Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aizawa Shouta was a man of few needs, and even fewer wants. But right now, what he needs and wants are one and the same- a goddamn job. He’s been shuffling between various veteran housing programs and halfway houses while on the hunt, and spending his waking hours outside of physical therapy trying to find anyone who would hire him. The social workers weren’t much help, and neither were his estranged family. He’d almost given up when he was contacted by an old school-friend, Kayama “Midnight” Nemuri. They had communicated through email a few times since his discharge, but she hadn’t called him before so he was a little surprised to hear from her, and even more surprised when she asked him to accompany her to some fancy fundraising ball.

“What do you mean, you want me to be your date? I’m assuming this is a political thing, because I know you aren’t interested in me like that,” he said. They were talking over lunch, which Nemuri had insisted on, citing her busy schedule and a desire to see him in person again after so long. Nemuri was dressed in a fine business jacket and sharp pencil skirt, the colors coordinating flawlessly. He’d shown up in his cleanest sweats and brushed his hair for two whole minutes instead of just one.

“Well, sort of. I want you to meet someone, and if you make a good impression, maybe you’ll get a job out of it. Also- well, you’ll be my date officially, but I want you to be my bodyguard.”

“Your bodyguard?” What sort of party was this?

“Yea, since all the licensed ones have to wait at the door. They don’t want any muscle in the party, and they’ll have someone doing background checks. I have an invitation so I’m fine, but you should make sure to bring your military ID.”

“They won’t be suspicious that you’re bringing a military man as your date, just out of the blue?”

“Honestly, you give politicians more credit than they’re due. Not to mention half the men there are retired or active officers anyways.”

“Oh, it’s that sort of party. Just great.” He was all for respecting the chain of command, but the sort of officers that went into politics upon retiring weren’t the sort he was inclined to respect in the civilian world.

“Honestly, Aizawa, just do it. I’ll give you five hundred dollars in cash afterwards. You don’t even have to kiss me, but you do need to shave.”

“Well…”

“And like I said, I want you to meet someone. He’s going to be working the floor, and if you do a good job as my undercover bodyguard, he may want to hire you.”

“And are you going to tell me who this mystery man is?”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” She smirks as she says it, sipping her fancy cocktail. Aizawa just has water. Who orders alcohol at 1 in the afternoon? Aizawa refrains from mentioning it- she’s the one paying for all this.

“Anyways, what do you say? Yes, or hell yes?”

Aizawa sighs, rubbing at his dry eyes. “Tentative yes. And if I’m going as your date and not a proper bodyguard, I’m not shaving.”

“Aw, but I like a clean-shaven man.” she pouts. Aizawa isn’t convinced.

Aizawa just glares at her. “If I’m going to guard you, who am I guarding you from?”

“Honestly? Mostly just handsy drunk politicians. Though there’s a bit of a conspiracy going on, nothing I’m directly involved in, mind you, but… well. My friend can tell you about it, actually. You won’t be able to find out unless you come.”

She grins at him as she says it, apparently realizing he wouldn’t be able to say no now. Though he wanted to know, he's sure it's some silly gossip, and he's more truthfully in it for the money and to help out his friend anyways. It’s only a mystery because she won’t say anything. Damn.

“Fine, I'll do it. Though you're going to need to-” he starts in a huff, before he’s interrupted.

“Rent you a suit? Obviously. You free after this? Of course you are. We can get you fitted for one the day of.”

“Yeah, fine. When is this party… Fundraiser thing anyways?”

“Oh, Friday night.”

Aizawa nods, taking a bite of his massive club sandwich before realizing what she said. He glares at her as he chews, not wanting to spit food everywhere.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” He bites out, feeling his blood pressure rising already.

“Well, yeah. That's why I told you I had to meet you today.” She has the gall to giggle as she says it, finishing off her cocktail. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem.” He sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It’s not like he had any plans, but this was a bit sudden. At least it wasn't Saturday- he has his last physical therapy appointment that day. Hopefully he’d be given a clean bill of health- as clean as it could be at this point. He’d have to keep doing his exercises, and keep an eye on things, but he wouldn’t have to go to the appointments every week anymore. Hopefully just once every month or so, if he’s lucky.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly, though that's mostly on account of Aizawa spending most of it eating his fill while Nemuri talks about political gossip he only half pays attention to. He absconds once they're both finished and the pleasantries are over, just giving Nemuri a wave over his shoulder as she reminds him of where they'll be meeting tomorrow.

-------

Aizawa groans as yet another suit is picked for him to try on, a cackling Nemuri standing to the side. She’s already dressed in her evening gown, a flashy red number that probably costs more than Aizawa’s monthly budget for food and board. Probably at least three month’s worth, without being generous.

“Just a tuxedo would work, Nemuri. Is this really necessary?” He grits out, glaring at the suit being presented to him. Who in the hell would ever wear a suit with flower print on it?

“Aw, don't be such a spoilsport Aizawa! We have a couple hours to kill before we have to go, so why not have some fun?” She curls her fingers around her hair, drawing the attention of the smitten tailor. “Mister Han, maybe something a little less flashy for my gentleman friend here? Though I do appreciate you knowing my tastes.”

“Of course, madam. Shall I bring a tux as the gentleman requests?”

“Might as well, I suppose I've had enough fun for now. Let's make sure we find something that will fit so he doesn't gripe at me all night.”

The tailor takes the offending suit with him as he leaves, but that just means Aizawa is left standing in the dark red suit Nemuri had forced on him before. He wants to take it off, but there's no reason to get back into his sweats if he’s just going to change into a new suit minutes from now. And he certainly isn't going to stand in front of Nemuri in his underclothes, even if it'd be more comfortable.

“Are you sure you can't wear this one?” Nemuri says once they're alone, stepping forward to play with the lapels on his suit. Aizawa regards himself in the mirror, taking in the striking colors. His shirt and bowtie are black, which he doesn't understand, but he supposes it looks pretty good. It matches his black shoes and socks. If he could only say one nice thing about Nemuri, it was that she definitely knew her fashion. But Aizawa wasn't feeling charitable enough to say anything nice at the moment.

“I look ridiculous. Won't I get turned away for breaking a dress code or something?”

“No, not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, everyone else will be wearing their boring black suits or weird military formal wear. We might as well steal the show!”

“That 'weird military formal wear' is called mess dress. And I thought I was just supposed to be your bodyguard-”

“Disguised as eye-candy, yes.”

Aizawa groans, shaking his head. “Sure. But I don't think I should draw too much attention.”

Nemuri just grins at him and tugs on his lapels. Aizawa feels a headache coming on as he stares back, refusing to be the one to give in.

------

If anyone asks him, Aizawa will never admit to giving in. He just made a logical decision to keep Nemuri in good spirits so he can get through the night. He groans and adjusts his suit for the hundredth time, prompting Nemuri to smack the back of his hand gently.

“Stop fussing with it. I do need to return it.”

“And what if it gets messed up because I needed to actually do some bodyguard work?”

“Well, that wouldn't be your fault. I'd just send the bill to someone else.”

“Are you sure you thought this through?”

“Oh, hush, we're here.”

Nemuri pats his arm and gestures for him to step out first. He sighs in annoyance before stepping out and offering her his arm like they rehearsed. He ignores the flashing coming from the group of reporters waiting to the side in a roped-off corner. Nemuri just smiles and waves, soaking up the attention.

“So, when are you going to tell me who we're meeting?” Aizawa whispers to her, leaning in close to make it look more intimate. A camera flashes to the side. He continues to ignore them.

“Well, he’s a freelance detective, though most law enforcement agencies have tried to put him on their payroll multiple times already. I could tell you who he is, but I want him to introduce himself.”

“Alright, so he’s some hotshot detective. Why should I care?”

“Need I remind you he’s the reason I chose you to be my secret bodyguard? He needs a full-time bodyguard to help him out on his cases, but licensed guys are too stiff for him, and he wants someone who can be more of an… investigative partner, I suppose.” She laughs as if she had just made a joke, but Aizawa really isn’t sure what part of that was supposed to be funny.

Aizawa opens his mouth to ask, but he’s interrupted when a finely dressed man comes up to them both. Nemuri greets him with a wide smile- it's not very genuine, so Aizawa can only guess he must be a political rival. He wishes he’d had enough time to research this party and the people going beforehand, but Nemuri seems to enjoy keeping him in the dark. He can't help but wonder if that's why she waited until the last moment to ask.

He just stands there, trying to act like bored arm candy instead of an under-the-table bodyguard, while Nemuri schmoozes with the other guests waiting to get in. He can see the security checkpoint up ahead, a bottleneck of guards keeping a close eye on the guests and reporters. He can hear fancy music drifting out from the ballroom the closing they get, and he leans in close to whisper to Nemuri again, not caring if he’s interrupting her conversation.

“Nemuri- please tell me you aren't going to make me dance.”

Nemuri just gives him a coy look and a pat on the cheek. Aizawa can feel his already-thin patience starting to fray.

----------

Of course, the first thing she suggests they do once they're through the security check and past the incensed maître d'hôtel is dance. He tries to suggest she go talk to her fellow politicians instead but she doesn't take the bait, telling him that the best time to talk is when everyone else is drunker than you are. Aizawa can feel people staring as she drags him to the floor.

“Nemuri, I stand out like a sore thumb.” Aizawa says, looking around the room at the fancy tuxedos and vests the other party-goers are sporting. “And so do you, for that matter.”

“Yes, that was my intention.” She smiles, clearly pleased with herself. “I want to steal the show- well, at least until the main act is ready.”

Aizawa raises his eyebrows as he takes Nemuri’s hands for a slow dance.

“Let me guess- your detective friend?”

“See, you catch on quick. I think I made a good choice.”

Aizawa can admit he feels a little flattered, but he isn't going to let Nemuri know. He keeps his neutral expression as they twirl across the floor, catching more people’s eyes and attention as Nemuri’s dress flows and sparkles. He pretends to gaze at Nemuri's face while secretly scoping out the crowd, guiding Nemuri in a certain direction when he wants to look somewhere specific.

“Find him yet?” Nemuri asks, grinning at him when he meets her gaze. “He’s here.”

“You sure?” Aizawa grumbles, pulling away as the song ends. He needs a drink. His eyes drift towards the area cordoned off for the musicians, almost dismissing them until a spot of color catches his eye. Nemuri is trying to tug him into another dance, but he takes a moment as he catches sight of the only musician in a colored suit jacket. It’s a dark blue, which wouldn't be too bad, but there are large, colorful flowers printed on it. He finally meets the man’s eye when he turns around, his blond hair falling flawlessly over his shoulder as he adjusts his violin.

“Bingo.” Nemuri hisses in his ear, tugging him back into position for another dance.

“Nemuri, why is he with the musicians?”

“Because he’s dramatic and loves attention.”

“I see why you're friends.” He deadpans, earning himself a huff from Nemuri. “But seriously. Why there? Shouldn't he be mingling, sniffing out clues or something?”

Nemuri just laughs, leaning in to lightly kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

“He already has it figured out, I'd wager. He just wants to be able to charm the conductor for the microphone.”

Aizawa thinks through the implications of that statement as they dance, only avoiding Nemuri’s toes by sheer luck on more than one occasion. She just laughs, acting charmed by his stumbling to keep up appearances.

If this so-called detective wanted to charm the conductor, what would that imply? That the conductor hired for the party would possibly get in trouble for letting him take a microphone to... what was it Nemuri said? Expose a conspiracy? If that’s the case, he feels confident making the assumption that someone involved with hiring the staff for this party would be involved in said conspiracy.

“Nemuri- this is supposed to be for a fundraiser, right? Who’s running it?”

“Well, you see that man over there? Gaudy cummerbund, have a look when we spin-” she spins them as the music swells, and Aizawa catches sight of the man in question. Old and self-important looking, surrounded by retired officers and top brass alike.

“I see him. Who is he?”

“Used to be a senator, but now he just runs in private business using all his old connections. Has his hand in a lot of military tech companies. Board member for this, shareholder for that…”

“And this fundraiser?”

“You didn't bother to look it up? Shame on you. Its supposed to be for overseas aid organizations. Like Médecins Sans Frontières, for one. And a bunch of others you probably don’t know, since you didn’t do your research, you naughty boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Aizawa grimaces, finally stepping on her foot in his distraction. She grimaces as well before glaring at him. A small part of him feels better already.

“Dammit, you did that on purpose.”

“No, but I’m glad it happened.” Aizawa grins, finally feeling like he might be able to enjoy himself.

“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard!”

“You said to protect you from handsy drunks, not my bad dancing.”

Nemuri sighs, and Aizawa figures that’s the end of the conversation. It also happens to be the end of the dance, as the music slows down and stops, the musicians adjusting their instruments as they prepare for another song. Aizawa watches as the strange man moves to talk to the conductor, and Aizawa tenses.

“Hm, not yet.” Namuri says, tugging Aizawa back around to look at her. “Too soon. And besides, I need to mingle a bit first, so come and look pretty with me.”

“Don’t you mean make you look prettier in comparison?” Aizawa replies, scratching at the stubble he’d barely shaved that morning.

“Well, I’m certain some people will think you’re prettier than I am. Anyways, just stay quiet and follow my lead.” It’s all the warning he gets before Nemuri is bodily dragging him by his good elbow across the dancefloor towards the man they’d just been gossiping about.

Nemuri sets her charm to eleven, pulling out all the stops as she flirts with every old man in a five foot radius. Aizawa just stands there and glares whenever someone tries to stand too close, otherwise just looking disinterested with everything. It’s all political chit-chat, and doesn’t seem to have anything to do with whatever conspiracy Nemuri keeps hinting at. Aizawa can admit she knows how to play a crowd though. She’s caught the group’s attention, and they’re eating up her every word like starving cats.

Honestly, he’d prefer it if everyone were cats sometimes.

He grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter at Nemuri’s insistence, handing one to her and leaning in as if to say something intimate.

“So how much longer am I going to have to keep my eyes on mister-grab-ass over here?”

Nemuri giggles, patting his cheek as he moves away.

“Oh darling, just be patient. We can go somewhere more private once I’ve chatted up these handsome gents some more.” she says in a flirty voice. She brushes some of his hair behind his ear to sell the scene, and Aizawa can tell every man in their group is looking at him with jealousy in their eyes. Oh, she’s good. He’s never been so glad to be gay, because otherwise he’d probably be falling for it too. Still, he has to play along, so he gives her his best smirk and watches as she pretends to swoon.

“Jeez Nemuri, where’d you find this guy?” Asks a man in mess dress. Aizawa looks over his colors, pegging him as a colonel. The way he shifts his weight has Aizawa guessing he must have a prosthetic leg.

“In the dumpster. You know she’s a soft touch for charity cases.” Aizawa deadpans, getting a laugh from the crowd. Nemuri huffs and smacks his shoulder playfully.

“Oh, he’s just an old acquaintance I wanted to get reacquainted with.”

“Ah, so an old friend? Or old fling?” Another man butts in, his gold watch glittering as he waves his hand around.

“Senator Gibbs!” Nemuri gasps, reaching out to swat at him playfully.

Aizawa uses the following conversation as an excuse to let his eyes wander, looking for the strangely-dressed detective again. He finds him by spotting his bright hair, though now he’s talking to the waitstaff by the buffet table. He stares long enough for the man to turn around and meet his eyes again, and the man grins at him, lifting his glass in greeting.

He turns around quickly, his heart beating quicker as he tries to pretend everything's normal. Dammit, what is he doing? He need to be paying attention to Nemuri, not some strange, beautiful man. Unfortunately, the universe seems to have it out for him, because that’s when the loud sound of a microphone being turned on catches everyone’s attention.

“One, two, ahem, one, two, mic check.”

Nemuri grins when she hears the voice, not even bothering to turn around as she sips her champagne. Aizawa turns to look, finding the detective standing in front of the dancefloor, a microphone in one hand and a half-empty glass of champagne in the other. He’s put on a large pair of yellow tinted sunglasses that catch the light, giving him a sinister, calculated look.

“If I could have everyone’s attention please- ah, you’re paying attention now? Good.”

The man doesn’t even bother to introduce himself as he starts to monologue, though it seems most of the crowd recognizes him now that he’s stepped into the spotlight. The rich man at the center of it all- who Nemuri had helpfully named as a Mister Tamron Lee- seems to be trying to get the attention of the security staff with little luck. It’s Nemuri who grabs him by his lapel when he tries to leave, holding him fast as the fancy detective stalks closer to their little group. He’s describing something about funneling fundraising money into private defense contracts, but Aizawa is too distracted by the way his hair and glasses seem to shimmer to pay attention to the details.

It’s only when Aizawa hears and sees a man in mess dress shout in anger and step forward that he finally snaps out of it, rushing forward to intercept the man before he can tackle the detective to the ground. He keeps it simple, hitting his throat then using a grab to flip the man off his feet and onto his back, stepping on his chest to keep him there. The man grabs Aizawa’s leg, but Aizawa doesn’t budge, instead meeting the detective’s eyes in the stunned silence that follows.

“Well, cheers to that, my friend. And cheers to your internal bleeding, my good bitch.” The detective has the gall to smirk at Aizawa as he raises his glass, winking before turning his sights back onto Tamron Lee, who is now sweating bullets. Tamron Lee starts to shout, but the detective continues undeterred, using his microphone and his seemingly-iron lungs to his advantage.

Aizawa abandons the man on the ground to stay close to the detective and, by default, Nemuri, but Tamron Lee doesn’t seem inclined to get physical. Aizawa catches sight of a crowd of officers at the door, which would explain why none of the security personnel have come to escort the loud man out of the party yet. It seems like he’s getting to the good part, but at this point Aizawa has missed too much of the information to care to pay attention, so he slides next to Nemuri to hiss in her ear.

“Goddammit Nemuri, does this man have a name? And does he have to drag this on forever?”

“Yes, to both your questions. Honestly, this just feels cathartic to me. His investigation took so long, having it end too quick would just be horrendously disappointing. And I do so enjoy the look of a trapped man.” she practically purrs the last sentence and Aizawa huffs, stepping away.

“Of course you’d enjoy this.” he grumbles, stepping in when Tamron Lee makes a grab for the microphone. All he has to do is twist the man’s arm behind his back and he’s gasping in pain. Too easy.

“Ah, ah, ah! Naughty, naughty. Besides, it’s all out in the open now, what would stopping me now do? Other than, oh, stop me from revealing the names of all your co-conspirators?”

It’s this point in time that Aizawa will remember specifically, whenever he thinks to himself how he wishes some very specific people would learn how to shut their mouths, for years to come. Those last seven words cause an uproar of magnificent proportions as names start rolling off the detective’s tongue and men start to flee or fight. Aizawa spots Nemuri tying up a man with her decorative scarf, but he cannot spare any time to help, too busy beating off the men who want to get a shot in at the detective before the cops finally barge in. He wants to say he’s glad to see the officers barge in, but they just make it worse.

Out of all the people trying to get their hands on the detective, Aizawa is the only one who manages, and he uses his chance to bodily drag the strangely dressed man out of the chaos and into one of the side halls used by staff. It’s empty now, the staff having deserted at the first sign of real trouble, and it seems none of the rich partygoers even noticed where the staff were coming from.

Aizawa only stops manhandling the man’s nice silk suit once they’ve found an abandoned room to hide out in, and he locks the door with a muttered curse. He takes a moment to catch his breath, listening as the man mutters under his breath behind him. He turns around in one quick movement, and Aizawa finally sees the man make something other than a smug expression as his eyes widen in surprise. The man takes a breath to speak, and Aizawa does the same, fed up with everything.

“You’re hired-!”

“What the hell is your name?!”

Chapter Text

There are three important things he learns in the following, confusing conversation. One, the man’s name is Yamada Hizashi, though he has the ridiculous nickname “Mic”. Two, his personality is just as loud and brash as his fashion choices. And three, the man really doesn't seem to be able to shut up.

“Okay, stop, stop!” Aizawa shouts, interrupting Yamada before he can start on another long tangent. He steps in close, holding his finger in front of Yamada’s nose so he can get a moment to speak. “So you had Nemuri find someone to be your bodyguard. And instead of doing a normal interview like a normal person, you decide to just put them, them being me, to the test by having them jump to your defense at some fancy fundraiser filled with rich assholes. She chose me, I passed your shitty test and now all you have to say for it is ‘you’re hired’? Have I gotten all the important parts so far?”

Yamada opens his mouth but Aizawa just glares at him, prompting Yamada to swallow and just nod instead.

“Alright. Glad we're on the same page. Now- I'm not going to accept this until we can have a proper conversation about it, which is not happening in a storage room. So, we're going to go find Nemuri, I'm going to make sure you're safe with your police friends, we'll make a plan to meet and then we'll part ways until then. Understood?”

Aizawa ends up having to cover Yamada’s mouth with his hand this time, but eventually he gets another silent nod. Yamada mumbles something that sounds like a question behind his hand.

“What?” Aizawa asks, taking his hand away.

“I never got your name. Nemuri wouldn't tell me. Didn't want me looking you up beforehand.”

“Oh. Well, I'm Aizawa Shouta.”

“Great! And this is just a guess, but you must have been in the army, right? That scar on your face, your hair growing in choppy, the slight limp- you were discharged because of injury, am I right?”

Aizawa just grimaces, rubbing at his right elbow before turning towards the door.

“Yeah. Spot on. You don't need to sound so happy about it.” He opens the door with a little more force than necessary, muttering ‘could’ve just asked’ under his breath. He doesn't bother looking to see if Yamada will follow, scoping out the hallway before slowly walking towards the ballroom. He hears Yamada's loud footsteps behind him after a moment, which answers that question.

Aizawa reaches the door just as it opens, a confused officer staring back at him. Aizawa puts his hands up gently, so as not to provoke him.

“Hey-”

“Officer Sansa! Hello!” Yamada practically yells in Aizawa’s ear, crowding into his space since he can’t shove through him to get to the door. “How good to see you! Is Tsukauchi here? He’s a little later than I expected, but it all worked out, I suppose?”

“No, Yamada, everyone is dead,” officer Sansa deadpans, giving him a look. Aizawa snorts. “Everything’s been handled, though we have a few runners we haven’t caught up to yet. But their assets are being frozen, yadda yadda, you know the drill.”

“Oh, wonderful! And where may I find the good detective?”

Sansa steps back from the door so they can follow, Aizawa giving Yamada a look before letting him through first. He follows along quietly as Sansa leads them through the confused crowd milling around, Yamada soaking up any attention he gets like a conceited sponge. He’s relieved to see Nemuri standing with a group of important looking officers near the front entrance, and she smiles winningly when she sees them coming.

