No TW's! Only soft found family and comfort~

Bargaining

Time passed surprisingly quickly after the night they made their little 'deal'.

(Aizawa didn't really consider it a proper deal, as he'd never had any actual intention of hurting Midoriya. But whatever).

Sure enough, Midoriya seemed to have eliminated his smoking habit. Aizawa had walked into his room, once, just to see if the putrid smell of nicotine was in the air. There'd been nothing.

Only the faint scent of teenage angst and old ramen.

Squashing the faint smile that'd tried to surface on his lips, Aizawa had picked up the abandoned container of half-eaten noodles and closed the door behind him.

After that, he did his best to respect the kid's privacy. Trust was a two-way street; he knew that better than anyone.

Midoriya started school and Aizawa went back to UA, shaking his head over the three students he'd immediately recognized as troublemakers. Nejire, Mirio, and Tamaki Amajiki.

It was only their first year at U.A., but their wild antics had already caused him several headaches.

He'd lost a criminal amount of sleep keeping an eye on the three in class. And sure, technically he wasn't supposed to be sleeping during class in the first place, but he'd come to rely on his in-class naps.

Swallowing back a yawn, he stuck his keys in the door and jerked them to the left. He'd instructed Midoriya to lock the door when he was home alone, just in case.

His apartment was in a pretty good neighborhood, but Aizawa had still given him a lecture on not letting strangers in.

(He was pretty sure the kid had been silently mocking him the whole time, those green eyes crinkling with unspoken amusement and something that looked a little like confusion).

Midoriya was technically old enough to be alone in the apartment—and he was only alone for an hour before Aizawa got back—but the man still stressed about that single hour more than he'd ever stressed about anything in his entire life.

What if a villain from one of Aizawa's past cases found him? What if someone broke in while the kid was home alone? What if—

Sushi mewed plaintively at his feet, her claws catching in his pantleg and jerking Aizawa out of his paranoid spiral.

"What?" He asked, closing the door behind him before she had a chance to realize he'd left it open. She was a great cat, sure, but she was also evil and would run away just to spite him. "Got something to say?"

She blinked at him before retracting her paw, turning tail and putting her back to him as she licked her hindquarters.

Which was basically the feline version of I don't care about you and I hope you die.

Aizawa huffed, slipping the bag of 1-A essays he had to grade that weekend over his shoulder. He poked at her gently with a socked toe. "Don't be rude. You like living here? Then keep your opinions to yourself."

There was a soft sound from down the hall and Aizawa tensed, head snapping towards it as he subtly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, readying for combat—

It was the kid.

Midoriya was standing at the end of the hall, a blanket draped over his shoulders and a mug with an oversized spoon sticking out of it cradled in his left hand.

The other hand was clapped over his mouth, which had clearly been the source of the sound.

"Did you just," Aizawa narrowed his eyes at him, "laugh at me."

Midoriya lowered his hand, mouth open to respond, only to laugh again when Sushi swatted Aizawa's foot.

Aizawa ducked his chin into the capture weapon still slung around his neck. A grin was twisting his lips, but the kid didn't need to know that.

Secretly—and he really did mean secretly, no one would ever know this—he was grateful for the kid's amusement. It was truly a testament to how comfortable Midoriya had gotten with them all since he'd arrived.

Midoriya, as he'd been when he first came, would've stuttered out an apology by now.

This Midoriya still winced at loud noises and avoided being too close to Aizawa, but he was starting to smile more. Laugh slowly.

"Sorry," the kid said, though it sounded anything but genuine. "Does the media know you threaten your cats with homelessness?"

Aizawa pointed a finger at him in what was supposed to be a threatening gesture. Midoriya only smiled wider. "The media doesn't know I exist, and I intend to keep it that way."

"How?" Midoriya blinked innocently at him. Aizawa didn't buy it for a minute. "By threatening your pets into silence?" He directed his next question at the blob of black fur curled by Aizawa's feet, holding his hand out like there was a microphone in it. "Do you feel coerced, Sushi? Care to make a statement on the ethics of Underground hero fear-tactics?"

The treacherous feline chose that moment to let out another yowl.

"She lies, your Honour." Aizawa said. If he said it for the sole purpose of drawing another laugh from Midoriya, no one needed to know that.

(He had an image to uphold, after all).

And the kid did laugh, although he quickly hid it behind his palm.

Aizawa had to duck his head again, burying his grin in the soft grey folds of his hero gear.

As he headed towards the kitchen, a still-chuckling Midoriya and complaintive Sushi following at an arm's length behind him, he had a feeling the kid was going to be okay.

They both would be. Together.

Midoriya, despite being one of the youngest kids he'd ever fostered, was freakishly perceptive.

If Aizawa hadn't been told the kid was quirkless, he would've thought Midoriya had some kind of analysis quirk. That, or an intelligence booster.

