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It started with a cup of tea.
Izuku sat upright in his bed, skin tingling from sweat and the tendrils of One for All. Looking around, he quickly gauged that he was in his room at Heights Alliance. He wasn’t at the USJ. He wasn’t on a cliffside fighting Muscular. He wasn’t back at Aldera.
A shiver ran up his spine at just the thought of being back in that school. Faint explosions popped in the back of his mind, spurring Izuku to scramble out of bed.
There was no way he’d be able to calm down while just sitting in bed and stewing. A glance at his grinning All Might alarm clock made the boy painfully aware of how early it was; just barely 3am.
Izuku opened his door and glanced through the dark hallways. Tiptoeing with sock-covered feet, he quickly escaped to the stairs, the elevator would be too loud.
Arriving on the first floor of the dormitory, Izuku glided into the kitchen and pulled a hidden container from underneath one of the cabinets. Opening it revealed a dozen carefully tied sachets all containing a familiar mixture of dried herbs and tea leaves. The green-haired boy smiled upon seeing the comforting tea-sachets.
He quickly set a pot of water to boil and grabbed his All Might-themed mug to set aside.
As he watched the water begin to warm up, Izuku’s mind wandered into the exact places he was trying to avoid.
“Look at the useless Deku try to hang out with Bakugou!”
“Who does he think he is?”
“Watch out, Bakugou! You’ll catch his quirkless germs!”
Izuku ducked his head down to avoid the pointed words. He jolted as he bumped into the boy in front of him, not realizing Kacchan had stopped walking.
His friend turned to him with a sneer on his face, “Get out of here, Deku.”
“Wh-What?” Izuku was startled but not shocked by his friend’s attitude. Lately, Kacchan had been more dismissive of him and he didn’t even want to play Super All Might Team with him anymore! It was like his friend was listening to the mean kids that followed him around.
The air was pushed out of Izuku’s lungs as Kacchan shoved him to the ground, “Stop following me!” The blonde yelled, “You’ll just get in my way!”
Izuku sniffled, “But I thought…I thought we would be heroes together.”
Kacchan scoffed and suddenly his friend wasn’t five years old, he was sixteen and leaning down to look into Izuku’s tear-stained face, “You’ll never catch up, Deku. You’re always gonna be the same weakling you were when we were kids,” Kacchan’s red eyes glowed with a firey hatred Izuku hadn’t seen in a long time, “Do us a favor and-“
“-oriya?” Izuku pushed through the foggy memories, “What are you doing up?”
Looking over his shoulder, Izuku saw Aizawa-sensei standing in the common room with his arms crossed. The hero was dressed in a gray t-shirt with “Gone Fishing” printed across it and black sweatpants. His long hair was tied up into a bun, letting Izuku see the man’s tired eyes unobstructed.
“Oh!” He startled, “Sorry, sensei! I was just trying to make some tea,” he quickly excused. A glance at the pot showed that the water was boiling just enough for Izuku to take it off the burner.
Aizawa-sensei raised an eyebrow and looked at him flatly, unimpressed, “At 3:30 in the morning?”
He must have been zoned out for a while, Izuku realized. He nodded in response to his sensei’s question, “Yeah! Just really craving tea right now,” Izuku tried to smile calmly but his teacher could see right through him.
Aizawa-sensei walked closer until he was able to lean a hip against the marble kitchen countertop, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Izuku sighed in resignation, knowing when he was caught, “My brain wouldn’t turn off,” he said as he drowned the tea-sachet in boiling water.
His sensei hummed in response and silently watched as Izuku prepared his tea.
Izuku glanced at Aizawa-sensei, “Would you like a cup, sensei? I boiled enough water for two,” he offered. A part of him screamed at his words, warning him that teachers shouldn’t be trusted. That teachers only encouraged pain and barbed words. But, that part of him was tired.
The teacher seemed to contemplate the pros and cons before giving a slight nod, “I would appreciate it, thank you, Midoriya.”
Izuku nodded and pulled a random mug from the cabinet before reaching into the hidden container to grab another sachet.
“What kind of tea is that?” Aizawa-sensei asked, observing the sachet Izuku grabbed, respectfully not reaching to inspect it for himself.
