Forgive me, ZGA is up next in the update rotation, I promise! But this is like a brain worm that won't leave me, so have the second chapter now!
Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Sixth Sense
To Yamada's credit, he did take the lesson seriously. He had even separated Bakugou from his "squad" to be sure the boy wouldn't accidently carry them across the rounds. Ashido and Kaminari had taken the most offense to the decision.
"You're not always going to be able to team up with him in the field, and he has to learn to work with other teams. Sit," Aizawa had ordered, snapping his fingers and pointing to the bleachers below him. Their teams had been the last ones assigned and would be the last to go in the rankings, so the small troupe sat with a variety of huffs.
The exercises for the lesson, it was meant to take the whole class time, after all, was done in the gym. Bakugou's team had been third to go, second against Iida's, and had yet to be beaten since. Yamada was rotating the teams out when one lost, keeping the variety up as the class continued. Aizawa had barely had to say a word to correct anything yet. He forgot, like many, that Yamada had paid special attention in the stealth department of Hero Classes when they'd attended UA purely because of his Quirk. Not that he needed it for his Quirk, but that others questioned constantly if he was able. Yamada was many things, but he was not one to lay down when someone questioned his competence. Aizawa had held a similar questioning stance on his abilities but the man was quick to prove him wrong in class. Aizawa himself had thrown himself into that field of Hero work because it suited his Quirk far too well.
Even with the skills he had in the stealth field of Hero work, it was unlikely Yamada would ever be able to sneak up on Aizawa unless he was sick—the man claimed Aizawa had a sense for that sort of thing that was just inhuman—but he could get darn close. Fact of the matter was, it was something Aizawa prided himself on. His entire Underground Hero career almost hinged on how well he could get the drop on someone. His brain helpfully replayed how the Blind Bastard had technically gotten the drop on him, but he'd had no way of avoiding that Quirk the second he'd decided not to immediately activate his own. He'd make up for it, he told himself. He wasn't sure how, but he would figure it out. An explosion, a beat of silence, and a scream of rage broke him out of his stupor.
"Try to have a knee jerk reaction that isn't immediately deafening, Bakugou!" Yamada screamed across the building, Quirk ensuring that Bakugou had no chances in hell of not hearing the criticism. A couple of students awaiting their turns giggled into their hands. Except Ashido, who was laughing openly.
Aizawa would have liked to have seen his students as they tried to go through the different scenarios, but he trusted Yamada to know his stuff. The man had ranked in the top 5 in stealth in their classes, despite his boisterous personality and Quirk making most think he'd be in the bottom. He heard Yamada giving gentle instruction, punctuated by some loud enthusiasm when it was (in his mind) warranted. That, and if anything had happened to any of his students, Yamada would be joining them in the infirmary.
Aizawa could hear rubble moving in several ways. It was far too loud, and he was docking points for that, because without hardly a second passing the other team was upon them and Uraraka was screaming. There was the sound of a body being tackled to the ground and the same rubble plummeting from the air.
"Good work, Asui, now capture the flag!" Yamada ordered.
"Has anyone other than Bakugou's team actually captured it?" Aizawa murmured. Yamada snorted. No, then.
"She can snag it if she can just stand," Yamada says with a snicker.
The two had landed in a tangle of limbs and were struggling to find a way to get up without hurting each other. Bakugou sauntered up, glaring Koda down as he walked up and snatched the flag. Yamada made a mental note to discuss with the class about being less terrified of their opponents if they were going to be heroes, especially when it was against their own classmate, and blew the whistle.
"Okay! Next set!"
Aizawa readjusted, laying down on the bleachers instead of sitting. He could afford to relax a little. "Ten minutes."
"Youuuuu got it~!" Yamada sing whispered. Aizawa fought back a yawn, settling in.
Ashido turned away from her classmates who were still struggling to stand, and it was starting to get a little concerning how lacking both were in their coordination, to check on Aizawa. The man was resting on the bleachers, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed, facing the ceiling, breathing easy. He almost looked…
She elbowed Kaminari. He turned to her, looking like he was dreading their next turn, and looked just as uneasy by her smile. It was the smile of a woman who enjoyed chaos—which was the perfect way to describe Ashido any day of the week.
"I don't like that look," he says dejectedly. "You're dragging me into something."
Granted, he never said no. Chaos enjoyed company.
Ashido jerked her head towards Aizawa. "Think he's asleep?" she whispered.