“Nemuri! So glad you could make it- ow! Hey!” Yamada yelps when Nemuri smacks his arm, still smiling like she won something. “What was that for?”

“That? Was for provoking everyone at the end like an imbecile. I know you wanted to see what Aizawa could do, but you could have done it so many other ways.”

“But this way was more fun!”

“And dangerous. And stupid.” Aizawa says, crossing his arms over his chest. Yamada gulps, looking away for a moment.

“Yeah, well! It worked out!”

“You can’t even fight! It’s why I agreed to find someone for you in the first place!” Nemuri hisses, her smile dropping for a second.

“Hey, I can fight! I have a mean left hook.”

“Yeah, but you've always been more of a yell-at-them-from-far-away kind of guy, if we're being completely honest.” Aizawa just blinks as Yamada pouts at Nemuri’s statement. He isn't going to get in the middle of this; having them mock each other is much better than both of them teaming up to tease him.

The officer - Sansa, if Aizawa is remembering correctly- finishes his hushed conversation with one of the detectives. He's rather plain looking, but everyone seems to defer to him as he steps up to interrupt Nemuri and Yamada’s friendly spat.

“Sorry to interrupt, but can I speak with you a moment Yamada?”

“Ah, detective, there you are! Yes, please, lets go have a chat-” Yamada says gleefully, wrapping an arm around the detective’s shoulders to steer him away. Nemuri just snorts as Aizawa glares at Yamada's retreating back.

“So?” She asks, crossing her arms and giving Aizawa a look. Aizawa just blinks at her.

“So, what?”

“So, did he say anything to you? After your performance, I'm assuming he hired you.”

Aizawa just grimaces, but Nemuri seems to take that as a proper answer.

“So, yes, then? That's good, I wasn't looking forward to finding anyone else for this gig.”

“He said he wanted to hire me. That's all. I haven't said yes yet.”

“And why not?”

“Why not? I don't know this man! I need to have something at least resembling a proper meeting and interview if I'm going to accept a job like this! Besides, I don't even know everything it entails. What are my hours, is it cash or an actual paycheck with taxes and shit-”

Nemuri holds up her hands, laughing.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You need more info. I understand. Let me guess, you were trying to work that out with him before he ran over here?”

“Well, we wanted to check on you first, but I had wanted to get a time and place set before he ran off with, uh- whatever his name is, the plain looking guy. Detective something-or-other.”

“Oh, him, yes. Well, how about this-” Nemuri starts, slinging her arm over his shoulder and leading him outside away from the crowds. “I'll give you Yamada’s address, so why don't you just meet him there tomorrow? I'll let him know you're coming. So you can just go home and relax tonight. Hows that sound?”

“Well,” Aizawa starts, pausing once they reach the sidewalk. There’s a mess of officers dealing with the press down the way, but they’re far enough away from the hullabaloo to go unnoticed. He thinks it over carefully, looking between Nemuri and the bright lights of the hotel behind them. His final physical therapy appointment is tomorrow, but it’s at four in the afternoon. Surely he can fit a meeting in before or after. “Fine, that works. I need to sleep after this disaster.”

“I think you mean adventure. Anyways, let’s meet here at twelve,” she says as she grabs a receipt from her purse, writing down an address and handing it to him. “I’ll give you the cash I promised, and then you can hash things out with Yamada while I order us some brunch?”

“Don’t you mean lunch?”

“No, brunch, because I doubt Yamada is even going to be awake before eleven, and I wouldn’t be either if I didn’t have a mess to deal with tomorrow. So, brunch, maybe some alcohol-”

“You shouldn’t be drinking so early in the day.”

“Noted. So, alcohol and contract discussions, deal?”

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Nemuri laughs, patting him on the back. “I’ll have my chauffeur take you home, since I’ll be here for a little while longer anyways. And don’t worry about your statement, I’ll explain it to the detective for you. Go sleep. And Aizawa?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I do mean it,” she says, her smile the most genuine looking thing he’s seen all day. He smiles back, his mouth crooked.

“Yeah. No problem.”

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Aizawa sleeps fitfully and wakes up feeling grumpy, shivering with cold despite his cold-weather sleeping bag. He looks around his room, which is more like a concrete box reminiscent of the barracks he used for years. It’s just as depressing as it was the day before. He sighs and gives up on sleeping, cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to keep the air conditioning on at maximum at all times.

He gathers his toiletries and makes his usual trip to the communal bathroom, avoiding anyone he sees on the way. For once the bathroom is pretty clean, but he knows it’ll be trashed by the time he gets back at night. He washes up quickly before fleeing back to his room, wishing he could have a proper apartment. Hopefully whatever sort of agreement he makes with Yamada later will be enough to rent some place with a private bathroom.

He’s dressed and ready in ten minutes, collecting his keys and wallet before grabbing the suit Nemuri rented for him off the hook on the wall. He folds it up carefully, wishing he had a dry cleaning bag to keep it in. He slips out using the fire escape at the end of the hall, wanting to avoid the annoying person working the desk. The ladder is already down, so obviously someone else had the same idea as he descends one-handed, clutching the suit close with his bad arm.

He idly considers taking a cab, but the expense is too much, and he’d be way too early if he did. The bus is promising, but his pass has already expired and he isn’t going to try to get change. It’s just easier to walk. At least the weather is enjoyable, with a slight breeze ruffling his hair as he navigates the crowded streets towards the neighborhood where Yamada’s residence is. It’s a mix of brownstones and apartment buildings, so he isn’t expecting to see a quaint two-story building when he double checks the address on Nemuri’s receipt.

It’s eleven thirty when he arrives, and he hesitates outside for a moment, not seeing Nemuri’s car anywhere. Well, he did come to talk to Yamada specifically, and sitting outside would seem suspicious, so he approaches the front door carefully as if expecting a surprise. The front garden is small but well-kept, a variety of leafy plants in the garden beds catching his attention briefly before he knocks.

He’s expecting to hear Yamada yelling something, or for there to be no response, since Nemuri said Yamada would be sleeping, but instead he hears the patter of quick, heavy footfalls before a giant, gaunt man answers the door. Aizawa just blinks in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to remember how to speak. The man smiles at him, beating him to the punch.

“Good morning, stranger. That’s a nice suit you have there. Is this perhaps a delivery for Mr. Yamada?”

“Er, uh- no, no, it’s for someone else. But I am here to see Yamada, actually.”

“Ah, Mr. Yamada is still asleep, I think. He was out past my bedtime, so I can only assume he was out quite late. Is it an urgent matter?”

“No, not too urgent. I was told by our mutual friend Nemuri that he would probably be up around noon. I’m just a bit early.”

The man nods in understanding, his long hair waving with the motion. Aizawa feels like his neck is going to start hurting if he has to stare up at the man much longer.

“Ah, you’re one of Miss Nemuri’s friends? Gosh, where are my manners? I’m Yagi Toshinori. Just call me Yagi.”

“Aizawa Shouta. Aizawa is fine. So, you and Yamada are roomates?” Aizawa asks, his voice hesitant. He doesn’t want to assume things, but he hadn’t been expecting Yamada to be living with someone. Yagi laughs and shakes his head.

“Well, I'm more like a landlord. I own the property. I don’t mind his company, though he is certainly quite eccentric.”

“Eccentric is putting it kindly, don’t you think?”

Yagi laughs, though it turns into a wet cough at the end. Aizawa straightens up, watching as the man wipes some blood from his mouth without flinching. He stops himself from trying to identify the cause, though his brain keeps urging him to diagnose what’s wrong. He isn’t a medic anymore, he reminds himself. Yagi holds up his hand when he spies Aizawa’s concerned expression.

“It’s alright, just an old injury. Just a part of my life now. Oh--” Yagi slaps his forehead before stepping aside, clearing the doorway. “Please, come in. Would you like some tea? I just put the kettle on when you knocked.”

“No, thank you.” Aizawa says, slowly stepping through the door. Yagi carefully closes the door before making his way back to the kitchen down the hall. Aizawa follows after taking his shoes off and hanging up the slightly-wrinkled suit.

“Water, then? Something to eat? I was going to make something for my son and I usually make extra, in case Mr. Yamada feels like eating.”

Aizawa wants to refuse out of politeness, but his stomach chooses that moment to remind him of how empty it is. Luckily it doesn’t growl.

“Both would be wonderful, actually. Nemuri mentioned she would be coming over for brunch- I’m sure she informed Yamada, but did she contact you at all? I don’t know how well you know her--”

“Oh, no, I didn’t know, but I’ll make extra for her too! Oh, what a grand breakfast it will be. Ever since my retirement I’ve tried taking up some hobbies, and cooking is definitely one that has bountiful rewards.” Yagi drones on as he seats Aizawa at the dinged-up kitchen table, getting him a glass of water before grabbing a bunch of pans. He talks about his favorite recipes and his gardening, which answers Aizawa’s unasked question about the plants up front.

Aizawa feels a bit awkward just sitting there while Yagi cooks, but it’s probably the most relaxing morning he’s had in awhile. The communal kitchen at the halfway house was always a mess and teeming with activity, and going out to eat, even at a cheap fast-food place or diner, meant dealing with crowds and other people. He almost considers asking if they should wake Yamada up, but then he decides against it. He doesn't want to be responsible for the murder of the peaceful silence.

A young man joins them as Yagi starts cooking pancakes, the smell of butter thick in the air. The young man regards Aizawa warily, but Yagi is quick to greet him once he sees the young man by the doorway.

“Young Shouto, good morning! I am making pancakes and bacon today. Our new friend Aizawa will be joining us while we wait for Yamada to wake up. And apparently Miss Nemuri will be joining us as well.” Yagi pauses to flip a comically large pancake before looking over at Shouto again. “If it's too much, feel free to eat in your room. I know its a bit unexpected.”

Shouto seems to consider his offer before shaking his head and shuffling over to the fridge. Aizawa catches sight of a burn scar on Shouto’s face as he turns around with a jug of chocolate milk in his hands. It doesn't look recent, at least, and the damage to the eye was minimal-- he shakes his head to clear the thought. It isn't his business. He sips his water and considers breaking the silence, but Shouto seems just as content to drink quietly while Yagi hums, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The both of them have a large plate of pancakes in front of them when he hears a loud thud from above their heads.

“Ah, he's awake!” Yagi says happily, flipping some more large pancakes onto another plate. “I sure hope he's hungry.”

It feels like the thud was some sort of signal, because seconds later the doorbell rings once before someone calls out from the front. It's Nemuri's voice, and Aizawa waves for Yagi to keep cooking, taking it upon himself to let her in.

“Yagi, darling, I can smell it from here--” she croons as Aizawa opens the door. She stops when she sees its actually Aizawa. “Oh, Aizawa! You did make it!”

“Yeah. Good morning. I brought the suit for you.” He points to the suit hanging on a hook by the front door, only slightly wrinkled from his long walk. Nemuri makes a happy sound and steps forward to hug him.

“Oh, thank you!”

“You're welcome.”

“But you needn't of worried,” she continues, pulling away to pat his cheek. “I bought it for you. Surprise! And here's the five hundred.”

Aizawa just stands there, speechless, as Nemuri grabs his wrist to stuff a wad of crisp bills in his hand. He stares at it for a moment while Nemuri invites herself into the kitchen, exchanging greetings with Yagi and Shouto. He barely has time to stuff it in his pocket before the upstairs door creaks open, and he looks up to see Yamada staring down at him. He looks different with his hair all mussed and his yellow glasses replaced with a pair of horn rimmed ones. His bathrobe is a surprisingly understated red color, though his large fuzzy slippers are a shocking pink color.

“Nemuri!” Yamada shrieks after a moment, clutching his bathrobe tighter around himself before slamming the door shut. He keeps yelling, though it’s only slightly muffled by the door. “You told me he'd be here at one! You liar!”

Aizawa can hear Nemuri cackling in the kitchen and he sighs. What is he getting himself into?

He drags himself back into the kitchen to finish his pancakes only to find Nemuri helping herself.

“Hey, I was eating those.”

“Mmf. They were getting cold!” She mumbles around the food in her mouth. Yagi turns around and presents Aizawa with a fresh plate, playing the peacekeeper. This one has some of the bacon on it as well, and Aizawa mumbles his thanks. At least he gets the fresh ones.

Eventually Yagi is finished with cooking, but his own plate is meagre compared to their own. Yamada's plate is put into the oven while Yagi eats and Shouto starts on the dishes, already finished with his plate. Yagi eats slowly, sipping at his tea between every bite, and Aizawa feels like he has more clues to a mystery best solved by asking directly. But it doesn’t seem like a good time to ask a perfect stranger about his medical issues, especially with Nemuri chowing away in the opposite corner, foregoing manners in private company.

He can hear more muffled banging from upstairs while he eats, but Yamada doesn't reappear until he’s almost finished eating. There's loud footsteps on the stairs to herald Yamada's arrival, and Aizawa turns in his chair to watch as Yamada makes a dramatic entrance. His hair is combed and his yellow shades are back, and the bathrobe has been exchanged for some expensive-looking loungewear. Why can't he wear sweats like a normal person?

“Hello visitors! Good morning, Shouto! And my, Toshi, looking lovely today as always.”

Yamada winks over in Yagi’s direction, who just smiles and continues to eat. Shouto is smiling too, though he seems to be trying to hide it as he says a quiet “good morning”. Nemuri tries to talk through a mouthful of pancake, and Aizawa glares at her until she stops. Yamada spies his plate in the oven and he grabs it with an exaggerated motion, taking the open spot next to Yagi at the table.

“Thank you for breakfast, you wonderful man. I've got a surprise for you later, but I won't spoil it more than that.”

“More of a surprise than these two suddenly dropping by?” Yagi laughs, and Yamada just combs a hand through his hair in what looks like a sheepish gesture.

“Yes, well, you were asleep when I got back--”

“Oh, don't fuss, it's quite alright. And I'm looking forward to the next one.”

“Good! Good.” Yamada coughs, turning to face Aizawa properly for the first time. “And thank you for coming, Aizawa! Can I call you Shouta?”

“No.”

“Well, feel free to call me Hizashi.” He continues on, as if Aizawa hadn't said anything. Aizawa just looks at Yagi, a silent plea in his eyes. Yagi just smiles back. “You've already been introduced to Toshinori and Shouto, yes? Good. Now, Nemuri told me you wanted to discuss some things before accepting my job offer?”

Aizawa sighs and nods, pulling out a piece of scrap paper he’d written on to get his thoughts in order, going through each item while Yamada eats. He leaves the list on the table when he’s done, waiting for Yamada to finish chewing so he can get some answers. Luckily it seems Yamada is polite enough not to talk with his mouth full, despite his propensity for loudness.

“Well, I'll talk about pay first, since the rest of your concerns hinge on that.” Yamada finally says, tapping his fork against his lips as if he's thinking. “I get a variable amount per case, and some I do pro-bono. For paid cases, you’ll get forty percent.”

Aizawa blinks in surprise. He hadn't been expecting such a generous offer right off the bat. He holds up a hand to cut Yamada off so he can speak.

“Forty is quite generous. Can I ask why you're willing to go that high this early?”

“Well, danger, for one. And also, you're not licensed to be a bodyguard, so for tax purposes you're more like my… business partner. Who just-so-happens to fight much better than I do.”

“Ok, sure, but isn't that a little suspicious? Some stranger suddenly becoming your equal as a business partner?”

“Well, just consider this. You have detailed knowledge of medicine and the human body, are already familiar with death and the dying, had quite the illustrious career as a combat medic on the front lines, not to mention your 4.0 GPA from high school and college. What, exactly, makes it seem like you're not suited to be my equal? Being a detective is more that just shouting about who is or isn't guilty.”

Aizawa can only nod in silence. Of course Yamada would have done some research on him once they exchanged names. Though he can admit to himself it's a bit flattering to hear Yamada play him up so much. Yagi certainly looks impressed from where he’s sitting, still eating his singular pancake.

“Well, anyways, as I was saying, pro-bono work will depend from case to case, but I can offer you money from my savings depending on how much work you do? I can write up a list to make it official and everything. Also, keep in mind we’ll both be filing taxes as contracted workers, so set aside money for that, too.”

Aizawa nods, listening carefully as Yamada goes into the details, his fingers itching to write it all down so he doesn't forget. Nemuri seems to get bored and wanders upstairs after patting Aizawa on the back. Shouto leaves, presumably to go back to his room, so only Yagi is left to listen to them talk business. He idly wonders if Yagi should be privy to this information, but it’s clear Yamada trusts him enough to let him stay.

Yamada pushes aside his half-eaten breakfast as they talk, his hands always moving or gesturing. Aizawa finds himself getting distracted whenever Yamada plays with his hair, the long, golden strands shimmering in the bright afternoon light. He turns his attention back to his list to try and banish the thoughts of touching Yamada’s hair from his head.

“Anyways, that's all the legal stuff. And I'm willing to give you payment up front for yesterday- yes, I know Nemuri paid you already, but this would make it more official, and we can work out the direct deposit to your bank, too. Did you have anything you wanted to discuss that wasn't on the list?”

Aizawa looks up from his scrutiny of the crumpled notes, scratching at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yeah, actually. We’ve already established this will be pretty full-time already, so I'm wondering if I should look for an apartment close by? Or I can always commute to wherever you need me, since I'll have my phone,” Aizawa speaks slowly as he thinks, though he's cut off by Yamada before he can finish voicing his thoughts.

“Just live here.”

“What?” Aizawa says, his steady voice not betraying his surprise. Yagi just smiles and nods as he sips at his tea, clearly pleased with the idea.

“I have a lot of space upstairs. You'd have your own room and everything, and we'd be able to collaborate more without keeping you from your apartment elsewhere. Plus, I already cover the rent, so we can just say it’s the ten percent that would have made your forty percent fifty! What do you say?”

Aizawa thinks it over for a moment, his mind wandering back to all the different places he’s lived in the past few months.

“Fine, it's a deal, but if I decide to move out, you can't stop me, or say it nullifies our other agreements.”

“Perfectly reasonable! So, want the tour?”

That's how Aizawa Shouta finds him trailing after Yamada as he gives a tour of the house, a happy-looking Yagi trailing after them like a loyal dog. He points out Yagi and Shouto’s rooms, but they don't go in, instead walking past to the door leading to the basement. There's a washing and drying machine set in one corner, and a small closed-off closet where the boiler and associated machinery must be. The basement isn't as finished as the rest of the house, but an eclectic assortment of rugs and wrestling posters lends the room some warmth. They take the stairs that lead directly outside from the basement so Yamada can show off Yagi’s garden, gushing about it as the man himself blushes and rubs at his hair.

Yagi has started watering some of his plants by the time Yamada finishes gushing, so they leave him behind to head upstairs. They're interrupted on their way up by a knock on the door, and Yamada practically skips backs downstairs, gleefully pulling the door open. Aizawa watches from the top step as Yamada greets the plain-looking detective from the night before, inviting him in with a wave.

“Detective, so good to see you, thank you for coming! I know I said you could come and get more details, but I'm currently giving a tour to my new roommate, so why don't you head to the back and say hello to Toshinori?”

“Ah, well, I suppose, but how long-”

“Not too long, promise! Please, feel free to relax for a moment.”

Yamada energetically ushers the detective towards the backyard before rushing back upstairs, shooting Aizawa an impish smile.

“Got some hope for those two.” He whispers conspiratorially, squeezing past Aizawa to open the door. Aizawa can hear some soft music playing, and they enter to find Nemuri lounging on a bright-yellow chaise lounge chair, sipping at something in a wine glass.

“Yamada, Aizawa, you're finally done eating?” She smiles, raising her glass in greeting.

“You better not have opened my chardonnay.” Yamada grumbles, stalking over to a large cabinet of bottles and fancy glassware. He rummages through everything before closing it carefully, huffing in Nemuri’s direction.

“Well, anyways,” he starts, turning and gesturing to the large sitting room. “This is the main space! No kitchen up here, but we’re good with sharing the one downstairs. Feel free to get a mini-fridge if you want one, though. That's my piano, please ask before touching, and the television gets most channels except, you know.”

Yamada winks, and Aizawa rolls his eyes.

“The room over there is mine, and next to it is my office, and next to that is going to be yours!” Yamada throws open the door to said bedroom with a bow, smiling as Aizawa walks in to have a look. The room is plain compared to the eclectic, colorful decoration in the main room. The bedding on the twin sized bed is a dark blue, with crisp white sheets. There's a small bedside dresser and a wooden sitting desk, with matching chair. The ceiling light is a bit dim, but Aizawa finds is easier on his eyes than the bright fluorescents in the halfway house. A small window is set into the wall with purple curtains, the blinds drawn to keep out the light.

It's perfect.

Yamada seems to read Aizawa's thoughts, clapping his hands together happily. Aizawa has half a mind to say something disparaging, but he resists the urge. Having his own place without having to worry about paying rent was already better than he’d hoped for. The least he can do it play nice.

“Sorry there's no closet, but I've installed some wall hooks if you need to hang anything. And feel free to bring in some furniture if you need some more!”

Yamada starts to ramble on about his own furniture and where he picked it up, but Aizawa tunes him out, taking in the room where he would be living for the near future.

Things are looking up.

Chapter Text

Aizawa takes his leave once he can get Yamada to stop talking long enough to get a word in edgewise. Yamada jumps at the chance to give Aizawa a set of keys before he leaves, practically escorting him out the door on his way.

“Are you going to grab your stuff? You can totally move in tonight if you want! I come and go at all hours so don't worry about the time if that's going to stop you.”

Aizawa sighs and pats at the new set of keys in his pocket, shooting Yamada a look.

“I'll grab my stuff later, but I have an appointment to keep now. So, uh, goodbye for now.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye! No, wait, see you soon! Yeah!”

Aizawa practically shuts the door in Yamada's face to keep him from following, scratching at his hair to try and dispel the awkward feeling. He doesn't look back, but he can feel Yamada watching him as he walks down the block, making his shoulder blades tingle. He almost feels bad for not saying farewell to Yagi, but he’s going to be moving in soon enough, so they'll see each other again.

He makes it to his physical therapy appointment with time to spare so he checks his old and cracked phone, finding a missed call and a text from Nemuri.

"Aw, left without saying goodbye? Rude! Lets catch up next week ;)"

A sigh escapes him as he answers with a quick “maybe”, turning his phone off afterwards to save battery. He’s called in by the nurse moments later so he doesn't dwell on it, forgetting about it completely by the time he leaves with a prescription, a sheet of personal care information, and as clean a bill of health as he can get at this point.