Izuku smiled, “It’s a blend my mom makes me,” the fondness in his voice was clear to anyone who’d heard the boy speak about his mother. Everyone in his class knew how much Izuku respected and loved the older Midoriya. He got a certain smile on his face whenever he talked about her and if someone were to ask a question about her, the boy would get just as excited as he does when explaining an analysis or theory.
Aizawa-sensei gratefully accepted the tea handed to him and inhaled the scent. Izuku picked up his own cup and took his first sip. His senses were immediately flooded with lavender, chamomile, natural sweetness, and a beautiful blend of compatible herbs.
The scent alone could bring him comfort but the tea itself reminded Izuku of his mother’s hugs.
His sensei took a sip before glancing at him, “What blend is this?”
Izuku smiled playfully, “Family secret.”
But Aizawa-sensei huffed good-naturedly and continued to sip his tea in silence.
It took Izuku’s nightmare-addled brain far too long to realize how comfortable the silence was. It had been hard for him to feel comfort in any teacher’s presence due to how his previous teachers had treated him, so, Izuku never realized how comfortable he’d gotten around his homeroom teacher. Maybe it really was just the sleep deprivation, but the voice that scolded him whenever he got too brave around a teacher was quiet.
The man himself didn’t seem to be on edge or uncomfortable in the silence. His eyes were half shut and he nursed his tea with both hands, absorbing the warmth.
Questions flooded Izuku’s brain, all wondering why the pro-hero was awake at this time. Izuku couldn’t bring himself to ask the main himself as his brain swarmed with theories. Maybe he just got off a late patrol and wanted something to drink before heading to bed? What if Izuku was making too much noise and it woke up the tired teacher? What if-
“I can hear your brain from here, Problem Child. Quiet down.”
Izuku snapped out of his thoughts and blushed furiously. At least he wasn’t muttering aloud. Small victories, Izuku.
More time passed as the two finished their drinks in peace.
Aizawa-sensei took his empty cup from him and rinsed both of them out in the sink. Izuku could feel his eyes fluttering shut as he fought the urge to sleep. A heavy hand fell to his head and rested on top of his hair, “You should get some sleep, Problem Child,” the sensei prompted. If Izuku were any more aware of his surroundings, he may have noticed how soft Aizawa-sensei’s tone was when he’d spoken to him.
Izuku nodded and blearily rubbed his eye, “Goodnight, Aizawa-sensei,” he said, slurring the man’s name.
As he stumbled to the stairs, Izuku heard a faint, “Thank you for the tea,” call after him softly.
He made it to his room and promptly collapsed on top of his bed.
Izuku slept soundly for the rest of the night.
It continued with two cups of tea.
Aizawa Shouta was not a heavy sleeper. Anyone who knew him could attest to this. The slighted jolt from a cat jumping from his and Hizashi’s bed was enough to wake him.
This trait was both a skill and a curse. It meant waking up at odd hours due to a tree branch tapping the window or jolting up in alarm when a blanket slipped from the bed. But it also meant that he could listen for alarms.
After the night that he’d shared a cup of tea with Midoriya at nearly four in the morning, Aizawa set a personal notification for whenever there was motion in the kitchen past curfew.
The default motion sensor notifications were normally isolated to just the hallways, but Nezu had given him the ability to switch the areas whenever he see fit.
This is how Aizawa found himself rubbing the barely-there sleep from his eyes as he dragged himself to the shared kitchen.
He’d gotten the notification at 02:23. The cameras showed that it was, indeed, Midoriya brewing a pot of water at the stove.
Despite what many may think, waking up at this hour because of a student did not irritate Aizawa. He’d set the motion alarm on purpose so there was nobody to be irritated with but himself.
Entering the kitchen, Aizawa observed his Problem Child. The boy’s hands were shaking as he leaned onto the counter. His eyes were both laser-focused and glazed over at the same time, staring unblinkingly into the water that was beginning to boil.
Aizawa stepped closer but allowed his footsteps to be more obvious so as to not scare Midoriya so close to the stove.
Green eyes snapped up to his own, the foggy look completely gone. Deep concentration was replaced with confusion and a hint of cautiousness. Midoriya had been skittish ever since his arrival at UA but he’d thought that they’d made progress. Just as he did the first few weeks of the year, the kid was flicking his eyes between Aizawa, the exits of the room, and any potential weapons.