Kaminari turned to look at the man. He certainly looked peaceful enough to be asleep, but he couldn't be sure on any given day. He could at least see the regulated breathing without the sleeping bag obstructing the rest of Aizawa's body. Ashido was poking Kirishima next, then Sero. Jirou turned herself, curious as to what the pink firework had planned.
"Betting pool. Think he's asleep?" she asked, jerking her thumb backward towards Aizawa. They all took in Aizawa, ignoring the potential chaos that was about to explode on the field.
Yamada was busy shouting at Iida for using his Quirk to cross too far of a distance, leaving him open for Bakugou's explosions and a variety of other ways he'd be captured. The round ended with that and Yaoyorozu's group was called to go against Bakugou's. Midoriya sheepishly followed her and OJirou onto the field to set up. Ashido smirked devilishly at the amassed Baku-squad, knowing they were next if Yaoyorozu's team lost. It was a solid 50/50 chance that they would. They had a few blessed minutes before it was called.
"Anyone?" she prompted impatiently. "I'm betting yes."
"No way."
"I'll take it, I say yes."
"He's gonna kill us. I say yes."
Jirouu hummed, regarding the man and spinning her ear jack. "Imma say no."
"Three yes, two no. Figure out your monetary bet. I'm going in," Ashido whispered victoriously, a certain type of determination (that had steadily started to appear more and more often) lacing her voice.
As she stood and started to slowly climb over the bleachers towards Aizawa, Kaminari crawled after her like a strange crab. Jirou stared at him, dumbfounded, and readjusted to watch in a more comfortable position, phone raised to record. Sero covered his mouth to stifle his snickering as she hit the record button and trained it on the two classmates and Aizawa. Yamada was using his Quirk to shout the beginning of the match just as Ashido reached Aizawa. Ashido was close—perhaps one set of bleachers away, with Kaminari close behind—when she paused, trying to think of how to approach this without being punched.
Aizawa had managed to fall asleep for what he could estimate felt like half the allotted time he'd given Yamada. That was… not as much as he'd like, but he could sleep again in the classroom. He was back to his regular senses within seconds, used to waking up quickly to wrangle in chaotic classes of students for the last few years. It was when he'd come back to himself that he felt the familiar sense of someone being too close to him when he's supposedly unconscious. It was that "sixth sense" Yamada loved to tease him about going off like warning bells.
He couldn't tell who it was—though he could rule out Yamada when he heard the man sigh, following the sound of a body being tackled to the ground—but he could tell they were close. He remembered being in the gym. He'd rested on the bleachers. He'd been sat near… ah… Bakugou's group. That was very reasonably who it could be. The barely perceptible sound of someone shuffling over the bleachers hit his ears and he sighed out his nose silently as he could manage before…
"Are you finished?" he asks dryly.
Ashido screamed, and that was quickly followed by Kaminari screaming, and then both of them collapsing backward down the bleachers. The only immediate clue he had that they were fine and hadn't broken their necks (perhaps he could announce his consciousness in a… less abrupt manner… next time) was Jirouu and Sero losing themselves laughing. Kirishima's voice asking if they were alright was his personal cue to sit up.
He hid his smirk behind his capture weapon. He'd have loved to see the chaos of that, but alas, he'd have to settle on hoping someone had recorded it.
"And saved…" Jirouu said proudly.
Oh, good, someone had.
"Aren't you all supposed to be studying the attempts of your classmates?" Aizawa asked. "Last I checked, Bakugou's team has won every match."
"And they won again," Sero announced, already sounding defeated as Yamada called the match.
"Good footwork, Midoriya!" Yamada called out over the field. He shot the boy a thumbs up, getting a shaky one in return. The tackle Bakugou had landed on him had included a rough landing, but neither boy seemed injured enough to stop and go to Recovery Girl by his standards. He turned to Aizawa.
"What were you doing, Little Listeners~?" he asks, adjusting his sunglasses. His smirk grew as Ashido righted herself on the bench, looking appropriately humbled for a moment.
"Nuthin…" she mumbled. It was met with a chorus of muttered agreements. Yamada hummed in a sing-song way and flopped down next to Aizawa on the bleachers.
"Well, get out there! YOOOOOOOU'RE UP NEXT!" he announced. Aizawa leaned away slightly at the booming of his Quirked voice. "Ah… sorry."
"Just don't scream or shout and we'll leave here without me suplexing you. Again," Aizawa warned. Yamada laughed at the threat nervously, patting his back. A few of the Bakusquad gave them curious glances but they were still quick to escape to the field.