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By the time he returns to the halfway house he’s almost tired enough to consider just staying there for one more night, but it’s only seven o’clock and someone is screaming somewhere. He packs quickly, actually enjoying it for once, if only because he knows he won't have to come back here ever again once he's finished. All his belongings fit into two large duffel bags and his standard bookbag, and he carries it all out, ignoring the stares he gets as he turns in his keycard and leaves.

His return to Yagi’s-- and by extension Yamada’s-- house is slower going this time, encumbered as he is with all his worldly belongings. He’s a sweaty mess by the time he walks up to the house, his only thoughts circling around a tall glass of water and a long, cold shower. He fumbles for his keys, but the door opens before he can find them, a surprised looking Shouto standing in front of him.

“Ah, hey, kid. Er. Shouto, right?”

Shouto just nods, stepping back to let Aizawa drag his bags inside and out of the way.

“I'm heading out. Mr. Yamada should be upstairs.” Shouto says as he points up the staircase, where Aizawa can hear music playing. “My father is making dinner with the good detective.”

They both pause awkwardly before each of them mumbles a quiet “good night”, Shouto stepping out the door and locking it behind himself. Aizawa leaves his bags by the door for a moment, stepping into the kitchen to find Yagi hard at work cutting some chicken while the plain-looking detective chops vegetables, looking strangely at-home. Aizawa flounders to try and remember the man’s name, but he comes up blank.

“Oh, Aizawa! Welcome back.” Yagi greets him cheerfully, waving with his free hand. The detective looks up too, smiling at Aizawa before a look of recognition flashes across his face.

“Oh, you! I never got your statement--”

“Yamada didn't tell you?”

“Well, he did, but I'd like to hear it from you too, if I could.”

Aizawa sighs, looking around the kitchen before asking Yagi for a cup of water. The detective just blinks and watches as he downs an entire cup in one go, clearly still waiting for an answer.

“If you're staying for dinner, then I'll tell you then. I need a shower.”

“Oh, alright! Thank you for your time, Mr. Aizawa.”

“Sure.” He says, depositing his glass in the sink before taking his leave. He quickly grabs his things and rushes upstairs, the music growing in volume as he enters the second floor. He can't see Yamada anywhere, so Aizawa makes the safe assumption that he must be in his room, heading to his own to drop his bags with a relieved sigh. He resists the urge to flop down on the bed, knowing he isn't getting up again if he does that. There isn't much for him to do but unpack, which goes fairly quickly in his haste to grab his toiletries and jump into the shower.

He heads out of his room with his towel and toiletry box, stopping outside of the bathroom door as he notices the light is on inside. So that’s where Yamada is, he thinks to himself, beginning to turn around just as the door swings open, revealing Yamada in a different robe from before in a dark green color that makes Yamada’s eyes seem to glow in comparison.

“Oh, Aizawa, you're back!” Yamada says loudly, trying to be heard over the music. “I was about to dry my hair, did you need to use the bathroom?”

“I was going to take a shower.”

“Oh, sure thing! Go right ahead. Do you mind if I dry my hair while you're in there?”

“Uh.”

“Too awkward? Too awkward. My bad. I'll just go downstairs.” Yamada grabs his expensive looking hair dryer as he chatters, and Aizawa has to duck inside the bathroom and close the door to block out all the noise. Turning the shower on drowns out the music and whatever Yamada tries to tell him through the door by yelling. Aizawa sighs in relief. He gets the feeling that sighing is going to be his newest pastime.

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Dinner is almost as awkward as brunch, but Aizawa powers through, mostly just talking to the detective to give an unofficial statement about the party-turned-fiasco. He finally remembers the plain-looking man’s name-- Tsukauchi Naomasa, apparently-- as Yagi bids the man goodnight. Yamada spies on the two through the kitchen door, but he makes a noise of disappointment once Aizawa hears the door close, as if Yamada has been expecting something.

“Really got some hope for those two.” Yamada whispers to him before Yagi comes back, and Aizawa recalls Yamada said something similar to him earlier that day.

“You're setting them up?” He whispers back, closing his mouth as Yagi enters the kitchen with a dopey smile on his face. Yamada just nods, throwing his long hair over his shoulder and collecting the empty dishes for washing.

Aizawa moves to join him by the sink, waving Yagi off as he tries to help.

“Hey, you cooked everything. The least we can do is wash.” Aizawa says, shooing Yagi away. Yagi bashfully scratches the back of his head, laughing softly.

“Ah, you two are too kind. I don't mind, honest.”

“But we do insist.” Yamada shoots back with a grin, nudging Aizawa with his elbow.

“Yeah, we’ll handle it. Why don't you go relax?”

“Alright, alright, you've made your point! You can find me in my room if you need me, but I think I shall be retiring for the night.”

“In that case, sleep well! Sweet dreams you sweet man.” Yamada calls after him.

Aizawa hears Yagi walking down the hall to his bedroom, and Yamada starts talking once they both hear the click of the door closing.

“Ok, don't get me wrong, I do love that man, but not, like, romantically? But he totally deserves to have someone, and well, it's a long story, but--”

“Okay, so you're setting him up with this detective, Tsukauchi, right? I'll keep my mouth shut.”

“My friend! Don't stay silent if you think you can help. I just want Toshinori to realize it's never too late for love to bloom.”

Aizawa cracks a grin- Yamada is as dramatic as the first time they met, but the sentiment is very sweet of him. It's a far cry from the self-absorbed first impression he got. Yamada grins back, flinging a soap-bubbled hand into the air theatrically.

“A smile! So it's possible! I've cracked the code--”

Aizawa just huffs and splashes Yamada with the dishwater, shaking his hands dry as he stalks towards the stairs.

“What? Hey! Where are you going?”

“To bed, like a sane person. Goodnight, Yamada.” Aizawa risks a glance back to the kitchen as he stands at the foot of the stairs, finding Yamada smiling at him with a strangely gentle look on his face.

“Oh, yeah, sure, goodnight.” Yamada calls back, turning away quickly to continue washing the dishes. Aizawa just watches him for another moment before ascending the stairs, a strange feeling settling into the bottom of his stomach.

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Aizawa jolts awake at the sound of screaming and crying, his breathing labored, sweat covering his brow. He takes a long moment to go through the mantra he uses every time he wakes from a nightmare- it's not real, you're not in pain, the loud screams are just imaginary- but he has to stop at the third point, his eyes flashing open. The loud cursing is still happening. He rolls out of bed in one swift motion, running towards Yamada's room, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he wrenches the door open, almost dreading what he'll see--

Yamada suddenly cuts off in the middle of a long, drawn out yelling of the word “fuck” as Aizawa stares, Yamada gasping in mock outrage and drawing his bathrobe closed around his chest.

“Aizawa! Buddy! what--”

“Why were you screaming?”

“What? Oh, that?”

“Yes, that! I thought you were dying!” Aizawa growls out, still agitated from his nightmare. He closes his eyes and focuses on taking deep, calming breaths even as Yamada continues to speak.

“Just something I do to think, sometimes. There were a fair bit of loose ends from my last case, and I had an idea--”

“Can you please do it without screaming and groaning at four in the morning?”

“Oh, c’mon, it's not that loud? It's never woken Toshinori up, at least.”

“Well, he's probably used to it.” Aizawa says, scrubbing at the sweat on his face. Yamada frowns, taking a step forward to get a better look.

“Hey, are you alright? You're looking a little--”

“It's nothing.” Aizawa spits out, cutting Yamada off for the third time so far. “Just, go to sleep or something. Or at least be quieter. I'm going back to bed.”

Yamada watches him go with a concerned expression but thankfully doesn't say any more, letting Aizawa walk off back to his room. He lies down on his messy sheets with a groan, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he's even going to be able to fall asleep again. Soft music begins to play from the direction of Yamada's room, a soothing melody from a string instrument. Aizawa puzzles over it until he falls asleep, too tired to realize it's only one instrument playing instead of a recorded orchestra.

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Aizawa's first official morning in his new room isn't the most pleasant, but when he compares it to the past few weeks of his life, he does see the improvement. His body aches as he urges himself out of bed at eight-am sharp despite the lack of uninterrupted sleep, clinging to his schedule like a lifeline. He'd rather try to nap later than sleep in, anyways.

It's much quieter now that Yamada is actually asleep, though he can hear someone moving around downstairs- must be Yagi. He ends up heading downstairs to help Yagi with household chores, if only for something to do while he waits for Yamada to wake up. He still isn't sure what this new job is really going to be like, and he ponders the possibilities while helping Yagi weed the gardens.

Aizawa almost assumes his kindness is what gets him a free breakfast, though Yagi quickly reassures him that Yamada already pays enough to cover the groceries when Aizawa asks- yet another thing he doesn't have to worry about, courtesy of his new “business partner”. Yagi badgers Aizawa about his favorite foods while they enjoy a light breakfast of rice and eggs, and he adds Aizawa's answers down to a list for his next trip to the grocery store. It's nice, Aizawa thinks, to have someone worry about what he eats, and whether or not he likes it, too. He can almost see a future for himself here.

Again, Yamada’s awakening is heralded with a thud from the floor above them, and Aizawa wonders if he’s falling or jumping out of bed to make that much noise. He almost asks Yagi if he knows, but Yagi catches his questioning look and just shrugs as if reading Aizawa’s mind. Oh well.

“My good friends!” Yamada calls out as he slams open the door at the top of the stairs. Yagi and Aizawa just look at each other across the table in silence as they listen to Yamada stomping down the stairs just out of sight. How can one man be so loud in the morning? Yagi’s amused expression is at odds with Aizawa's own sour one.

“Good morning, Mic.” Yagi says as Yamada twirls his way into the kitchen, his robe swirling around dramatically. This time he's already dressed under the robe, wearing the same lounge-wear as yesterday. Aizawa just sips at his tea in silence, still sore about waking up to Yamada's yelling. Yamada seems to take notice.

“Good morning, Aizawa! Did you manage to sleep any more after my thinking session?”

“Thinking session?” Aizawa scoffs, not deigning to answer his question.

“Ah, my apologies! I did not realize my vocalizations would be so disruptive! From now on, I shall endeavor to only do so while you are awake!” Yamada says in a faux-cultured voice, sticking his nose in the air to complete his bad impression of a snob.

“Hm. Don't use that word.”

“Hah?”

“Endeavour. It reeks of entitlement.”

“Mm, true, it does seem a bit cursed, now that you mention it. Then I shall just say- I will do better.” Yamada gives Aizawa a little bow, and Aizawa almost wonders if he's being mocked again, but Yamada's voice is nothing but genuine this time. “I do not wish to cause my new investigative partner undue stress before our first real case together!” And the teasing tone returns.

“Yeah, whenever that is. How do you get your cases, anyways?”

“Emails, phone calls, mail pigeons-” Yamada grins as Aizawa shakes his head to try and hide the smile growing on his face. “Ok, just the first two, usually. Though this one time someone came to me in person-”

Yamada is cut off by the ringing of the doorbell, and they all look at each other in silence before Yagi stands and goes to answer the door. Yamada is in the process of grabbing himself some tea when Yagi calls out for him, grabbing Aizawa's attention as well.

Aizawa follows behind Yamada by a few paces as he goes to investigate, the two of them finding a distraught-looking older woman standing on the porch.

“Detective Yamada?” She asks in a wavering voice, clearly trying to keep her composure. Yamada steps forward with a reassuring smile, ushering her inside even as Aizawa moves to protest, wondering why Yamada is so nonchalant about inviting a stranger inside.

“Please, call me Mic!”

“Ma’am-” Aizawa holds up his hand, stopping the two of them in their tracks. “May we get a name? And why you're here?”

“Aizawa, I was about to ask.”

“You should probably ask people before inviting them inside.” Aizawa shoots back, leveling a flat look at the stranger. She swallows nervously, straightening her back as she steels herself.

“Ah, my apologies, I don't mean to alarm anyone… I was told by officer Sansa that I could get some help here? My name is Yukiko.Tanaka Yukiko.”

“Help? What sort of help?” Yamada presses, holding out his fresh cup of tea for her to take.

“Well, it's my husband. He's been kidnapped.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aizawa keeps a close eye on their supposed client as Yamada talks with Mrs. Tanaka in the kitchen, standing behind and to the left so she can't see him. She describes the situation with a shaky voice, sipping at the tea whenever her voice threatens to give out. According to her story, her husband disappeared three nights ago, with video evidence from their apartment building’s parking lot of two people shoving him into a car and driving away. The police were contacted already, but they have no leads, and the car that was used has already been found, dumped in the warehouse district.

“I know he was kidnapped for money. I just know it. His mother recently died, you see, and he was about to come into possession of all her assets. But it's so strange, we haven't even received any sort of ransom note at all! The police won't talk to me anymore, now that they suspect I did it, but I swear I didn't! I'm already married to him, why would I get rid of him for an inheritance he would share with me?”

Yamada hums and nods a lot as he listens, his own tea nearly untouched. His foot taps against the floor as he thinks for a moment, filling the silence with the fwap-fwap sound of his slippers.

“So you want me to find your husband and clear your name, yes?”

“Yes, please! I can pay. And if you can talk to the police-”

Yamada holds up a hand to stop her, shaking his head.

“I can't do much with them if they have you as a suspect, and I have you as my client. But not to worry. The security footage is backed up by the apartment security, right?”

“Yes, I assume they kept a hard copy…”

“Good, then we'll start there. And I'll need to know about coworkers, friends- how about this. You tell me everything you told the police, and then I will ask all the questions they did not. Sound reasonable?”

“And before that, might I ask if you've had anything to eat this morning?” Yagi injects himself into the conversation, holding a carton of eggs in one hand. “I was about to make some food for my friend, I'd be happy to make extra.”

“Oh, uhm, sure?” Mrs. Tanaka replies hesitantly, her nervous fingers turning her empty cup in circles. Yamada's gaze meets Aizawa's over her shoulder, and Aizawa wonders what Yamada must be thinking for him to be making such a closed-off expression.

Yamada barely eats his breakfast, too focused on their new client. Yagi tries his best to get Yamada to eat anyways, clearly used to dealing with his wandering attention. Mrs. Tanaka at least finishes her plate, mostly out of politeness, but she compliments Yagi’s culinary skills as he clears the dishes away. He ends up engaging her in conversation once he forces Yamada to finish his plate, though Aizawa catches Yamada listening intently as Yagi inquires about her family and how she's been dealing with the recent funeral on top of her husband's kidnapping. Aizawa isn't sure what he should make of that information, too bored to listen as she spills her heart out to Yagi’s attentive ears.

Mrs. Tanaka is escorted out by Yamada once he's finished eating, full of promises and polite words as he agrees to meet her at her apartment building. Aizawa watches her through the front window, taking note of the chauffeur waiting for her with a car parked on the curb. The chauffeur is quick to hold the door for her, and they hold a conversation Aizawa can't hear before he closes the door and returns to the driver's seat.

Aizawa spends the next hour relaxing as Yamada gets ready to go. Most of Yamada's time seems to be spent choosing an outfit, but then he spends quite a bit of time on his hair, spraying it with who-knows-what and trying out a few styles before settling on a large braid with his bangs left out. His yellow glasses are the last piece before Yamada finally declares his readiness, earning him an annoyed look from Aizawa.

“Think you took long enough?” He asks sarcastically, grabbing a light coat from his room. He doesn't really need it, but he has a few extra things in the pockets, just in case.

“No, I'm sort of rushing things today.” Yamada replies with a smile. Aizawa can't tell if it’s a joke or not. He hopes it’s a joke.

Yamada orders them a ride as they head out, so the trip to the apartment building goes quicker than Aizawa thought it would. Yamada pays the driver as Aizawa steps out and cranes his neck trying to look up at the tall building before them, all clear glass with fancy-looking details.

“Snazzy, huh?” Yamada comments as he comes to stand next to Aizawa.

“Excessive.”

“True. Give me a nice house any day. But don't deny you'd like to stay here even one night if you didn't have to pay for it.”

Aizawa just grunts and follows Yamada's lead as they head inside. It's a little jarring to realize they're already on their first case together, but Aizawa steels himself and forces himself to focus, shoving away his distracting thoughts about the rich decor and Yamada’s shining hair.

They stop by the front desk to get signed in, following the woman’s directions to the elevator they need. She promises to let security know they'll be by with Mrs. Tanaka Yukiko later, already typing something into her computer. Aizawa is surprised Yamada stays silent until they get inside the elevator, though the grin on his face is a little concerning when Yamada turns to face him as soon as the doors close.

“What?” Aizawa grumbles, a little unnerved by Yamada's sudden cheer.

“You need a nickname!”

Aizawa just blinks and raises an eyebrow, feeling dubious.

“No, hear me out! I go by Mic when I'm on a case, or Present Mic doing one of my shows, so you should totally have a nickname when we’re on the job! Or a code-name, if you want to be more professional about it.”

“I don't see the point.” Aizawa says, turning to look at the floor counter ticking up to their destination.

“Well sure, you think I'm just playing around. But do you really want me to call you by your legal name in front of a bunch of angry strangers if things happen to go sour? Ah yeah, this is my partner, Aizawa Shouta, you can find him in the phone-book--”

Aizawa snorts, shaking his head.

“Okay, I get your point. I need a code-name. But what? Mic sounds like Mike, so should I choose one that sounds like a different name?”

“Nah, that's boring! And Mic is short for microphone, anyways.”

“Okay?”

“Now, we need something cool, sort of ominous, make sure people don't underestimate you.”

“I'd rather be underestimated than overestimated. One person can only do so much.”

“Sure, sure. Anyways, how about… Punisher?”

Aizawa just fixes Yamada with an incredulous stare.

“Okay, too on the nose? Well then, how about… Eraserhead? And I can call you Eraser for short!”

Aizawa just sighs, sensing how long and drawn out this will get if he doesn't do something. He just shrugs and nods, not finding this second idea as terrible as the first. It's much better than being subjected to a barrage of nicknames for who knows how long, anyways.

“Yeah, fine, I'll go with that.”

“Really?” Yamada grins, his excitement clear on his face. “That's great! Say, are you ready, Eraser? Let’s get this case under wraps!”

Aizawa thanks the gods when the elevator finally dings and the doors open. Yamada practically leaps out of the elevator in his haste to get going, and Aizawa can just imagine him vibrating with all the energy he seems to have. He trails behind as Yamada mutters the apartment number, though there only seems to be five apartments on the floor despite how long the hallway is. He can see security cameras installed in the ceiling, along with security pin pads for every apartment. Their destination is the one furthest down the hall, and Yamada stops before the door, turning to watch Aizawa catch up.

“Ready for the real thing?” Yamada asks. Aizawa steps next to him and regards the dark wooden door in front of them.

“Yeah. Lead the way, Mic.”

Chapter Text

For all that Yamada-- or Mic, as he wants to be called-- plays up the idea of being a private detective, the real thing starts out rather slow. And boring. Aizawa finds himself trying to focus on the job as his mind keeps drifting.

Yamada has been chatting with their client for almost an hour now as they walk around the apartment together. They've started falling into a pattern: Mrs. Tanaka shows him where the police rifled through her and her husband's things, Yamada takes a look, then asks her a few questions of his own as they tidy it up. Rinse and repeat for nearly every drawer, cabinet, and picture frame in the apartment proper. And it's a very large, lavish apartment.

Aizawa mainly keeps an eye on the door and looks at the family photographs scattered around, only half-listening as Yamada once again asks about her side of the family.

“Well, my mother did visit a few days ago. I wasn't comfortable letting her stay, what with, well, some personal issues between us. She seemed more apologetic than usual, so I thought maybe she was finally turning things around, but my husband seemed to think she was just trying to get into my good graces while we're in mourning. I haven't contacted her since the kidnapping. I can't deal with her right now, anyways.”

Yamada nods, patting her shoulder as he points out he only noticed pictures of one side of the family. She nods, confirming his suspicions, and Yamada smoothly moves on to ask about her husband's work associates. Now that they've gone through the entire apartment they finally sit down together on the fancy couch in the middle of the room.

Aizawa tries to pay attention to this part more, but he zones out when he realizes it's just as boring. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do with all this random information anyways. He figures Yamada knows what he's doing, trusting him to make sense of everything.

A knock comes just as Yamada is turning the conversation to their friends, and Shouta holds up a hand to signal his intent to answer the door. He approaches it suspiciously even as Mrs. Tanaka and Yamada stand up, curious about the new visitor themselves.

He looks through the high-tech camera on the door, spying a man in a security uniform standing outside. He describes the man to Mrs. Tanaka, and she nods in recognition.

“Yes, I know him. He's one of the security officers, mister… Roger? You can let him in.”

Aizawa shrugs and unlocks the door, though he gives the man a thorough once-over before he steps aside to let him in. Roger seems rather unimpressed with the situation, but he doesn't say anything. Probably used to all the rich-people antics that happen here on a day-to-day basis.

“Hello Mrs. Tanaka. Are these the visitors I'm supposed to show the security footage to?”

Mrs. Tanaka nods, gesturing for Yamada to take the lead.

“Yeah, I'm the private investigator she hired. You've probably heard of me? Present Mic?” Yamada grins and holds out his hand while the man continues to stare with a bored expression. Yamada pulls his hand back. “Huh, tough crowd. Whatever. I just wanted to see the footage you showed the police, and any footage with Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka and their family in it for the past few days?”

“With me in it? And our family? Whatever for?” Mrs. Tanaka asks with a worried voice. Yamada places a hand on her shoulder in a calming gesture.

“To see if we can spot someone watching you come and go. For a kidnapping to go without a hitch they usually stalk their victim for days or weeks ahead if time to find the perfect moment. Considering your mother-in-law died very recently, they probably only started stalking you two out pretty recently as well, if we're gonna assume they're after that inheritance money, ya dig?”

Mrs. Tanaka doesn't look reassured at all, but she nods in understanding anyways.

“Good! Do you have a moment to join us? I'm going to need you to help us find the footage we need, though if you can't I'm not going to force you. I've watched through weeks of footage before, I'm quite good at it!”

Mrs. Tanaka shakes her head.

“I don't want to watch any of it… please understand.”

Aizawa groans as he considers the thought of just sitting around watching footage fast-forward for hours. But at least it beats running around. Maybe he can take a nap in the back.

“That's fine. My pal Eraser here is gonna help me anyways, right?”

Shit.

“Yeah. Fine.” Aizawa says as he accepts his fate. Just do your job, he thinks to himself. “Do you have pictures of the family that visited you so we can recognize them?”

Mrs. Tanaka nods again and grabs one of the framed pictures and her phone. The framed picture has a clearer shot of her husband, with an older couple that must be Mrs. Tanaka’s in-laws, but the picture of the woman on the phone is a bit blurry. The woman looks like Mrs. Tanaka, though obviously older and with a forced-looking smile on her face.