Which is what'd led them to this—Midoriya curled up on the other end of the couch, a cat beneath each hand, muttering about the plot twist of the movie they were watching.

Before the plot twist happened.

The kid was an unapologetic spoiler.

The first time it'd happened, Aizawa had almost rejoiced.

The kid was making headway; finally becoming comfortable enough to take up space. Aizawa could handle a little bit of mumbling if it meant the kid was opening up.

That was last week. Since then, the kid had started doing the same thing Every. Single. Movie night.

Now, this week, Midoriya was guessing possible endings to the movie, hands twitching like they were trying to write in the air.

Aizawa clenched his jaw, torn between annoyance and amusement. He squinted at the too-bright screen. Amused-annoyance? Amuyance?

Was that a thing?

If Hizashi, his downstairs neighbour, best friend (possibly something more, but they hadn't discussed that yet) and co-worker were here, he would've laughed himself unconscious.

Sighing, he shifted in his chair, startling Sushi awake. The cat glared at him like he'd just pulled her tail, or registered her for one of those pet-hotel-shelters where she'd be forced to eat dry kibble and socialize like all the other peasant felines.

He huffed at her. Drama queen.

The couch fabric rustled, drawing his attention to the boy on the other end.

Was it just him, or had Midoriya moved?

The kid scooched forward again, eyes never leaving the TV screen as he mumbled.

Definitely not just Aizawa then; Midoriya was moving across the couch towards him. Like a slow, crawling crustacean making its way across the seabed to its target.

Question was, why? And was Aizawa the target? Because he didn't like the sound of that.

Midoriya moved again, shooting Aizawa a quick glance out of the corner of his eye before staring at the screen again, cheeks red with embarrassment at being caught looking.

Aizawa blinked, glancing beside him. There was nothing the kid might want on the table next to him, no leftover snacks or juice boxes.

Sushi watched them both with wide, knowing eyes before sauntering off to her automatic feeder in the kitchen.

Again, Midoriya moved closer. Again, Aizawa felt incredibly confused.

Then there was a familiar, fluffy head of green hair being hesitantly rested against his shoulder, a body settling next to him, and—

Oh.

Aizawa was really, really stupid.

Hizashi would definitely be laughing at him now, those full belly laughs he did when he got especially tired.

He stayed perfectly still as the kid got comfortable, shuffling into the groove of Aizawa's side like it'd been made for him.

There was a relaxed, easeful exhale before Midoriya's breathing settled into a staccato rhythm.

Aizawa squashed back a smile as the movie played on, the characters on screen doing some seriously inaccurate espionage. One of them hopped across a rooftop, landing in a pose that definitely would've shattered both their ankles.

Midoriya's breath fanned against his arm, the silence a blessing. Maybe, if he could get the kid to fall asleep every movie night, he wouldn't spoil anymore movies with his insane plot guessing.

He sighed, tearing his eyes back towards the screen and frowning at what he saw.

Aizawa hated this kind of movie. He wasn't sure how anyone could ever—

Midoriya rustled against him, letting out a quiet snore as one of the fakest explosions Aizawa had ever seen sent the protagonist (were they even the protagonist? Aizawa had stopped paying attention somewhere between the opening credits and first 40 seconds of the movie) flying into a brick wall.

Usually, Aizawa hated this kind of movie. Right now, he found himself perfectly content to stare at the screen, Midoriya's sleeping head pillowed against him.

He smiled and didn't bother hiding it this time.

Yeah, they were going to be just fine.

Aizawa did not feel fine an hour-and-a-half later when he snorted awake on the couch, back aching from the weird angle he'd positioned himself in to support Midoriya's weight.

He blinked blearily at the credits rolling across the screen, trying to determine what realm of existence he was in again. He hadn't slept that deeply in . . .a long time.

Possibly ever.

He reached across the table for his phone, doing his best not to jostle Midoriya's head. A cruel 12:41 AM stared back at him and he frowned, flipping through his notifications only to remember he didn't care about any of the people trying to text him.

He turned the device off and slid it back onto the coffee table, almost popping his arm out of his socket when he tried to do so without waking Midoriya.

Even though, judging from the dark circles beneath the kid's eyes, All Might himself smashing down the apartment door wouldn't stir Midoriya.

"Kid?" Aizawa muttered, gently shaking his charge's shoulder. "Kid, you with me?"

Midoriya grunted something before rolling over onto his other side, pressing his face into the couch cushion. "'Zawa. Mmmbr, eggroll."

He stared down at the kid's head. "Excuse me?"

No response, only the slow rise and fall of the boy's chest beneath his pilly-from-too-many washes pyjama shirt.

Sighing, Aizawa slowly maneuvered himself out from beneath Midoriya's surprisingly substantial weight.

When he'd first arrived, the kid had looked like a wraith beneath his baggy sweaters and jeans. Now he looked healthy, muscle cording his arms and legs and a faint glow on his cheeks.

