I had a lot of fun with this chapter in particular! Next chapter we get to see more of how the teachers are catching onto the mothering going on. And the chaos duo of Yamada and Nemuri~ surprisingly fun to write~

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: The Things You Notice

Aizawa jolted awake to knocking on his door. He was a fraction of a second away from opening his eyes when he remembered how bad of an idea that would be. No, he did not need a reminder of the prior morning. He wasn't sure what time it was, exactly, but a quick pat at the bed told him Yamada wasn't home just yet, so it wasn't morning. Another knock and then a voice.

"Aizawa-sensei?"

"I'm coming," Aizawa called. He stretched, scratching at the back of his head as he made his way to the door. He opened it, fighting off a yawn and rubbing at his eyes purely out of habit. "Yes, Kirishima?"

"Uh… dinner is ready soon, and we wanted to invite you down…" Kirishima said slowly. There was a hesitance in his voice that Aizawa didn't like.

"I can find my own way down," he says, leaning on the door frame. The feeling of the cool wood on his arm and back is what gave him the biggest hint as to why Kirishima started to fumble over his words.

"R-right! Right, of course! Um! I'll just let them know, thank you, Sensei!"

Kirishima was rushing down the hall after that and Aizawa shut the door. He leaned against it with a groan. He had forgotten the shirt on the bed. He had forgotten, in his haze of sleep, that his students had seen him injured but never had they seen the byproduct of those injuries save the small scar on his face and his body wrapped in bandages. He traced the scar under his eye absently, toeing his way over to the bed and snatching the top up, pulling it over to cover the litany of scars on his torso and back.

He couldn't help but feel awkward. A few students, Kirishima himself included, aside, Aizawa was still fairly certain none of his students had scars. He hadn't been able to really pay attention to see if Iida had scars from his encounter with Stain or not. Kirishima's scar was prior to UA, as well as Todoroki's. Frankly, given their targeted past from villains, Aizawa was shocked that more of them weren't marred. He was grateful, but surprised, nonetheless.

He figured a pair of jeans were fine enough, grabbing a random pair from his drawer on the dresser, and slipping out to go downstairs. He paused at the entryway of the stairs before turning back, swiping his phone from the charger and slipping it in his back pocket. He grabbed the covering as well, knowing full well if he had to turn back again, he'd be overly aggravated at himself, and Midoriya would no doubt give him a combo-ed Disappointment-laden lecture with Iida. He could argue how hypocritical that'd be coming from the Problem Child, but he knew it'd be a losing battle. Particularly if all 20 of the kids jumped in if he even tried.

Aizawa yawned as he exited the stairway, coming into the common room, and the smell of the food hit him. It smelled rather good—meaning Bakugou had taken his dinner duties rather seriously—and he'd have to try and remember to save some for Yamada.

"Ah! Aizawa-sensei!" Hagakure called, hopping over to wrap her arm around his. "That was fast, sensei."

"Mm. Hello, Hagakure."

"Sit next to me!" she demanded, already leading him to the dining room.

He smirked at the attempted diversion. The girl guided him right up until she sat him in his chair, not releasing him until he'd been seated. He took the chance of her letting go of his arm to wrap the covering around his eyes before Midoriya or Iida could catch him. She assured him she'd be right back, and he was left to sit on his own. The thought of the food had his mind wandering to figuring out what it would be, and then right into a thought that had him frowning.

He… had not considered trying to eat. He'd been living off the protein packets the entire day, staving off picking up a spoon, much less a fork and knife. Shit. There was no way in hell, unless he was dying, that he was going to allow one of them to feed him. He'd made do after USJ. The sounds of conversation drifted towards him, alongside the familiar jingle of plates and silverware.

He could make do now.

A few seats scrape the floor around him. Several students greet him, one of which he identifies as Hagakure and another Yaoyorozu, who takes up the seat on his other side. He let them set up his plate without complaint. He didn't need to potentially embarrass himself by making a mess of the table. Once the plate was in front of him, Yaoyorozu subtly indicating as such by tapping the edge of the plate with the fork and slipping said fork into his grip, it took a steady hand to raise the food to his mouth.

Thank God he had good hand coordination.

Seemingly satisfied, Yaoyorozu turned in her seat and started on her own plate. Aizawa waited to eat until he was certain there was enough conversation distracting his students that no one was staring at him. He wasn't a self-conscious person, typically. He clearly didn't care how people perceived him since Yamada and Nemuri both constantly reminded him how much he looked homeless outside his Hero gear. He hardly bothered to upkeep his hair let alone care about anything else. But to have so many of his students hovering around him was different. The feeling of being watched constantly, even out of concern—and wasn't that a strange sensation to garner from twenty teens—was something that made his skin itch.

He tried to force the sensation out of his head by tuning into the conversations around the table. Normally, he'd pick up on weekend plans, some homework questions, updates about home lives. He'd write them off, knowing if something serious was afoot the students would bring it to his attention. Some of the conversations he honed-in on were of note, however, though he couldn't place why at first.

Todoroki and Midoriya were planning a trip out on the weekend at the shopping district. Nothing too notable on its own, but The Problem Child was being noticeably more nervous asking for the trip. Huh. He turned his attention to Jirou and Yaoyorozu doing the same, even to the same shop. Jirou then asked the boys about grouping up for the trip, with Midoriya answering rather enthusiastically.

Aizawa paused halfway through dinner, noting that the same shops were mentioned across the table. Ashido would mention one, and suddenly it's joined the conversation on the opposite side of the table. He could just barely pick up the tapping of fingers on phones. His brain drifted to the group chat the class held. He wondered briefly why they wouldn't just discuss it?

"Um, Aizawa-sensei?" Kirishima started slowly. Aizawa grunted and Kirishima paused before taking that as his cue to continue. "Can I ask a question?"

"I'm not stopping you," Aizawa said evenly. He leaned back in his seat, having had his fill already, and let his head drop back. It was painful on his throat, but with a little lean of his chair the tension melted out of him a little more.