Aizawa stopped a safe distance away and made an effort to fully relax his body. He leaned his hip against the kitchen island and put his hands in the sweatpants pockets. He dropped his shoulders and raised his chin, looking around the kitchen in an effort to not make eye contact with the weary teen.
All these small adjustments to his body language showed Midoriya that he wasn’t trying to be a threat as he left himself open to various methods of attack. His chin tilted up allowed access to his neck should the boy need to take him out via jab to the jugular. By placing his hands in his pockets, he took his only “weapons” out of the equation, at least for an amount of time for Midoriya to get the upper hand. The relaxed demeanor was just meant to be a model for the boy to mimic, showing him there was nothing in the room to fear.
Midoriya seemed to soak up the positive body language like a sponge, immediately adapting and giving Aizawa a small, tight-lipped smile, “What are you doing up, sensei?”
Aizawa nearly laughed, “Isn’t that supposed to be my question, Problem Child?”
Midoriya avoided the question by grabbing a second mug from the counter and preparing a second cup of tea to give to the man.
He didn’t push, no matter how much he’d wanted to. Aizawa accepted the tea with a nod of thanks and tried to inconspicuously observe the green-haired boy next to him.
There were bags under his eyes that seemed to only be darkening in color. His sleep shirt was sweaty, and his curly hair was pulled into a small, disheveled bun. His scarred hands were still shaking but Aizawa was unable to distinguish whether the tremors were from pain or whatever nightmare he’d obviously had.
They sipped the tea in the same comfortable silence from the first time they’d shared a moment like this.
Aizawa waited until Midoriya was halfway through his cup before speaking up. “You know,” he started, “if your nightmares are this bad, we could get you an appointment with Hound Dog.”
The boy tensed, “I don’t have nightmares.” His voice was a mask of sternness covering the shakiness in his voice. The kid was shit at lying.
Aizawa hummed in response and continued to drink his tea. If Midoriya didn’t want to talk to him about his nightmares, that was fine, he wouldn’t push. However, he refused to leave his student alone when he was obviously suffering. Aizawa could hear his husband’s teasing voice in the back of his head calling him soft. (“I’m not going soft, ‘Zashi, this is just the most logical course of action. Stop laughing.”)
The stove clock read “03:11” by the time he finished cleaning their empty cups and Midoriya put his tea container back in its hiding place. Aizawa made sure to keep his relaxed demeanor, “I’m here if you want to talk, Midoriya,” he said lightly. He wasn’t pushing, just giving options.
Midoriya ducked between his shoulders, understanding he’d been caught. Aizawa didn’t give him enough time to dwell as he placed a calm hand on green curls.
“Get some sleep,” he ordered before leaving. Midoriya said nothing as he walked away.
He waited in the hallway until he could hear soft footsteps padding towards the stairwell.
Getting Midoriya the help he needed was going to take some time, Aizawa surmised.
He could spare an occasional hour.
There was so much blood under the Nomu’s fist. It flooded the cracks of the cement, depicting a grotesque spiderweb.
Shigaraki was laughing a few feet away.
Laughing at the blood gathering under his monster.
The blood of his sensei.
Izuku failed to move and due to his cowardly actions, the Nomu smashed Aizawa-sensei’s skull.
His sensei was dead, and it was all his fault. He was too much of a coward to move.
People only ever get hurt around him. Even with a quirk, he was useless.
Shigaraki’s gleaming eyes turned to Izuku. His arm stretched out as he lunged-
Izuku woke up scrambling back into the wall, escaping the ghost of cracked hands. Adrenaline ran through him with the familiar feeling of One for All washing over him.
The blood was so dark. Every time his eyes shut, Izuku saw the spiderweb of his sensei’s blood. His skull-
Izuku scrambled for the waste bin by his desk and vomited up his dinner. The bitter scent made his eyes water more than they already were as he cried into the bin.
His abdomen constricted as his stomach rejected its contents. Once it was empty, he could still feel his abdominal muscles twitch with the phantom need to vomit.
Izuku wiped his mouth off and shakily stood. His body was on autopilot as his feet carried him to the kitchen. His glazed eyes ghosted over the motion sensors Aizawa-sensei had “hidden” in the kitchen.
It hadn’t taken him long to see them once they’d been installed the week before, but Izuku didn’t ask about them.