Aizawa debated just leaving Midoriya there on the couch, tossing a blanket over him and calling it a night, but then he took his own aching joints into consideration.

His couch was old and saggy, barely providing enough support to sit in, let alone sleep on.

The kid would probably wake up in the morning ninety-years older with chronic back pain and a mortgage if he didn't move now.

Aizawa sighed. Next time Nemuri said he was heartless, he was going to throw something at her. Preferably something sharp. Like a knife, or a chainsaw.

Shifting Midoriya into his arms proved to be surprisingly difficult, especially when he started flopping around like a small, beached whale, but Aizawa eventually managed to wrestle him upwards.

"Now that was unnecessary," Aizawa remarked when one of the kid's elbows almost took his eye out.

He pushed Midoriya's head against his shoulder, scooped the kid off the couch, and started making his way towards the back bedrooms.

Sushi watched him from the kitchen counter as they passed, looking incredibly judgemental. If she had eyebrows, they would be arched incredulously at him.

"I'm moving him, not kidnapping." Aizawa muttered. "Calm down."

Getting Midoriya's door open turned out to be a challenge when his arms were full of child, but he eventually managed to contort his wrist at such an angle that he could get his fingers around the handle.

He almost bit the dust over the various tripping hazards on Midoriya's floor—likely another testament to how comfortable the kid had gotten, if he was leaving his stuff out all willy-nilly.

Aizawa froze in the middle of the kid's floor, almost dropping Midoriya in surprise. Willy-nilly? What was he, twenty-six going on sixty? Was he turning into a dad?

The thought wasn't half as horrifying as it would've been a month ago. He didn't know if this was a good or really, really bad thing.

Shaking his head, he started moving again only to immediately trip over a stack of clean laundry he'd asked the kid to put away earlier.

Midoriya was definitely getting more comfortable, but Aizawa could still do without all the mess.

After navigating the maze of clothes, textbooks, and random notebooks, Aizawa was finally able to lay the kid down and tuck him beneath the covers.

Midoriya was still in his after-school clothes, but they were loose fitting sweats and a sweater. If he got uncomfortable, he could wake up and change them himself.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction of a job well done, Aizawa smoothed the kid's hair out of his eyes before turning to leave.

Before he could take a single step, the kid's hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, scarred fingers barely meeting each other around the limb.

His eyes were half-open, squinting against the faint light pouring in from the hallway. It took him a couple tries to get his jaw working. "'zawa?"

If not for his open eyes, Aizawa would've thought the kid was just talking in his sleep. "Yes."

"You're not getting rid of me, right? You're not—" A massive yawn seized the boy, his eyelids flickering shut for a moment before he managed to pry them up again. "You're not gonna send me away?"

Aizawa's heart did something distinctly uncomfortable in his chest, like it was getting squeezed or set on fire or stabbed.

Or all the above at the same time, that sounded fun.

He rustled Midoriya's wild mop of hair again. Midnight would mock him forever if she found out about this, but he found himself not particularly caring. "No, kid. I'm not."

"What?" Midoriya blinked, pupils clearly unfocused. Then he smiled sleepily and whatever was left of Aizawa's cold, dead heart melted into a puddle of goo. "That's good."

"Yes," Aizawa echoed tonelessly. "Good."

"I lied to you," the kid said suddenly, sitting up as much as his sleepy limbs would allow. "Will you lemme stay even though I lied?"

Aizawa frowned. What could the kid possibly be hiding from him?

Was he still smoking? Or was he doing something even worse? Aizawa didn't want to take advantage of his half-awake state, but what if Midoriya was hurting himself?

He'd had a few foster kids in the past that'd self-harmed. There'd been some close calls and tense, fearful trips to the hospital in the back of an ambulance.

Was Midoriya going to be another case like that?

"I always wanted to be a hero," Midoriya said, causing Aizawa to stare at him in confusion. "And I lied to you." He sniffled, tears welling up in the kid's eyes as his fingers twisted at the blanket covering him.

Aizawa almost huffed a sigh of relief. This, he could handle. "I know."

"Oh." Midoriya looked a few seconds away from physically pinning his eyelids open, and Aizawa would have none of that.

He gently pushed the kid's head into the pillow, ruffling his hair once more before stepping back toward the door. "Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning." If Midoriya even remembered this when he woke up.

"G'night," Midoriya muttered against his pillow, eyes already slipping closed as his mouth parted around a wheezy snore.

Aizawa didn't bother trying to squash his smile this time. "Goodnight, kid." Then he was closing the door behind him, easing the handle softly back into place.

As he fell into bed himself, not bothering to change out of his rumpled clothes, arms aching slightly from the kid's phantom weight, he felt. . . content.

It was weird. It was also really, really nice.

He'd started to lose count of all the things he'd learned about Midoriya, but his favourite, by far, had to be the kid's sleepy smile.

(A/N): finally midoriya got some comfort! are yall proud of me or what

last chapter next, might slip more angst in ehehe