Despite it being so early in the morning, not everywhere is closed.
Namely, the McDonalds Yamada and Aizawa take him to, followed by a 24/7 laundromat.
Izuku nibbles on his hash brown while they wait for the dryer to finish its cycle, with him sat on a bench between the two younger-than-they-should-be pro-heroes who idly eat their own breakfasts.
...Does it count as breakfast if it's barely four in the morning?
He's gonna go with yes.
Funny enough, he and Aizawa had ordered the same thing; a bacon, egg, and cheese McGriddle, two hash browns, and—if he'd had his way—a coffee. Unfortunately for Izuku, not even Aizawa or Yamada were willing to give him what he so desperately desires.
Instead, he's stuck taking sips from his little plastic jug of milk, eyeing the steam that wafts from Aizawa's cup with thinly veiled envy.
At least the food tastes good, much better than those accursed pancakes that were all but shoved down his throat the other morning. It's all salt and grease and it warms Izuku from the inside-out.
He's still got Yamada's leather jacket practically swallowing him whole, but only because he'd fought back when they tried to take it off of him. And since his socks and shoes are in the dryer along with everything else, they'd obliged him by letting him keep the jacket—for now. It's Yamada's personal jacket rather than his hero one, so it's softer and free of all the adornments Yamada's added to his costume thus far. And compared to Izuku, it's quite large. His bare feet stick out from under the jacket's folds.
The smell of the leather is comforting, and it's warm.
They do get some suspicious and judgmental looks—a barely dressed child with two young men is apparently a cause for concern—but Izuku is well versed in ignoring such looks by now.
If he could ignore having a microphone shoved in his face by eager reporters, he can deal with this.
"How's your breakfast tasting there, bud?" Yamada asks, startling Izuku from his thoughts. Yamada's grinning around the straw of his orange juice.
Izuku swallows before he answers in a mumble; "Good."
He's... mostly gotten used to hearing Yamada's voice again, enough so that he isn't at risk of bursting into tears every damn time the man speaks, but he can't quite gather up the courage to look him in the eyes. Izuku simply keeps his eyes—or, eye, considering the one is swelled shut—downcast.
If that means he comes off as shy, so be it.
He watches his and Aizawa's clothing go around and around in the dryer.
"That's good!" he hears Yamada chirp. "Much better than jelly, yeah?"
Despite himself, Izuku glances up through his bangs. "...No," he huffs, and he has to suppress a smirk when he goes on to say; "Jelly's better."
Yamada gasps dramatically.
"I knew it! You've totally corrupted him, Eraser!"
"I haven't corrupted anyone, that's your job," Aizawa bites back, reaching over Izuku's head to shove at Yamada's shoulder. He sounds annoyed, but Izuku thinks the man is holding back a smile of his own.
"Jelly's better," Izuku reiterates, just to see the way Aizawa grins sharply and to hear Yamada's affronted huff. "...but hash browns're good, too."
He takes a bite of his hash brown to make his point.
"Now there's somethin' we can agree on," Yamada says with a put-upon sigh, right before he finishes his own hash brown in one bite. Impressive, considering there'd still been half of it left.
The dryer buzzing startles all three of them.
Yamada damn near chokes on his hash brown, and though he's not much help Izuku reaches a hand out of the jacket's confines to pat the man on the back. He seems to appreciate the gesture, if his sideways grin is anything to go by.
Meanwhile, Aizawa shoves the last bite of his breakfast sandwich in his mouth and stands.
He shuffles up to the dryer to tug the door open, checking their clothes with one hand to make sure they're truly dry and don't need another run through. That'd be annoying, since it'd mean another half hour or so before they could leave. Honestly though, Izuku wouldn't complain about it, since it'd also mean getting to avoid the police station for a while longer.
And while Aizawa does that, Yamada tosses whatever's left of their breakfast—mostly just a wad of crumpled wrappers and Izuku's empty milk jug—into the trash.
Apparently the clothes are good, as Aizawa pulls everything out and into a laundry basket so he can carry it over.
He drops the basket on the bench where he'd been sitting.
"I'll help you get your socks on," Aizawa says while he digs through the clothing, expression growing frustrated as he can't seem to find more than just the one sock currently in his hand.
Izuku does his best not to pout. "I can dress myself," he mutters.
"I know," Aizawa huffs, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He finally manages to locate the second sock—somehow, it'd managed to get inside of Aizawa's jumpsuit—and he turns to face Izuku. "But the floor is cold, and getting your socks on with bruised ribs hurts like hell. Trust me, I would know."
Ah, that does make sense.
