Chapter Text
Technically, Aizawa Shouta had been assigned by the police to bring in the vigilante known as Deku.
That had been five years ago.
Oh sure, the pro hero pursued the vigilante, when there was no other crime to be stopped. (When there were actual criminals—or villains, even—those obviously took priority. And if Deku happened to be in the same area, and they happened to work together to take down those criminals… well.) But after the first three years, the pursuit was more of an amusing chase, a game of rooftop tag where they’d occasionally stop and sit on a fire escape and sip burnt konbini coffee and shoot the shit.
On particularly mischievous nights, they’d attempt to trap one another in increasingly embarrassing locations; Aizawa had developed a healthy fear of silly string after a run-in with Deku’s custom extra-stick formula. And on stressful nights—nights after hard weeks, weeks where Aizawa had been unable to save someone—they’d spar until panting breathless, muscles crying, and lay on their backs in the park to look at the stars together in silence.
Somehow, Deku always knew what Aizawa needed. And at this point Aizawa would rather be shot than bring Deku in for arrest.
“You’re late.”
“Missed you too, Eraserhead.” The green-clad vigilante plopped down on the fire escape next to Aizawa. “How’s tricks?”
The hero tossed a lychee jelly packet over at the shorter man. He pointedly kept his gaze pointed forward as Deku scrunched his mask up past his mouth. “Hizashi and Nemuri are getting married in a week.”
“Yup.” The vigilante squeezed some of the gel onto his tongue. “Saw the most recent countdown on HeroTube. Is it weird?”
“Is what weird?”
“Your best friend and your ex getting married.”
Aizawa snorted. “I don’t even know how you remember that. Nem and I dated for a week in third grade.”
“Still.” Deku finished off the jelly packet and reaffixed his mask. “Your best friend. Your ex-girlfriend. Drah-ma,” he sang-spoke.
“You’re an ass.”
Deku nodded in agreement, kicking his legs back and forth. “So you tell me. You never responded to my text.”
“Text? Are you referring to the picture of a cat eating out of the trash that you made a toilet-paper scarf for? The one you captioned ‘Eraserhead junior’? That text?”
“So you did get it.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
“No.”
“Lies and slander,” Deku said with a mock-haughty air. He knocked their shoulders together. “You loved it.”
Aizawa had found it amusing, and maybe even saved it to his photos, but he’d never tell Deku that. “Don’t you have friends to annoy?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Deku’s shoulders hunched and his voice was more strained than usual. “Don’t you mean ‘other friends’?”
“Obviously, problem child.” He copied Deku’s shoulder knock. “Maybe friends your own age?”
The pro hero still didn’t know Deku’s real identity—or even the vigilante’s quirk, though he suspected some sort of analysis or intelligence-gathering quirk. In fact, over the course of five years, Aizawa had only learned two things about the vigilante’s civilian identity. One, Deku was male; after his voice modulator had broken during a fight, allowing Aizawa to hear him clearly, the vigilante had stopped using it when it was just the two of them. Two, Deku was nearly a decade younger than him, having just turned twenty. Aizawa learned that only recently, when the vigilante showed up with two extra-low-alcohol-content beers so that he could share his first legal drink with the pro hero at the end of their patrols.
Sometimes Aizawa was concerned about Deku. The vigilante seemed both too mature for his age and too sweetly naïve, chaotically extroverted and neurotically unconfident. The younger man’s unwavering optimism and strident belief in others—it was a surprise for someone who patrolled the darkened streets of Mustafa’s seediest neighborhoods.
“Not really. Growing up… other kids didn’t tend to like me. My mom used to say I was an ‘acquired taste.’ But other than you…” The vigilante trailed off. “It’s not like anyone could really get to know me. ‘Oh, by the way, we’ll never be able to hang out because I spend all my spare time in a spandex leotard running from the cops and beating up criminals.’ Like, how do adults even make friends?”
Aizawa huffed a heavy breath, a lazy version of a laugh. He made a mental note to arrange a meeting between Deku and his mentee Hitoshi; he could see them getting along well. “Preaching to the choir, kid. I lucked out with Hizashi and Nemuri.”