"What's up?"

"You okay, Kiri?"

Aizawa furrowed his brow at the whispers. He found a new distaste for being unable to read his students visually. He couldn't be sure what shifts in the seats were from nerves or just simple readjustment of position. He couldn't hear an expression or the value of skin tone. If Kirishima looked sick he'd never know. He tried not to think about how much that bothered him.

"I-It's just… personal, I guess," Kirishima said cautiously. Aizawa frowned, rocking on the chair legs a little. He wracked his brain for an appropriate response while it seemed the boy was mulling over his next words carefully.

"Not so personal you didn't bring it up over dinner, so out with it," he finally decides upon.

"Right. Uh… o-oh, right…"

"Kirishima."

"I just was wondering how did… how did you get the… scar? On your chest. To the right."

Aizawa stopped rocking the chair. Most of the idle chatter and noise of utensils upon plates around the table died out. He could feel eyes on him and inwardly groaned.

"Dude, what kind of question is that?" Kaminari whispers.

"Kirishima, that was inappropriate to ask!" Iida jumped in.

He should have told him to keep his mouth shut, too. No, no, he shouldn't have done that. That wouldn't have been fair to the teen. Trying to satiate his own curiosity was a trait that Aizawa should, within reason, be commending him for.

"Wait, Sensei has other scars?"

"You thought he didn't?"

"You assumed he did?"

"I mean, he's a Pro, so it made sense!"

He thought of the scar in question, though with the slight vagueness in placement, there were a couple that Kirishima could be referencing. Was it his right or Kirishima's right?

"The star-like one or the gash?" Aizawa asks simply, cutting the growing conversation off instantly. Kirishima took a moment to answer.

"The star."

Ah, his right. Aizawa hummed, trying to recall that patrol.

"Patrol with a colleague. A group of about five bank robbers tried to rob one of the larger ones in the area that night. Stupid decision, usually, but they had very combat-based Quirks. I got this," he tapped his chest where the scar sat, just inches past his heart. "Taking on one of the larger thugs. Had a Projectile Quirk. He got a shot off before I used Erasure on him."

"How far into your Pro career were you?" Ashido asks, scooting her chair closer, apparently deciding his willingness to answer was good enough to satiate her own curiosity as well. Aizawa shrugged.

"Seven months, maybe?"

"Not even a year?!"

"Ashido, you will never know when you're going to get wounded on patrol," Aizawa said flatly. He set his chair straight again, resting his hands at his chin. "Still took out three of them."

"Wait, you kept fighting like that?!" Sero shouted. "You just said you got shot in the chest!"

"After seeing him in action at the USJ, I'm not surprised," Uraraka confesses. She shrugged when a few eyes trained on her. "I was there with Ashido and Thirteen-sensei. He jumped right into it, remember?"

"It was badass," Ashido confirmed, shooting a fist into the air. "You kicked ass!"

"Language, please!"

"Shut it, Glasses, they're not wrong!"

"Aw! Thanks, Bakubabe!"

"Either way," Aizawa cut in, "I did end up off patrol for over a week. Why're you so curious all of a sudden, Kirishima?"

"Oh, well… I, um… it's the first one I saw when I got you for dinner. I just couldn't stop thinking about it," the boy confessed. "That's a really manly story, though, Sensei!"

"Thanks."

"Hey, Kiri, how'd you get the one on your eye?" Midoriya asks suddenly. Ashido snorted from across the table. Kirishima flushed a little, poking at the scar unconsciously.

"When my Quirk came in," he admitted. "I went to rub my eye and my Quirk activated."

"Ow! You're lucky you didn't lose your eye!"

"That's how you found your Quirk? I just shot tape out of my elbows one day and they hung off me like fly traps for hours!"

"Hahaaha! I was trying to climb a tree and my acid activated! I fell right to the dirt!"

Aizawa smirked, taking in the swapping of stories and the commentary. He wasn't sure just how many of the scars Kirishima had seen. He had a decent number speckling his body at this point, but many had faded over time. He caught himself before he reached up to try and rub at the newest one below his eye. He hadn't really considered how his typical wardrobe covered most of his scars. He'd worn what was comfortable and long sleeves just happened to hit that sweet spot of comfort and functionality just right for most of the year.

He pushed himself from the table. He left his plate to be dealt with instead of putting it in the sink like he usually would. He wasn't entirely sure where the sink was placed in the kitchen without having his sight to search it out.

"Aizawa-sensei?"

"I'm headed back to bed," he announced. He gave them a wave on his way out. "Don't stay up late, you have a quiz tomorrow."

"That's tomorrow?!"

"Seriously, Sparky?"

Aizawa smirked, disappearing up the stairs. He made it to the top in what he considered decent time. He suspected he could, if he were lucky, sleep until Yamada got home at least. He yanked the covering off before he was through the apartment door. He kicked the door shut behind him, collapsing on the bed with a huff. He'd rested. He'd eaten. He'd had something Yamada could even say was a bonding experience with the kids.

He needed a nap.

Yamada creaked the door open silently, bracing it with his free palm as he held the knob in place, and slowly shut it back into the frame. He slowly turned the knob so it wouldn't click. Yamada glanced a chance look back at Aizawa, spotting the brunette tangled in the sheets, his eye covering on the bedside table. His phone was off the charger, so he'd gone to dinner, at least. There was no telling how long he'd been back upstairs, though, Yamada wondered if he'd slept for the whole evening or not. The man certainly needed it, but he was also seemingly plagued by insomnia and narcolepsy simultaneously so really, there was no understanding the Underground Pro's sleeping patterns.

Yamada quickly changed, snatching a particularly garish top that didn't match the sweats he grabbed at all, but that's what sleep wear was for. He crawled into bed and settled with a sigh. A sigh that was immediately followed by a yelp when Aizawa's arm wrapped around his torso.