Muscle memory took him to his tea container as the water boiled and he set out two cups. The second cup of tea was made more from hopefulness rather than assumption. Sure, his sensei had joined him twice now, but Izuku didn’t want to think of this becoming a habit. However, after the dream he’d had, a large part of him ached to make sure Aizawa-sensei was okay.
Even with his mind foggy, Izuku was able to hear the door unlock and open behind him. He didn’t even turn around before he poured the boiling water into the two mugs and allowed the sachets to steep.
The relief that fell over him upon seeing his teacher’s, very not crushed, face felt like a weighted blanket. Izuku didn’t even know how tense his shoulders were until then.
Aizawa-sensei said nothing about the tea that’d obviously been prepared for him before his arrival. He did, however, glance over Izuku’s disheveled appearance with a strange look in his eyes. It was like he was judging him but not in a ridiculing way, just in a way one would look at a cat they’d found on the side of the road. Like he was determining if he had rabies or if he was safe to approach.
Apparently, he was deemed safe to approach, “Feeling alright, Problem Child?”
Izuku almost laughed. Whether it be from the sleep deprivation or the leftover adrenaline lowering his filter, but he managed to restrain himself, “I’m fine, sensei.”
The man said nothing but at least averted his eyes, letting Izuku release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Maybe it was the laugh he stopped.
“After the USJ-“ Aizawa-sensei began, looking into the common room but too caught up to actually be seeing, “I would wake up feeling my elbow rotting away. Sometimes, I would dream that my whole arm flaked off. That Shigaraki didn’t stop just at the elbow,” his voice was light for such a serious topic.
Maybe Aizawa-sensei had a secret mind-reading quirk. That was the only explanation Izuku could come up with for how the man seemed to always know what he was thinking about. Even what he’d dreamt of.
He continued, “I’d dream of being too injured to stop him from disintegrating Tsuyu. Sometimes,” Aizawa-sensei’s voice remained steady, “He killed all three of you and made me watch.”
A shudder ran through Izuku’s already shaking body. Seeing Tsu’s face disintegrating under Shigaraki’s hand was a common dream for him as well.
Izuku never realized how seeing them almost die must have effected their sensei as well.
He’d be lying if he said the amount of trust his sensei was showing him by talking about such a topic didn’t fill him with hope. Sure, he’d been learning how different Aizawa-sensei was from his previous teachers, but it was easy to witness and harder to actually understand.
This show of trust felt like a hand reaching out to him. An offering.
He reached for the hand. “How did you get them to stop?”
Aizawa-sensei finally looked towards him again, “I didn’t,” he said. “I talked to people. One of them being Hound Dog,” he raised a probing eyebrow, reminding Izuku of the offer he’d made the other night. Izuku retreated into himself as the man continued, “and I explained my dreams to them. The people I talked to helped ground me. Sometimes, it helps to share your thoughts.”
It was weird to hear those thoughts come from his normally secretive sensei. He’d expected the hero to be too stern to participate in such a thing as therapy.
Izuku took a large sip of his tea before placing the cup down to fidget with his fingers anxiously. He never even shared his dreams with his mom. Why would he share them with a teacher of all people. Teachers hadn’t helped in the past. If he’d come to any of his middle school teachers with his nightmares, they would have scolded him or ridiculed him in front of the entire class.
This one’s different, Izuku reminded himself.
He swallowed his nerves and glanced at Aizawa-sensei’s eyes. The metaphorical hand was still stretched out, waiting for him to take its offer.
“They’re ab-about a lot of things,” Izuku explained hesitantly.
“Your dreams?” Aizawa-sensei asked for clarification, no judgement in his voice. Izuku was grateful for his sensei not using the word ‘nightmare’. It felt too drastic to spit out.
Izuku nodded, “They change a lot but all of- all of them are bad.”
Aizawa-sensei placed his cup down, “How often do you have them?” He was giving Izuku his full attention at that point. Somehow, it didn’t feel overbearing.
He shrugged, “I come down here whe-whenever they’re really bad. Like- can’t go back to sleep bad. Ranging in severity, maybe four times a week,” he allowed his brain to retreat into his analytical patterns. If he broke his situation down like he would for a quirk affliction or drawback, it was easier to put into words.
