A beautiful smell cut through his good dreams. Like rich earth after a lightning storm, like the spicy cinnamon stick he and Hizashi pretended were cigarettes when they were younger. Like Aizawa imagined heaven would smell.

Coffee.

He stretched like a cat, pleasantly surprised by the lack of muscle soreness, given their sleeping arrangement. The pro hero couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up without an ache.

There were two dozing kittens in bed with him—he'd have to learn their names soon—but no Izuku. A soft clatter in the apartment's single main room let him know where the other man had gone.

"Coffee?" A softly-smiling face framed with outrageously unruly green hair peeked in. "My hero," Aizawa said sleepily, struggling to sit up.

"Not a hero," the boy called out behind him as he went back towards the kitchen. "You are to me," the actual pro hero mumbled, too quiet for his vigilante to hear.

It took him nearly a minute to extract himself from the cats on top of him, loathe to disturb their sleep. But Aizawa eventually made his way to the kitchen to sit on a stool at the counter. A cup of black coffee and a sweetroll—still steaming, and slathered in red bean paste—were placed in front of him.

"First batch came out of the oven five minutes ago," Izuku said. The younger man walked around the corner to Aizawa's seat, embracing him around the shoulders from behind. Due to their height difference, he was able to rest his chin on the much-taller hero's shoulder without bending down. "Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm." Aizawa turned his head just far enough to rub the top of his nose against the other man's cheek. "We're still getting a bigger bed."

"Okay."

"I'll order one online from my office; I can probably have it delivered later today, if you'll be able to let the delivery people in."

"Shouta—"

"Let me take care of you."

They hadn't discussed finances yet, but Aizawa knew he made substantially more, holding two jobs that paid consistently well. After all, he got paid for his nighttime patrols, and the vigilante didn't.

"Fine," the boy said mulishly as he pecked Aizawa on the cheek. "I'm popping downstairs to check on the egg bread. You'll be okay for a few minutes?"

The pro hero was just taking his first sip of coffee—the heavenly smell that had woken him up.

"I have everything I need right here." He smiled down at his mug, then took another drink. "I'm going to marry this coffee."

"You're already engaged, mister."

"Oh, that's right." He hadn't forgotten; he was still riding the emotional high from the previous night, even if his face wasn't showing it.

"You're ridiculous," Izuku said with a chuckle. As he headed down the stairs, he shouted behind him, "Don't forget to eat."

Aizawa only hummed in response—he normally only ate jelly packets in the morning, but was pretty certain that was about to change drastically. He took his coffee and the pasty over to the coffee table. After pulling out his laptop and putting it on the table as well, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor, his back against the couch. Aizawa pulled up his lesson plan for the day. In addition to his own homeroom—already down three students—he was covering study halls for Hizashi and Nemuri, who'd both taken the week off. Thinking of his new fiancé, the teacher looked through his Hero Ethics and Law syllabus to see where he could insert an additional lesson on quirk discrimination. He idly wondered whether Izuku would be interested in being a guest lecturer.

As if he'd known Aizawa was thinking of him, the younger man jumped over the back of the couch to settle on the cushion directly behind the hero. The older man closed his eyes and tilted his head back in bliss as small, dexterous hands began to weave through his coarse, wavy black hair.

"Working on anything I'm allowed to know about?" the boy asked.

Allowing a small smile to cross his face, Aizawa hummed in affirmation. He was pleased that Izuku had implicitly acknowledged that there were aspects of his job—both as a UA teacher and as a pro hero—that the vigilante wouldn't have security to know.

"Ethics lesson plan." He groaned as Izuku finger-combed out a snarl. "Thinking about adding an additional lesson on quirk discrimination."

"That's not already covered?"

"Well, my homeroom class definitely has it hammered in; I'm not sure about Vlad's or the other courses. In Ethics I cover it mid-third year, but I'm wondering whether I should introduce it earlier."

"Hmm. Maybe find some way more organically to bring it in?" Light tugging on his scalp let Aizawa know that the younger man had started braiding his tresses.

"Such as?" The pro hero tipped his head back into Izuku's lap, before the latter man quickly pushed it back up so he could continue the French-braid crown he was crafting.

"You're the one with the teacher's license," Izuku said. "I'm just a pretty face."

"Uh huh. That's why the smartest being in the country took you under his wing." Principal Nezu was terrifying; if he saw something in Izuku worth cultivating, then the boy was formidable indeed.

"Pretty face and charming wit?" the boy joked. A faint snapping behind him let Aizawa know that the braids had been tied off, and small pushes that bobby-pins pins—and where did those even come from?—were placed to keep the braided crown stable.

"Really? I have to face teenagers."

"I can add some flower clips if you'd like."

"Nope." At least Hizashi and Nemuri wouldn't be at UA that day. And even if he was complaining, it was merely lip-service. The braid was a gift from his fiancé; of course he loved it.

"Cat clips?"

"Do you have any?"

"...no." Izuku rubbed the back of the older man's neck before wiggling down off the couch, sliding bonelessly into Aizawa's lap. "I can get some later, though."

"Mmhmm." The pro hero kissed the vigilante on his forehead, mindful of his coffee-tinged morning breath. "By the way, I'm covering Nemuri's patrol right after work; one of her sidekicks is taking my overnight. So I won't be back until ten."

"I wouldn't have been able to patrol with you tonight anyway. I'm meeting up with a source, around nine-ish. Definitely not someone where you'd be able to come with, at least not without a lot of groundwork beforehand—"

Aizawa tightened his arms around Izuku. "I'm well aware that you work in a bit grayer of an area than I can. Just like there are parts of my work you can't get involved in, I'm not blind to the fact that there are equally areas in your vigilante work where a hero isn't welcome."

The boy let out a slight tenseness that the hero hadn't even noticed. "I don't always work within the letter of the law."

"I trust your judgment."

And it was true: Aizawa trusted the younger man completely. As an underground hero, he'd always tended to be more pragmatic, more open to the in-between areas than other heroes. Even Hizashi—Aizawa had never brought up some of his real viewpoints with his best friend because he knew it might tarnish the mental image the voice hero had of him.

But with Izuku, Aizawa didn't have to pretend. He knew that, even in areas they might disagree, the vigilante was smart and logical enough to accept that their differences in morals could co-exist. Within reason.

"I trust yours too," Izuku parroted back. "But your breath stinks and I want to make out for a couple of minutes before you have to leave for work."

Chuckling, Aizawa stood up, unceremoniously dumping the younger man from his lap to the floor.

"Rude." Izuku stayed in the puddle he'd wound up in. The pro hero was half-convinced the boy didn't have bones; there was no way that contortion could be comfortable.

"Just doing as you asked, sweetheart." Aizawa headed towards the bathroom. "Sweetheart?"

"No good? Darling, baby, love of my life?"

"How about something more bad-ass?"

"Such as?" The hero's voice came around the corner, half garbled as he'd started brushing his teeth. He watched the action in the mirror—the braided crown did look good on him. At least two of the teens in his homeroom were going to freak out with jealousy. He found himself looking forward to it.

"I dunno. What are baby snakes called?" A spit. "Snakelets."

"Nope. What about baby spiders?" "Spiderlings."

"Seriously? Those are both way too cute to be intimidating."

"So are you." The hero came back in the room and wiggled his fingers at the vigilante, beckoning him near.

"Then what are you supposed to call me?" Izuku mock pouted as he approached, collapsing into the waiting embrace.

Aizawa looked down at his fiancé, an inscrutable look in his eye. "How about if I just call you 'mine'?" He closed the remaining inch to press their mouths together softly, sweetly, asking a question with his lips too hard to put into words.

With a sigh, Izuku leaned in impossibly closer, deepening the kiss in a wordless but unmistakable answer.

Yours.