"I'm beginning to wonder if he actually ever sleeps," he heard Ashido mutter.
"I'm going to wreck you all!" Bakugou shouted, kick starting the whole group into a flurry of comebacks and quips.
Aizawa leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and craned his head to look out over the field. He didn't care if he couldn't see the students—his head was probably a little too far to the right—he didn't have to worry about it for once. Yamada relaxed beside him, leaving his arm slung over his shoulders.
"Alright, c'mon, Listeners, time to show your friend who the real Boss is!" Yamada urged, waving to the field. Yamada leaned against Aziawa, bumping against him arm to chest. Aizawa couldn't see it, but he could feel several students' eyes on him.
"Having fun?" he asked gruffly.
"Mmmmmaaaaaaybeeeeee~"
"I hate you."
"Love you, too!" Yamada added jovially. He gave him a little squeeze, blowing his whistle to start the match.
"At least tell me if any of them are failing."
"They're all doing remarkably well, actually," Yamada confessed. He fixed his sunglasses, watching as Ashido used her acid to skid past the rubble, crouched to remain hidden as she did. It was difficult to turn, but she was managing quite well with being hidden from sight. "A few more exercises like this and they'll probably use it in their finals. They did okay with the water exercise, of course Asui had the most obvious advantage. The smoke screen was easy-peasy. They do all need to work on stealth in buildings, though. Bakugou was a bit too eager to blow the walls through to get to the objective faster."
"Hn. Good to know."
Aizawa let himself doze, leaned against Hizashi, for the remainder of the class. The team that ultimately won was indeed Bakugou's—which came as something of a surprise when Hizashi had declared them the winners in multiple rounds where'd they'd simply gotten the other flag first without being detected. Aizawa had the feeling the same misconceptions laden onto Yamada were going to be assumed with Bakugou as well. Knowing that kid's persistence and stubborn nature, though, he doubted that Bakugou would allow himself to be in anything but the top for stealth even with such a loud and destructive Quirk. And personality.
He let Yamada rouse him, guiding him down the bleachers and to the teacher's lounge while his students left for the locker rooms. Once they were back in the hallways, he lightly shook Yamada off to walk to the staff room himself. He stopped short of the door, or where he thought the door was, and paused.
"I got it right, right?" he asked.
"It's scary that you did," Yamada admits with a chuckle, pushing the door open. Aizawa sauntered past him.
"Hey!"
"Nemuri," Aizawa sighed, finding his desk and falling into it. Yamada was about to shut the door when a hand stopped him. Yaoyorozu gave him a sheepish smile.
"Wh—"
"You're letting him walk around without help?" Snipe piped up from his corner, shooting the question towards Yamada.
Aizawa turned on Snipe, somehow finding him in the room full of staff members, and if that didn't give Snipe a heart attack, Nemuri wasn't sure what would. She had to stifle her laughter as the man blanched and Yaoyorozu's mouth snapped shut.
"Get your American-Cowboy-Yeehawing-Ass out of my sight," Aizawa snapped. Yaoyorozu's mouth dropped open again, staring at her teacher in confounded silence. Yamada pressed his hand over his mouth, crying from the effort not to laugh.
"What sight—" Nemuri began, stopping when Aizawa's hand whipped up and a pen smacked her right in the forehead. "OW! HOW THE FUCK—?!"
"LANGUAGE!" Yamada yelled, Quirked and all.
"Excuse you!" Snipe interjected. "I have a superb ass!"
"SNIPE," Thirteen stressed, waving at the door. Snipe spotted Yaoyorozu and paled.
"I will throw you," Aizawa threatened.
"While I don't doubt that you definitely can," Snipe began, leaping out of Aizawa's reach when the man made a throw with his capture weapon, "I am subbing your class today so maybe don't do that."
"Nemuri is supposed to be subbing," Aizawa shot back.
"Actually, I switched—" Nemuri stopped short, dodging the next pen Aizawa threw. "What, do you have echolocation, or something?!"
"Inform me before you shake up my roster. And I can do it fine on my own," Aizawa countered. "It's theoretical lessons this afternoon."
"I'd just like to remind you I am asking nicely," Snipe says, almost pleading. "to not suplex me into next week."
"I'll consider it."
"Should I come back…?" Yaoyorozu finally piped up. Yamada was wheezing beside her, bracing himself on the wall. Aizawa's body went ramrod straight. "Aizawa-sensei, I was going to ask if you'd needed help prepping for class, but I see that my question is answered. I will see you after break."