"You're awake?!"

"Of course, I'm awake," Aizawa mumbled.

Correction, Yamada thought. You're half asleep.

"Did I wake you?"

"No…" Aizawa murmured into his shoulder. He buried his face into Yamada's neck next, tangling their legs. "Been on and off."

"Oof. Okay, well, quick question before you pass out—"

"My eyes are fine—"

"Great to know, but not my question," Yamada chuckled. Aizawa groaned, turning more into a koala by the second. Yamada had seconds before the man was out again for at least an hour. "What's with the countertop? Wasn't it Bakugou's night?"

"…What about the countertop."

"Oh, they didn't tell you," Yamada whispered. Aizawa pushed himself up on his elbow and would have glared at Yamada if it weren't for his current Quirk effects, Yamada was sure of it. The furrowed brow and the frown were only half the effect, but it was a very good effect.

"What happened to the counter?" Aizawa asked tiredly, collapsing half on top of Yamada. He'd deal with it in the morning—it was past 3 am right now since Yamada had returned and he did not feel like searching out the guilty party that early in the morning when he had to get up in a few hours himself.

"There's a big scorch mark on it…" Yamada says slowly. "I'm surprised they didn't get you."

Aizawa would have to disagree with that. Whether it was fear of being caught or fear of waking a "recovering" teacher, they hadn't bothered to wake him and could have burnt the kitchen—or the dorm—down to the ground. He was going to have to interrogate them, wasn't he? Maybe he could use their sympathy against them. For now, he just curled more into Yamada's side, getting shaken lightly by the blonde chuckling under him.

He supposed he didn't mind keeping his eyes shut if he could lay in bed this peacefully.

Bakugou stretched, craning his neck as he made his way down the staircase. There was a satisfying pop or two and he shook himself loose. He was leaving a touch early for his run, but that would just mean he could stand in the showers for a touch longer when he returned. The hot water would do his muscles good. He glanced up at a shadow when he made it to the last step. Based on height, he'd first been expecting Iida. Instead, he was met with the view of Aizawa, already dressed and ready, leaning against the wall, his shoulder just peeking out from the corner at the end of the stairway entry.

Bakugou raised his brow at the man. He shouldn't have been surprised, given Aizawa had clocked out before dinner had even finished, but then again Bakugou wasn't entirely sure what Aizawa's sleeping schedule was. The man had his head leaned against the wall as he stood there, still as a statue. Aizawa didn't even grunt in greeting to the teen when he passed by. Bakugou wondered, briefly, if the man had learned how to sleep standing up. He wouldn't have put it past him. He almost would bet money on the possibility. It was hardly his problem, though, and he walked right past Aizawa for the door.

Aizawa craned his neck after Bakugou had shut the door behind him and sighed.

His eyes were burning tiredly—which was both frustrating and confusing since he hadn't even opened them in the past two days now—and he was yet again lost on how to make himself a mug of coffee. Waking Yamada had been swiftly taken off the table of possibilities. The blonde could sleep for at least another hour or two before he headed to the school for his pre-class prep work and Aizawa was never one to make him get up earlier than he had to. Aizawa was hardly one to get out of bed sooner than he had to, either, but that was beside the point. He'd planned on getting showered, dressed, caffeinated, and out the door before six but that all came to a halt when it came to the coffee.

He couldn't recall where it was kept. He couldn't remember what buttons were where on the machine in the teacher's lounge, either, so that was a moot point regardless. At least the coffee machine for the dorms was a single button press type of machine, meant to fill the pot and force anyone who wanted the Satan drink to pour it themselves. He preferred the customizable sizing of the teacher's pot, but again… the buttons.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there, debating with himself if he could wait until Yamada was up to force him to bring him coffee, when he heard another student coming down the stairs. They stopped as well, probably staring at him, determining if he were awake.

"Aizawa-sensei?"

"Yaoyorozu."

"Are you feeling alright, sensei?" she asks. He could feel her hand brush his sleeve and he removed his hand from his pocket, patting her shoulder.

"I'm waiting for Yamada."

"Oh. For what, may I ask? Perhaps I can help."

Indeed, perhaps she could.

Aizawa hummed, re-pocketing his hand. "I haven't quite mapped the dorms out like I have the school or my apartment. Can't remember where the coffee is," he admitted. The next words out of his mouth would have normally been reserved for Nemuri or Yamada, but this girl had seen him threaten Snipe not twenty-four hours ago, and he was caffeine deprived, so formalities could bite him in the ass.

"I'll be damned if I'm about to trip and brain myself on a corner."

Yaoyorozu flinched beside him, making a pained face. She wasn't about to abscond him for the word choice, but she could understand the begrudging feeling toward risking that amongst his students. Given what she'd seen the day prior, however, she honestly doubted his reflexes would allow him to trip like that.

"Allow me," she offered, linking their arms.

It was halfway to the kitchen that Bakugou entered from the front door and stopped in his tracks. Yaoyorozu paused, forcing Aizawa to stop with her, locking eyes with the blonde. She watched him open his mouth and shot him the most vicious look she could manage. The words died on his tongue and she slowly shook her head, taking the chance that was presenting itself to set a finger to her lips, glaring daggers at the boy. Bakugou snapped his mouth shut and started for the stairs. He shot her an impressed look on his way by.

Yaoyorozu opted to ignore it for now and focus instead on the task at hand. Making sure Aizawa got to the kitchen and got some coffee. She set him down at the stools around the counter. He waited patiently while she brewed both coffee and tea, taking her favorite tea bags out of her cabinet. She waited, awkwardly, as the water boiled. Eventually, she looked to see Aizawa half slumped over the counter, head in his hand.

"Aizawa-sensei?"

He grunted.

"Um…" Yaoyorozu looked around, suddenly hyper aware that she hadn't bothered to think of any conversation starters. Her eyes landed on the cabinets and she blurted out the first question that came to mind. "Do you have a personal cabinet in the kitchen, yet?"