Yamada must make some kind of face though, because a moment later Aizawa's grumbling, "...What? Hell's not a bad word."
Now Izuku pouts, but he reluctantly concedes. "...Logical."
"Sure is," Aizawa says with a grin. He kneels then in front of Izuku, turning the socks the right way out so he can get them onto Izuku's feet.
White he does that Izuku reaches into the basket himself to collect his other clothes, but he stills when he feels the warmth radiating off the pile. Oh, right, they've just come out of the dryer.
Without even thinking about it, Izuku grabs an armful and presses his face into it.
He hears Yamada chuckle.
"You're supposed to wear the clothes, bud, not sleep on them."
"Warm," Izuku grunts, feeling the scratch of Aizawa's capture weapon against his cheek. He kind of wants to crawl into the basket with all the clothes and curl up. He's small enough to do it, but he doesn't think he could survive the embarrassment.
Aizawa huffs a soft laugh as he tugs Izuku's second sock on. "C'mon, there's a bathroom you can get dressed in," he says, clearly amused.
Oh, yeah. Izuku remembers.
He also remembers the exact two dryers in the corner that he used to nap on top of while waiting for his laundry to finish, and how the owners would let him because of the time he'd stopped a robbery for them. It didn't stop random people from thinking he was a lump of forgotten laundry and attempting to remove him, but it'd been a welcome reprieve from hearing his upstairs neighbors screaming at each other between late night patrols.
It still feels like he's stuck in a weird dream he can't wake up from, and the familiar scenery isn't helping.
Izuku reluctantly allows Yamada to pull him out of his warm cocoon so Aizawa can fish out the rest of his clothes, the man turning Izuku's Present Mic shirt right-side out without a word.
"I'll help you get your shoes on once you're dressed, okay?" Aizawa says one he's done that, ushering Izuku off the bench and towards the little bathroom.
Unable to come up with a counter-argument, Izuku lets himself be herded into the bathroom.
Aizawa hands Izuku his clothing, adding "Mic and I'll be right here when you're done," before he closes the door.
And then Izuku is alone.
He already knows the bathroom door's lock is broken, so he doesn't bother trying to use it. Honestly, they should probably fix that damn thing. At least the room is clean, for the most part. As clean as a public bathroom could get. The bathroom floor meanwhile is tile, and Izuku knows had he been barefoot he would have absolutely hated it. Thank fuck for Aizawa and his quick thinking.
Placing his clothes on top of the sink for the moment, Izuku pulls his borrowed shirt off; difficult, with how damn big it is. Since Aizawa's not changing into the shirt himself—it probably needs to be washed, actually—Izuku lets it drop to the floor. He's left to shiver in only his underwear and socks.
His underwear is mostly dry by now, but he'll be glad to change into a new pair as soon as he gets the chance.
While he has a moment, Izuku takes stock of his body.
It looks like Aizawa or Yamada must have treated him; bandages around his abdomen, and the sharp tang of bruise cream that stings his nose.
He's still looking at a very annoying week or two of healing, but it's nice not having to patch himself up for once. And since the bandages aren't doing any harm, he leaves them be for now.
Later, once he's home, he'll have to take them off by himself.
Or, he doesn't have to do it by himself, but like hell is he going to ask Inko to help him when he's this vulnerable. She would probably start to fuss over him again and treat him like he was made of glass, refusing to let him out of her sight.
He'll gladly avoid that happening, thanks.
When Izuku turns to actually get dressed he finds that the blood spots that were on his shirt are gone now, likely due to Aizawa washing it before it was dried, which he appreciates. If they'd just gone and dried it as-is it probably would have stained.
He pulls it on, humming at the lingering warmth that clings to the fabric. His pants too are nice and dry.
And then there's nothing left to do to stall for time.
Bending down to grab Aizawa's discarded shirt proves to be a bit of a pain—quite literally—but that's what he gets for dropping it on the floor. He folds it up in his arms so he won't trip over it then pushes the bathroom door open.
Yamada is waiting for him on the other side of the door. Had he been standing guard?
"Oh, that was fast! All dressed n' ready to go?" he asks, and Izuku sees that Yamada's wearing his leather jacket again. He has to push down the surge of disappointment that swells in his chest at the sight, the realization that he can't sneak back into it now that he's dressed.
Behind Yamada, he sees too that Aizawa is stuffing his own hastily folded clothing into the bag he'd brought everything in.
In response to Yamada's question, Izuku nods wordlessly.
"Alright!" Yamada crows in English, which is honestly so like him that Izuku has to stop himself from sighing fondly.
