Scars.


Things had been going surprisingly well. You could finally take slow walks without assistance, and whether or not it was on purpose, you had been so busy that there was no room for self doubt to bubble up. In fact, yelling at Aizawa was oddly refreshing. It made you think that just maybe you could try to forget what happened. Try to use your quirk again, even.

You hadn't tried at all since waking up after that day.

Following the the large wall that surrounded UA, you found a spot away from open spaces. With a deep breath you held out your hand.

[ba-dum]

You shook slightly, body tensing.

[ba-dum]

The pain of laying down and awaiting death was too fresh, it hurt to think about it. Dropping your hand, you tried to calm down.

"Too soon." It would be better to have Aizawa around, just in case. The thought of him being there made it easier to want to try again.

Was he teaching a class right now? You wondered if it was too much to ask him for help again after he already did so much. For now you would just take a walk and enjoy the day, deciding to ask him later.

Maybe you would get Midnight to go with you to replace your cell. Even better, you could treat everyone to dinner. You grinned thinking of everyone arguing and laughing over drinks again. Nothing could bring you down just then.

You should never tempt fate to prove you wrong.

You heard them first, their demands for answers loud even behind the wall. Peeking out from the entrance just enough to not be seen, you could make out the forms of camping reporters. What stood out the most was the newspapers in their hands – all sporting similar headlines.

Villain killed by UA teacher.

It wasn't so simple after all. More than the students and teachers acting like nothing happened, you had the rest of the world casting their judgment. The thoughts you tried so hard to ignore came flooding back. Why? It was supposed to be okay, an accident that couldn't be helped.

You didn't know how long you were standing there, hidden away. They were arguing amongst themselves. Complaining to someone you couldn't see from your hiding spot. Drowning in panic and fear, you found it impossible to move. The students never said a word about this. Toshinori must have asked them to keep quiet, because there was no way they didn't know.

Self doubt became actual concerns as some were calling for your resignation from UA. Others were for revoking your hero license all together. They were convinced you were dangerous. Angry voices blurred into background noise as you started to lose focus.

"I don't want to leave..."

Suddenly someone was pulling on your arm, causing you to flinch. They lead you away from those prying eyes and inquiring chatter to somewhere that was easier to breathe. When you finally looked up, it was Aizawa's face staring back at you.

"It's as if you want those sharks to see you." He couldn't have been the one keeping them at bay, right? But there was no other explanation to why he would be there. His grip was firm, but gentle – just enough to keep you moving forward without causing pain.

"Nobody said anything to me about this."

"You didn't need to know." The bitter of irony of those words was not lost on you. Shaking his head, he continued. "Just ignore them, they only want to stir up trouble by slandering a hero."

That word again; hero.

"They want me to quit." A part of you agreed with the criticism. What right did you have to stay at UA anymore, and teach students about justice? Even worse, what did he think of your mess up? The man with such disdain for those who put themselves into danger, and the one who made you into someone that could save others. To be honest, it was your biggest fear. You didn't want to lose what little regard he had for you.

"Do you agree with them? Is killing to save others something heroic?" Growing quiet, Aizawa tugged on your arm once again. You followed nervously.

"You put yourself in danger." The words made your heart sink. "You were already in bad shape, and you attacked with the intent of killing. That's two strikes. The enemies were strong – one of which that has attacked UA twice now. It was stupid and reckless."

Right. There was the telltale sting in your eyes of tears threatening to form. You wouldn't cry. He was only telling the truth, after all.

"But look at everyone fighting to keep you here. Hizashi is threatening to fight the press, Nemuri is keeping them away properly so he won't cause a commotion. They're doing it for their fellow hero." You choked at his confidence. "Your remorse shows you aren't a bad person."

Maybe it wasn't too selfish to want to stay.

"You are still infuriating." Stopping his pace, Aizawa glanced back. "Stop throwing your life away. Even against that man." The way his eyebrows furrowed showed something strange in his expression. You couldn't quite read it before he continued on. What was it? That flash of something darker in his eyes. He fought the gray haired man too – Tomura – you learned his name was.

Did Aizawa feel the same as you? That slight regret of wishing he could be a tiny bit less heroic, for the sake of keeping his friends and students safe. The same thought that crossed through your mind:

"If only I could have killed him."

Perhaps that was why his words were the one thing that put you at ease over everyone else.