Aizawa didn't say anything until the door was shut and Yamada was openly guffawing. He sighed, pinching his brow beneath the coverings on his eyes.
"She even still bowed, didn't she?"
"Oh, yes," Nemuri chortled. Aizawa shot her a look—or, she was pretty certain he had, she couldn't really tell—and groaned. "Oh, come off it, she just witnessed you accurately throw a pen at my face while blind. That's fear inducing. You're favorite slip up with a student witness."
"She also just witnessed Snipe claiming he had a superb ass," Aizawa deadpanned. Snipe made a pathetic whining sound, burying his face into his arms on his desk. Yamada patted his back reassuringly.
"I can't face her."
"You can't face my class, then."
"I can sub for the period. My block is a free period," Maijima offered. Aizawa hummed.
"No, he can suffer."
"You're terrible."
"I'm punishing you for saying that in front of my student. And for not telling me she was there," Aizawa spat back.
"I didn't know, either!"
Aizawa turned his head to Yamada, who was likely at his own desk by now. The small 'eep!' he heard confirmed this. "You didn't say a damn word."
"I couldn't speak," Yamada quickly claimed.
"Doubt."
Yamada made a hurt sound and Aizawa promptly ignored him, leaning back in his seat to rest. His eyes may feel great at the moment, but he was starting to get emotionally and mentally exhausted without his sight. He was itching to take the wrapping off and just blink. He heard Nemuri sit on his desk. She leaned in front of him and hummed.
"How bad does it hurt when you open your eyes?" she asks. He raised a brow at her. "Seriously."
"I'd say an eight. On my scale, it's a six," he says. Nemuri whistled, kicking her legs a bit. He thought of telling her to knock it off. She was probably leaving dents from her heels.
"That's pretty bad," she murmured.
"Do you know how long it will last?" Thirteen asks.
"No. Up to a month, though. I wasn't keeping track, but it's one day per second, and at most I held eye contact for about half a minute."
Nemuri's whistle was one that sounded particularly sobering. She patted his shoulder. "Brother, I am so sorry."
"I regret living," Aizawa said almost on instinct. Nemuri snorted, swatting him before retreating back to her desk.
"Man, and your kids still don't know how good of a jokester you are?"
"Not my kids."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Aizawa groaned. He wondered how probable it was that he could swing himself to the couch with his capture weapon just so he wouldn't have to stand. Ultimately, he didn't want to end up at Recovery Girl's again, but it was possible…
The thought of Nemuri secretly recording it whilst he was unawares was what ultimately kept him in his seat.
Snipe's lecture of the class had gone off largely well. Aizawa spent most of the time in his sleeping bag, managing to doze for a few minutes near the end of the lesson until Bakugou had gotten into it with Iida about appropriate use of language. Aizawa breathed a heavy sigh and sat up, knowing he wasn't going to get back to sleep, not with the bell fast approaching. The class squabbled over both boys possibly waking him up, but he let them. Snipe leaned down to him when he'd settled in his chair.
"You're stopping them," Aizawa commented before the other could speak.
"Lesson's over," Snipe says simply. He checked the clock. "You only got a few minutes left, partner!"
"Don't call me that."
"Make me," Snipe snapped back. Aizawa snatched his cape before the other could duck away, gripping it tight. "I take it back!"
The bell rang then, in time for the class to have quieted somewhat for Snipe's outburst, and Aizawa released him. The man was out the door before he could even say anything. He opted to leave his sleeping bag and papers and started for the door. His class was scrambling to gather their things. He turned the corner, keeping to the wall to lower the risk of bumping into any students. Thinking about it now, he must have been an odd sight with the covering over his eyes.
He pushed the thought away, finding the staff room and slipping inside. If nothing else, he could wait out the time until Yamada came back at the blonde's desk. He fell into the chair, leaning his head back towards the ceiling with a contented sigh. That peace lasted a few minutes before footsteps stopped in the doorway.
"Is he there?"
"I don't see him—oh."
Aizawa sighed again—he'd been doing that a lot today, it was a real indicator of his mood, wasn't it?—and resisted picking at the coverings. "Hagakure. Jirou."
"Aizawa-sensei," both girls greeted, plus a male voice.
"…Satou."
"Hello, sir."
That was an odd combination of his students. Aizawa didn't bother looking up at them—honestly, there wasn't a point—instead, he just started to sway in the swivel chair. He'd never get one himself but he would take advantage of Yamada's from time to time.