His sensei winced, “Four times a week isn’t good, kid.”
“I’m fine.”
Izuku could feel the dryness from the look Aizawa-sensei leveled him with, “You need to stop throwing that word around so carelessly, kid.”
A yawn broke through his senses before he could even begin to feel admonished. Apparently, his brain was too tired to overthink what his sensei meant with his expression.
A familiar, heavy hand settled on his head, “Thank you for trusting me with this, Problem Child.”
The warmness in Aizawa-sensei’s voice made him feel light. Maybe he made the right decision in beginning to trust his sensei.
The hand was removed, and his cup was taken from him and cleaned. This time, the fog that surrounded Izuku’s brain felt like it originated from tiredness, not fear. It was a welcome feeling.
“Get some sleep, kid,” and Izuku just nodded deftly at the familiar command. Aizawa-sensei’s gaze followed him as he left for the stairway.
Once he was in the safety of his dorm room, Izuku allowed his body to melt into his bed. It felt like a boulder was lifted from his chest.
The details of his dreams still weighed on his psyche, but the large leap he’d taken that night was enough for him to relax into a restful sleep.
It’s a week later when Izuku finds himself in need of his early morning tea. His talk with Aizawa-sensei helped sooth him but the two had still had three more early morning tea times in the past week.
On that seventh night, Izuku finds himself digging through the kitchen cabinets, searching for his tea sachets. His breath caught when they weren’t in their usual place. The container was missing.
He’d forgotten the container at his mother’s apartment when he visited the previous weekend. Izuku had brought the container with him to refill it but forgot it in the kitchen. He could clearly see it in his mind.
Izuku sat heavily on the floor. His brain didn’t acknowledge the shock of cold that he felt from the tiles.
His breath was coming in desperate gasps by the time he heard the common room door open. The contents of most of the floor-level cabinets were strewn across the kitchen.
The paranoia from his adrenaline-filled dream wiped away all rational thoughts. In his panicked mind, the tea kept the more violent memories away.
Bloody spiderwebs.
It was like his mother was there with him. The sound of the door opening and closing again was lost on him.
Explosions too close and too loud.
But the tea was gone, and his mother wasn’t there.
Cracked hands reaching and pulling and taking and hurting.
Izuku was alone and nothing could stop his thoughts because his tea was gone which logically meant his mom was gone.
Eyes glowing red being pushed into the ground and never opening again.
There was someone in front of him but that couldn’t be right because he was alone. His tea was gone which meant his mom was gone which meant he was alone.
His hands were being pulled from his hair. Izuku hadn’t even realized his fingers were clawing at his scalp before his sensei’s steady hands wrapped around them.
One of his hands was pulled to a solid wall of fabric. A steady rhythm thrummed under his hand. He could feel the occasional vibration come from the area as well.
A few steady breaths and Izuku realized his hand was placed on his dark-haired sensei’s chest. He was talking to him while keeping his heartrate steady. Izuku mimicked his breathing pattern, trying to remember how his lungs inflated.
“-ood, Midoriya. Keep following my breathing.” Aizawa-sensei was coaching him, trying to help him regain his breath.
It took a few more minutes that felt like hours for Izuku to feel steady once again.
“Are you with me, Problem Child?”
Izuku couldn’t speak with his tongue feeling like it weighed ten pounds, so he just nodded.
“Good,” a warm cup was placed in his hands. It had an average looking tea bag at the bottom of the cup but the tea tag on the brim was yellow with no logo. “I figured you needed some tea,” his sensei gave as an explanation.
Izuku accepted both the cup and the older man’s presence as he took his first sip. His eyes widened at the luxurious taste of it, “Tastes expensive,” he noted quietly.
His teacher makes a noise that sounds almost like a snort, “It’s not,” he says with no elaboration.
Izuku shrugs and continues to drink the tea. Now that he was done panicking, his adrenaline was crashing, and his limbs felt like they were full of lead. His brain was barely piecing together everything that was happening around him.
He almost didn’t notice Aizawa-sensei cleaning up the mess he made of the cabinets by the time the man was almost done. Izuku began to stutter out quick, panicked apologies, embarrassed that the man cleaned up his mess.
His sensei waved him off, “Don’t worry about it.”
Once he was done cleaning, Aizawa-sensei sat across from him on the floor, his back to the kitchen island, “I think you should consider my previous offer.”