"… A what?"

"Um. Well, we split the cabinets up amongst ourselves when we moved in. There were plenty, so personal food items are spread out across them all. Some of us share space since we don't have that many personal items. Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, Tsu, and I share Uraraka's cabinet for tea, for example. Do you have a cabinet?"

"I don't need one," Aizawa said plainly. "I have my food upstairs."

"Shouldn't it be kept in the kitchen?"

"Mm. Doesn't matter, it's just the packets," he says.

He didn't see the disapproving grimace on Yaoyorozu's face. She turned away when the tea was done, and the coffee maker had pinged. She poured them each their own mugs and set his in front of him, taking up her own spot opposite the man. The silence was rather nice if she were honest. It was peaceful.

"I'd love to see the face you shot him to send him running like that."

Yaoyorozu almost spit her tea over the counter. She coughed into her hand, staring incredulously at her teacher. There was no way he'd seen. He had the eye covering over his face. "H-how did you know?" she asked.

"Call it a logical leap," Aizawa said. Yaoyorozu flushed fiercely, burying her face in her hands. Yamada came down the stairs, spotting the two and rushing over, already dressed.

"Good morning, Little Listener! Good morning, Shouta."

"Hizashi."

Yaoyorozu flicked her eyes between them, lost. They were on a first name basis? She supposed that wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibilities. They worked together, after all, she just wasn't expecting it. Wasn't that somewhat more intimate between peers? She slotted the information aside for a later time, perhaps with her own peers to discuss once they were certain Aizawa wouldn't hear about their gossiping. For now, she simply greeted Yamada.

"Good morning, sensei."

"…So, about the scorch mark?" Aizawa asks. Yamada banged his hip on the counter, cutting off his laugh, and Yaoyorozu almost spit her tea out again.

HOW DID HE KNOW

"Wh—what?!"

"Oh, Yamada just informed me this morning about it," Aizawa says easily, taking a long drag from his mug. He set it down and Yamada dutifully refilled it, failing to hide his giggling. He shot Yaoyorozu an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but I thought he'd known already," he admitted.

"Who did it?" Aizawa asked. Yaoyorozu almost whined. She looked down and sighed.

"It was an accident…" she started. She shook her head then. "Well, no, it wasn't really an accident… Bakugou blew up some of the meat he was making."

"…Why."

"Apparently he does it at home?" Yaoyorozu offered weakly. "It worked surprisingly well."

"Except for the damage to the counter," Aizawa added. Yamada patted him on the back.

"Don't worry! It's cosmetic!"

"It's an incident report," Aizawa said gravely. Yamada blanched a little at that.

"A-ah…" he awkwardly sipped his coffee. Aizawa finished off his mug and set it down. Yamada moved it to the sink, reaching over the counter to do so, and finished off his own mug. "Let's head out. We'll see you in class, Yaoyorozu!"

"Alright. Have a good day, sensei!" Yaoyorozu called after them. She watched, mesmerized, as Yamada literally dragged Aizawa to the door, his arm hooked around Aizawa's chest and secured under his arms, the blonde looking chipper and unperturbed by Aizawa's utter lack of motivation to walk. As if he did this all the time.

Perhaps he did.

Cementoss was a quiet man. Aizawa rather liked that about him, because it meant easy times in the teacher's lounge when it was just the two of them. He liked that Cementoss was calm. A good half of the staff could supposedly be slotted into that category but Aizawa hardly interacted with the staff that headed the other departments unless their students crossed paths in a manner that required teacher intervention. So, he couldn't really say for whom that attribute applied. What he could say was that Cementoss was one of the teachers he respected the patience of.

The man could have been a great doctor or nurse with how much he tended to others' needs and well-being. Outside Yamada and Nemuri, Cementoss (and Thirteen) were the ones who nagged Aizawa the most about his health. Aizawa didn't particularly mind that, but to be handed off to the man by Yamada like some sort of injured tot was close to demeaning.

"Heeeeeeeey~! Ishiyama, I got a friend for you~!" Yamada sang as he dragged Aizawa into the teacher's lounge. Cementoss looked up from his desk, having already gone over the lesson plans for his shift with the other Pro's class.

"Good morning, Yamada. Aizawa."

"Hey."

"He's had his second cup of coffee already, he's been wearing the eye covering, and he's rearing to go!" Yamada declared, stopping Aizawa in front of the others' desk. Aizawa kicked his shin.

"I'm capable of doing this myself," he says bitterly. Yamada smacked his arm with a pout.

"Yeah, try telling Nezu that."

"I will do my best, Aizawa, I swear."

Aizawa sighed heavily, bowing his head. "It's not that."

He turned on his heel and marched out the door. His sleeping bag should be in his classroom. And if it wasn't, he was going to sleep at his desk. He ignored Yamada whining after him, hadn't even bothered to see if anyone else was in the teacher's lounge (he'd probably hear about it at lunch if there was anyone, either way), and marched to the classroom whilst the halls were still empty.

Or, largely empty.

"—see Aizawa-sensei yesterday?"

"What was with the eye thing? Is his class doing some weird exercise or something?"

Ah, Kan's class. Aizawa stopped short of the hall that led to his classroom. They had to pass him to get to their own homeroom, didn't they? He mentally swore for not wrenching himself free of Yamada the second they'd hit the front door.

"Wouldn't be surprising with how up the school's ass—"

"Monoma, perhaps watch what you're saying," Aizawa said, rounding the corner. All three students absolutely screeched when he had, and Aizawa had to hide his smirk under his Capture Weapon. "I do believe Kan wouldn't approve."

Aizawa pushed past them, readjusting his Capture Weapon as he did, and reaching the classroom door without pause or hesitation. He could feel their eyes still on him, however, and so turned slightly in their direction.

"Don't make assumptions about others' situations. You'll look like a right ass," Aizawa said.