“You don't have any other photographs of her?”

“No… like I told Mr. Ya- I mean, Detective Mic here, we haven't been in touch in awhile.”

She casts a nervous glance at Roger but he doesn't seem to be paying attention as he scrolls through something on his phone.

“That's fine! We can manage! Thank you for your time Mrs. Tanaka, I'll be sure to text you with updates or questions, so keep your phone on you. And keep me in the loop if the police drop by again? Ah, though before I leave…”

He makes a motion with his hand that Aizawa doesn't understand, though their client seems to get the message as she gasps and nods. She quickly pulls something out of a nearby desk, which is revealed to be a checkbook as she tears off a page and hands it to Yamada.

“Your advance, yes, like we agreed. Thank you so much for taking the case despite, well, everything.”

“Oh, no problem-o. We'll get this case split wide open like a coconut in no time!”

Roger takes a moment to sigh loudly.

“Alright, can we go?”

Aizawa nods and gestures for them to leave, forcing Yamada to finish his farewell and follow them or risk being left behind. Roger eyes them as they take the elevator down to the first floor, this time heading through a locked door marked “private” behind the elevator lobby.

“So, Roger, right? How long have you been working here?” Yamada asks as they file into the small video room set to the side of the main security office. There's another security guard sitting around, seemingly on his break, listening to a radio as a third guard does his rounds outside.

“A while.” He grunts. Aizawa gets the sense they aren't going to get much out of him. Or Yamada isn't at least. “Here's the footage. You can look everything up by date here.”

“I've worked these things before.” Yamada says, waving Roger off. Roger just rolls his eyes as he shares a look with Aizawa. Aizawa shrugs one shoulder, rolling his eyes in agreement. Roger snorts and sits down in the back, clearly meaning to keep an eye on them while they peruse the footage.

Yamada is already typing away as he pulls up the footage he needs, ignoring everything else in the room. Aizawa takes a moment to get Roger’s attention with a quiet question.

“So, working here must be pretty easy, right?”

“Easy enough.”

“Do you get these rich types asking you to carry things for them like you're some sort of doorman?”

Roger snorts and nods. “Oh, yeah. Some of them are alright, but then you get those folks who're just out of touch with everything, go ‘round treating everyone like their wait staff and whatnot.”

Aizawa hums and nods, urging him on.

“The Tanaka’s ain't so bad, but they're the type to just keep to themselves. Can't hold a conversation with us common folk, I suppose. Her mother- the one that came, right? Not the dead one. Well, she was the bossy type. Asking us to do this and that, while we were trying to verify her to even get in the building!”

“Sounds like a fucking hassle.”

“Oh yeah, real pain in my ass. Luckily she spent most of her time sucking up to her son-in-law once he came down and I didn't have to deal with her again.”

“Her daughter didn't come to get her?”

“Nah. Maybe she wasn't home. I wouldn't know.”

“Mm. Thanks.”

“Yeah. You gonna help yer boss out like he said, or..?”

“Might as well. Hopefully it will go quicker. Not like I've done this before.”

Roger snorts and nods, pulling out his phone again.

“Figured. Gotta stay and watch you two in here, but feel free to leave if you need to.”

Aizawa gets the sense that Roger is assuming a few things about why he's shadowing Yamada, but most of them probably aren't too far off the mark so Aizawa doesn't bother trying to explain anything. He was originally just supposed to be a bodyguard. He has the information he wants, anyways.

Yamada winks at him once he finally comes to sit in front of the playback console. Clearly he heard everything. Aizawa is just glad it wasn't meant to be a private conversation, even if Roger was under the assumption Yamada couldn't hear them. Aizawa just shrugs and turns to look at his console. It looks like a normal computer, but the program on the screen isn't very familiar looking. There are a lot of small icons with strange pictures that must be important, but he doesn't understand what most of them do. He pauses, trying to figure out what to do without asking Yamada for help.

“Here, I already pulled up the footage from the day in question here.” Yamada says as he leans in close, hitting a few keys as he brings up one of the cameras into full screen. “Spacebar stops and starts it, hit the arrow keys twice if you want to fast forward or rewind. Make sense?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Aizawa grumbles, hitting the spacebar with a little more force than necessary. At least he didn't have to ask.

He watches the scene unfold with a dispassionate gaze, but he supposes he can understand why Mrs. Tanaka wouldn't want to see this. Mr. Tanaka parks his car in a designated spot, locking his car leisurely before walking towards the elevator. His gaze is still on his phone even as the small black car comes up behind him, two masked men rushing out to grab him. Shouta pauses and takes pictures of the still frames with the least distortion.

“When I asked Mrs. Tanaka, she said the car gate is automatic. I already watched the gate footage and it seems they either stole or fabricated a pass that would get the gate to open.” Yamada butts in when he sees what Aizawa is doing, gazing at the still image on the screen. “You see something interesting?”

“Just want references for their physical appearances. Height, build, that sort of thing. They're both taller than Mr. Tanaka here. One of them is favoring his right arm- he isn't using it to drag Mr. Tanaka. Possible injury there. The driver can't be seen past those tinted windows but look,” here Aizawa points to where the back door of the car is still open. “The driver's seat is pushed really far back, you can see it here. The driver must be rather tall too. Though that's all I can really tell.”

Yamada smiles in delight at Aizawa's findings, patting him on the back a few times.

“Wow, you're good at this! I knew I made a good choice. Keep watching and we'll share our findings over lunch, how about that? I've already skimmed the past two days so I'm almost done.”

Aizawa is a little surprised that Yamada has gotten through so much footage already, but he does remember Yamada boasting about doing this sort of thing before. It makes him wonder just how many times Yamada has had to do things like this before. He eyes Yamada curiously for a moment, watching his slender fingers tap away at the keyboard. They remind him of someone playing the piano with how gracefully Yamada taps the keys. He turns back to his work with a shake of his head. Focus, Aizawa.

Fortunately for Aizawa, they're done with the videos pretty quick what with Yamada's clear skill and Aizawa's dogged determination. Aizawa takes a moment to text the photos to Yamada before he even asks, which earns him another delighted smile.

“First day and you're already a natural.” Yamada says, throwing an arm around Aizawa's shoulders as Roger escorts them back outside. “I'm surprised you're catching on so quick-- not that I doubt your intelligence, though.”

Aizawa just grunts.

“Hey! I just meant investigating is different from paramedical work, is all!”

“Maybe not as different as you think.” Aizawa says, stopping once they've exited the building. “Maybe the medical part is, but I need to figure things out at a glance to know what's happened and how to fix it, right? Most people I found weren't going to tell me themselves, were they? By the time I got to the scene, things were usually over by then.”

Yamada stays silent, obviously catching on to Aizawa's meaning. He lets Yamada squirm for a moment, watching him blink and rub the back of his neck before taking pity on him, turning and pointing towards a street with his head. There looks to be a fair amount of restaurants and shops in that direction. Aizawa just hopes it isn't all expensive.

“You said we'd get lunch right? Why don't you tell me what you've figured out so far.”

“Oh, right! Yeah! Follow me, I know a great place! Scrumptious food, my treat!”

Yamada's bubbly personality returns as he all but skips down the street, forcing Aizawa to do an awkward half-jog to keep up. Yamada notices and decides to speed up for some reason, laughing as they run across the street towards wherever Yamada is leading.

“What the hell, Mic?” Aizawa huffs as he catches up, stopping Yamada's mad dash with a well-timed grab to his elbow. Yamada just laughs. He's not as out-of-breath as Aizawa expected him to be.

“Just a little exercise to get the blood pumping! Makes me hungrier and keeps me in shape. Glad to see you can keep up! Lord knows I've had to chase a few people down, even if I can't technically arrest people. I mean, hey, whatever, right?”

“Sure, whatever.” Aizawa shrugs, looking around. “So where are we going?”

“Here!” Yamada points, drawing Aizawa's gaze to an old-style American diner. “They've got a wide selection and aren't as expensive as all the new shops that have been going up all around it. A local classic.”

“See, you struck me as the kind of guy who would like those expensive foodie restaurants.”

“Well sure, they're good for Instagram photos, but I prefer delicious food over aesthetic food. Toshinori has me spoiled since he started cooking.”

Aizawa just hums, silently agreeing about Yagi’s cooking skills. Yamada grins as if he knows what Aizawa is thinking.

They head inside and are seated by a harried looking waitress who rushes off before they even sit down. The large diner seems to be pretty full, the staff rushing around trying to keep up with the volume despite being short staffed. Yamada doesn't seem to mind, grabbing a piece of paper from next to the menus and writing down hia order. Aizawa grabs a menu.

Yamada starts tapping his fingers while Aizawa peruses the menu as if bored, but when Aizawa peeks over he menu he seems to be doodling something on the paper mat provided, tongue sticking out in concentration. It's kind of cute. He clears his throat awkwardly and puts the menu down.

“I'll just get the club and some water.”

“Hey, don't limit yourself on my account, I did say I'd pay--”

“Fine. I'll get some appetizer and a strawberry smoothie.”

“Which appetizer?”

“Doesn't matter to me. If it's free I'll eat it.”

“Ah, my childhood mantra! I'll get some of their fried zucchini- sounds weird but its really good, trust me.”

Aizawa just shrugs and puts the menu back where he found it. He's starting to get flashbacks to his free lunch with Nemuri. The main difference is Yamada hasn't ordered anything alcoholic yet. He writes everything down on the order pad and waves it in the air, attracting the attention of a passing server. They stop and grab the paper, looking at Yamada with a tired smile that's full of teeth. It's a bit unsettling, but Yamada just smiles back, unphased.

“Long time no see, man.”

“Hey dude! You look tired, they been overworking you?”

“Two people quit this week so we're just trying to keep up until the new hires can actually help. Did you want some water?”

“Yeah, just bring the pitcher?”

“Sure thing.”

The server rushes off with the paper, getting stopped on their way by another table. Aizawa watches as the server’s face slips into a happy mask, the toothy grin returning as the customers gesture to something on their table.

“So,” Yamada's voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Yamada watching him. “I gotta say, I was pretty impressed with how you got Roger to talk. Making me a common enemy? Classic.”

“Not an enemy so much as an annoyance.”

Yamada laughs.

“You know what I meant! So, I already have my suspicions, but I wanted to hear your thoughts first.”

“Is it the mother?” Aizawa asks, not completely serious. Yamada just blinks before grinning madly.

“Yes! So you were paying attention!”

“Wait, really?”

“I'm super positive. The way she acted in the car park the few times she was down there- there's footage of her looking at the doors specifically. All the other visitors don't even pay it any mind, whether they're driving or not. Suspicious on its own, but there's more. When I was talking to Mrs. Tanaka--”

“I don't really care about the details.” Aizawa admits, holding up a hand to stop him. He can remember how long Yamada was talking to her and he doesn't want to fall asleep before their food arrives. “I just want to know what we're supposed to do next. It's not like any of your ‘evidence’ proves it.”

“No, unfortunately not. I want to meet her, try and trap her into admitting it- but finding the husband takes priority. Which is the main thing we’ve been hired to do, anyways. We don't have to figure out who is guilty to get paid. Gotta follow the money, ya dig?”

Aizawa sits back as he digests that information. It's certainly a different way of looking at things.

“Well, since there's no ransom note, what do you think is really going on?”

“For sure? No clue! Lots of guesses, though. We can use the pictures you took to start with, though.”

Yamada looks as though he has more to say but is interrupted by the tired server from before, who is laden down with a tray holding their water and the strange appetizer Yamada ordered. Yamada sits back so he isn't in the way. The server sighs and sits down next to Yamada after putting everything down, setting Aizawa on edge. Yamada kicks his shin under the table.

“Man, I need a break.”

“Gonna join us then?” Yamada laughs, wrapping an arm around the server's shoulders. “Ecto, this is my new partner, Eraserhead. Eraser, this is my pal Ectoplasm. Ecto for short. He's one of my informants, the best, actually.”

Aizawa nods, feeling more at ease, but no less confused.

“Ectoplasm- I'm assuming thats a codename.” Aizawa comments, looking at the man's name tag. It's too smudged to make out Ectoplasm’s name. He figures that's deliberate.

“Yeah, Mic loves his nicknames.” Ectoplasm chuckles, his grin showing too many teeth again. “I don't mind it. So, are you here for pleasure or business?”

“Both my dude! I needed to ask if you've heard anything about a kidnapping, and introduce you to my new partner. And also introduce him to the good food.”

Yamada starts having a hushed conversation as Aizawa turns his attention to the fried sticks sitting in front of him. The snippets he can hear are all things he's already aware of so he doesn't bother trying to listen in. Instead he tries the zucchini, slowly demolishing the whole plate by the time Yamada turns his attention back to Aizawa.

“What the hell? You went to town on those sticks!” Yamada laughs as he gestures at the empty plate. Ectoplasm chuckles as he steals a drink of water from Yamada's cup.

“I've got to get back to helping.” Ectoplasm announces, turning to Yamada and holding out his hand. Yamada nods, surreptitiously digging in his pocket and pulling out a large wad of cash Aizawa hadn't known he was even carrying. He pulls out a few bills and slips them into Ectoplasm’s hand, mimicking a handshake as he stands up. It looks rehearsed, like they've done it before.

“Ok, that's a lot of money. Why would he work here if he can get that much just for some information?” Aizawa asks as soon as Ectoplasm is out of hearing range. Yamada snorts, shaking his head.

“Tips.”

“Tips?”

“It's a pun, but also- how else would he explain getting his hands on a bunch of cash not tied to his paycheck? He still pays taxes and stuff, and he isn't running this completely above board, so he works here, spreads information, and takes his tips home at the end of the night.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, pretty efficient, right? People have every reason to talk to their waiter for long periods of time, and to give them cash for good service. I'm just tipping him for a service most people aren't aware of.”

It makes sense, now that Yamada has explained it, but he can't help but wonder if there would be a better way to do things. But if this “Ectoplasm” is happy with the situation, he isn't going to say anything.

“You can come and ask him for things now that you've been introduced, too. I have a set fee with him, so just tell him to put it on my tab if it ever comes up.”

“I doubt I'll be needing to, but alright.”

A different server comes by with their food once its ready, and Aizawa realizes he hasn't seen Ectoplasm since his talk with Yamada, not even to serve other tables. He doesn't reappear until they're done with their admittedly-delicious food, Yamada patting his stomach with a pleased sigh.

“So, I called some people.” Ectoplasm announces as he slides into Yamada's booth again. Aizawa turns his gaze to the restaurant at large, though he doesn't spot anyone looking at them.

“Sure, and?”

“And I think you should go talk to some people on the south side. You remember the gangs that have been fighting over the nightlife district?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“Well, apparently they've been branching out a bit to keep up with the funds they need, doing jobs. The kind of jobs that got your client's husband kidnapped.”

“Sounds legit. I'll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“Of course, keep in touch, huh? And go pay with Melanie up front, I have to go handle a mess in the kitchen.”

Yamada laughs and shoos Ectoplasm off, taking the bill from from the tray Ectoplasm leaves behind. Aizawa snags the mint.

“So, what now?”

“We go talk to the living mother, but don't show our hand just yet. Just act like regular investigators hoping she saw something, maybe bumble a bit. Get her to let her guard down.”

“Then the south side?”

“Yeah.”

“You're not going to do anything stupid like provoking a gang member, are you?”

Yamada shakes his head and crosses his heart, but Aizawa doesn't trust his cute expression. No trouble-magnet can be as innocent as they look. Not that Yamada looks very innocent with that grin of his.

“I'm not worried,” Yamada laughs, getting up from the table and offering Aizawa his hand, “I have you to protect me.”

“I'd rather you not do anything that requires me to have to protect you, if you can help it.” Aizawa grumbles. He accepts Yamada's help up, feeling how long and slim Yamada's fingers are in comparison. Aizawa wipes his hand on his pants after he lets go to try and get rid of the tingling feeling.

“Ah, but it's not always my fault! Our first meeting was just--”

“I'll stop you there, before you make more of a fool of yourself.”

“So mean!” Yamada clutches at his chest dramatically, grinning madly as they make their way up front. They continue to banter as Yamada pays and they head out to find a cab. Aizawa finds himself smiling as Yamada gives the driver directions to a hotel.

Yamada explains the plan in a loud whisper as they sit in the back of the cab, sitting closer together than Aizawa thinks is appropriate for business partners. He doesn't say anything though, enjoying the press of Yamada's shoulders and thighs against his. He hasn't had many chances to touch people in a nonviolent way in a while. It's a depressing thought. He puts it out of mind to focus on Yamada's words, nodding along.

“Are you sure she'll believe we're incompetent?” Aizawa asks as they pull up outside the hotel Mrs. Tanaka's mother is staying at. It's not very impressive, just a regular, cheap family hotel. The stench of chlorine hits their noses as they step out of the cab. Aizawa offers Yamada his hand this time. Just returning the favor, obviously.

“Probably. I've done it before. I just have to look and act cute and unassuming and their assumptions do all the hard work for me.” Yamada laughs, winking at Aizawa in a flirtatious manner. Aizawa wonders if this is his idea of “acting cute”.

“Well, alright then. I'll follow your lead.” Aizawa says, gesturing for Yamada to go ahead. He isn't quite sure what to expect, but as they walk into the lobby and head to the elevator, he's sure he isn't going to enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Aizawa follows Yamada's lead as they head to the front desk to ask them to call for a Mrs. Yamaguchi. Yamada just plays with his phone while they call up to her room. The receptionist looks stressed for the entire hushed conversation. Just that speaks volumes as to the kind of person Mrs. Yamaguchi is, if the receptionist doesn't want anything to do with her.

“Uhm, she says you can go up. Her room is 503. She says she'll wait for you there?”

“Ah, thanks!” Yamada winks at her before flouncing off towards the elevators. Aizawa rolls his eyes as the desk worker blushes and watches him go. He can't tell if Yamada is acting already but he tries to follow suit, frowning more than he usually does as they get into the elevator.

“What's that face for?” Yamada asks as the elevator moves. Aizawa keeps frowning.

“You said we had to act right? I'm getting into character.”

“Ooh, surly, disinterested bodyguard trope. Got it. Good idea!”

Aizawa snorts in amusement, watching as Yamada hypes himself up. Yamada closes his eyes and twirls his hands, mouth moving as if saying something Aizawa can't hear. When Yamada opens his eyes, he grins and flashes a peace sign before twirling out of the elevator.

“Come on, dude! Right over here!”

It doesn't seem so different from how Yamada normally acts, but Aizawa can't be sure. He hasn't known Yamada that long. He just watches with a scowl as Yamada knocks on 503 and twirls a piece of loose hair between his fingers.

“Ugh, my hairdo is coming loose- oh, hey! Mrs. Yamaguchi, right?” Yamada perks up when the door opens and a dour woman in a hotel bathrobe greets them.

“Hello. The front desk said you had business with me?”

“Yes! Your daughter hired me to find her kidnapped husband! So sad, right? You must be so shaken up. The police think she did it. Well, hopefully not, but either way, I'll get paid, right?”

He laughs and winks while Aizawa cringes internally. If Yamada hadn't told him about acting beforehand, he would have thought the man was just being incredibly insensitive. As it is, the woman seems to believe it, her look turning calculated as she steps aside.

“Oh, well then, please come in. I assume you're here to ask me some questions?”

“If you'd be willing! I would certainly appreciate it!” Yamada says in a perky voice. It’s annoying. Aizawa is eternally grateful Yamada doesn't actually talk like that the rest of the time. At least, he hasn't heard him talk like this before.

Yamada brushes past her into the room and she turns her attention to Aizawa. He shrugs and grunts, crossing his arms and flexing his biceps. That's what they do in the movies. It seems to work a little too well as she looks him over and grins, ushering him inside. He's pretty sure she tries to sneak a peek at his ass when he walks past. Keep your cool, he thinks. Ignore her.

He stays standing by the door once she locks it, watching her walk over to the very small sitting area of two chairs and a table that looks more like a stool. There's one large bed in the room, meticulously made except for one corner that's thrown back, an open book lying on the pillow. Was she just lounging around before they got here? He can see some empty bottles sticking out of the tiny trash can- looks like shes a fan of the mini bar.

Yamada quickly engages her in small talk as Aizawa peers around the room without moving his head too much. She has a pile of luggage in the corner, expensive looking knock off brands. Everything looks untouched, though the bathroom door is closed.

“I'm gonna take a whiz.” He grunts, jerking his head towards the bathroom as Yamada and Mrs. Yamaguchi stop their conversation.

“Go right ahead young man, but do not touch my things. And be sure to wash your hands.”

“Geez dude, was it all that protein drink from earlier?” Yamada laughs. Aizawa just shrugs again and opens the bathroom door, quickly shutting it behind himself.

He looks around at the various beauty products and pill bottles piled on the sink while pouring some water into the toilet to keep up his facade. It seems like overkill, but with how neurotic the woman seems he doesn't put it past her to try and time him. Instead of trying to read everything, he simply pulls out his phone and takes a few quick pictures, washing his hands and stepping out after less than five minutes. Mrs. Yamaguchi side-eyes him but otherwise doesn't seem to realize his intentions. Good.

Aizawa spends the rest of the meeting eavesdropping as he looks out the peephole. He does his best to just act like a run-of-the-mill bodyguard, pretending to be disinterested in what they're saying. It's not too hard to act bored when he really is bored. If it wasn't for Yamada’s loud voice he's sure he wouldn't have heard much of anything.

Yamada plays up his bumbling persona, making sure to keep hinting that he thinks the client did it, “accidentally” of course. Yamaguchi seems to eat it up, if her expressions are anything to go by. She puts up minimal objections to Yamada's so-called suspicions, which turns Aizawa's stomach. What sort of mother would throw her own daughter under the bus? If he hadn't been sure of Yamaguchi’s involvement before, he would be now.

But how to prove it?

He figures Yamada is working on that now, with how he insisted they record the conversation. Maybe he's planning to catch her on a lie later? But it probably wouldn't hold up in court. He stops himself- their main goal is to get Mr. Tanaka home safe and sound. They can let the police worry about the law. That does simplify things, but he still wonders why Yamada wants to record it.

He shelves the thought as Mrs. Yamaguchi gets up and heads to the mini fridge, taking out a small bottle of champagne. She pours herself a glass as she talks, voice raised so Yamada can hear her across the room.

“I told her to look into a bodyguard service, something like you have there, but she isn't listening. Lord knows if I was her, I'd be scared half to death already!”

Aizawa wants to spit, her tone leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Does she really think she's fooling them?

“Anyways, I can't force her to do anything. I just wish she would return my calls. I long to comfort her, but she's shut herself away! Would you be so kind as to give her a message for me?”