"What do you want?" Aizawa asked. The three were suspiciously silent. As the time stretched it only got more and more uncomfortable. They were waiting for something. He had a good idea what of.
"Well, hey there, little Listeners!"
Oh, thank God.
"Hizashi," Aizawa greeted. Yamada shuffled past the three students, greeting them properly as they greeted him. He spotted Aizawa in his chair and gave an exaggerated huff.
"Excuse me, good sir! You are in the wrong desk!" Yamada shouted playfully, skipping over.
"I'm exactly where I intended to be," Aizawa said, propping his heels up on the corner. Yamada knocked them off with a tut.
"C'mon, let's get you to the dorms," Yamada says.
"You're taking him over?" Hagakure asks. Yamada nodded enthusiastically.
"That's right~! He's in good hands, little Listeners, do~ not~ worry~!" Yamada grabbed his hand, pulling him from the chair and sending it spinning. Aizawa let him drag him towards the door and out into the hall. "You Listeners had the right idea!"
"I'm not that incapable," Aizawa tried. Yamada released his hand, whirling on him.
"You are stubborn as an ox," Yamada snapped back. He smiled, though, and trudged alongside Aizawa as they exited. "I'll just make sure you don't trip and fall."
There was no use in fighting, Aizawa realized. He could at least walk on his own two feet, though, and he counted that as a win. He'd rather do that than have any of his students try to carry him or, God forbid, have Uraraka float him to the dorms. He wasn't about to be a human balloon. Once they'd gotten to the dorm building Aizawa swatted Yamada's hand away to saunter up the stairs himself. He knew the layout well enough (if no one had moved anything) to do that. He knew his apartment was on the top floor, what door to enter, and where he could find his sleep wear and he knew the bathroom layout like the back of his hand purely based on how often he refused to open his eyes when he was just waking up but had to get ready for class. If he didn't beat his kids to the building, he was always late.
All this didn't stop at least one student from climbing the stairs after him.
"If you think I don't know you're following me, you're mistaken," Aizawa started, taking the turn to the next flight. His toes bumped experimentally at the bottom step before he started up. "So spare me any half-hearted lies."
"Ah… mes excuses, Sensei…" Aoyama said. Aizawa had to hand it to the kid, he hadn't expected Aoyama to be the one to volunteer to be on "make sure Sensei doesn't split his head open on the stairs" duty.
"You volunteer for this or did you get the shorter straw?" Aizawa asked dryly. He repeated the same toeing technique at each flight. Aoyama didn't appear to notice or didn't make any noise or motion that he did, and instead opted to finally just speak frankly with him.
"I volunteered! Afterall, you are not leaving again, hm~?"
"…No," Aizawa said slowly. He wasn't sure what that had to do with it, until Aoyama spoke again, a higher and more excited pitch.
"Brilliante! I can still assist then?"
"With what?"
"He wants to help you find something to wear to bed," Bakugou's voice came from above. Aizawa paused on the stairs, turning to Aoyama, who was probably beaming at him. Aizawa let his shoulders sag a little.
"Bakugou, why are you outside my room?" he asked, climbing the last of the stairs.
He wished Yamada would rescue him from this. He was just about ready to sleep in his slacks, honestly. He didn't want to root around in his drawers blind, he couldn't even remember what he'd had stored in this apartment. Yamada couldn't match anything, in his opinion, but he could pick out the most comfortable pair of pajama pants without issue every single time.
"No reason," Bakugou quipped back, slipping past the two. "…Sensei."
Aizawa ignored the informality of his honorific being an afterthought. He dug his keys out of his back pocket. Grasping the door knob and feeling out the key hole wasn't that hard, but he could feel Aoyama's stare on his back. He hadn't answered the boy's question. Right.
"I don't bother with tops, just pants, unless someone knocks," Aizawa informed him. "So just throw the top on the bed at the end."
"Oui, monsieur! Of course!" Aoyama almost cheered. Aizawa stepped aside so Aoyama could rush in.
"Dresser right ahead," he said. Aoyama stared to pull open drawers, picking correctly at the bottom drawer and started to root through the sleep wear.
"Oh, fantaisie! Sensei, I was unaware you liked such patterned sleep wear."
Oh, shit.
"That's Yamada's…" Aizawa said lowly. Aoyama was silent for a beat before the clothing shuffled again.
"Black?"
"That would be mine, yes."
