Midnight. Shota Aizawa knew from the monotonous release of a beep from his alarm clock and he was STILL grading papers. His eyes burned and he leaned back in his chair to drop some liquid eye relief in.
"Come to bed, my love." His husband and fellow teacher, Hizashi Yamada yawned. He had been scrolling on his phone with his hearing aides in. They were Bluetooth and also meant that they could pair to his phone. Typically, Hizashi wore headphones as part of his hero uniform. Those worked with the speaker unit around his voice amplifier to allow him to hear.
Shota set his pen down. Well, Kirishima failed.
The teacher dorms were nice and set out on the first floor of the student's building. He could hear heavy footsteps above him and then they disappeared with no trace of a door close. Someone was sneaking out.
"It's Bakugo." Aizawa sighed, spinning in his chair to get away from his desk and cross the studio dorm to get to the bedside table. He was still in his black jumpsuit. Hizashi had been in pajamas for almost an hour. Yamada had not heard his husband and looked up.
B-A-K-U-G-O Aizawa finger-spelled. "I'm going OUT." He mouthed, moving quickly and ducking into his capture scarf that he had kept atop the bedside table earlier, in the HOPES he'd get some sleep.
Hizashi's hero identity, Present Mic, formed when they were first-years at the school they now taught in, but he didn't go deaf until he toured in the United States and Canada to learn how to teach English for the students in U.A. High, located just outside of Tokyo, Japan- where he'd grown up. Yamada was good at using hearing protection since he could shout louder than a jet plane, but one time he slipped up and had to fight. One time was all he got. It was the final blow to his eardrums, and when he returned to Aizawa's loving arms in the Japanese airport, it was American Sign Language that he had adapted to. Now he lip read fluently or had assistive devices, but Shota signed fluently for him in private, which helped.
The outside grass was wet. Aizawa was wearing his boots now and easily tracked the angrily stalking student, Katsuki Bakugo: hero name- undecided (all of them were rejected.) listening to loud rock music.
"Hey!" Aizawa shouted out, waving his hand when he caught up to the boy. Katsuki pulled off his headphones. The instructor lowered his voice. "What do you think you're doing? It's PAST your bedtime and you were corrected this afternoon, need I remind you?"
Katsuki looked away in embarrassment, flashing on waking up at second period to his homeroom teacher with a paddle. He got three pops on his bottom for sleeping in. Aizawa couldn't get the boy during homeroom, so he had to use his own break to leave during Present Mic's English class.
"Look at me when I talk." Aizawa instructed. "I am NOT amused." He said slowly.
The teen was difficult on a good day. "I'm not not sorry, Mr. Aizawa."
"Apology maybe accepted." Shota quipped. "Turn around and start walking back with me and turn in your phone."
Bakugo glared at his teacher and thrusted his phone over but ultimately returned to his moodiness and shoved his hands in his pocket and walked beside him. Aizawa gave him a warning and demanded the boy to talk.
"Why are you out here? It is DANGEROUS for you AND your class. Don't be reckless. What's wrong?" Aizawa asked.
"Nothing's wrong. I needed air."
"What's wrong with your window?"
Bakugo looked askance, shrugged, and sped up. "Nothing. You asked what was wrong and I told you "nothing". I'm going back to bed."
It happened as they neared the dorms and passed the fenced area where the recycling was kept. Students sometimes met there to smoke cigarettes but teachers could never catch them. Now Aizawa had a clue. It was far fetched. But he raised an eyebrow and tested his theory.
"Did you come out to smoke with someone? Who? Why? Do I need to get a warrant for your phone?"
Bakugo knew he shouldn't lie. Eijirio Kirishima was waiting on the other side of the fenced recycling. "No. No. No. and No." Bakugo said.
Aizawa stopped when he heard something rattle. He ordered a stop to Bakugo and grabbed his ear. "You had better NOT be lying."
Lo, and behold. There Eijirio was.
"Turn out your pockets." The instructor demanded. Neither boy had cigarettes or a lighter- not that they would need one with Bakugo. "Who else is coming?" Aizawa asked.
But no one else came, and it neared one a.m.
"Discipline room. Now." Aizawa told the two boys, as they neared the glass door of the school. Aizawa scanned his pass and they were admitted in.
"I didn't get to defend myself!" Kirishima whined. "I could have been taking out my recycling!"
For SO many reasons: mainly a headache, Shota omitted asking for a testimony. It was obvious that they weren't allowed out.
The school had multiple rooms for "reflection and correction" as the hero teacher put it. They got to write down their testimony and then receive one or more of four outcomes: grounding, an apology letter, detention, or a spanking.
By two a.m., Both boys were silently bent over the couch, allowed to keep their pajama pants and boxers on because 1. they were in front of eatch other, so decency. And 2. Aizawa was pretty sure he could still make an impression.
Shota flipped to the second page of Kirishima's testimony. It still didn't say who else was coming with the cigarettes. He looked at the red-haired boy. His hair was down because it was SUPPOSED to be bedtime for EVERYONE; he had his forearms on the couch and legs straight. The blonde, however, had one forearm only on the couch, the other propping up his face.
"Twelve with the paddle."
Even Bakugo opposed.
Shota lifted it from a locked drawer and gestured with it for the boys to spread out a little bit. They took a side-step and received their first pop.
"Ow." Kirishima hissed. Bakugo took it in silence. POP! POP! It continued. By five, on the sit-spots, both boys were blinking back tears.
"It's okay to cry." Aizawa said, as he finished up the last four on each boy in a row.
"So. Not. Manly. Though." Kirishima said, bending at the knees, emphasized by the sound of his naughty bottom getting thrashed with each word.
"THAT is toxic masculinity." Shota said, switching the paddle to the other hand for a second to work out his shoulder. "It is perfectly okay to cry." He stepped towards the other boy.
Bakugo took the last four by biting his finger. He squeezed his eyes closed hard and inhaled. For fear he would break skin, Aizawa ordered him to stop and take his finger out of his mouth. He got an extra.
"No rubbing. To the corners and then up to bed. I will walk you there after your time is up. I have to file your discipline reports."
Aizawa let the boys squirm for only about three minutes and then walked them up to bed. He had a bone to pick with whomever assigned that they be in the same hallway, along with Denki Kaminari. Those three got into trouble practically weekly.
By three, Shota was lying next to his husband. Mic hadn't slept well. His hearing aides were out, too. He rolled over to turn on a light- in his sight was a very sleepy Eraserhead, clad in an undershirt and boxers, on his side. Hizashi tapped his phone and pointed to convey that he had texted. Shota nodded and signed "fine" with his thumb to the center of his chest and fingers, spread out, with the hand not cradling his head. He sighed and with his eyes closed muttered.
"Two boys were out and they got a spanking. I had to do paperwork."
Fellas, ever get so tired, you SPEAK to your deaf husband?
A frown of confusion fell over Yamada's face. His partner changed modes. He signed by holding up two fingers, making the sign for BOY, pointed, signed OUTSIDE, signed GOT and then he swatted the air.
Present Mic nodded. He had already fallen asleep once and was hard. Aizawa hated how he was so deprived of touch with school duties lately. He curled up and rolled over, taking "little spoon" position and gently caressed his lover's erection with one hand, behind him.
Hizashi turned off the light and threw his arm over Aizawa's shoulder and slipped his hand into Shota's boxers. Ironically, despite the touch and stimulation, they both fell asleep until morning broke- three hours later.