He's distracted by Yamada taking the shirt from Izuku's hand and ushering him back over to the bench, which he hops up onto before either man can offer to help.
He can get up onto the bench just fine by himself, thank you very much.
And it if makes his bruises throb then no one needs to know.
Aizawa doesn't say anything as he crouches in front of Izuku, working to get his shoes on the right feet. Yamada, however, does.
"Red shoes, huh? Those're pretty neat," he says, voice a familiar soft ramble as he neatly folds Aizawa's shirt and places it into the bag with everything else. "Man, now I wish I had some rad red shoes, too. Did'ja know red's my favorite color?"
Izuku did know—it was the same color as Erasure—but he just shakes his head instead of saying so.
"Is red your favorite color too, little listener?"
Despite himself, Izuku's eyes flit to Yamada's hair before he looks away again, shaking his head a second time.
"No?" Yamada tilts his head. Suddenly though he's grinning, and Izuku can only watch as Yamada gently pokes him right in the chest—right in the center of his Present Mic shirt. "Is iiit... yellow?"
Ah.
This time Izuku nods, holding back a sigh as he echoes "Yellow."
The color of Yamada's hair, tied back in a messy bun on those wonderful lazy days. The yellow tinge to the sky early in the morning when everyone else was asleep. The flecks of gold in Oboro's otherwise blue eyes after they got him back from the dead.
"Told you, kid's got good taste," Aizawa mutters with a grin. He's done tying Izuku's shoes now too, and he pats Izuku's left knee before sitting back on his heels. "Ready to get going?" he asks.
Not really, no.
"Mhm," Izuku hums.
He hops off the bench, testing how tightly Aizawa's tied his shoes. It's not too bad, actually.
"It's kind of a long walk to the station..." huffs Yamada, patting his hands against his own thighs as he looks out the laundromat windows to the street. Oh, no, he's thinking about something, isn't he?
Just as Izuku suspected, Yamada turns back to him with a grin. "You wanna take the Present Mic Express again, bud?" he asks.
No.
...Okay, yes, he kind of does.
Rather than answer verbally, Izuku keeps his eyes trained on the floor while he holds his arms up, giving permission for Yamada to lift him. Not even he's immune to touch starvation, and it was nice being held by someone who didn't make his skin crawl. He might as well get as much as he can now, even if it makes his heart ache something terrible.
"Up we go," Yamada says, right before he gently picks Izuku up, propping him on his hip like before.
Izuku buries his face in the collar of Yamada's leather jacket.
The air outside is chilly and a little wet, though Izuku's glad it isn't raining anymore. If only he'd grabbed a jacket or something...
Yamada is warm though, and even if his face keeps sticking to the surface of the leather jacket Izuku doesn't really feel like letting go. Besides, he can feel the rumble in Yamada's chest as the man chats while they walk—mostly just inane ramblings about random topics. Izuku recognizes the tactic; Yamada's trying to keep him calm and distracted.
It works, though maybe not for the reason Yamada thinks.
Izuku feels safer and more content than he has in months, and he gradually relaxes bit by bit in Yamada's arms.
They make a stop back at Aizawa's apartment so the man can drop off his dry clothes, Yamada and Izuku lingering outside the building until Aizawa returns empty-handed.
Mostly empty-handed.
He's got his capture weapon wrapped around his shoulders again, though it looks like he didn't bother changing back into his jumpsuit.
They head straight to the police station after that.
The place looks just as Izuku remembers it, though he doesn't see Tsukauchi or Tamakawa anywhere. That made sense for the latter since the man worked the day shift, and while Tsukauchi did the same he tended to pull late nights when he got really into a case.
If Tsukauchi were here then Izuku would really need to watch what he says, but it'd be nice having someone believe him without question.
Unfortunately, when Aizawa asks a tired-looking officer if Tsukauchi is in, he's told no.
Damnit.
"That's fine, we'll talk to whichever detective's on duty right now," says Aizawa, and he runs a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. He must be tired, Izuku thinks.
"Hey, don't worry, buddy," Yamada says, pulling Izuku's attention away from where Aizawa is explaining things to the officer. He realizes then that he was clinging to Yamada much tighter than before, and loosens his grip. Yamada grins comfortingly at him. "Eraser and I are gonna stay here with you, 'kay? The nice policeman's gonna have a couple questions for ya' about what happened, but after that we'll make sure you get home safe and sound. How's that sound?"
Going back 'home' instead of staying here in Yamada's arms sounds terrible, actually, but Izuku doesn't say that.
Instead, he nods silently.
"Alright!" Yamada cheers, managing this time to keep his volume at an acceptable level. Even softer then, he prompts "...Can I get an 'alright', little listener?"