After another moment Aoyama dropped a top onto the bed. Aizawa hoped he'd picked one of the plainer ones. Yamada's tops were also mixed into the bunch, after all, and Aizawa didn't want to pick up and wear a top that read some ridiculous English phrase on it. Yamada always laughed at some of the poorer translations and would buy them regardless. Next, a pair of soft pants were placed in Aizawa's hand.
"Thank you, Aoyama. Now get out."
"Oui, monsieur!"
Aoyama ducked out faster than Aizawa would have thought and then it struck him. He turned harshly towards the door, where he could hear Aoyama trying not to run down the hall.
"Aoyama."
The boy stopped.
"Keep your mouth shut."
"….Oui, Sensei."
With that Aizawa kicked the door shut. Yamada was no doubt going to check on him before he left the dorms for his studio shift. He swiftly changed, deposited his phone onto the bedside table after fumbling with the charger, and collapsed onto the bed. He rested his hand on the eye covering. Recovery Girl's question of total darkness had him thinking if light could really be a determining factor. The mugger hadn't mentioned it—though, he hadn't really given him the chance—and he could stand to try it at least once. Not now, however. It was still too light outside.
He readjusted the covering instead, settling it over his eyes and a second thought struck him. If it happened to slip off in his sleep and he didn't notice when he woke up, he was going to regret it. He also had to think about showering and washing the damned thing. Was it meant to be on delicate? He had gotten bandages after USJ. He had never bothered to look it up, either. Foolish, considering his eyes were his Quirk. His phone buzzed a few times with messages. He reached for it before pausing. He couldn't read them, either way. No doubt, Nemuri was going to be sending him a mountain of memes for him to look through when this was over.
The door to the apartment opened and closed. "You asleep?"
"No."
Yamada settled down beside him. Aizawa could feel him turn to look at the top at the end of the bed. "Did you pick out your pajamas?"
"No. Is it one of your tops?"
"Just the pale yellow one," Yamada confirmed. "The blank one."
"The only sensible one," Aizawa corrected. Yamada snorted, swatting at his hip. "Aoyama insisted."
"Man, they're…" Yamada paused for dramatic effect. "…Shou, they're mothering you!"
"Don't remind me," Aizawa groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. Yamada started to snicker at him and he kneed him in the back. He sighed, leaning up in something of a half-hearted crunch to untie the back of the covering and discard it to the other side of the bed.
"Hey, now—"
"I can't wear it twenty-four seven, Zashi."
"I know, but…"
"I'm fine," Aizawa assured him. He waved his hand, settling it on Yamada's back and letting it trail up to the other man's shoulder and give it a squeeze. "You host tonight, right?"
"Yep! I leave in a few, but I wanted to check up on you, and…" Yamada trailed off. Aizawa waited. Yamada leaned back, draped over his chest with a hum, and Aizawa settled his hand over the man. "I wanted a hug!"
"Liar."
"Ok, true, but how can I resist when you're laid out shirtless? It's unfair," Yamada pouted. Aizawa could feel the pout on his skin.
"You're hopeless."
"Hopelessly in love," Yamada said instantly. He gave Aizawa a squeeze and a quick kiss before sitting up and fixing his hair with a sigh. "Hey, do you think we could—"
"Absolutely not."
"I haven't even asked."
"If it's anything to do with 'experimenting with the lights out', the answer is no."
"…even with—"
"Yes."
Yamada sighed heavily, dramatically, falling backward over Aizawa's legs. Aizawa smirked, crossing his legs purely to jostle the blonde. It got him a giggle. Then the bed was lighter and Yamada was flitting about the room.
"What are you doing?"
"Glass of water, your phone on its charger, some pain meds if you forget and open your eyes, and…" Aizawa heard something fall on the floor right around where his feet would hit the floorboards should he get up. "Your slippers! For if you need to get up and so your feet don't get cold."
"…Thanks."
"No problem, babe."
Yamada pecked him on the forehead once more and turned to leave. "I'll be back around 3~!"
"Not going to the apartment?"
"Not while you're here, I'm not. It can stand to be empty a few days. Besides, I'd rather be here in case you need anything," Yamada confessed. He paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "Dinner…?"
"With those kids? They'll figure it out. Bakugou's turn to cook tonight."
"Ok, but if he blows up the kitchen—"
"I'm expelling him if he blows up the kitchen."
"Fair enough! I'll see you later!"
"Bye."
The door shut and Aizawa sighed. He reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out one of his protein packets he'd hidden in there for mid-night snacks when he was too lazy to get up. The kids could handle dinner for one night completely unsupervised. He hoped.