sudden images of the poor state Aizawa had been in flashed through Hizashi's mind. He had been in the infirmary for only a day while Recovery Girl tended to his extensive wounds and in that time, Hizashi brought him flowers with a card telling to him get well soon. Aizawa had given him that look he used to give him in school, like he was crazy, but had thanked him anyway.
He didn't know the extent of his injuries and he hadn't wanted to be the one to ask. But both of his arms had been in casts with bandages across his face that had to be changed regularly. So easily did they forget injuries could still be fatal, no matter what quirk there was to fix it.
"You were in casts," Hizashi replied blankly, feeling a bit ridiculous.
"My wounds were healed as quickly as they were permitted, but it doesn't stop the scars. They still hurt sometimes." Aizawa shifted in his spot, the hand finding its way back to his shoulder again.
Hizashi studied his back for a few seconds in silence, looking at the arch of his muscles beneath the jumpsuit as the teacher ran his palm over the aching spots.
How stupid he felt for pestering him, but no matter. The likelihood of him getting back to sleep while in such discomfort was low. He had to do what he could to help.
Placing his hands on either of Aizawa's shoulders, the man jerked just a bit, but allowed the touch without protest. Taking it as a sign to continue, Hizashi began rubbing the ball of his hands into his back, careful to not hurt the other hero.
They sat like that for a while, in tense, yet somehow comfortable silence while Hizashi worked at the knotted muscles in Aizawa's back. He thought maybe it wasn't doing anything because it hadn't earned him any reaction, but that was until he felt Aizawa noticeably decompress under his grip, the quietest hint of a groan escaping his lips.
Slipping his hands lower, he rubbed the middle of his back with one hand, the other easing Aizawa back against him while he worked, to which he abided. Being so close, he could hear the slow, relaxed breathing of his friend and feel his angled back against Hizashi's chest. After a few more minutes, his head tilted back just slightly, his eyes closed contently.
It had to be closer to 4:30 now. They both had work in the morning and at this rate, Aizawa might not be the only one wanting a nap before the school day was finished. A few minutes later, he let his hands stop their movements, sliding down his back.
"Does that feel better?" he asked quietly; the teacher was close enough to feel his hair tickling his face. Aizawa let out a low humming sound, almost like a cat's purr, before he sat up straight.
"Yes."
Smiling, Hizashi moved back on the sofa to allow him to lay down.
"Let's get some more rest before we have to get up." He knew Aizawa of all people wouldn't protest to being invited to sleep. The hero stretched and laid down beside him, fitting perfectly into the curve of Hizashi's body.
Instinctively putting an arm around the other, he buried his face in the black locks with a smile, exhaling softly before he finally drifted off. He couldn't imagine Aizawa was far behind him.