He promptly entered the classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. He could hear Monoma starting to shout indignations on the other side, likely because of his swear, only to have the distinctive slap of Kendo's hand swiftly following. A very hasty 'That is a teacher!' accompanying it. He toed his way to the back of his desk, finding his sleeping bag and slipping inside. He was exhausted already, and it wasn't even the start of class.

He'd even slept relatively well, too.

He managed to sleep for a little while before the class started to filter in. There was no sleeping with them making the necessary noise to get to their seats, so he just laid there. Cementoss came in amongst them, beating a third of the class to the classroom, and taking up his spot at the side of the desk. Cementoss leaned over Aizawa, then, blocking what light was coming from the overhead lights with his shadow, and Aizawa grunted in greeting.

"Are you alright?" Cementoss asked. "I do hope you're not overexerting yourself whilst impaired."

"You worry too much."

"I worry exactly enough."

"Liar," Aizawa hissed. He sat up, stretching out his limbs. Cementoss gave him a huff but did leave him be to pass out the worksheets before class officially started.

"Give it to him," Hagakure whispered from her seat.

"I don't think…" Yaoyorozu trailed off.

"The worst is he says no," Midoriya whispered.

Aizawa raised a brow. He slipped out from the sleeping bag and leaned against the wall instead, pretending to not care of the conversations taking place around the classroom. Someone was asking Cementoss about the lesson plan, Bakugou was insulting the Squad again, and there was other idle chatter sprinkled about. Finally, a chair scraped the floor and footsteps halted in front of the desk.

"Aizawa-sensei?"

"Yes, Yaoyorozu?"

Yaoyorozu shuffled awkwardly on her feet and then took a deep breath. "I made you something."

Aizawa had leant his head on the wall. He bent it down, in the general direction of Yaoyorozu's voice, and raised a brow at her. "Oh?" he asked.

The girl seemed to have grounded herself because she sidestepped the desk and took his hands in hers, pulling them out of his pockets to wrap them around a long pole. He tested the balance of it once she'd released it fully to his grasp. Then, he felt it out. It was a cane. Specifically, one with a wrist loop on it at one end. He tested the height of it, finding it suited him rather well, meaning she'd made it specifically for him rather than trying to copy some random cane she'd seen in a shop. Aizawa tapped it a few times on the ground next.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks.

"Yes," Yaoyorozu said immediately. "I thought… perhaps it'd be helpful for when you move around the dorm common room and kitchen."

Aizaw was silent.

"…no braining," Yaoyorozu said quietly. Aizawa snorted at that, missing the surprised expression Yaoyorozu couldn't keep off her face, and set the cane against the corner.

"Thanks."

Yaoyorozu swelled with pride, bowing to him. "Of course, sensei!"

She quickly returned to her seat, Cementoss calling for class to start shortly afterward.

Aizawa didn't wake up slowly to the sound of the classroom. Nor did he wake up suddenly to the bell, like he expected to. No, instead he woke up to Cementoss trying and failing spectacularly to calm down one of Bakugou's rage fits. A misplaced explosion had been what finally broke through Aizawa's sleep. It hadn't caused anything to crumble—he didn't think it did, anyway, because he couldn't smell anything burning nor had he heard the sound of anything crashing to the floor—but it had been loud.

"You're going to wake Aizawa-sensei!"

"Be quiet, Bakugou!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Students—"

Cementoss at least sounded authoritative, but his words were drowned out by the whole class entering into a class-wide argument. Aizawa sat up in his sleeping bag, silently slipping out of it to stretch. No one seemed to notice. No one made a noise that told him they did, anyway. And though he felt eyes on him, he was fairly certain it was Cementoss, and perhaps Midoriya. The boy was being uncharacteristically silent all of a sudden.

"If I have to undo these bandages and end up in Recovery Girl's office; I'm expelling every last one of you," Aizawa growled. The rising noise immediately cut off. He could hear the desks hastily being scrapped against the tile back into their rightful places in fear. Good.

They could use a little jolt of fear.

It didn't matter that he wasn't sure if he could even use his Quirk with this one in effect. It didn't matter that he was still half-asleep and probably couldn't throw a decent punch, much less wrangle any of the kids. He was confident none of them wanted to risk it. Cementoss gave him a sheepish apology.

"Mind telling me what was happening?" Aizawa asked, rubbing at his eyes through the bandage. He held his hand up to Cementoss before the man could even start to speak. "Them."

"U-uh…"

"Well—"

"We didn't mean to wake you, sensei, honest!"

"We're terribly sorry, sensei, we failed as class representatives—"

"It was Bakugou's fault!"

Aizawa let them flounder a moment before turning to Cementoss. "Nevermind, you tell me," he said. The indignant squawking he heard following that statement was worth it.

"We were discussing the importance of PR in a Hero career," Cementoss said.

Oh, is that all? Of course, that's all, Aizawa thought. He sighed, pinching his brow. "Let me guess," he began. "Bakugou had some opinions on the actual importance of that compared to the work Heroes actually do."

"Well, it's true!" Bakugou shouted.

"I'm not listening to the kid who tried to cook food by exploding it," Aizawa snapped back. Giggles swept through the room.

"You heard that?!" Bakugou asked, slapping his hand on the desk.

"Irrelevant. You really think I wouldn't be wondering about the counter when this Quirk wears off?" Aizawa asked. The boy was silent and Aizawa turned in his direction. "You were going to try and replace it before then, weren't you?"

"…No."

"Terrible lie," Aizawa spat. Cementoss buried his face in his hands to hide the smile. Aizawa fell back in his chair, circling his finger in the air. "Get on with it."

It was once class had ended and the kids were sent off to Yamada that Aizawa opted to hide away in the teacher's lounge rather than remain in the classroom. Sleeping on the couch was much more preferrable to sleeping on the floor, after all. He was halfway to the door when he halted and spun back around.