“You must be happy for them.”
“Yeah.” The pro hero paused. “Not happy with them right now, though.”
“Oh?” Deku turned a little towards the taller man. “Spill the tea.”
“You’re lucky I’ve got so many teenagers in my life that I actually know what that means.” Aizawa leaned back far enough that he was lying down on the fire escape, calves and feet hanging off the edge. “They’re pestering me about bringing a plus-one to their wedding.”
“They—you—” Sharp peels of laughter broke out of Deku. “I’m sorry, they’re—”
The pro hero turned his head towards the vigilante, an almost-manic look in his gray eyes. “Hizashi has been name-dropping his single friends. Nemuri—and I am not fucking kidding—set me up on a blind date. I was supposed to be meeting up with ‘Zashi at a coffee shop, I walk in, and fucking—Ms. Joke. Ms. Joke, Deku. Just… what the fuck?”
Deku’s giggles increased. “Oh my god, that would be such a bad matchup.”
“I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d be less interested in.”
“Ooh, I can. Just off the top of my head, All Might. Endeavor. Nedzu. One of your former students.”
“Point. You sick fuck.”
“Now me personally, I would’ve probably tried setting you up with Mirko; she’s smart and straightforward and could probably crush you with her thighs, if you’re into that.”
Aizawa let out a choking wheeze. “What the hell, Deku.”
“Not denying it, I see.”
“Eh.” The pro hero shrugged as best he could from his reclined position.
Deku laid back next to him. “You do realize it’s not really about the wedding, right?”
“What?”
“That they’re not trying to set you up because they want you to have a date to the wedding. That’s not why they’re doing this. They just want you to be happy. And, for them, being in a relationship is part of that. If it’s not part of it for you, tell them that. Assuming they’re as good of friends as you say they are, they’ll back off.”
“Come with me.”
“Wha—” Deku struggled to sit up and promptly rolled off the fire escape. Thanks to Aizawa’s quick reflexes, the vigilante was caught in the hero’s scarf-like capture weapon before he could plummet the seven stories to the ground.
An awkward silence stretched between the two men as Deku swung in the air.
“Did you just ask me to be your plus-one to your best friend’s wedding?”
“I—” Aizawa scrunched up his nose. “I guess I did. Huh.”
“Is this just as a date to the wedding, or like, an actual date?”
“I don’t know, it’s not like I put any thought into this. I guess I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” The older man began to haul the vigilante back up to the fire escape.
“You don’t know what I look like.”
“Does that really matter?”
“I—” Deku took a breath. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“You could keep your mask on, if that’s what’s worrying you. Go as the vigilante Deku. Weddings are normally neutral zones.” Aizawa bit the inside of his cheek before continuing. “Or you could go as yourself. Whoever that is.”
Deku became very quiet as he began unraveling himself from the capture weapon. “What if you don’t like who I actually am?”
“Illogical. After Hizashi and Nemuri, you’re probably next in line as best friend.”
“That’s sad.”
“Well, Tensei’s been demoted. He didn’t bring me chocolate-covered coffee beans on my birthday.”
“If that’s all it takes to be your friend, I would’ve risen up the ranks ages ago.”
“I… I wasn’t kidding, Deku. I’d like to take you. You. Whether that’s as Deku, or as… whoever you actually are. The wedding’s still a week away; you don’t need to decide tonight.”
“And—”
“If you want to meet up first—meet up as me and you, not as Eraserhead and Deku—”
“I’ll think on it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” The pro hero stood up and dusted the back of his jumpsuit off. “I’ll see you later…?”
“Sure.” Deku was subdued, undoubtedly overthinking. “Have a good patrol, Eraser.”
“Have a good patrol, Deku.” Aizawa swung down from the fire escape and resumed his patrols.
After several hours prowling the streets, snagging two purse-snatchers and walking an elderly housekeeper home after her night shift, Aizawa made his way back to his small and lonely studio apartment. Pulling out his phone, he saw he had one missed text message.
[Deku]
Tomorrow 8pm cat café at block 15 near the public library
Clutching the phone tightly, with a small upward tug of his lip, the man texted back a simple word.
[Eraserhead]
Okay