Aizawa cringes and tries to tune out as Yamada writes down an unnecessarily long and rambling message full of passive-aggressive jabs, guilt tripping and poorly feigned concern. Again he wonders how this woman thinks she's fooling anyone.

“I'll give this to her the next time we meet.” Yamada reassures her, though Aizawa hopes he's just lying. That sort of message is just going to make their client feel worse.

“Oh, thank you so much young man. You're so kind, especially for taking my dear daughter's case.”

“Absolutely my pleasure, madam.” Yamada says with a pretentious bow. Mrs. Yamaguchi eats it up. She fawns over Yamada until he declares it's time to leave, and Aizawa can't blame him. Aizawa holds the door open while Yamada grabs his phone and speedwalks out as Yamaguchi follows them.

“Ah, leaving so soon? A shame! Take care!” She waves Yamada off before grabbing at Aizawa's arm. “You didn't get much chance to speak today, but come back tonight if you want your turn, hm?”

Aizawa grimaces and shakes her hand off.

“Aren't you married?”

“Oh, technically, sure. But he's been missing since he walked out and left us on our lonesome. Probably could have declared him dead years ago, but maybe a part of me just hoped-”

“Yeah, sure, ma’am. I need to watch my target.” He says gruffly, hurrying after Yamada. Yamada is just standing at the end of the hall, as if he'd realized Aizawa wasn't following at that point. He gives Aizawa a curious look as he draws near.

“What was that?”

“A proposition. And another red flag.”

“Oh? A proposition?”

Aizawa fills him in on the elevator ride down, sharing his suspicions and showing him the photos as Yamada laughs at him. Getting hit on by a drug-addicted geriatric psychopath wasn't exactly something he had planned for the day, and Yamada's teasing looks don't help his sour mood.

“Seriously, stop looking at me like that.”

“She propositioned you!” Yamada laughs.

“Yeah, lets just gloss over that and focus on the fact that she probably killed her husband all those years ago.”

“Oh, I haven't forgotten. I'm gonna have to do some research into that- there's probably a reason she wanted him to be missing instead of framing someone so she could be a widow. That is, if she's the one responsible. I guess we'll have to see what we find, huh, hot stuff?”

Yamada purrs out the last two words and hip checks him. Aizawa turns away to try and hide his blush.

“Ugh. Shut up. Are you going to ask the client?”

“Hey, look at you, speaking like a true pro already! I figure we should ask if we can't find anything else. But we'll look elsewhere first.”

“Okay, so where to next?”

Aizawa looks around as they step out of the hotel, wondering if he should hail a cab. He isn't quite sure where they are right now. Yamada just claps him on the shoulder as he holds up his phone.

“I called a cab, dude, don't sweat it. We're headed back home for dinner, then if my suspicions are right, we're gonna hit the town later tonight.”

“You going to go talk to the gangs?” Aizawa frowns. “Are you sure that's safe?”

“Nope! That's why I have you!”

Aizawa sighs and looks to the sky, his thoughts flipping between his aggravation and the warm hand lingering on his shoulder.

Yagi is already preparing dinner with Shouto when they arrive home, the smell of garlic filling the air. Yamada breathes it in and heaves a happy sigh as he rushes into the kitchen, greeting everyone loudly as he peers over their shoulders. Aizawa enters the kitchen just in time to catch Shouto smiling as Yamada praises his dicing skills.

“My mother taught me.” Is all he has to say.

“Well you learned it well! Show me how to do it, I'm really bad at cooking.”

“Even after living with Mister Yagi?”

Yagi laughs and shoots Yamada a teasing smile. He blinks and waves as he notices Aizawa.

“I was still learning myself, when Hizashi first moved here. To be fair, I have dedicated a lot of my time to learning it. And hopefully, I can pass that onto you, young Shouto.”

Shouto nods and gets back to dicing. Yamada tells Yagi about their day as Aizawa wanders over to the fridge for something to drink. He leans on the fridge and sips some water, watching the domestic scene with tired eyes.

“Aizawa, why don't you go lie down?” Yagi suggests as he looks over from frying the tomatoes. Yamada turns to look as well, his gaze lingering on Aizawa's face.

“Yeah, I'll come wake you up for dinner. I'll just do some research for later. After stealing some food, of course.”

“You're going to ruin your appetite.” Yagi laughs. Aizawa considers his options before sighing and heading for the small living room. He eyes a poster in the hallway on his way, the famous boxer-turned-MMA fighter All Might standing tall in the ring. It’s an old poster, preserved well behind the glass. He blinks and stops, turning to look back in the kitchen. Yagi has his back turned, but a sliver of recognition passes through Aizawa's brain. Oh. That's one piece to something he didn't even know was a mystery.

He quickly retreats to the couch before anyone can drag him back into a conversation. He just flops down, uncaring of his position as he closes his eyes and wishes for sleep. The smell of cooking food and the muffled sound of happy conversations lulls him to sleep as quickly as his pills would, his body and mind relaxing in the safe atmosphere.

Chapter Text

Aizawa wakes up with a jolt, staring at Yamada with bleary eyes as the man squeezes his shoulder.

“Ah, you're awake!”

“Mrgng?”

Yamada blinks and starts laughing, falling onto his ass from where he was crouching next to the couch. Aizawa can see Shouto peek his head in to investigate the commotion. Aizawa just sits up and focuses on rubbing his eyes.

“You’re so loud.” He grouses as Yamada finally gets his laughter under control. “Is dinner ready?”

“Almost. Yagi is getting the garlic bread from the oven.”

“Mister Yamada isn't allowed near the oven.” Shouto chimes in from the doorway. His expression is slightly amused. Aizawa gets the impression that's his version of a full-blown smile. Yamada just scoffs and waves him away.

“It was one time! Whatever. Anyways, shouldn't you go help him? I've got business to discuss with my partner here.”

Shouto just gives a small smile and ducks out of the doorway, presumably to go help Yagi like Yamada suggested.

“Yeesh! Kids these days. Gotta love ‘em. Anyways, Eraser-”

“Eraser?”

“Your code-name, remember? We came up with it earlier? Don't tell me you forgot-”

Aizawa holds up his hands to get Yamada to stop talking, trying to get his own word in edgewise.

“Yeah, I remember. But why are you using it in private? Isn't it just to protect our identities on a case?”

“That's the main reason. Also, it's just fun. I love nicknames! And you won't let me call you Shouta.”

“We've known each other for two days.” Aizawa says. He wants to scowl, but it comes out more like a pout.

“Spoilsport. Whatever! Anyways, like I was saying, I did some research into our suspect, Mrs. Yamaguchi- or should I call her Yamagrabby?”

“Ugh. Please don't remind me.”

Yamada giggles and gets off the floor to sit next to Aizawa on the couch. Aizawa just slumps down into a more comfortable position. Yamada takes that as an invitation to lean into his space as he pulls out his phone. Aizawa can see some sort of picture app is open.

“So, it turns out she's quite the party animal. Those pills aren't all from her doctor, for one thing.”

“The ones in the bathroom?”

“Bingo! And I looked her up on Facebook and Instagram too, among other things.”

“I know what Facebook is, but what's Instagraham?”

“Insta-gram. Not graham. It’s for pictures. Which I found a lot of. She likes to schmooze it up with the wrong crowd, if you know what I mean. Drugs, gangs, bad money. When I Googled her it's all respectable stuff, Facebook this, resume that. She hides her proclivities, but not well enough.”

“How did you find her account then?”

“Well, that's the thing, she doesn't have one. But I had the idea to look for her on Instagram- I follow a lot of people, and more stuff is public. I just did a search for the city, narrowed it down to some bars where those drugs usually get sold, and bingo. There she was in the background of these pictures. I went through a lot, but I'll show you the best ones.”

Yamada leans heavily against his side, and for a moment Aizawa is too distracted by Yamada's body heat and the way his hair drapes across his shoulder to pay attention. He swallows and turns his face forward, finally focusing on the phone instead of how close Yamada's face has gotten.

“See, this one? Looks like a drug deal in the background. And here, at the other bar, she's got a man. And here, the same man. I saved some other pics-- here, some other guys she was with, but that first one is the most recent, and I found the most pictures with them together. Turns out he has an Instagram, and isn't shy about posting. Nothing illegal on the surface. At least, nothing that could be used against him in court. But look.”

Yamada has already been scrolling through so many pictures too quickly for Shouta to focus on, and now he quickly scrolls down the man’s feed, his username proclaiming him to be CashKing1738. There are plenty of “sexy” selfies, selfies with bros and various women, and pictures of money in expensive clips. The other pictures involve various expensive things like alcohol, cars, and clothing. Two weeks ago there is a picture of him with Mrs. Yamaguchi, the two of them clearly interacting.

Aizawa looks at it then huffs, elbowing Yamada in the side. He grunts and almost drops his phone, shooting Aizawa a confused look as he draws back.

“This is all fascinating, but what am I supposed to be taking away from all of this? Other than her, uh, proclivities.”

“Sorry, I was getting to that. Turns out he's a gang leader. Moved in recently from another city. It’s why the south district has been so volatile lately. He's been moving in on other people’s turfs. I'm guessing he's the one she hired to do the kidnapping job.”

Aizawa isn't sure of how Yamada is getting this information or if it can even be trusted, but that's not his job. His job is to be a bodyguard-slash-partner. And as a bodyguard, alarm bells are blaring.

“You're telling me, that we're going to a gang bar, on second hand information, to probe around and see if they kidnapped our client's husband? In the middle of a turf war?”

He starts in a low, steady voice, turning his head and slowly leaning in to stare Yamada in the eyes as he accentuates his final words. Yamada gapes at him for a moment, mouth flapping like a fish’s as he searches for what to say.

“Y-yeah? I mean, I have you!”

“You know a gang refers to multiple people. In a group. Hanging out together. Right?”

“Uh--”

“You need to have a very, very good plan before I agree to this. I can't protect you if I have to focus on protecting myself.”

“Oh. I can do that. I'm great at plans!”

“Like when we first met?”

“Hey, that worked out! Are you going to keep bringing that up?”

“Yes. We’ve only known each other for a few days. I'm not dropping that yet. You got it to work out for you then, but you can't just rely on luck and good looks.”

Yamada laughs and pauses as he thinks of something, sitting up from where he's draped over Aizawa's side. The room feels a bit colder now.

“Wait, you think I look good? Like, attractive?”

Now the room is too hot.

“You're a very fashionable man, Mic.” Aizawa grumbles, getting up from the couch abruptly. Yamada squeaks in surprise before hopping up to follow him. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“That's not what I asked!” Yamada whines. Aizawa retreats into the kitchen where Yagi and Shouto have set up the table for dinner.

“Ah, I was about to send Shouto to call you two again. Good timing!”

“This isn't over!” Yamada says. Aizawa just waves him off.

“We can discuss it later, when you've actually come up with a plan. Otherwise we are not leaving this house.”

“Oh? A plan for what?” Yagi asks as they all sit down.

“Nothing--”

“Interrogating a gang in their own territory.”

Yamada’s expression turns sour as Yagi’s eyes widen in shock and worry. Aizawa eats with a smile on his face as he listens to the man lecture Yamada about staying safe and not taking unnecessary risks. He shares a grin with Shouto when they're not looking. Yamada is pouting and pushing his food around like a toddler.

“Hizashi, please eat.” Yagi sighs once he's done chastising Yamada. “You don't think well when you don't eat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yamada says, slowly starting to eat. He's acting more like a sour teenager than an adult.

Aizawa sets to cleaning the dishes once he's done, waving for Yagi to sit back down. Yagi turns and engages Shouto in conversation, asking him about how school is going. Aizawa learns a few things, filling in the blanks from what he hears- Shouto is a senior, close to graduating at the top of his class, and is filling out applications for college. Also that he's made a new friend, a transfer like him.

“He's a big fan of yours.” Shouto says as Yagi sits up straighter. “I didn't tell him.”

“Ah. Thank you, young Shouto. But I trust your judgement, if you do wish to tell him eventually.”

Aizawa turns around to see Shouto nod with a happy look on his face. Aizawa remembers that feeling, the pride of knowing someone trusts you. It brings an old pang of sadness to his chest and he turns around, focusing on the dishes.

Yamada steps up beside him after a few minutes, offering his empty plate with a sheepish smile. Aizawa takes it.

“Have you come up with a plan?”

“Well, sort of--”

“We're not going until you have one. And if you know where we’re going, then you know the general floorplans, right?”

“Yeah, I've been to that area before. There are some nice bars down there, though the bar fights--”

“So draw them out for me. I'll meet you upstairs to discuss it before we head out.”

“Ooh, so bossy!” Yamada says, and for a moment Aizawa wonders if he's overstepped himself. He just got this job, after all. But Yamada continues with a grin, leaning in to whisper “I like that” before he saunters off towards the stairs.

Aizawa drops the plate in the sink.

Aizawa feels more composed once the dishes are dried and put away. Yagi hands Shouta two slices of pie to take upstairs for dessert.

“Just eat and relax. Don't worry if you forget the plates, Yamada does it all the time, it's no big deal. Just focus on doing your job well.”

“Thank you.”

“And be careful.” Yagi says, his expression soft and concerned. Aizawa just nods, turning and heading upstairs to find Yamada.

He finds Yamada lounging on the yellow lounge chair that he seems to be very fond of. The pose suits him, putting his long limbs on display, his undone hair cascading over the side to brush the floor. Yamada has an arm slung over his eyes until he hears Aizawa approaching, which has him getting to his feet with an energetic jump.

“Eraser! Done with the washing? Ooh, you brought dessert, how sweet!”

Aizawa grimaces at the pun and holds out the plate for Yamada to take. He sits down on the flower-print couch once Yamada has the pie, ignoring the way Yamada looks as he lies down again. His rising pulse is harder to ignore. It's easier to just focus on the pie.

Yamada babbles on about the bar he's planning to go to, talking about the layout, the owner and even its profits from the past three years in between bites. Aizawa nods and grunts to show he's listening, slowly slumping down into the comfortable cushions. He's pretty sure he'd be falling asleep if it wasn't for his nap earlier.

He looks up from his uneaten treat to find Yamada’s eyes lingering on him. His expression is hard to read. Aizawa blinks and raises an eyebrow and Yamada coughs as he swallows his pie too fast.

“You look- tired. Was your nap not enough?”

Aizawa frowns. He's pretty sure Yamada meant to say something else, what with the suspicious pause before tired. But what, he isn't sure. It's probably not worth worrying about.

“I always look tired. And you woke me up last night anyways.”

“Jeez. You sure like to hold a grudge! First the party, now this- whew! Whatever. Eat your pie while I get the blueprints from my laptop, I had one of my friends get them for me.”

“You have a lot of friends, dont you?”

“Of course! A cool guy like me always makes new friends.”

Aizawa just grunts and eats a small bite of the pie. It's good. He isn't expecting Yamada to come sit next to him with the laptop, but then he remembers what happened earlier and starts to wonder if this is going to keep happening. He should speak up now before Yamada gets comfortable, but there's something nice about having Yamada in his space. Especially when Yamada presses up against his side like it's a familiar gesture, fitting against him so well as he points to something on his laptop screen.

Right. The blueprints.

The scans aren't the best, what with how old the blueprints probably were, but they do the job. He has Yamada go over their escape routes while he finishes his pie, keeping his eyes locked on the screen. He can't keep getting distracted like this. He needs to foster a working relationship, not whatever it is his brain is trying to suggest. He can't interpret Yamada’s overly-friendly nature as something more, not when Yamada is so open and touchy-feely with everyone else in his life.

Better to keep it professional. He makes that promise to himself as Yamada drapes an arm across his shoulders, along the back of the couch, and he knows it's going to be a long job.

Yamada leaves Aizawa alone once they’ve discusses all the “what-ifs” to Aizawa’s satisfaction. He finishes his pie to the sound of Yamada singing loudly in his room. There are a few mysterious banging sounds, which Aizawa interprets as drawers being opened and closed forcefully. He can't stand the idea of a mess, so he brings the dirty plates down despite Yagi’s previous insistence.

Coming back up the stairs, he’s treated to the sound of Yamada flinging his door open and announcing, “The man of the hour is here! Wait, where did he go?” Aizawa pauses at the top of the stairs, smiling to himself before he opens the door.

“What are you doing?” He asks in an amused tone, pausing when he finally sees Yamada standing across the room. Yamada has changed his outfit again. He's wearing leather. Tight leather. The red belt draws attention downward, and Aizawa forces himself to focus his gaze upward to the large shades covering Yamada’s eyes. They're triangular, so they are obviously a different pair than what he wore to the gala.

“What do you think?”

“What the hell are you wearing?” He chokes out, frowning in an attempt to keep himself from blushing madly. Yamada deflates from his Ta-dah pose.

“One of my favorite outfits? What, is it bad? I thought I'd fit right in! And everyone tells me it makes me look sexy. Doesn't it?”

“Doesn’t it what?”

“Make me look sexy.”

“Don't ask me that question.” Aizawa snaps. Yamada deflates some more before sighing.

“Eh, I should have figured… Well! I'm ready to go interrogate some low-lives. How about you?”

“As ready as I'll ever be. My jacket is downstairs. Is there a bouncer at the door?”

“Yeah, but I can get us in without a pat-down. If that's what you're worried about?”

“Hm. Worrisome. But I'll take it.”

“Eh, what can you expect? It’s a den of thieves.”

“In that case, I'll grab my taser and meet you downstairs.”

“Oh, good idea! I have a knife.”

Aizawa pauses with his hand on the doorknob to his room. Surely he didn't just hear that?

“You… have a knife? ”

“Yeah! Just a small one. In my boot, for escaping if they tie me up!”

“Oh thank god.”

“What, did you think I was going to stab people? I'd rather run away and scream at them.”

“Gonna give me a goddamn heart attack…” Aizawa mutters under his breath as he retrieves his taser. He slips it into his pocket under his wallet so it doesn't look so obvious.

Yagi meets them at the door to wish them well, chatting amicably with Yamada as they grab their shoes and coats. Or, Aizawa grabs his coat. Yamada already has his leather number on. There are a few patches on the back he didn't see before, but the one that catches his eye has “Present Mic- Say Hey!” stitched in a rainbow of colors around a microphone. Luckily it's too small to be obnoxious. Or too obvious.

“Please be careful you two. Don't risk your lives unnecessarily.”

“Big words from mister hero!” Yamada laughs and brings Yagi into a one-armed hug. “I kid. Thank you for worrying. But I have Eraser now, I'll be just fine! Peachy-keen!”

“If you say so. I'm glad you're finally being smart about this.”

Aizawa snorts at that, and gets a friendly pat on his shoulders from Yagi as he steps past him out the door. Yamada follows as he sputters in outrage.

“Hey! You two, really, ganging up on me like that, ugh!”

Yamada calls a cab to take them downtown, the two of them squeezing into the back seat. Aizawa can't help but notice how Yamada sits in the middle, close enough that their thighs touch, despite all the space by the other window. His brain tells him not to overthink things.

As they approach the south side his thoughts turn to more important things, like how he's going to keep Yamada safe. Obviously he’ll have to stick close, but not in a suspicious way. They aren't dressed similarly enough to pretend they're in a biker gang together. Coworkers going for drinks maybe? Friends out on the town? He turns to ask Yamada about this part of the plan they overlooked, but Yamada beats him to the verbal draw, making his mouth go dry in surprise.

“Hey, I was thinking about our story- wanna be my date?”

Chapter Text

Aizawa pauses after Yamada asks that question, mind whirring as he tries to come up with an appropriate answer. A forceful “yes” sits on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it in. Yamada specifically said it’s a story. This is not the time to be reading into things.

“That's your story?” He asks instead. It comes out with an undertone of disbelief that makes Yamada look up from his phone and blink.

“Well, yeah, since the guys won't feel like we’re there to steal their girls, we can whisper to each other without it being suspicious, and, like, you have a reason to act all protective of me without just coming off as a hired hand, and--”

“Okay, okay.” Aizawa holds up his hands to stop Yamada from talking. “I get it now. That makes sense. Just, give a guy some warning next time.”

“Huh? Why?” Yamada tilts his head, eyeing Aizawa curiously. “If it makes you uncomfortable we can just be cousins, or old roommates, or--”

“No, it's fine. I'll be your date.” Aizawa says a little too quickly. He turns to look out the window as Yamada studies him with a curious look on his face.

“Okay, perfect!” Yamada's mood brightens again and he starts talking animatedly and texting as their driver turns down a dimly lit street. Aizawa is only half listening as he eyes the derelict buildings boxed in by new development and old restaurants. Soon they come to a block filled with bars, drunkards and party goers alike lingering on or near the street as neon lights flash. Their driver makes a hard break as someone stumbles out into the street, but Yamada doesn't even notice, too caught up in his own world.

“So, you can call me Mic, they'll think it's Mike anyways, and I can call you Shoucchan, since that's only part of your name and leaves no doubt as to my affections, and I'll be sure to whisper to you if I need you to keep an eye on someone, but specifically, we need to look for that guy--”

Aizawa just nods until the car finally pulls up to a bar clearly set in a basement, neon signs advertising beer and food cluttering up the narrow windows. The floor above it houses a breakfast restaurant that is currently closed. He can still see someone inside, walking around in the darkness. Are they cleaning? Or doing something else? He can't quite see-

“Earth to Shoucchan- ” Yamada sing-songs in Aizawa’s ear, finally jerking him out of his thoughts. “Oh, you're awake! Hello!”

“What? I was thinking.”

“I paid the dude already, let's go inside!”

Yamada laughs and chambers over Aizawa's lap to get out of the cab, ignoring Aizawa's protests. Aizawa follows with a frown on his red face. Yamada makes a show of linking their arms together, already playing the part of smitten boyfriend, and Aizawa realizes he might be in trouble.

How is he supposed to concentrate with Yamada smiling at him like that?

They walk into the bar together, flashing their ID’s quickly to the disinterested bouncer inside. He doesn't even take out his flashlight to check them, going back to the gambling app on his phone. Aizawa bites his tongue. If the man doesn't want to do his job, it isn't Aizawa's problem. Aizawa's problem is tugging at his arm and begging him for a martini sour.

“Yeah, yeah, Mic, I heard you.” He grumbles, hoping the dim light is hiding his blush. But from the look on Yamada's face he's guessing it isn't. He leads the way to the bar just for something to do, claiming a seat on the end that gives him a good view of the bar.

“Aw, you're so cute when you're mad!” He teases, making Aizawa's frown turn into a pout. What is that supposed to mean? Is that part of the act? Now he's just confused.