"I still have the same expectations of you, that's never changed." His grip on you tightened as he led you toward your shared housing.

Toward home.

xXx

More often than not, Aizawa was barely dressed when it came to his own personal time. He had a clear pattern of living that revolved around sleep and comfort. You never saw him late for anything, which had to be some sort of miracle or superb internal clock on his part. In the mornings he woke up with just enough time to get ready and leave, often doing things like putting his clothes on while walking out the door.

Even now, seconds after arriving to his residence, that signature jumpsuit was halfway unzipped and the sleeves tied around his waist in agitation. His first stop was fumbling around with a locked box hidden away in a corner. When he pulled out an expensive looking bottle, you understood.

"Don't think you'll be getting any." His expression was as impassive as ever, but the dry humor was back. "I need this after dealing with that crowd."

He looked nothing like a teacher just then, a generous glass of alcohol held gingerly in one hand. Sporting a white undershirt, he seemed much closer to a bar worker or a mechanic. A small part of you recognized how handsome he was, sipping on his drink and savoring the taste with an air of calm. It was a feeling you wished you could emulate.

He collapsed down on the couch – obviously forgetting that it was currently your bed – and sighed. Both of you would be happier by putting the media swarm behind you. You certainly didn't want to think about it. Instead you sat next to him, using his habit as a convenient distraction.

It wasn't on purpose that you committed his body to memory, but it was hard not to when your medical care was done in his various states of undress. The weary teacher was deceptively built under his baggy clothes. You had taken him for a much slimmer man.

The most surprising thing, however, was the network of scars that adorned his body. Some were larger and unique; more likely to be remnants of a tough villain. The others were thin cuts that were so similar they must have been the result of training. Every day you could pick out one you hadn't seen before.

"Hey, Aizawa?" His eyes flickered toward you then back to his drink.

"Shouta. You might as well, considering we're living together." You wanted to laugh at that. Was it the alcohol talking already? Maybe the bond forged from mutual hate of reporters was just that strong.

"Technically that's true." You touched one of the faded scars. "Can I ask about this?" It was a perfect wide gash of 3 inches, just along his forearm. He shifted just enough to look at where you were pointing to. He thought back with closed eyes and a low hum in his chest.

"A villain who could materialize blades. We didn't know until I got stabbed with one." It was nice to listen to his recounting of the tale, even his annoyed cursing about faulty intel. He wasn't one to embellish, but the way he brushed off his feats made them sound all the more impressive.

Rolling up the short sleeves up until his arm was uncovered completely, you learned about his past fights through the cuts and patterns that marred his skin. The day he partnered with Mic to catch a woman that could melt into the surrounding water. He almost drowned after falling in, the villain catching hold of his legs. The tiny flecks that peppered his forearm were from an acid shooting quirk. His erasure was a mere moment too slow, and he paid for it. Luckily the distance minimized the damage.

"What about this one?" You were picking them out at random now, tensions melting away with each story. It would have been fine to do this forever with him. Being so close that the warmth radiated from his arm to yours.

"I tried to pet a cat." In disbelief, you laughed. A smile briefly graced his face.

Then the strike under his eye caught your attention. It was the most recent scar, and one you knew the origin of. Reaching out to touch it, he stopped you by curling his fingers around your hand. You breathed out a quiet apology for being so forward.

"I guess I never change, huh?" The question on your tongue was begging to be asked. If he struggled like you did. "About... that." A small gesture back to his scar. Revealing the less desirable parts of yourself was still difficult, but you wanted to know. "In the attack before we met, were you ever afraid?"

"At USJ?" His eyes darkened at the memory, but he waited for you to continue your thought.

"I was scared, Shouta. Terrified. So sure that even if someone came, I already pushed too far." You wanted to describe it to him, the way you had lost every hope for living. Drowning in that inky nothingness, every bit of you screaming with regret. It was as if your childhood fears were amplified by the reality of death. "I thought I was going to die alone."

After a long deliberation he poured half an ounce of gold colored liquid into the glass, and handed it over. With a sigh he shifted toward you, body pressing heavily onto yours. The half a shot felt equally as heavy. For some reason it was so reassuring to have him there.