Izuku ducks his head, but he's powerless other than to answer with a mumbled "...A'right."
Yamada's grin is blinding.
"Yeah, it's—" Aizawa's voice catches their attention, and they look over at him right at the same time he looks to Izuku and asks "...What's your family name, kid?"
Oh, yeah.
He totally forgot to mention that, didn't he?
The part of Izuku that enjoys messing with people is almost tempted to respond 'Aizawa', if only because Aizawa never told him his family name either, and the look on his face would no doubt be hysterical.
Doing that would be an incredibly bad idea however, so Izuku will just have to stick with the truth. Even if it's the truth that his name was—used to be—Aizawa.
"...Midoriya," he mumbles.
Aizawa hums, and turns back to the officer and the paperwork that Izuku hadn't noticed before. "Hm. Midoriya Izuku, then..." he mutters. Yamada walks them closer to peek, and Izuku's able to see now that they're filling out a report with his information. Aizawa looks up again. "Do you know your address? ...Where you live?"
Nodding, Izuku opens his mouth to answer, when—
RIIING-!
Everyone startles, looking to the noise before both Aizawa and Yamada pull their phones from their pockets.
Izuku's eyes widen, because he recognizes the sound of that alert.
That's the emergency alert.
"Ah, shi—oot," Yamada hisses, holding his phone at such an angle that Izuku can't see the screen. "Looks like there's something big goin' on downtown. They're calling for all hands on deck."
Well, that confirms Izuku's fears.
Technically Aizawa and Yamada are off duty, but because they're both here doing hero work and are in the area of the emergency, it would be expected of them to head over.
Which means they'll have to leave Izuku here.
Alone.
He clings tighter to Yamada again when that thought strikes him, and Yamada—observant, kind, heroic Yamada—notices right away.
"Hey, hey..." he soothes, gently patting Izuku on the back. "I know I said we'd stay, but Eraser and I gotta go do some hero-ing, okay? You'll be safe here with Officer Fujinuma-san."
Izuku glances to the officer that had been helping Aizawa with the paperwork, at his short black hair and tired, dark blue eyes, before he buries his face in the crook of Yamada's neck once more. He more feels than hears Yamada sigh.
He does however hear Aizawa mutter "Mic..."
Yamada shifts his grip on Izuku. "Yeah, I got'chu. Mind grabbing my gear from your place, Eraser? I'll catch up with you downtown, just gimme a minute..."
There's some shuffling, and Izuku assumes that Aizawa has left now.
When Yamada moves to kneel and place Izuku on the floor however, he can't quite bite back the whimper that crawls up his throat.
Yamada goes stock-still.
"C'mon, bud..." he murmurs, voice sounding strained. "Here, how's about this—"
This time when he tries to put him down, Izuku allows it, if only because he's curious what Yamada will do. He sees that Yamada's worrying his lower lip between his teeth then, and Izuku regrets that he's the cause of it. There's no way for him to stop the tears welling up in his eyes or the way he longs to cling to Yamada and never let go, but...
Sitting back on his heels, Yamada shrugs off his leather jacket, and for the second time tonight he's wrapping it around Izuku's shoulders, tugging on the lapels to close it securely around him.
Izuku's breath hitches.
"Eraserhead and I gotta go fight the bad guys," Yamada tells him, "—but I'd like you to hold onto my jacket for me, 'kay? I'll come back to get it in a couple days, so I want you to keep it safe for me in the meantime."
Yamada smiles, and it's full of so much quiet concern and gentleness that Izuku's heart aches.
"Can you do that for me, bud?"
Izuku's nodding in agreement before he can even think to do otherwise.
Anything, he'll do anything if it's Yamada asking him.
"Alrighty, little listener," Yamada murmurs, and he adjusts the jacket one last time before gently ruffling Izuku's hair. "Like I said, I'll be back to get it in a couple of days, so I'll see you again then, okay?"
The jacket is warm again from Yamada wearing it, and Izuku snuggles into it gratefully. Slowly, he nods.
Yamada grins in return.
"Okay, I'm gonna leave you with Officer Fujinuma now," he says, standing up before he quickly shoots a wider grin and a thumbs up at Fujinuma. When he turns back to Izuku that wide grin softens. "If I don't hurry up I'm gonna miss all the action, so wish me luck!"
"Good luck," Izuku mumbles, which gets him another hair ruffle.
He's left to watch as Yamada speed walks to the exit, glancing over his shoulder one last time before he steps outside and begins running.
Izuku quietly wishes he could have stayed near Yamada for a little while longer.