“What can I get you two?” The bartender asks as she sidles up to their side of the bar. Her tank top is cut more like a bathing suit, and Aizawa can see a bulging wad of bills stuffed into her bra. She grins when she notices him looking.

“Oh. Like what you see?”

“No.” Aizawa says. He levels her with a flat stare. “I'm taken. I'm just wondering if you have problems with people stealing your tips.”

“Huh?” She blinks and looks down, noticing how apparent the money is. She bites her lip and shoves it down further. “Yeah, actually. I'm surprised. Most guys just stare because, you know.”

“I'm sure. Can you get my boyfriend a martini sour? I'll have a coke and rum.”

“Well, sure thing! Coming right up!”

Yamada grins and throws an arm around Aizawa's shoulder as she walks away.

“Slick talking.” He whispers, making Aizawa's shiver as his breath ghosts along his ear. “I've spotted our target. He's spotted us too. So do some acting!”

“I am.” Aizawa huffs, turning his face and meeting Yamada's bright gaze. His face burns but he goes with his instincts, wrapping his arm around Yamada's back and pulling him onto his lap. Yamada swallows a surprised yelp, clinging to Aizawa's shoulders to steady himself. Aizawa hopes it looks more like a hug.

“Hey!” He laughs, hitting Aizawa's shoulder playfully. Aizawa just reaches out for the drink their bartender is holding out.

“Oh. Looks like you got a good one, mister.” The bartender laughs as she hands Yamada his martini sour. Yamada laughs too.

“Yeah, I'm really lucky.”

Aizawa holds Yamada a little tighter in response, trying to get him to shut up, but it just makes Yamada squeak.

“Focus.” Aizawa hisses at him as the amused bartender moves to serve someone else.

“I am!” Yamada hisses back, blowing a raspberry before pulling away. He looks around the room as he sips the martini, making it look natural. Aizawa is impressed. His own gaze flickers to the corner where Yamada saw their target. There are three grown men in the booth, and a scrawny looking kid sitting in a chair pulled up close. His unruly purple hair catches Aizawa's attention- that, and the fact that he's clearly underage. He doesn't really get a chance to say anything about it, as the kid slams his hands on the table and storms out as the three men laugh uproariously. Their eyes meet for a brief second, but then the kid is gone, slamming through the doors as the guard yells at him to watch himself.

“Hmm, trouble?” Yamada whispers. Aizawa just shrugs. His eyes wander back to the table, hiding his face behind Yamada’s body as he watches one of the men pull out a phone and make a hushed phone call.

They haven't even done anything and he has a bad feeling about this.

His bad feeling has to wait as Yamada leans in again, whispering in his ear as loud voices come from the stairwell behind them.

“Look alive. Our smokescreen is here.”

“Smokescreen? What are you- oh.” Aizawa turns and pauses as a large group of women file in, dressed for partying. They'd fit in better at a club with those outfits. But it's not like Yamada’s is any better. The bartender looks surprised but quickly comes to serve them as they all surround the bar.

Aizawa had been doubtful when Yamada mentioned this part of the plan, but he can admit when he's proven wrong. The women all order whatever is on special, clearly acting like they want to get drunk for cheap before partying elsewhere. Aizawa spots their target grinning as he checks a few of the women out.

“Hah, I knew it!” Yamada laughs as he leans in again. Aizawa can smell the alcohol on his breath. “He likes older women.”

Yamada stands up quickly and starts to whine, surprising Aizawa out of his thoughts.

“Ugh, now it's crowded! Shoucchan, let's move!” He says as he tugs on Aizawa's sleeve. They move through the crowd to take the empty booth next to their target. He doesn't spare them a glance, though one of the other men eyes them curiously for a moment. Yamada sidles up close as the man peeks over the tall booth walls. Aizawa watches him in the reflection of his glass, tensing up even as he tries to act casual.

“Finally.” Yamada hisses when the man sits back down. Aizawa can barely hear anything over the music and loud talking from the bar, but Yamada pulls out the listening device hidden in his jacket, hiding it between their bodies as he points it at the booth behind them. Aizawa watches as Yamada opens up an app on his phone and pulls out some earbuds.

They share the earbuds as they nurse their drinks and listen in to the conversations happening behind them, looking to everyone else like a couple engrossed in each other. Aizawa grunts when Yamada elbows him to pay attention. He wants to snap that he's listening, but he did sort of lose track of things as he started trying to place what Yamada’s shampoo smelled like.

So, you gonna make a move on any of ‘em boss?

Maybe. Let’s see if they stick around.

I just don't get you boss. Why is it always the old ladies? Don't you want a woman?

They are women! You don't know shit. The older ladies know what they want. That's what I like. And they're old enough to handle their shit, I don't need to waste my time buying them gifts or supporting them or anything.

You say that, yet you keep giving that old maid all those drugs-

Hey, it’s not like I can’t get them cheap.

You're catching feelings for her! She got you into that fucking mess with the Snakes!

We’re handling that, aren't we? And she paid us, anyways. I ain’t doing shit for free.

Sure, but I still say we cut our losses. Fuck the bigger payout, we’d lose money getting him back just to have to ransom him? I told you that kid was a rat.

You called in the boys?

Yamada and Aizawa share a look as the conversation turns, their hearts beating loud as they realize what's going on. Two kidnappings. Of the same man. Yamada opens his mouth and pauses as Aizawa’s eyes go wide.

“What! The! Fuck!” Mrs. Yamaguchi screeches as she spots them from across the bar. Aizawa stuffs the listening device back in Yamada's pocket as the three gangsters stand up and look at her.

“Sweet Mama, what’s wrong? What-”

“Them!” She yells, pointing as Aizawa pulls Yamada out of the booth. “They- stop them! They're- they're cops!”

The three men turn to stare as everyone in the bar pauses, the air thick with tension.

Well, shit.

Chapter Text

Aizawa’s first instinct is to run, so he pushes Yamada into the crowd as he flips a table between them and the oncoming gangsters. They yell and jump away before it can hit them. Aizawa curses. Too bad. He turns and pushes his way through the surprised crowd as he follows Yamada out the door, Mrs. Yamaguchi screaming bloody murder at them. She has the gall to attack Yamada as he heads for the door, scratching at his face.

“You liar! You fucking liar! Private detective my ass! I’ll have your head!”

“Lady, move!” Aizawa barks, grabbing her collar and pushing her aside. She falls to the floor with a screech, her purse clattering to the floor as personal items spill all over. The security guard looks up from his gambling app as the gangsters shout obscenities.

“Yamada, stop pausing, just run!” Aizawa says as they make it up the stairs and onto the sidewalk. He grabs Yamada’s arm before he can say anything, tugging him along. “What, do I have to call it a race to get you to run?”

“No, I’m running! I’m running!” Yamada yells frantically as the gangsters finally make it onto the street. Yamada keeps trying to turn down into alleyways, but Aizawa tugs him back, keeping to the well-lit streets as his eyes search their surroundings.

“Mic!”

“What?”

“Is there a bank around here? Or a liquor store?”

“A what-- oh! Oh!!  Yeah, there’s a store just down there!”

“With cameras?”

“Yeah! Come on!”

Yamada fumbles his phone out of his pocket as Aizawa drags him along, dialing a number by heart as the liquor store comes into sight. Aizawa runs up to the front before making a quick one-eighty, walking inside calmly and locking the door behind them before the attendant can see.

“Hey. Nice night for a scotch, huh?” he says, getting his breathing under control. The clerk gives an awkward smile and points to an aisle in the back.

“I suppose! You’ll find some down there.”

“Thanks.”

Aizawa tugs Yamada to the back of the store as the phone rings, the clerk eyeing them with a dubious expression. Everyone jumps as someone slams into the glass doors, three loud voices yelling to be let in. Aizawa shares a frantic look with the clerk as he points at Yamada.

“He’s calling the cops on them.”

Glass shatters.

“Do you have a back door?”

The clerk points to the other corner of the store fearfully before they grab a gun from under the counter. Holy shit. Aizawa doesn’t bother saying anything else. He just pulls Yamada along as the person on the other end finally picks up the phone.

“Yeah, dispatch? This is Mic- it’s Yamada! I’m being chased! They’re gonna beat the shit- no, I won’t hold! Hey!! Christine I swear to god!! Just send someone to my phone location, I know you have the tracker!”

Aizawa stops listening as they burst through the small employee area and into the back alley. They have to keep moving. Yamada seems to have the police tracking their location, so where should they go?

“Mic, nearest police station?”

“Miles away! But uh-- that-a-way!”

Aizawa just tugs Yamada along as the shouting gets closer. Much closer. They barely reach the end of the alley before the back door is slamming open and their pursuers are back on their trail.

“Dammit!” he growls, lungs and legs burning as he steers a gasping Yamada in front of a nearby diner. He almost considers ducking in, but he doesn’t want to get any more bystanders involved. He mouths at a server through the window to call the police before dragging Yamada into an alleyway right as their new best friends catch up to them.

“Hah, thought you rats could get away from us?”

“Boss, are we-”

“Fight now, ask me later!”

“Got it!”

Aizawa shoves Yamada back towards a ramp leading up to an employee entrance, hoping to keep them from being ganged up on too easy. The first two men rush up the front while their target circles around, drawing a knife and swiping at Yamada through the safety rails. Aizawa barely has time to keep an eye on Yamada as he dodges a punch and takes another. He retaliates quickly, dropping low and headbutting the closest man as hard as he can, his arms pushing at him to throw him back down the ramp.

The second man gets another hit in before Aizawa grabs him in a hold. They struggle with each other for a moment before Aizawa’s training wins out and he throws him over the rail. It's only a couple of feet, but the man groans as the wind is knocked out of him.

Yamada screeches and Aizawa turns with ice in his veins, finding the ringleader climbing the railing as he stabs at Yamada. Yamada has crouched down and is grabbing his own knife. Shit. Aizawa rushes forward, gaining the leader’s attention and making him pause.

“Hah, what are you going to do? You’re unarmed! And your friend here has a pocket knife ! Come on! Spy on me, will you? I’ll fucking show you!”

“Back off, asshole!” Aizawa shouts, aiming a low kick through the bottom rungs. The leader yelps and loses his footing, waving his knife around wildly. Aizawa takes the risk, running forward to drag him over the rails and into a headlock. Yamada surges forward to disarm their attacker. Yamada struggles with him for a moment before shouting as he’s stabbed in the arm. The leader finally loses his grip as Yamada grabs the knife and tosses it away, clutching at the wound in his bicep.

The other two men are picking themselves up as sirens wail in the distance, clearly torn between freeing their boss and making a run for it.

“Fuck, fuck! Goddammit! Help me you idiots!” the leader growls, struggling against Aizawa’s firm hold.

“I’d run for it, he’s the one we want.” Yamada says with a stern glare. Aizawa can admire how he keeps his voice steady despite the steady drip of blood through his fingers. It’s not bleeding heavy enough to be serious, but he can tell it hurts with how pale Yamada has gotten in the electric lights--

“Hah!”

The leader struggles in Aizawa’s moment of distraction, almost breaking free as his goons rush forward and freeze. Yamada has the leader’s bigger knife in his free hand and is crouched down, looking threatening. The blood only seems to add to his aura, even though a wound technically makes him less dangerous.

The sirens close in.

In the end the goons are caught a block away by a few squad cars. The leader is cuffed and read his rights in the back seat of a cruiser as Aizawa guides Yamada towards an oncoming ambulance. His hand is pressed over Yamada’s on his arm, blood flowing between their fingers as Yamada grins manically.

“Well, that’s one way to get a lead, huh?” he laughs, eyes bright with mirth and pain. Aizawa grimaces, shaking his head as an officer approaches them with both knives in evidence bags.

“Hey there, Yama- Oh, sorry-- Mic. Looks like you got off easy this time, huh?”

“I’ve gotten faster!” he boasts, wobbling a bit. Aizawa urges him forward again and the officer follows.

“And a friend now too, from the looks of it. Say, you can come in and tell us your side tomorrow, right? Or do you want us to get your statement in the ambulance?”

“I’ll head over when I’m released!”

“Mic. That’ll be like, two in the morning at this rate.” Aizawa groans.

“Oh. Tomorrow, then! I have to speak with some other detectives about another ongoing case anyways. Ah. And my ride's here!”

Yamada is wobbling a bit more as the ambulance pulls up and two EMT's jump out, rushing towards their small group. Aizawa lets them take Yamada and tries to climb into the back before one of them speaks up.

“Wait, you’re injured too? They said one on the radio.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just staying with him.”

“Uh, sorry pal, but if you’re not related or married, no can do. Here. Take a wipe for your hand though, don’t want to get that blood everywhere.”

“He really can't stay?” Yamada whines, looking much paler under the harsh lights inside the ambulance. Aizawa’s stomach twists.

“Sorry, no. But we’re going to General Public Hospital, so just follow us there and you can meet up, I promise. Step back please!”

Aizawa steps away as they close the doors. Yamada shoots him an unhappy look before the doors block their sight and the ambulance starts to drive away from the mouth of the alleyway. He watches it turn the corner before looking down at the small sani-wipe package in his hands.

He doesn’t feel too good.

He methodically wipes his hands and wrists as the officer gets his statement. Honestly, he’s glad he has something to focus on. The feeling of blood on his hands--

He won’t think about that.

The officers drive off with the captured criminals while two stay behind to take photos of the crime scene before leaving. Aizawa doesn’t see the point, but he leaves them to it, turning down their offer to drive him to the hospital. He needs time to think.

He ends up walking in the direction he knows the hospital is in, eyes flitting back and forth as he holds a panic attack at bay. Breathe. Smell the air. Listen to the cars and the wind. Taste the lingering alcohol on his tongue. Feel the material of his pants. Count the lights down the street.

Focus.

It takes a few blocks before he feels like he isn’t going to shake apart. It takes a few more blocks before he hears a commotion. All the voices are muted but angry, and Aizawa can hear the faint sounds of trash cans being thrown around.

He really shouldn’t get involved, but a niggling feeling makes him turn and walk down the alleyway. He peeks around the corner to see four men surrounding the young man from before, his unruly purple hair now messy, part of it matted with blood. The kid is holding a trash can lid like a shield while the four men laugh or hiss at him, clearly trying not to attract attention.

Aizawa isn’t sure why the kid hasn’t shouted for help yet, unless he knows it’s useless. That thought makes Aizawa’s back straighten as he sneaks around the corner, stepping lightly as the kid meets his eyes. He pats his pocket, feeling the forgotten taser in his jacket pocket. Maybe he won’t need it. Aizawa winks, and the kid hurls an insult at the man on the left.

“Hey short-stack, who taught you how to punch, a baby?”

“Shut the fuck up, rat! Your words don’t mean shit now! You’re gonna get it tonight, and ain’t nobody gonna take you in after this! You’ll be wishing we killed you!”

Aizawa takes that moment to grab the man at the back in a headlock, his surprised wheezes drowned out as the kid bangs on his makeshift shield and mocks the men some more.

“Fuck all of you anyways! Like I want to be associated with some stupid fucks like you! Can’t even keep proper jobs because you’re too obsessed with your own-”

“You’re in for it!”

“Fucker!”

The other three rush forward even as Aizawa tosses his capture into a nearby dumpster. The noise causes them to whirl around in surprise, though their shocked expressions don’t last long. Aizawa doesn’t wait for anyone to speak, picking up a discarded bag of trash and hurling it at one of the men. He charges the other two as the kid uses his lid to kneecap the distracted goon.

Efficiency is the name of the game as Aizawa disables his other two opponents, twisting their limbs and knocking them down and tasing them until they don’t get up anymore. He has a few new scratches and bruises, but the kid hasn’t taken any more damage, so he calls that a win.

“You wanna call these guys in, or leave ‘em?” Aizawa rasps, coughing a bit as he realizes how dry his throat is. The kid blinks, clearly unsure of what to make of him. He tucks his taser away safely, hoping he won't forget about it like he did earlier.

“I don’t really care. But I’m not talking to any cops.”

“We’ll leave them then. I already got their boss arrested anyways. He ordered this, right? The man from the bar?”

“You-- yeah. He did. Uh. Who the hell are you?”

“I’ll tell you my name later when we don’t have half-conscious eavesdroppers around us. Come on, help me throw these guys into that dumpster.”

The kid laughs and perks up at that idea, lifting their legs while Aizawa grabs the torso. The men all groan but barely resist, only whining in pain as they’re thrown in on top of each other. Aizawa closes the lid for good measure while the kid wipes his hands on his pants and starts walking down the alley with a skip in his step.

“Hah! That was cool. Thanks for the assist, old man.”

“Old man?” Aizawa huffs as they turn onto the main street. He tilts his head to get the kid to follow him down his original route. “Whatever. I’m going to the hospital. You’re coming with me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because you have a head wound, and I really doubt you have anywhere else to go. Am I wrong?”

The kid mumbles but doesn’t deny it.

“I’ll make you a deal, kid.”

“Kid?”

“Payback. Anyways, considering what happened tonight, you have the info I need to keep a man from being killed. You apparently need a place to stay that has nothing to do with the cops. Are you getting the picture?”

“Ohh. Yeah, I think it’s coming in real clear, old man.”

Aizawa huffs.

“Call me Aizawa.”

“Sure, gramps. You can call me Shinsou.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa feels exhausted by the time they make it to the hospital, but he doesn’t let himself give up yet. He makes sure to get Shinsou in the queue to be seen by a doctor, taking the paperwork and filling it out with his insurance information. The desk attendant doesn’t even notice. He manages to get Yamada’s room number after some waiting, but he makes sure Shinsou comes out of his examination, now cleaned up a bit with a small bandage on his face, before he broaches the subject of what they’re going to do.

“You paid them for this?” Shinsou asks in a bored tone, though it’s clear he’s curious. Aizawa just shrugs and waves his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I need to go find my partner, he got stabbed earlier. Do you want to tag along and meet him now or wait until some other time? He’s, uh, my roommate.”

“Your roommate, huh? O-kay. Sure. I assume you meant we were going to your place after this when you suggested a place without the cops?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then let me meet him so he at least knows who’s crashing on the couch. I don’t need to wake up to a drug-addled man calling the cops on me for couch-surfing.”

“Has that happened before?”

“Surprisingly, no. But it was a close call once.”

“Let’s just table that discussion for another time. They gave me his room number, it’s up here.”

Aizawa leads them to the elevators, where they duck out of the way for two orderlies wheeling two patients to another wing. They step in and Shinsou jams on the door close button. Getting to Yamada’s room is a breeze if you ignore all the stops their elevator makes.

There’s an officer posted outside of Yamada’s room, but all Aizawa has to do is prove his identity with his license before he’s allowed in. Shinsou ducks in behind him before he can be questioned, making a beeline for a chair in the corner while Aizawa looks Yamada over. He looks pale. His jacket has been folded to the side with his shirt, his new scrubs barely hiding the big gauze pad on his left bicep. There’s no IV in his arm, but Aizawa can tell they gave him some painkillers from the look in his eyes.

“Hey Yamada. How you feeling?” he asks softly, approaching slowly. Yamada blinks at him through dirty glasses.

“H-ey! Shouta! You came to see me!”

“Yeah, I did. How are you feeling?”

“Oh! I’m feeling pretty good! My arm hurt, but it doesn’t any more. I guess it’ll hurt more later.”

Shinsou snickers to himself in the corner. Aizawa just rolls his eyes and sits on the bed next to Yamada.

“Who is that?”

“I’ll introduce you in a moment. Are you getting discharged tonight, or are you too doped up to leave?”

“Uhmm, er, pretty sure I can leave with supervision. I just have to sleep this off.”

“I’m pretty sure you have stitches, so it’s a little more than that. Don’t pout. I can help you with it. Did you forget I was a medic?”

“No! I didn’t forget! I’m just. It’s hard to think. I don’t feel sleepy, but my brain feels sleepy. Hmm. This would be more fun if I didn’t have work to do.”

“It’s fine. I can handle some things. Our new friend over here has some new information.”

Yamada perks up and shifts on the bed, peering at Shinsou through his dirty shades. Aizawa rolls his eyes and finds Yamada's normal glasses in his folded jacket, switching them out as Yamada gapes at him. Shinsou just snickers again.

“Yo, so are you two…”

“Shush. This is Yamada. He’s technically my boss. He’s the famous private detective, Present Mic.”

“Wow, neat. And?”

“Yamada, the kid is Shinsou. He has information on our client’s husband. He’s going to tell me some info in exchange for a place to stay that’s safe from the gangsters and the cops.

“Well, sure! The more the merrier! It'll be like a party! Maybe Shouto will like him? Oh, but I gave you the spare room, and the basement isn't done yet--”

“I thought I might take the couch if he wants my room.”

“I don’t want your room.” Shinsou mutters, but the other two don’t hear him.

“Well, hardly your room if you only had it one day. I don't see why not! But you don't have to sleep on the couch! Stay with me! My bed is big enough!”

Shinsou is outright laughing now, though he keeps his volume low enough that Yamada doesn’t notice. Yamada is too busy grinning at Aizawa like some sort of lovesick teenager. It’s disturbing. Hopefully Yamada just needs aspirin after this wears off. He's not sure he can handle the client by himself while Yamada is this doped up. He certainly can't handle her mother on his own.

“That’s… we can discuss it later. Let’s focus on getting you discharged and home. Come on, you can walk, right?”

Yamada nods, and Aizawa jumps off the bed, tugging Yamada with him. Yamada staggers a little. Aizawa holds him steady and helps as he carefully puts his coat back on, hiding the bandages and his ruined shirt under distressed leather. Aizawa grabs the chart on the wall and leads him to the nearest nurse’s station while the officer at the door follows them, trying to ask Yamada a few questions without any success.

“He’s coming home with me.” Aizawa snaps as the officer asks Yamada where he’s going for the third time.

“Okay, I just need to hear it from him.”

“Yeah, I’m going home with him! He’s my partner!”

“Ah, okay. Right. You two have a good night.”

Aizawa just huffs and pulls Yamada forward, trying to get him to answer a few questions for his insurance paperwork. Shinsou just looks bored as he pulls out his phone and starts texting someone.

They're finally headed out the door and into a cab a half hour later, all of them looking more sour than before. Yamada has a bag of pills clutched in one hand, whining about wanting to use his phone as he wiggled the hand hanging out of the sling they gave him. To keep him from using his arm, they said. Aizawa knows it’s a good idea, but he isn’t sure how much Yamada will actually use it.

“You can use it in a second, Yamada.” Aizawa grumbles. Yamada sounds like a child whining about candy. Aizawa is looking for a cab when Shinsou steps to the curb and waves at a black unmarked car.

“Who is that?” Aizawa asks warily. Shinsou just turns and grins.