"I don't sleep." His answer was simple, dull. "It's nothing new, to be honest. But realizing that no one is coming for you, and the fear... I understand it." Maybe that was a similar thing between you and him. Both reluctant to let your friends see you struggle. You took a sip from the glass and shuddered at the flavor. It was smooth, but still had the strong burn of bourbon. Even the small touch on your tongue instantly buzzed with warmth.

"I dream of them dying." He covered his face with a slight tremble in his hand. "Of falling too early." You gently placed the drink on the floor, focusing fully on his words. "...Failing to save them." Did he ever share his weaknesses with anyone before this? The sound of his voice was dry and cracked now.

"If only I were more capable."

His folded his hands together, knuckles white with how tightly he was squeezing. The dry irritation of his eyes was worse than usual. It dawned on you that he was probably trying not to – or even might not be able to cry. Lightly touching his wrist, you hoped to ease something of his pain.

You never knew the details of the USJ attack, but...

"They came, didn't they?" No one ever noticed how mentally exhausted he must have been by keeping all of this bottled up. Wrapping your arms around his body, you held him tightly. It hurt to see him this way.

"Twice my kids were targeted. All Might doesn't have the power to come in at the last minute anymore." You could hear it, the anger and disappointment aimed at himself. His harsh whispering didn't do a thing to suppress that.

"Toshinori isn't the only one with the power to save others." Without Shouta, you would have died. "You're the one that came for me." He didn't know how strong he was, or that you thought the world of him. All your fears that were chased away because he was there.

"Thank you for that." Your fingers brushed at the hair that hung loosely in his face. Despite his eyes being bloodshot, it was hard to not think him beautiful.

Right.

The reason you were there was to tell him.

Taking hold of his shirt, it was now or never. He had kissed you once, right? You didn't want to regret.

His lips were soft, and a bit dry. You only pressed your mouth on his before hovering centimeters apart. Letting him decide how he felt about this. His face was blank.

"Oh god, this was a mistake."

"I'm so sorry, Aizawa." The heat rose to your face in embarrassment. You tried to pull away, but he held onto you tightly.

"Shouta, remember?" Dark eyes still bleary, he gave a half-smile. "I like it when you call me Shouta."

He closed the distance once more, tasting sweet from the alcohol. It was far more pleasant on his tongue than from the bottle. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment.

"I like you." You never wanted to admit how much you needed his acceptance until now. It wasn't the drinking or the need for someone to hold. You wanted him, alone. Did he feel the same? "You're okay with this... With me?"

He chuckled at that, the deep rumble in his chest took your attention from everything else. It was a quiet sort of laughter. Subtle and calm, just like Aizawa- no, Shouta, always was.

The whisper in your ear was lilted with teasing. "Would you like me to show you?"

His hand trailed down your arm, the languid movement causing your already pink cheeks to flush even darker. The slow exploration of his touch was dizzying. With dark hair tickling your cheeks, you couldn't stop looking at him. The way his muscles shifted under his clothes, relaxing with each kiss. A small gasp escaped your throat as his fingertips pressed into your hips, squeezing until your back arched in reflex. The kisses grew impatient and deep. His shirt slipped to the floor, hot skin leaning into yours.

Those half-lidded eyes made you want to do a variety of debauched things to him. Thoughts of making his usual composure break, reducing him to a trembling mess with only your mouth around his cock. Refusing to let him cum until he's begged passed his limit, pleading your name. But all of that would have to wait, because today was about learning.

Committing to memory the way Shouta would let out a growl when nipping at his collarbone. The sadistic smile he would give before lightly tugging on your hair, stringing kisses along your jaw line. Every move was slow and deliberate. You couldn't help but yank him roughly toward you as the tension built up. Falling backward onto the makeshift bed, you squeaked in pain. Damn these slow healing wounds.

"That's enough for today." Closing his eyes, Shouta pulled away. This was too much, too fast for his voice of reason. Despite your protests that you were fine, he left you with only a kiss on the forehead and frustration as he disappeared to his room.

The order to rest felt impossible.


This is the longest chapter yet. Hopefully you guys enjoy that a little more. I easily doubled my usual chapter size.
We're on a vacation of sorts, and I wasn't sure I could finish this in time. There's probably mistakes littered throughout... sorry!

Still trying to figure out my style for writing the kinkier scenes, too. Thanks again for all the readers, especially the last few anons that have commented - you guys are sweet and amazing.