"Aizawa?" Cementoss called after him, holding the door open as he waited for the man. Aizawa grabbed the cane from the corner, slipping his hand through the wrist strap, and then promptly followed Cementoss out the door.

It was a clear indicator that he was, at least temporarily, blinded to any students who passed him in the hall. He doubted that he'd be approached by any of them, even if they were legitimately concerned. As he entered the teacher's lounge, he could hear Thirteen and Yamada discussing their own turns for substituting.

"Yamada, you have class," Aizawa said. He fell into his desk chair, knocking the cane against the wood. Yamada glanced up at him, spotted the cane, and immediately jumped up and rushed to his side.

"Where'd you get that, huh?" he asked, poking at the cane. Aizawa promptly whacked his shin with it. "Hey!"

"Yaoyorozu made it for me," Aizawa said simply. He set his feet on the desk. "It works."

"That does not count!"

Aizawa hadn't known what he was expecting with Power Loader's substitution of the Hero class at the end of the day. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten around to actually writing the lesson plan for the day's latter half when he'd been blinded. He'd been planning to wing it if he hadn't solidified anything. So, when Maijima had asked to do his own thing, he'd accepted it with hardly a thought. He had been expecting a lecture on the importance of support items.

He had not expected Maijima to take the class out to Ground Beta and literally demonstrate the use of their support items by ruthlessly attacking them all in underground tunnels. Granted, the idea was solid. The class was bound to be caught in tight quarters, and even sewer systems, while on their patrols as Pros. And from the sounds of it… they hadn't done particularly well. Maijima had caught most of them off guard, being able to tunnel like he could. Jirou was really the only one to successfully track him with her ear jacks, and she had, by proxy, lasted as one of the longest survivors of his onslaught. Get caught and you were out, use your support item to its fullest extent, and work as a team were the simple rules.

They fell apart immediately. Getting caught was inevitable. The only surefire way to win was to be the last one left. Using their support items against Power Loader at their fullest extent was easy on paper, but actually committing against someone you knew was an ally (and curiously, not a classmate) was another matter entirely. Aizawa hadn't been surprised to learn, after the fact via Maijima filling in what he'd missed without his sight, that most of the class were at least somewhat hesitant to attack with the full use of their items. He suspected it was partly because most of them hadn't faced Maijima yet, partly because Maijima had overseen their support items' creations and therefore knew them better than anyone else might, and partly because it was a teacher they were up against. Not even that it was a teacher, per say, but that it was an unfamiliar teacher. Fighting their classmates, they'd grown familiar with the back and forth. Fighting Aizawa, even, they'd started to become accustomed to during training. Fighting another teacher wasn't something they'd done since their finals.

Aizawa made a mental note to rectify that unforeseen blind spot in their combat lessons. Of course, they'd need a shake-up in experienced opponents every now and then. They'd get too used to the fighting styles of their peers if he didn't bring in some guest Pros. He was already forming a list of Pros to contact when the school day had ended. He walked back to the dorms with the class rather than with Yamada or any other teacher.

It hadn't been intentional—by a long shot—as he'd gone back to the classroom to grab his sleeping bag and had been jumped by the kids on his way out. More like he'd been accosted at the door and then stealthily stuck in the center of the group and then whisked away. He still had the cane at his side despite not having to use it just yet. He could feel several bodies hovering around him as they walked back to the dorm building. Based on the placement of voices around him, he knew Bakugou's group was behind him acting as the back defense. Iida and Midoriya, as the two fastest classmates, were flanking him on either side. Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, Satou, Shoji, and Tokoyami had taken up the front. Everyone else was scattered on either side of Midoriya and Iida. He was, effectively, stuck going their pace as they ferried him back to the dorms and tried to hide the true intentions of their huddle around him.

He opted not to try mentioning it. They would deny it, possibly vehemently, no matter how much logic he shoved in their faces. Once they'd reached the actual dorm, and the students were forced to break their formation to squeeze into the building, he flicked out the cane. It hit Iida in the shin and Aizawa ignored his cut off yelp as he used the cane for its actual purpose to find the couch. He could almost feel Yaoyorozu beaming from behind him as he made his way to the couch and promptly fell back into it.

He set the cane up against the coffee table in front of him, setting his feet up at the edge beside it. His capture scarf was yanked off seconds later and he started to roll it over his hand and elbow like a cord. He never thought he'd have to use his mental mapping of the dorm's common room outside of navigating it in the darkness of 2 am, and so had truly never really paid much attention to it, but here he was. He could hear his students bustling about behind him, along with the clinking of dishes, and then soon after that Bakugou and Satou kicking everyone else out of the kitchen so they could prep an early dinner.

Early because they all were smart enough to realize that just because he was blinded that didn't mean the morning training session back at Ground Beta was called off. Smart kids.

He did question why Bakugou was insisting on cooking two nights in a row. Perhaps he felt he had something to prove about "proper cooking methods". Aizawa wasn't about to question the decision, though, because that just meant another competently delicious meal.

Aizawa leaned his head back, his hair partially flopping over the edge of the couch. Granted, his eyes had never felt better (he swore if the flip flop on how his eyes felt was going to be a thing, he was going to be angry) but he refused to sleep. He couldn't afford sleep since he would be the only teacher in the dorm until Hizashi got back around three yet again and he had slept plenty already. Being left unable, as of yet, to grade his papers had left him with little else to do between supervising the classes and hiding away in the teacher's lounge. He couldn't set an alarm on his phone without the voice command, a very troubling dilemma, and with the level of sound in the common room he doubted his phone would even accurately pick up what he was going to say. So, he let it be, instead using the background noise to keep himself mentally aware enough to stay awake. He finished rolling his capture weapon and let it rest at his hip, still looped around his hand, both of which he promptly put in his pockets.

And then…

"Aizawa-sensei?"

Aizawa's mouth twitched as his calm state was interrupted. "Hm?"

"Um, do you need anything?"