“I figured I'd call us a ride while you two did your paperwork. What, never seen a blacktop before? You got cash, right?”

“I- yes, I have cash.”

Aizawa sighs and helps Yamada into the car while Shinsou takes the front seat and shakes the driver’s hand. Aizawa digs for his wallet to double check his bills while the driver turns to address them in the back.

“Where to, dudes?”

“Paradise!” Yamada shouts, throwing his good arm in the air and banging it on the roof. He whimpers while Aizawa stares at the crumpled bills in his wallet. He manages to give the driver their address and get a promised price out of him before they leave. He can feel a headache forming behind his eyes as Yamada leans against him and says something about going to sleep.

What a night.

Aizawa ends up carrying Yamada inside as the painkillers knock him out for good. A worried Yagi meets them at the door, which is convenient, since Aizawa was wondering how he was going to grab his keys with Yamada in his arms. Shinsou looks around with ill-hidden interest as Yagi frets over them both.

“Aizawa, what happened? Are you alright? When you two didn't come home I got worried-”

“Yagi, it’s almost four in the morning. I'm tired, he's knocked out on painkillers, and I have a kid that I need to talk to.” Aizawa grumbles. Yagi surprises him by lifting Yamada out of his arms easily. Aizawa feels a little guilty at how surprised he is.

“Okay, later, then. I'll make sure he's comfortable while you two talk?”

They both look over at Shinsou, who has made himself at home on Yagi’s couch.

“Yeah, when we wake up. We can all have a talk.”

Yagi just nods and carefully heads upstairs with Yamada. Aizawa shuffles into the living room, taking one of the chairs across from the couch.

“You tired, kid? At least take your shoes off.”

“Not really. I'm used to late nights.” Shinsou kicks his shoes off onto the carpet before lying down. Well, it’s a start.

“You don't go to school?”

“Used to, but why do you care? You need the info on that guy, right? I figure I can get you in if we pretend you're in the gang, trying to get him back-”

“We can plan later. All I need to know for sure is that you know where he is.”

“Yeah. Down by the stadium, in one of those abandoned office buildings. They set up shop there since the cops only patrol around the fields.”

“Makes sense. Well, why don't you come up.”

“I can't sleep here?”

“This is Yagi’s couch. I should have a blanket and stuff upstairs.”

“But I'm comfy.”

“Kid, don't play around. Come on.”

Shinsou mutters something about old men but follows all the same. Aizawa can see Yagi in Yamada’s room as they come upstairs. He’s tucked him in with a bunch of pillows and is watching him sleep with a concerned expression on his face.

“Yagi.”

Yagi jumps and turns to look at him, still frowning.

“Just go back to bed. I'll watch him. It's my job, after all.”

Yagi nods, knees popping as he gets up. He spares one glance back before walking away, only pausing to whisper in Aizawa's ear.

“Please take care of yourself too. I know how it feels to be responsible for others. He's only your priority if you've taken care of yourself first.”

Aizawa doesn't have a response. He can only nod as Yagi bids him goodnight and heads downstairs. Shinsou pretends he wasn't watching by turning his attention towards Aizawa’s room.

“This is your place? It suits you.”

Aizawa stares at his plain, empty room, devoid of anything past his bags and a towel he left on his bed. “I just moved in.”

“Sure. Anyways, you got a spare toothbrush in there?”

Aizawa spends the next twenty minutes finding this-and-that until Shinsou is satisfied and lounging on the couch in some borrowed sweats. Shinsou declined the offer of Aizawa’s room, claiming he prefers couches. Aizawa doesn’t get it. He takes care of his own hygiene before checking in on Yamada. He's still asleep, tucked in like a baby with only his head peeking out. It's kind of cute.

His exhaustion catches up to him and he sits down on the edge of the bed, just for a breather. He watches the rise and fall of Yamada’s chest as his hands brush against the soft blanket. It's a very comfortable blanket. Also a very comfortable bed. The pillows look very nice too, fluffy and clean. He just needs one moment, then he'll get up.

The late morning sun warms his skin as he wakes up, groggy but less tired than before. He feels relaxed, enough to actually consider falling back asleep for once in his life, and he never sleeps in. But the bed is so comfortable, and warm, and Yamada is snoring softly beside him. Aizawa's eyes snap open and he flushes as he realizes what's happened. He jumps out of bed and rubs at his face, pacing in a quick circle before looking back. Yamada sleeps on, undisturbed. Unknowing of Aizawa's conflicted feelings.

There's nothing he can do for Yamada until he wakes up so Aizawa just goes through his morning routine and ignores his embarrassment, doing a light workout in his room before showering and heading to the kitchen. He can see Shinsou still sleeping on the couch as he passes by, only his hair and feet sticking out from under the blanket. It turns out Shouto is the only one up at this point besides Aizawa. He looks up from his cereal with a questioning expression.

“Everyone had a late night.” Aizawa says.

“I can see. Dad doesn't usually sleep in. He likes making breakfast.”

“Well he can still make it for everyone else when he gets up.”

“Is someone else here?”

“Er- yeah.

“Is it Miss Kayama again?”

“No. An informant. Does Nemuri come here often?”

“She likes to drink and gossip with Mister Yamada. I thought they were dating at first but dad told me they're not.”

They both fall silent after that as Aizawa makes a bowl for himself and sits down. He tries to focus on his food, but his mind keeps wandering to the information Shinsou gave him just hours before. What are they going to-do with it? Just give it to the police? Handle it themselves? Hizashi is out of commission with his arm, but Aizawa wonders if he should go take a look at the place before making any decisions.

He looks up from his uneaten cereal to find Shinsou standing at the door of the kitchen, blinking sleepily at Shouto. Shouto looks surprised.

“Oh. Hello Hitoshi. I didn't know it was you who came over. I haven't seen you in Trigonometry for awhile.”

“Uh. Hey. Todoroki, right?”

“It’s Yagi now. But you can call me Shouto. Can I call you Shinsou?” Shinsou shakes his head. “Are you and Mister Aizawa related?” Shinsou shakes his head again.

“Shouto, he just woke up. Let him eat first.” Aizawa says in exasperation. Shinsou just snorts and sits down, stealing Aizawa’s soggy cereal and slurping it down with gusto. Aizawa just huffs and lets it go.

“Why is he here? Is he going to live here now too? You two really look related.”

“Shouto. He just needs a place for a bit. He's not staying long. And he's not my son, we just met.”

Shouto looks skeptical, but he keeps these thoughts to himself. He picks up his empty dishes and brings them to the sink.

“Okay. Hitoshi, let me know if you want to study together. You've missed a lot.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for the offer.”

Shouto pauses in the doorway. “I don't care about what the other kids say.” Shouto replies before retreating to his room. Shinsou just stares down at his cereal. Aizawa opens his mouth, but Shinsou beats him to it.

“Don't worry about it, old man. I can handle it.”

“Hm. Alright. And what is ‘it’, specifically?”

“I… just stuff. Its fine. Don't you have a kidnapped man to worry about?”

“Yeah, and now I have an injured boss and a lost kid to worry about too. Look. If you need my help, ask me. I don't care what it is. But you have to ask for it so I can know what you need.”

Shinsou gets up from the table, dumping his milk in the sink as he mumbles and walks away.

“Sure, like I believe that…”

Aizawa sighs. Is this how his teachers felt when he brushed them off? He grabs some water bottles from the fridge and heads upstairs, passing by Shinsou in the living room on the way. The kid just ignores him as he focuses on his phone, small noises breaking the silence as he plays some game. Aizawa considers Shinsou’s situation as he turns away and heads to Yamada’s room. Either he has uncaring parents or none at all, for starters. Possibly no family either. So an orphanage is likely. One that doesn’t care enough, or is too full, or not staffed enough. What are his options? What sort of help can he give in this situation? Will Shinsou even accept it?

He sits down on the edge of Yamada’s bed and stares at the wall as he thinks, trying to find a solution to a problem that technically isn’t his. But it feels like it is. He feels responsible now. How can he let this kid go back on the street? Can he stop him from going? Can he do anything?

“Aizawa!” Yamada kicks him in the arm, jolting him out of his thoughts and almost making him drop the water bottles. Aizawa turns to glare, taking in Yamada’s rumpled clothes and mussed hair. And the thin line of his mouth as he grimaces, sweat beading on pale skin.

“Shit.” Aizawa practically leaps off the bed as he drops the water and searches for the pills he got just hours earlier. He rips the bag open when he finds it, reading over the instructions quickly before handing over a small white pill. Yamada takes it dry, but Aizawa is quick to offer one of the water bottles he dropped in his haste. Yamada gulps half of it down and gasps for air when he’s done, his eyes clenching shut as he adjusts to the pain. Aizawa stands to the side awkwardly for a moment before he sits back down, next to Yamada this time, rubbing his back comfortingly as Yamada clutches his arm above the bandaged wound.

“I know it hurts. Focus on your breathing while the pill does it’s job. C’mon, you look like you’re about to pass out. Just breathe. You can deal with this.”

“Shit… I just… it didn’t feel this bad when I first got it.”

“That was the adrenaline. Just breathe. Let me know when the meds take effect, alright?”

Yamada nods and starts counting his breaths in a whisper, his posture loosening as his pain slowly fades. He releases the frantic grip on his arm and slumps against Aizawa’s chest with a groan. His eyes are still closed as he gets comfortable. Aizawa grunts and pouts but doesn’t push him off.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?”

“No. I just need to be comfortable.”

“Then use your pillow.”

“No! You’re comfortable.”

“Ok, you can’t blame it on the drugs this time, since I know they don’t work that fast.”

“Huh?”

Aizawa sighs. “You slept on me all the way back last night.”

“Yeah. You’re comfortable. How many times do I have to say it?”

Aizawa thanks his lucky stars that Yamada can’t see the blush spreading across his face. He clears his throat and changes the subject to something more urgent and less personal.

“Ok, well, do you remember Shinsou? From last night?”

“Uhhh- maybe? Some weird kid you brought with? Maybe Shouto’s age?”

“Yeah. Turns out he was that kid at the bar too. I saved him from some thugs. And he knows where our kidnapped man is.”

“Really? That’s great! Where is he? We should get ready to go--”

“No, you’re not going anywhere. Maybe you can help me plan this out, but you are staying here. I’ll get Yagi to lock you in if I have to.”

Yamada grumbles and bumps his head back against Aizawa’s chest in aggravation. But he doesn’t say anything just yet, so Aizawa takes it as a win. He offers Yamada the rest of his water and they sit in silence as Yamada stews. His huffing and puffing stops eventually and Aizawa resists the urge to sigh with relief.

“Okay. Fine. If this wasn’t so time sensitive I’d just say to wait until I’m feeling better but we can’t. So let’s bring this Shinsou in and have a chat and make our plan. Is Yagi up yet? What time is it? What’s for breakfast? Are you as hungry as I am?”

Aizawa snorts in amusement as Yamada’s bright personality comes back, his pain clearly receding for the moment. They have a lot to discuss, and he wants to be hopeful. He can feel the end of their case quickly approaching, but he can’t know for sure just how it will turn out.

He can only hope Yamada’s wound is the worst that will happen.

Chapter Text

Yamada insists they all talk in the kitchen, so Aizawa escorts him down the stairs and goes to rouse Yagi, only to find him awake and freshly showered. He apologizes for sleeping in and rushes to the kitchen, setting up to make breakfast while Yamada calls their meeting to order.

Shinsou saunters back in and leans against the wall instead of joining Aizawa and Yamada at the table. Yamada opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa just shakes his head. He doesn’t want Yamada to make Shinsou leave like he did earlier.

“So, this is Mister Yagi, right?” Shinsou asks, breaking the silence. Yagi gasps and turns around with an apologetic expression.

“I didn't introduce myself, did I? I am Yagi, yes. Yagi Toshinori.”

“Shouto’s new dad?”

“Well- yes, actually.” Yagi seems to be pleased at the acknowledgement. “You know Shouto?”

“We’ve met. And he was here earlier. Anyways, don't you two have a guy to rescue?”

“Yes! But breakfast first!” Yamada exclaims.

“And an explanation, please.” Yagi shoots Aizawa a look over his shoulder, and Aizawa sighs. Why must he be the center of attention? He's just supposed to be a bodyguard…

“Huh? Explain what?” Yamada asks in a clueless tone.

“Yagi wants to know what happened to us last night.” Aizawa explains. He sighs and continues. “We were spying on that man, and we got some intel, but the client’s mother came in and outed us. So we ran until we found a good place to wait for the cops. Yamada here decided to wrestle a man for his knife.”

“Hey, it worked!”

“Getting stabbed gives negative points.”

Yagi is facing the countertop, but Aizawa can tell by the line of his shoulders that he's worried. He can almost imagine Yagi’s face. Yamada just huffs, throwing his uninjured arm in the air.

“Whatever! I should call Mrs. Tanaka today, maybe ask after her mother, see if she called… ugh, what a mess. I'm glad I recorded our session with Mrs. Yamaguchi. If I have to dump it on her to get her to finally drop her mom, then so be it. But I don't want to. Ugh, that woman is so vile.”

Yamada’s voice is wavering by the end and Aizawa’s eyes flit between him and Yagi, silently wishing for some help. Shinsou laughs from his corner.

“Wow, they gave him the good stuff. What is it? Oxy? Perc?”

“Just a tip kid- asking like that just makes people think you're a dealer.” Aizawa says in a stern tone. “Maybe you think you're being funny, but that kind of thing can get you in some trouble if you're not careful.”

Shinsou just shrugs and looks away. Aizawa turns his attention back to Yamada, placing his hand on Yamada’s arm to ground him. Yamada blinks as he tries to get himself together, lost in thought for a moment as he stares at Aizawa’s hand.

“We’ll give the client a call after breakfast. Maybe you can even go talk to her with Yagi, if it's necessary. I'll go see what I can find out about our kidnapped husband and we can all meet up for dinner and work on a plan. Sound good?”

“Aizawa… you're so smart.” Yamada sniffles, back to being emotional. Yagi chokes on a laugh as he nearly pours pancake batter in the fire instead of the pan. “That's a good plan. We can eat and rest up, then split up for maximum efficiency!”

“While I am happy to be included,” Yagi says with a smile over his shoulder, “don't you need to ask me if I have other plans to attend to?”

Yamada gasps, his face twisting into an apologetic expression- Aizawa feels like Yamada’s painkiller-induced mood swings are giving him whiplash. “Oh no, Toshinori! Are you busy? You don't have to come, I'm sure we can think of something else, I can just go and talk to her--”

“No, no, it's fine! I was just joking!” Yagi laughs nervously. “I wouldn't want you to go alone, not with your injury. And you took good care of me when I was indisposed. I promise I'm free. I was just going to do some housework. Speaking of- Shinsou, right? If you want to make some spare cash, I could use a hand with some things when we all get back tonight.”

“Ugh, like, cleaning? How much are you paying?”

“How about forty for two hours? We can see how much needs to get done.”

“Huh. Well. Maybe. I'll keep it in mind.”

Aizawa can tell Shinsou is considering it despite his blase reply. He files away the thought for later. Maybe there is some hope for the kid, if he’s willing to work to change his life. Yagi happily serves everyone pancakes, and Shouto emerges from his room to eat with them, despite just eating half an hour earlier. It's a bit crowded at the table, but Yagi seems very happy even as everyone else tries to make more room. Aizawa uses the quiet time as a chance to think while Yagi beams at everyone.

“Maybe I should look into getting a bigger table!” He laughs happily. Yamada grins and agrees before bringing their attention back to the task at hand. Shouto ends up talking to Shinsou again, and Yagi joins in, so Aizawa leans in close to converse with Yamada semi-privately, while everyone else is distracted.

“Are you really going to tell Mrs. Tanaka about her mother?”

“Maybe. I'll have to see what she knows. Maybe she already knows how vile she is. Children are always the most affected by narcissistic parents.”

Yamada frowns. He pulls out his phone and starts to text someone. Probably their client. Aizawa can only assume it's to set up their meeting.

“I'll have the recording ready, in any case. And even if we can't get her arrested, we can help Mrs. Tanaka cut ties with her mother for good. Hopefully. Sometimes it's not that simple. But the client’s welfare is the most important thing to focus on here. And rescuing her husband, obviously. You'll be careful out there, right? And call me when you have confirmation? I can probably call in some favors or something- but just having a visual confirmation that he's there should be enough for the police to get involved. That's the important part.”

Yamada takes a deep breath and finally stops his rambling long enough for Aizawa to reply.

“Alright. So just making sure I see him, and confirm its him?”

“Yeah, that's all they'd need for a warrant. Maybe even a picture, but that's risky. I don't want you to be risky. I'm supposed to be the risky one.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, and Yamada thinks about what he just said. He blinks and shrugs, as if to say he doesn't know what he's talking about. Aizawa just frowns.

“I'll be careful. Besides, who was the one who got stabbed?”

“Me.” Yamada laughs quietly, acting sheepish.

“I should have done more to make sure that didn't happen, but I can't protect you if you throw yourself in head-first. I know how to look after myself. Can you trust me on that?”

“Yeah. I... Here- let me give you some numbers. You have mine, but take the precinct’s, and Tsukauchi’s, and this is for the Major Crimes office--”

Aizawa sighs as Yamada changes the subject, but diligently takes out his phone anyways. They spend a few minutes copying numbers into Aizawa’s small brick phone while Yagi continues to press more food on Shinsou and Shouto. Aizawa looks up to find Shinsou shooting Shouto weird looks as the boy inches their chairs closer together. Yagi is watching them with amusement as he eats his own small breakfast. Perhaps he should call it brunch, with how late everyone woke up.

“Alright. I'm going to head out with Shinsou.” Aizawa announces. Shinsou stands up with a poorly-hidden look of relief. He seems unnerved by Shouto’s attempts at making friends. Yamada nods and turns to Yagi, who just holds up his hand.

“Yes, I'm going with you. But we need to wash up first. Have you checked your bandages?”

Yamada pales and looks down at his injured arm, shaking his head with a grimace.

“I can do it-” Aizawa offers, but Yagi cuts him off.

“I know how to clean and bandage a minor thing like this. Don't waste any more time on our account.”

“Yeah, we’ll handle it.” Yamada sighs, and Aizawa wonders if that's disappointment he hears in Yamada’s voice. He doesn't think about it, turning his attention to Shinsou as he leads him back upstairs, the sounds of the kitchen falling behind them.

“Do you know anything else about where they're keeping Mr. Tanaka besides the location?”

Aizawa makes a beeline for his room, grabbing his discarded coat from the night before and checking the pockets. His keys, wallet and taser are still inside, and he pulls it on, zippering it up. It won't offer much protection against anything but fists, but it's better than nothing. He turns to find Shinsou watching him, his arms folded pensively.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Kid-”

“Yeah, I know some more stuff. The Snake gang is pretty tough but they're small. They mainly just fuck with other groups. I've only been to their place once. Like I said, they're keeping him in an abandoned place down by the stadium. We could probably use like, the basement to get in.”

“The basement? Isn't that where they'd keep him?”

“Probably? Maybe they move him around. All I know is, is that area has some wicked cool steam tunnels that also lead to the sewers in some places. It was supposed to make pipe repairs easier, but they're empty now since the buildings got trashed and abandoned due to all the lead paint and legal fines.”

“Better than asbestos… and what if they're using the tunnels?”

“I guess you'll have to deal with that when we get there.”

Aizawa sighs. He wants more information. He considers asking Yamada to get the blueprints, but that would take time they don't have. And they need to talk to the client about her mother. He wonders if the client has been in contact with her after last night. It feels like too much is going on at once. There's a lot of risk of things going wrong. Hopefully something will change by tonight, and if not-

Well. Certain consequences are too much to think about right now.

They head back downstairs to find Shouto cleaning up the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder at them but doesn't say anything before he turns back to his task. Aizawa can hear Yamada whining from somewhere. Probably the bathroom that's tucked between the bedrooms. He considers going to talk to him before he heads out, but he knows they'll just start talking again and waste more time.

They need to leave now.

He pulls on his boots while Shinsou finds his shoes- it seems Yagi moved them into the front hall from where he found them by the couch. They're silent as they get ready, their expressions serious as they look each other over. No one speaks up until Aizawa closes the door behind him, the two of them pausing on the porch as if waiting for the other one to make the first move.

“You ready old man? Are you sure you can deal with this alone?”

“All I need to do is prove he's there. If I worry about the small things I'll never get this done.

Are you ready? You could just give me the address and be done with this. I don't need you to come with.”

“And miss all the fun? No way. I want to see how this turns out.”

“Suit yourself.” Aizawa sighs, turning to regard the quiet neighborhood around them. Soon the peace would be gone, replaced with the tension of his critical mission. He fingers the taser in his pocket as he steps off the small concrete porch, turning his head to signal Shinsou to follow.

“Lets go, kid. We have a man to rescue.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa follows Shinsou as they head towards the stadium and the torn down apartment complexes on its south side. Shinsou insists they take the bus, and Aizawa feels relieved he has enough change to pay for it. He has no intention of embarrassing himself in front of this teenager. They sit in the back, watching the buildings and cars pass by. An older couple compliments him on spending time with his son. Shinsou snickers while Aizawa flounders for what to say. In the end, he just nods and then ignores them.

Shinsou urges him to get off a few stops before the stadium, the two of them ducking into the nearest convenient alleyway.

“Alright kid. So where do we go from here?”

“It's pretty simple. We have to go into a building about two blocks from here. The basement has access to the connected steam tunnels. Do you have bolt cutters?”

“No. Why would I have bolt cutters?”

Shinsou snickers and pulls a pair out from inside his coat. “Nevermind, I brought mine.”

“You had those the whole time?” Aizawa sighs. “So they've locked everything up down there?”

“It's either the Snakes or the city, but either way a lock is a lock. Luckily it's always the cheap combo locks that can just be cut with this thing. I can't hide a bigger one in my coat.”

“Why didn’t you use that during the fight yesterday?”

Shinsou pauses, looking at his bolt cutters with wide eyes before looking back up at Aizawa with a grimace. “What kind of fights do you usually get into?” Aizawa rolls his eyes and dodges the question.

“You're lucky no one has searched you.”

“What? I'm too cute to be a suspect.”

“You? Cute? Kid, you look like death warmed over.”

“Ah, what would you know, old man? Your eyes look haunted. All messed up-”

“Okay, I get it. Let’s just go.”

Shinsou smirks and heads further into the alleyway, leading them behind the buildings to a narrow stretch of maintenance entrances and bolted back doors. They slip inside the one at the furthest end, past dripping awnings and steaming pipes. Aizawa resists the urge to hold his nose as Shinsou keeps shooting looks over his shoulder. Is he watching for people or watching him? Going by his smile, Aizawa suspects it’s the latter.