Izuku frowned, “The meetings with Hound Dog?”
His sensei nodded, “It would be good for you.” The tone of voice he used was soft but strong. He was making it clear that he really did believe it would help him, but he wasn’t trying to make it sound like an order. Something his mom did a lot.
He pouted, “Why can’t tea fix all my issues?” Izuku asked rhetorically.
A small but genuine smile spread across his teacher’s face, “I wish it could, kid. You and I would be omnipotent.”
Izuku smiled and finished the rest of his tea.
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a little while longer.
Eventually, Izuku was the first to stand, “I think I’m ready to get some sleep, sensei.”
Aizawa-sensei nodded, “I’ll help you to your room.”
Izuku began to protest but stopped himself at the man’s expression. He gave up and just nodded in acceptance.
As the two walked up the stairs and towards Izuku’s dorm room, his thoughts were bombarded with one repetitive feeling:
Trust.
The hero watched as Izuku laid in his bed under the god-awful All Might blanket. Shutting the door, Aizawa allowed himself to think over the night’s events.
Finding Midoriya in the state he’d been in was startling but not unexpected. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop since he’d first learned the kid had been having nightmares. He just hadn’t expected it to be over the tea.
His feet carried him out of the student dorms and towards the teacher dorms.
Perhaps it wasn’t the tea exactly, more so what the tea represents or how it made him feel.
Aizawa shook his head as he began to hyper analyze the tea like that was the important takeaway from the night.
His keycard allowed him to easily step into his familiar apartment. Shouta was surprised to see the lights on and his husband standing in the kitchen. He was making tea.
Hizashi’s blonde hair was in a bun, allowing him to see the hearing aids in his ears.
“What are you doing up?” Shouta asked, approaching the blonde from behind.
Hizashi smiled tiredly, “Couldn’t sleep so I made some tea. I figured it was another green bean night, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want any.”
Shouta smiled at the other man’s nickname for his student, “I’ll take a cup if you want to make me one.”
“Oh,” his husband looked at him in surprise, “no tea party with the little listener tonight?”
Shouta’s smiled wavered, “I gave him some, but he wasn’t really in the right state for our usual.”
Hizashi handed him his cup, “Is that why one of my tea bags was missing?”
Nodding, Shouta blew on his tea, “He ran out of his own,” he explained.
Hizashi’s smile turned teasing, “I never thought I’d see the day where you willingly share my special blend.”
The familiar yellow tag of the teabag hung over the side of his cup. The same one he’d given his distressed student, “It was only fair,” he said in lieu of combating the teasing tone.
“Sure…” His husband drew out the word in faux condescension.
Shouta put his cup down and threw his arms around the blonde’s shoulders, “He loved it, just so you know. Your blend,” he said into Hizashi’s hair.
“Really?!”
Shouta groaned as he backed away from the loud volume, “Yes. He thought it was expensive.”
Hizashi laughed, “I’ll have to give him some.”
“Only if he gives me some of the sachets his mother makes,” he compromised.
Hizashi held a dramatic finger to his chin as if he really had to contemplate this, “If you’re the one getting the sachets, what do I get in return?”
“My undying love and affection.” Shouta deadpanned.
“You drive a hard bargain, sir,” Hizashi wrapped his arms around him tightly and left an obnoxious kiss on his cheek.
Shouta playfully swiped at him, “Are you sure you didn’t put caffeine in this blend?”
“Positive,” the blonde replied through a well-timed yawn.
The underground hero smiled softly, “Ready to head to bed?”
“Mmhmm,” Hizashi replied, all previous energy seemingly zapped from him.
The two heroes cleaned their cups and leaned on each other as they walked to their bedroom.
Once they were laying in each other’s arms, Shouta thought back to Midoriya. With everything he’d learned about the boy and everything he hadn’t, Shouta was determined to gain as much of his trust as he could.
It’d been clear to the homeroom teacher that his student didn’t trust him. Hell, he didn’t trust any of the faculty. The cause of Midoriya’s nightmares may have something to do with that but he couldn’t make any conclusions yet.
With all the confusion and unknown surrounding the teenager, one thing was clear: He wouldn’t allow Midoriya to be alone in his suffering. Shouta was determined to be there for him.