Aizawa would have blinked if he could. Instead, he just sat there a moment in contemplative silence. He turned to where he thought Hagakure's voice was coming from. Unbeknownst to him, he was looking directly at her, which only served to unnerve her and any of her classmates who were paying attention to the interaction. Unsettling was the perfect adjective.

Kaminari gripped Kirishima's shirt and with a hand to his chest mouthed 'how the fuck' to his friend. Kirishima could only shrug.

"Not at the moment," Aizawa said slowly, deliberately. Hagakure swayed back and forth on her feet. He couldn't see it, but he could almost hear it in her tone when she spoke next.

"Oh… um… not even some tea?" she offered.

"Could you even get into the kitchen?" Aizawa questioned, leaning his head back again.

"Well, Momo can make the pot and packet and Todo can make a block of ice and melt it!" Hagakure said cheerfully. The room was silent for just a beat.

"Holy shit you're a genius," Uraraka whispered. Aizawa's mouth twitched again.

"Knock yourself out," he said. Hagakure squealed. She spun around to Todoroki and Yaoyorozu.

"You heard the man!" she declared. Yaoyorozu sighed playfully, beginning to pull a pot and tea bags from her stomach.

"I can only do lavender…" she said shyly. Todoroki dumped a block of ice into the pot, holding his other hand under it and starting to use a controlled flame. "Ah, thank you, Todoroki."

"That's fine!" Hagakure said before Aizawa could even respond. "How many tea bags?"

"As many as you need," Yaoyorozu assured her.

"Not if it causes strain," Aizawa stressed. Yaoyorozu flushed a little, looking down to focus on the tea kettle lid she was making.

"…ten tea bags," she mumbled.

Despite the interjection, Hagakure gave another squeal, a bright 'that's plenty!', and happily bounced as she went to retrieve the mugs. An extra tea pot was fine and dandy, but they simply didn't have the space if Yaoyorozu made everyone mugs on top of that. Hagakure slipped in, snatching the mugs from the cabinet on their side of the kitchen.

Aizawa could smell the lavender from the teabags as the water warmed. Soon enough a mug was set beside his wrist, at the hand hidden in his pocket, and he tilted his head to indicate his wakefulness before taking the cup. A weight settled beside him on the couch. He didn't acknowledge them past a grunted 'thank you' for the mug. He didn't engage. He was trying so hard to drill into everyone's heads that taking the initiative could be rather useful; especially in asking questions, but they seemed as un-eager as EVER despite the growing curiosity and tension in the room. An odd contrast to Kirishima's boldness just the night before, but then again, not everyone was Kirishima.

He finally sighed, rubbing lightly at the covering over his eyes. "What?" he asked.

His hand was taken away from his covering. He felt familiar calloused fingers readjusting the fabric, patting it down over gently, before pulling away. Aizawa sighed, letting it happen because he was A) too mentally exhausted, and B) he had misaligned them rather easily, he'd thought. He probably had to tighten it.

"What—"

Another weight was thrown over him and while his first instinct was to kick it off, he rather liked it. Wait, was this a weighted blanket? Where the hell had they—Yaoyorozu. There was always a good chance it was Yaoyorozu. Regardless, his repeat question died on his tongue.

"Ok."

There was a snicker from behind him—Hagakure—and then a relieved sigh from his left that was undeniably Midoriya. If this was meant to be an apology for earlier in the classroom, he figured he could let them have it. If he fell asleep right there, they'd probably be too afraid to move him. But at least the couch was comfortable enough for him to get an hour or two in before dinner.

He focused on sipping the tea Yaoyorozu had made rather than trying to think of when they'd gotten the weighted blanket. He hadn't noticed it last week, and he would have stolen it the second he'd spotted it if he had, so either it was a new addition or it had been stealthily brought down from a dorm room. He had to get one himself. He was starting to get lulled to sleep just sitting there with the weight securing him to the couch.

He could hear students settling in around him for the night. Midoriya didn't get up from his position on the couch, but he heard someone bring him his backpack. Mostly, he heard him thank them and the sound of heavy books in fabric being set on the floor and then rummaged through, so "backpack delivery" seemed most likely.

"You're going to do your homework hunched painfully over a coffee table?" Aizawa asked, taking a second sip. Midoriya choked at the unexpected call-out.

He looked at Aizawa sheepishly, and scratched his cheek, clearing his throat. "U-um… well, I usually do. A lot of us have."

"Bad posture," was all Aizawa said. Midoriya paused a moment but didn't make to move. Fair enough, he supposed. He wasn't ordering him to go to the tables. And it didn't seem the kid wanted to leave him, either.

Such a good kid.

Such a dumbass for his back.

But that wasn't Aizawa's problem. That was the Problem Child's problem. Fitting, he supposed. He took another long sip of his tea and allowed himself to relax further into the couch cushions. The couch was… to put it mildly it was worn out after such a short time with so many rambunctious teens… but it was comfortable on a level marveled only by his bed. He quickly finished the tea and had set the mug in his lap, only for Midoriya to move it to the coffee table without a word. Aizawa shook his head at him and leaned it back onto the couch.

He found himself thinking of lesson plans he could do if his sight happened to return within the next two weeks. He must have given off the impression he was asleep because he caught two specific conversations about a half an hour later. He only really picked up on them because he heard his name in them.

"Do you think Aizawa-sensei would let us go this weekend?" Ashido asked. She flicked her eyes in his direction, seeing that he was still looking rather comfortable under the weighted blanket.

"To shop? If we go as a big group, I don't see why he wouldn't?" Kaminari says idly.

"And after that?" Bakugou asks. A few of the group looked to him. "What? Really fuckin' think he'll let us go out together with him like that?"

"C'mon, it's not that bad!" Kirishima said. He lowered his voice, glancing in Aizawa's direction as well before he whispered. "Do you think he'd be mad about it 'cuz… like… what's the rule on dating?"

"Each other? Probably a big fat no," Jirou whispered.