True to Shinsou's word, there is a rusted door at the bottom of a dark stairwell locked up with a simple combo lock. Cut locks litter the floor. Clearly no one cared enough to clean up. Shinsou grunts and starts working at the lock until Aizawa nudges him aside and takes over. His strong hands make quick work of it, but he hesitates before handing the bolt cutters back.

“What, were you gonna keep them?”

“They're yours, and I can't really say anything about your activities if I'm going to benefit from them.”

Shinsou blinks, watching Aizawa with a contemplative expression as he wrenches the door open and looks down the dark stairwell they've just exposed.

“You didn't mention we'd need a flashlight.”

“We'd give ourselves away with one. Just step inside and close the door. Once you've adjusted to the darkness we'll go. I remember the way.”

Aizawa doesn't argue. It’s best to stay undetected. But he wonders what they'll do if someone starts chasing them, shining lights after them and ruining their advantage. He shakes his head. Better to focus on memorizing the way than worrying about what-ifs.

Their footsteps echo quietly as they descend into the damp, darkened tunnels, the only sound other than dripping water and their quiet breathing. It’s eerie. Aizawa can feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as they walk along the abandoned halls, eyes and ears straining for any sign of life. They do not encounter anyone for a while, though the first twenty minutes feel like a lifetime as they make their way through the dark. The only spots of light come from emergency lighting along the floor, most of them long dead, while some hang on to life with an admirable tenacity. The lights are few and far between, but they keep the tunnels from being so dark that nothing can be seen.

Shinsou holds up a hand at a fork in the tunnels, and Aizawa pauses, listening carefully as they peek around the corner. Further down the hall is a brightly lit door, out of place in the decrepit surroundings. Shinsou points to it, checking the other hall before backing up a few steps.

“That’s the entrance we can use.” Shinsou whispers. He covers his mouth with his hands as well, to keep any sounds from echoing. Aizawa mimics him.

“Is there any way to get surveillance from outside first?”

“I’ve tried, but you know they board the places up. I think the Snakes boarded it up even more so their lights wouldn't show at night, and to muffle noises. I couldn’t see or hear much of anything.”

“But you know they’re there?”

“I’ve seen them go in and out. And this is where I snuck in. That ‘one time’ I mentioned, remember? They have a normal lock on this door, so they didn’t know. And a chain- anyways, I’ll handle that. But when we get in…”

Shinsou leans in closer and explains his plan while Aizawa thinks it over. The basement has two tunnel entrances and two staircases leading up. The Snakes only lit up one, so he used the abandoned side last time, trying to get intel for his boss, with little result. The basement is filled with boxes of stuff- probably drugs and food, is Shinsou’s guess. He won’t say what he was looking for last time, but Aizawa figures he can ignore it- he has one goal to focus on right now.

“Alright, so I’ll go in, confirm he’s there, then get out and call the cops.” Aizawa says, voice firm. Shinsou nods, but Aizawa can’t quite tell what expression is on his face in the darkness.

“Yeah, got it. You want me to stay out here then?”

“It would be safer for you. In fact, once you open the door, you can leave. I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

“How noble of you. But I don’t want to miss the action. And who will lead you out?”

“I remember the way.”

“Really?” Shinsou’s voice holds genuine surprise. Aizawa just grunts and steps forward.

“Yes, now let’s go. The sooner I have proof he’s here, the sooner we can get him out alive.”

They approach the door quietly, eyes adjusting to the bright light above the door. They pause to listen, but they can’t hear anything on the other side. Shinsou starts to pick the lock, opening it easily. He takes out a thin piece of wire next, sliding it between the door and the frame, unlatching a simple chain lock with practiced ease. Shinsou pauses as the chain clinks on the other side, the both of them holding their breath, but nothing else happens.

“Okay, this is it, old man. Good luck,” Shinsou whispers, opening the door and looking in at the empty basement before backing away.

“Go back to the house,” Aizawa orders, taking hold of the door and looking back at Shinsou. “I’ll be out before you know it.”

Aizawa doesn’t bother watching Shinsou leave, ducking inside and closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. The basement is bare except for the boxes and a small area with a makeshift table and chairs. An abandoned deck of cards and betting coins lie on its surface. As Shinsou said, one staircase has makeshift construction lights stapled to the wall, while the other looks dusty and unused. Shouta takes out his phone and uses the flashlight, looking at the darkened staircase closely. On second inspection, there are faint footprints here and there- clearly it isn’t as unused as Shinsou thought. He hesitates, wondering if he should even attempt this plan, when the other staircase echoes with sound as someone opens the door and heads into the basement.

Looks like his choice has been made for him.

He quickly slips out of his shoes and carries them as he runs up the stairs, his socks making almost no noise- nothing that can be heard above the racket the other men are making. He pauses at the top, listening in on their conversation, but it's all bluster and boasting as the men sit down to continue gambling. He can only hope they won’t be there long- he needs to get back out somehow.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he creeps through the door into an empty hallway. The front of the apartment building, from the looks of things. Aizawa looks around, noting how the front has been boarded up very well but otherwise left abandoned. Of course, if there is more traffic on the street then its better to stay on the side with less chance of being spotted by patrolling cops. Aizawa hopes he can use that to his advantage.

Sounds come from various apartments down the hall, most of the doors left open or even removed from their hinges. He ducks behind a convenient wall where the front desk must have been, lingering in the darkness while people walk to and fro in the distance. The first floor looks busy enough. Is it easier for them to get working electricity and water on the lower floors? He can swear he hears water and a television among the other sounds. A proper hideout, then.

He waits until he’s sure no one will come out before slipping towards the darkened staircase, looking up and frowning at the barricade of old furniture at the top. Did they do that, or was it left by a previous resident? Either way, he can’t go up there. He peeks around the bannister, frowning at all the light and chatter. They wouldn’t keep their hostage on the first floor, would they? He holds back a sigh and looks around, spying the elevator doors at the other end of the lobby. There's no power, but they always have maintenance ladders installed. If he can just get inside, then that's his way up.

The doors open with a forceful push, staying open as he steps inside. It smells musty from disuse, and Aizawa wrinkles his nose as he steps over to the panel in the ceiling. He considers the shoes in his hand for a moment, making the decision to leave them behind. He needs to be quiet. He hides them around the corner of the door, just in case someone actually comes out this way. After that he makes quick work of the ceiling panel, slipping up into the elevator shaft with minimal effort. He has to use his flashlight again to find the ladder, and from there he ascends to the upper floors, using all his senses to find his mark.

The second floor isn’t as busy as the first, but as he peers through the window in the elevator door, it doesn’t look safe to come out. There is a table and some chairs set up in the lobby area, by the blockaded stairs- for what purpose those are there, Aizawa cannot tell. He decides to skip the floor and moves onward.

Luck is with him as he reaches the third floor, and he peeks through the elevator’s small window to see someone standing guard outside an apartment door. He quickly ducks down, mind whirling as he thinks. Is this the place? Could they have other people they would need to guard? That seems unlikely. He peeks through the thick glass again, taking note of the guard’s attention on his phone, and his slumped posture as he sits against the door. Clearly he’s there to keep someone in, not keeping watch for people coming from the outside.

Aizawa makes his choice and climbs up to the fourth floor, finding it emptier than all the other floors. He finds the apartment directly above the one with the guard, slipping inside and heading straight to the windows. The windows on this floor haven’t been reinforced, so only the old, original boards are in his way. He peels back a rotted board as quietly as he can and peeks outside, smirking when he spies the rusted fire escape. His luck keeps getting better and better. He crawls out and heads to the third floor, frowning when he sees the second floor escape has been removed, or had possibly collapsed on its own. It lies twisted in the alley below, making any jump go from dangerous to completely out of the question with all the twisted, sharp metal.

He’s not going that way, that’s for sure.

The window he finds is easy to shimmy open, and the boards across the window here are rotted on the outside, but there seem to be a few new boards on the inside as Aizawa carefully tears the wood away. He works his way down until he finds a clear spot not covered by new plywood, peering into the darkened room. He freezes as an eye comes into view, peering back at him from the hole he’s made. His heart stutters painfully before he gets over the shock and blinks, forcing his mind to stay calm as a panicked voice reaches his ears.

“Please, help me! You have to get me out!”

Chapter Text

Aizawa squints, trying to make out anything besides the eye peering at him. He holds up his hands, trying to calm the man he hopes is Mr. Tanaka down. His own heart has calmed down, and he starts to focus on thinking through the situation.

“Hey, I will help you, so give me a moment. Can you tell me your name? Quietly? I saw a guard outside your door.”

“O-oh…” the stranger lets out a shaky sigh, pulling away from the hole, letting Aizawa get a better look at him. “Yeah. Its Tanaka. Tanaka Ken. I was kidnapped, then… re-kidnapped? I don't know why, but this wasn't the original group who kidnapped me. They both said they were going to ransom me, though.”

“Great. Tanaka, I'm Eraser. I was tasked with finding you. I'm a private detective, hired by your wife. I'm going to get you out of here. But can you tell me, do they bring you meals? Check in on you? Will they come by any time soon?”

Tanaka shakes his head, his posture slumped from fear and exhaustion. “No. They slide food in, but they never open the door fully. I have a bathroom in here, but it was stripped of the mirror and only the toilet and sink work. Sometimes they'll taunt me through the door, but I guess they think I'll try to escape if they come in- they even put one of those chain locks on the outside, so even when they open it, it won't open all the way.”

“Is there any way for you to lock it from your side?”

Tanaka pauses, finger tapping on his chin as he looks at the floor. “You know, I never tried… let me go look. I assume you want me to lock them out?”

“Yes.” Aizawa says. He watches through the hole as Tanaka heads further into the dark, empty apartment, hearing more than seeing him reach the door. There's silence for a few moments, then he hears Tanaka returning, spotting a strained smile on his face.

“The lock on my side works! I flipped the deadbolt, so they can't open it. I doubt they have a key for it.”

“We can only hope so. Now, go run the water in your sink.”

“Why?”

“To cover the noise we'll be making. If they find out, we're screwed. If they try to yell through the door, tell them you're taking a sink bath and that even prisoners deserve the basic right to privacy.”

“Oh, that's smart! Ok, I'll go do that-” Tanaka abruptly turns and goes into the darkness again. Aizawa waits until he hears the tap running before he starts to slowly tear away more of the rotted boards.

“Ok, it’s done. Now, I understand how you'll get the boards off, but-” Tanaka hesitates, looking up and down at his side of the window at something Aizawa can't see.

“But what?”

“Well, there are newer boards on my side. They're not rotted at all. And tearing them out with my hands- I can't do it. And breaking them will be really noisy.”

Aizawa worries at his bottom lip, still tearing away the rotted wood as he thinks. He can see the boards Tanaka is referring to as he makes a bigger hole. It does present a problem. He pulls back for a moment, his first idea popping into his head: call Mic for help. As he's pulling out his phone he realizes he should have started with this. He’s found Tanaka. He has proof. He quickly snaps a picture of Tanaka and sends it out to Mic, then their police contact Tsukauchi Naomasa. His message is short and simple.

[Found Tanaka. Abandoned apartments on 5th and Cross, building 6. Send help.]

He double checks his phone is muted before he pockets it, feeling around in his other pockets. Now he wishes he kept Shinsou's bolt cutters, or brought tools of his own. He really didn't come prepared for this. He could always leave now, or just wait. That was his initial plan, wasn't it? Find Tanaka. Send proof to the authorities. Escape and let them handle it. But now as he watches Tanaka scratch at the nails inside the window frame, he rethinks it. It's too dangerous. They might break down the door and try to use Tanaka as a hostage and threaten his life. The lock on his door is something, but it won't hold forever if they're really determined. Especially if the wood is warped or rotted. That doesn't even count them using a weapon of some kind to destroy the lock completely.

Another plank of rotted wood comes off the window and he gently places it to the side, looking down at the twisted metal of the fallen fire escape in the alley below. He looks up, trying to see if they can get onto the roof from here. It looks possible, but that may not be the safest bet.

“Tanaka, you're not injured, are you?”

Tanaka pauses his attempt to pull out one of the stronger boards, shaking his hands out as he blinks. “No, not really. I felt really bruised and shaken when they first took me, and when I was transported here, but it's just a dull ache now. I just feel weak and hungry…”

“So you can climb down a ladder and keep quiet?”

“I think so.”

“Good. We'll hide in the elevator shaft until the police arrive. I've already contacted the detective working your case, so they should be here soon.”

“The elevator shaft? Isn't that dangerous?”

“They jerry-rigged the power here, but there's none in the elevator. We'll be fine.” Aizawa's voice is confident, putting Tanaka at ease. He doesn't know it for sure, but when he was in there, even the emergency lights were dead. Its a chance he's willing to bet on.

All of the rotted wood has been torn away from the bottom of the window, so Aizawa turns his focus to the stronger boards on the inside. Looking over them without the rotted wood in the way makes it easier for him to come up with a plan. If he removes the second one from the bottom, he can hopefully pull Tanaka through the gap. But how to remove it?

“Tanaka, lets remove this one. The gap should be wide enough to let you through.”

“But how? I'm not strong enough to remove it-”

“I'm going to do it. All I need you to do is stand in front of it and make sure it doesn't fall.”

“O-oh, okay?”

Tanaka looks skeptical, but he takes half a step back, lingering close enough for Aizawa's plan. Aizawa takes a deep breath and grabs the window frame on each side where there's a gap, making sure his grip is strong before bringing a leg up. He braces his foot against the board, grimacing and wishing he had stretched earlier as he starts to push. He can't feel it budging, so he braces his foot in one corner and quickly brings his other foot up to the other end, grunting as his arms strain with holding himself from falling back. With both feet on either end of the board he can feel it start to come loose, the nails loosening with the force he's applying. Tanaka watches with wide eyes, his arms held out awkwardly as if he's expecting to catch the board soon.

Aizawa grunts and quickly lowers one foot as the board starts to wobble, sweat dripping down his forehead. He makes sure he's steady before lowering his other foot and letting go of the window frame, flexing hands and looking at the red indents on the skin of his palms. Tanaka steps forward, grabbing the board with both hands and grunting as he attempts to pull the board out the rest of the way. With how loose the nails are, it comes out easily, almost making Tanaka overbalance and fall down. His expression of shock quickly turns to one of joy, a cut-off laugh reaching Aizawa's ears.

“It- it came off…”

“Yeah, now come here-” Aizawa says, curling his fingers to get Tanaka to come closer. “I'll pull you through and we can go hide.”

Tanaka nods and carefully places the board on the floor, fitting his head and arms through the small gap. Aizawa grabs under his armpits and pulls, ignoring Tanaka's groan as he's forced through the small gap. He sets Tanaka on his feet, taking note that he's missing his shoes too. Well, at least they'll be quieter this way. He wastes no time taking Tanaka to the window he slipped through earlier, the two of them creeping across the open hallway to the elevator door. He looks down, considering his options silently as Tanaka peers inside.

“We're really doing this…?” Tanaka whispers, his voice shaking. Aizawa nods, reaching to grab the ladder and swinging himself over. His arms still ache from his earlier stunt, but it's a dull feeling so he ignores it.

“Yes. We're going to climb up. It doesn't look like they went up that far, so they shouldn't find us up there. It's too dangerous to try and escape, so waiting until the police arrive is our best bet.”

Aizawa starts climbing when he's done talking, giving Tanaka no chance to argue. To his credit, Tanaka follows quietly, and the ascend to the top floor. Aizawa finds a nook in the wall full of machinery, and he slides over to it, holding out a hand to help Tanaka get in safely. He feels safe enough to pull his phone out again, spotting an icon for twenty-seven missed texts on his screen.

He doesn't need to guess to know who most of them are from.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Tanaka asks quietly, pulling Aizawa's attention away from his phone. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he concentrates. He can hear the distant wail of a siren, and the sound of someone yelling something through a megaphone- its distinctive enough to reach them even up here, at the top of the building inside the elevator shaft. He shares a grin with Tanaka before a louder shout from inside the shaft startled them both.

“I think he escaped through here! Fuck! We don't have time for this!”

“He went down the elevator shaft?”

“Hey, who's shoes are these?”

“We need to get out of here now! He's a lost cause, drop it!”

The agitated voices fade away as the men flee- Aizawa can only hope the police can manage to catch them without any serious injuries. He pulls his phone back up, bringing up his log with Tsukauchi.

[Found Tanaka. Abandoned apartments on 5th and Cross, building 6. Send help.]

[Tsukauchi: Understood. We're on our way. Find a safe location and stay put.]

He types a quick reply as he listens, trying to make out what's going on outside as the police swarm the building.

[There are underground tunnels they use. The maintenance shafts.]

It only takes two minutes before Aizawa gets a reply. Tsukauchi must have been keeping a close eye on his phone, waiting for Aizawa to get back to him.

[Tsukauchi: we were tipped off by a friend of yours when we got here. The tunnels have been secured. Are you and Tanaka safe?]

[We're safe. Top of the elevator shaft. We'll only come out when you give us the all clear yourself.]

He sends the text as his mind catches on something in Tsukauchi's previous message.

[What do you mean by friend of mine?]

It takes longer for Aizawa to get a reply this time, but he can hear the muffled sounds of the police breaking in through the barricaded front entrance, so he understands Tsukauchi must be busy giving orders.

[Tsukauchi: your little nephew got in contact with us. Said you went and got lost in some tunnels, so we already had a presence underground when you gave us the head's up. Your search party turned into a retrieval party.]

Nephew? Aizawa snorts at Shinsou's deceit, silently praising him for the quick thinking. He has to admit he's surprised Shinsou would even approach the police himself. But of course the kid would meddle after being told to keep out of it.

He doesn't bother with a reply. Instead he opens Yamada' s texts, scrolling through them quickly as he tells Tanaka about the situation as it stands. Tanaka sighs in relief, his posture collapsing as the stress flows off his shoulders. He doesn't pay him any mind, caught up in reading Yamada’s million replies. He can tell Yamada is worried, but does he really need to send so many? He wants to be aggravated, but there's a small, pleased feeling in his chest at the realization that Yamada is so concerned for his wellbeing. He really should reply, but he's distracted by a familiar voice floating up the elevator shaft.

“Hello? This is Detective Tsukauchi- is anyone there? Aizawa, Mr. Tanaka, are you there?”

Aizawa and Tanaka perk up, both of them scooting over to look down the elevator shaft. Tanaka goes pale and leans back, but Aizawa just squints, wishing he could see where Tsukauchi was.

“Yeah, we’re here.” he calls out, just loud enough for Tsukauchi to hear.

“Stay up there for a few more minutes, we’re doing one final sweep. We’ll meet you up there so you don’t have to climb out!”

“Got it.”

“Thank you detective!” Tanaka shouts, his expression changing quickly as he processed the fact that he’s going to be safe. He turns to Aizawa and does a half bow from his sitting position to convey his gratitude. “And thank you, Eraser- I mean, Aizawa. You really put yourself out there to help me. I can’t even begin to imagine all the ways this could have gone wrong, and yet you managed to get me out without being discovered at all!”

“Mm. You’re welcome,” he nods, voice neutral, but internally a flash of pride goes through him. He really did save Tanaka with only a street-kid’s lockpicking skills and his own wits and strength. A far cry from his plan to scout then report back to get the cavalry. Maybe he’s more suited to this Private Investigation thing than he originally thought. He thinks it over as they wait for the police, his mind still whirling as the door nearest to them is pried open and they climb down to safety. Someone returns his shoes to him, and Aizawa sits on the stairs to put them back on, sitting there and watching as Tanaka relays everything to Tsukauchi and another officer in the middle of the entrance way. They clearly want to escort him out to talk about things at the precinct, or perhaps at the hospital for a check-up, but now that he’s safe Tanaka has gotten a bit hysterical as he recounts his experience, pointing to the various bruises he still has, hands gesticulating wildly with every twist in his story. Aizawa is glad he doesn’t have to deal with him any more- he liked Tanaka better when he was quiet. It's a good thing Yamada is so good with people, because Aizawa is pretty sure he can't handle this side of things.

He looks up as another officer approaches him, asking if he needs assistance. Aizawa shakes his head and waves them off, getting up and heading towards the door. He stops to nod at Tsukauchi before he leaves, gesturing at the door with his thumb.

“I’m going to go meet up with Yamada. You know how to get in touch with me if you need anything.”

“I will want a statement, but I can come get that later. You must need some rest. This was quite the stunt you pulled.”

Tanaka has finally fallen silent as he and the officer listen in on the new conversation, both of them nodding their heads in agreement.

“I mean, sneaking into a gang hideout when it’s full in the middle of the day to find a kidnapped man, and not only finding him without being discovered, but getting him out unharmed? I kind of wish you would have gone into the force.”

“I wasn’t interested in law enforcement,” Aizawa says. Tsukauchi laughs.

“So being a PI is more your style?”

“Yeah. No top brass to deal with. I can help people how I want to. Yamada can do the things I can’t, and vice-versa. We make a great team.”

Aizawa pauses. Since when did he really start thinking of himself as Yamada’s partner, and not just his bodyguard? And will Yamada really be alright with that if he suggests it? It brings a swirl of emotions out that he quickly stamps down, not feeling up to dealing with them.

“I can see that! Yamada was already great before you came along, but you really fill out what was missing. Namely, making sure he doesn’t fix things by making another mess entirely. Somehow it always worked out, but damn if it wasn’t stressful.”

“Detective! I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you swear!” the officer laughs.

“Well, he did cause a mess the other day and got himself hurt,” Aizawa gripes. Tanaka rubs at his elbows as he thinks.

“If that’s the case, then I’m glad Aizawa was here instead of this Yamada guy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s the reason I’m on the case, so don’t be so dismissive. He was with your wife earlier- I’ll have to see where he is now. Where are you all going now? I can tell your wife where to meet you.”

“Oh, that would be great! Uhm… where are we going?” Tanaka turns to Tsukauchi with a questioning look.

“That depends on you, Mister Tanaka. Do you want to go to the hospital, or just get checked up at the precinct? I’d like to talk to you more, but your health comes first.”

“The hospital, I think. It would be nice to have a check up and make sure I’m not going to get any infections…”

Aizawa nods. “Alright. I’ll give Yamada a call and have him pass the message along.”

“Actually, I have her number. I’ll give her a call.” Tsukauchi chimes in. “You can touch base with Yamada, and I’ll contact you in a day or two.”

Aizawa nods again and gives a short wave before turning and walking out, tuning out what Tanaka says next. He takes a deep breath as he gets outside, watching the chaos around him. