Author's Note: Dialogue in single quote ['] indicates sign language. Text in italics indicates flashbacks.
Letting his students quietly help each other with homework while he grades papers was quickly becoming Aizawa's biggest regret of the day. Of all the conversations his mind could choose from to lock onto, it had to be Mineta and Denki's. As usual, the tiny teen was discussing the most perverted thing his young mind could come up with. Today's topic, a game called "Firetruck".
"Dude, that's never going to get you laid," Denki tries to shut down his friend. "Any chick that knows you would back out in a heartbeat."
A devious laugh escapes the smaller. "That's the beautiful thing about this game, my dear Denki. Firetrucks don't stop at red lights. Once she's agreed to play, that's all the consent you need."
Clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is going in, Denki tries to turn his attention back to his English homework. "That's messed up, man. Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this," he dismisses.
Unbeknownst to them, their overheard conversation had summoned demons from their teacher's past that the hero had thought long since exorcised. Pure terror tightens in his chest as the air quickly becomes too dense to breathe. It's not the first time he's had an anxiety attack in front of his class. He's had several since the USJ incident. As in all the other times, he quietly puts his head down on his desk and pretends to be asleep, as to not draw attention. Unlike previous attacks, he can't force his breathing to even out. He can't stop his body from shaking. He hears one of his students call his name, but it sounds distant and muffled behind the static and memories. The panicking pro can't stop the whimper when one of the phantom touches feels just a little too real. Before he knows it, he's pressed himself against the wall in the corner of the room, wild onyx eyes searching for some unseen foe.
"The hell do we do with this one?" one of the thugs asks his partners.
"I don't care," the leader of the trio responds. His focus is on tying up an unconscious Hizashi a few feet away. "This one's our paycheck. We can have some fun with that one then get rid of her, I guess."
The two lackies chuckle, happy with that plan, as they descend upon the slight teen like hungry animals. In a fruitless attempt to defend himself, Shota activates his erasure. Doing so only receives more sadistic laughter and a hard blow to the temple. It's enough to daze him as the men tear off his school uniform. He's only dazed for a moment before he tries to fight against the rough groping.
"Look at me," one of the men demands. When Shota refuses, he grabs his chin and forces eye contact. "Are you a virgin?"
Eyes widening in fear, the raven-haired teen begs, "Please, don't-"
He doesn't remember anything after that until he feels a sticky hot liquid filling him, followed immediately by a rush of cold air and debris over his naked and abused body.
His flashback blurs to nine months later.
The feeling of baggy clothes plastered to his skin with a cold sweat makes him feel sick as another agonizing wave of pain washes over him. His only relief comes when the contraction passes. He rests his head against the cool tile of the restroom floor as he prays nobody walks through the door.
Of course, he isn't that lucky. Panic closes in on his mind as he hears footsteps enter the restroom. He can't process the annoyed words she's saying, but he can clearly hear Nemuri's voice. He quickly bites down on his wrist as another excruciating wave of pain crashes down on him, another contraction ripping a muffled scream from his sore throat.
"Hey," Nemuri calls, knocking on the door of the handicap stall Shota's hiding in. "Are you okay in there?" Another scream followed by a desperate sob for help invites the pheromone producing teen to peek under the stall. "Oh my god," she gasps.
"P-please don't tell," he begs.
"'Don't tell'? Shota, you're in labor! I didn't even know you and Zashi were active!"
"We're n-not," he whimpers as his friend crawls under the locked stall door.
He barely notices her searching for something on her phone past the tears blurring his vision. He does notice when she helps him sit up and lean against the wall. "Okay, babe, I'm going to check how close this kid is. It might be uncomfy, but it will only take a second. Okay?" He nods quickly, sobbing through another tidal wave of pain and an ever-growing sense of panic as Nemuri positions him. "Hey, Sho?" A slight edge of fear laces the inexperienced teen's voice as she reaches to hold her friend's hand. "This kiddo wants to join us. You need to push with the next contraction."
Shaking his head, he says "no" repeatedly, clearly expressing his fear.
"-ota. Shota!" a familiar voice cuts through the flashback like a knife. Vibrant green eyes watch him for any sign of lucidity. Shota knows that there are at least twenty other sets of eyes on him, but his complete focus is on his husband crouching a few feet away. "There you are, baby," the blonde quietly says when Shota's gaze becomes less distant. He puts on a reassuring smile that just barely covers the concern his heart holds for his partner. "Is it okay if I come closer or do you still need some space?"
'Don't know,' he signs before tangling his shaking hand in his raven hair, the other still tightly holding on to the front of his jumpsuit. Dark splotches dance across his vision as hyperventilation starts to take its toll.
"Sho," Hizashi calls from his new location directly in front of his panicking husband. Gently holding his face, he instructs, "Baby, look at me." When dilated obsidian eyes lock onto his own emerald hues, he continues, "I'm going to turn down your hearing-aids so that everything isn't so loud, and I'm going to take you somewhere a bit more private so you can calm down. Is that okay?" He waits a moment for a response before emphasizing, "I need an answer, Sho. Is that okay?"
Finally receiving a nodded consent, he gently glides his hands back to turn down the tiny dials on his lover's hearing-aids. 'Better?' he signs.
'Little.'
'You can walk?'
'Don't know.'
'Hold.'