Aizawa didn't move. It as a shock to the system, to be sure. He hadn't noticed, quite frankly, that any of the students were dating, but then again, they were all unnaturally close for first year students for good reason. They were right to think he wouldn't be approving of the actions, especially if they had planned to hide it by going shopping first.

"Fucking sucks," Bakugou hissed. "Momo wanted to go to some restaurant."

"Oooh~! The one on the square? Uraraka and I were going next weekend if we could get passes," Ashido swooned. Swooned.

"I was gonna take Mido out for a hike…" Kirishima mumbled dejectedly. He turned to Bakugou, scratching his cheek. "Does he like hiking?"

"Take him to the waterfall in the park, gets him in the mood to hold hands every time, the fuckin' sap."

Aizawa almost, almost, opened his eyes out of shock. His body was rigid, but he was being sure to temper his breathing. Neither student on either side of him seemed to notice the sudden halt in all other movement. Rather, the conversations kept going just as casually.

"…Do you think he's really asleep?" Ashido whispered worriedly. Aizawa kept his breathing controlled. Eyes were probably turning to him. The question, though quiet, seemed to get Midoriya's attention. Aizawa could feel the boy shifting to look at him.

"I think he is," Midoriya whispered. "But… I can never tell."

Blessed information, in Aizawa's opinion.

"How could he sleep so much and so little at the same time?" Uraraka asks. "That makes no sense."

"Okay, but is he asleep?" Ashido presses.

"I see that look in your eyes again, don't you dare!" Kaminari whispers hurriedly. Aizawa started thinking how bad it would be to give up the ruse right then. If he was even close in his assumptions, Ashido was getting a mischievous idea in her head again. A repeat of the bleachers, perhaps.

"A second round of Ashido being caught? That sounds funny enough for me to say go for it," Jirou said.

"Jirou!" Sero wheezed. "Don't encourage her, you want to lose more money?"

Aizawa let his brow twitch in irritation. They'd made a bet on whether he'd been asleep? No wonder the girl had been so surprised when he'd spoken. Thankfully, Midoriya was coming to his rescue.

"Mina, I don't think you want to do that if he's actually asleep," he whispers.

Hold the phone. Mina?

"Why not?" Ashido asks, completely unperturbed by the first name usage. Midoriya shifted to look at his group.

"Momo, what did you say you saw Sensei do yesterday?"

"…He managed to hit Midnight-sensei on the forehead with a pen. From across the room. Blind. Twice," Yaoyorozu says quietly, almost fearfully. "The aim was impeccable."

Oh, she had blabbed. Of course, she had blabbed. He just couldn't win when it came to Nemuri or Yamada's shenanigans, it appeared. He should have slammed the lounge door shut himself rather than leave Yamada to deal with it.

"He did what?" Ashido asked excitedly.

She was immediately shushed, and Aizawa took the shot to make her sudden volume seem like it had an effect. He readjusted, sliding further down the couch cushions. No use in leaving the spot he'd spent so long heating up just because he was a little dumfounded and uncomfortable. He was going to be discussing this whole dating pool later, obviously, but for now, he could play along. This was the most entertainment he'd had all week. And he wasn't quite ready to have the talk with any of his students—and he certainly couldn't shove it off towards Nemuri. He'd have to do it himself, just not today.

"Whatever. I'm doing it. This is my shot," Ashido whispered frantically, followed quickly by rustling of paper as she stood.

"Do it, I'll bet fifty bucks he just woke up," Bakugou whispered back. He could hear the evil grin on the boy's face. Yaoyorozu sighed from his other side.

"Katsuki, don't encourage her…"

Just how many kids were on a first name basis with each other?

The thought was quickly overcome with the realization that Ashido was being serious. And he doubted anyone would try something as drastic as tackling her to keep her from disturbing him, but that was also the only thing that would stop her. The girl could be terrifyingly determined when mischievousness was on the table. He didn't feel like having her do something ridiculous to check if he were asleep or not, like poking him. He could pretend he hadn't heard the discussions of dating until he brought it up himself. Besides, they had to learn eventually to actually check if someone who shouldn't be listening in actually wasn't before discussing those things.

"Ashido," Midoriya hissed, voice barely above a whisper.

"Just what is she doing, Midoriya?" Aizawa asked.

Ashido stumbled back, biting back her yelp, and promptly tripped over the coffee table. She crashed to the floor, dragging Sero down with her when she tried to grasp onto him to keep from faceplanting. Kaminari and Jirou started to burst out laughing, with Kirishima weakly disguising his own giggles with questions of how Ashido was fairing.

"I can't win…" she bemoaned. She buried her face into Sero's shirt. "Staples, just end me."

"You almost ended me…" Sero grumbled.

Aizawa smirked, sat up, shed the blanket, and stretched until his back popped. He was sure someone probably flinched at that. Midoriya was already asking if he was alright when Bakugou snorted down at Ashido, poking her head with his toes.

"I was right. That was hilarious," he teases. Ashido swatted his foot away.

"Oh, see if you get any physical contact from me for the next week!" Ashido whispered fiercely, though there was a playful tone to her voice. She then whipped her head around to Aizawa, who was waving Midoriya off.

"I'm fine, Midoriya. I'm going to nap upstairs, though. Ashido," he says, moving towards the stairs.

"Y-yes, sensei?"

"Stop trying to sneak up on someone who specializes in not being snuck up on," Aizawa said. Bakugou snorted again, and he heard Ashido slap his shin.

That started a chain reaction of Bakugou retaliating, Midoriya and Kirishima both trying to jump in, Yaoyorozu trying to defuse the situation verbally, and Ashido teasing Bakugou when he couldn't touch her thanks to two of their classmates holding him back. Aizawa couldn't help the smirk on his face. He made it up to the dorm and collapsed onto the bed.

He really had to figure out what he could do to pass the time, or he'd go mad rethinking his lesson plans.