Obediently following his husband's instruction, Shota wraps his arms around Hizashi's shoulders. He'd gasp if he could breathe when the blonde easily lifts him. He can't hear a word of what the loud blonde is telling his class, but when he sees Iida start writing on the chalkboard, he assumes that his partner put the class representative in charge. Shota hides his face against the side of Hizashi's neck when he sees a few of the other teachers peek out of their rooms as Hizashi quickly carries him down the hall. Once they get to the teacher's lounge, Hizashi gently deposits his husband on the couch in the corner of the room.
He taps the tip of Shota's nose to get his attention and signs, 'Stay.'
When the panicking raven nods, pulling his knees up to his chest, the blonde quickly moves to retrieve a small cat-themed backpack from his desk. By the time he returned, Shota was stuck in his own mind again. His hyperventilating was getting worse. His red eyes dart around the familiar room, not locking on any one thing for more than a few seconds. Hizashi winces internally when he sees Shota flinch when he finally has to blink, only to open his eyes and reactivate his quirk despite how much pain he must be in.
Sitting on the arm of the couch, Hizashi again taps Shota's nose. 'Eyedrops,' he signs before digging the small bottle out of the side pocket of the bag. 'Turn.' He again does as he's told, turning to face away from his husband. Gently, Hizashi guides Shota to lean against him. He taps the top of his head before carefully lifting his chin, forcing the underground hero to tilt his head back. He administers the drops with practiced ease before leaning down and kissing his husband's forehead and signing, 'Better?'
'Scared.'
'I know.' Pressing another kiss to his forehead, Hizashi tilts Shota's head back up. He sets to work tying his dark hair back before moving to sit in front of him. 'Breathe.' When a desperate expression dulls his eyes, Hizashi takes his hand and presses it to his chest. 'Mimic.' It takes a few minutes, but Shota is eventually able to copy his husband's even breathing.
By then, Hizashi had released his hand and some of the other teachers had arrived to check on their colleague. He can't hear their whispered concerns and speculations. He can, however, feel their eyes on him. When a perfectly manicured hand gently rests on his thigh, there's nothing he can do to hide how he flinches away from his friend. A tiny bit of shame claws at his already frayed mind at his own whimper.
He turns his attention to the wall while his partner does his best to quell everyone's curiosity as fast as possible without sharing too much information. The blonde doesn't even know what triggered this attack. The muffled noise of the teacher's lounge quickly turns to static and ringing as everything just blurs together. The white noise only gets louder the more he tries to ignore it.
Then something wraps tightly around his wrists. His eyes snap to the hands pulling his own away from his bleeding arm. He had started dragging his nails roughly across his skin without even noticing. The angry red lines are hard to look at, but he can't bring himself to look up at what's sure to be a disappointed expression painted across his husband's face.
"S-sorry," he whispers even though he can't hear it.
The hand holding his injured arm moves to hold his face with a gentleness that he feels he doesn't deserve. Hot tears sting his already burning eyes as he chances a glance up at Hizashi. Instead of the disappointment he expected, he's met with concern and understanding. He can't sign while holding Shota's wrist and face, so he speaks despite his partner's deafness. The darker of the two has always been able to read lips, it helps with surveillance.
"It's okay, Sho," he quietly assures. The tears that fall are immediately wiped away. Shota again finds his hand held to his partner's chest. "Breathe, babe." He hadn't noticed that he was holding his breath. It's easier to resume a normal breathing pattern this time than it was when he was hyperventilating.
Letting go of Shota's hand, Hizashi signs, 'Stay.' He waits for a nodded response before reaching for the cat bag on the floor. He shows Shota the small bag of cotton balls before using one to dab the blood from the scratches on his arm. He hums to himself to calm his own nerves as he cares for his partner. Every time he gets a new cotton ball, he holds it up so Shota can see it before he goes back to cleaning the blood from his scratches, which are deeper than the voice hero had originally thought. Eventually, he finishes cleaning the blood and moves on to spreading an antibiotic ointment and wrapping the wounds. With the bandages it looks so much worse than it actually is, but the scratches are longer than any size band-aid could effectively cover.
'Better?'
'Thank you.'
A sad, tired smile tugs at the underground hero's lips when his partner kisses his wrist, just at the edge of the bandages.
'Will return,' Hizashi signs before collecting the bloody cotton balls and the package the bandages came in. Shota rests his head on the back of the couch, wrapping his arms loosely around himself, as he waits for his partner to return. He opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his shoulder gently shake him. A sense of disorientation clouds his mind as he tries to figure out if he actually fell asleep. The hand on his shoulder slips to the back of his neck as an open bottle of water is placed in his hand. 'Drink.' Hizashi's smile brightens a little when Shota takes a small sip. 'Remove hearing aids?' He nods, drinking more water.
He closes his eyes as his partner removes his hearing aids, plunging him into almost total silence. The world sounds like he's trying to listen to an old radio on the lowest volume through a concrete wall with cotton in his ears. Shota hates taking out his hearing aids, but he knows that it's necessary. He always feels vulnerable when he can't hear. He thought he'd get used to it someday, but he started losing his hearing when he was twelve and he still can't stand it. His doctors believe that he'll be totally deaf before he hits forty.
He opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his cheek wiping away tears. Sympathy and understanding again adorn the blonde's features as he holds his arms open in an offered hug. Without hesitation, the raven-haired teacher moves to cuddle with his husband. Enveloped in his partner's arms, he feels safe for the first time in hours.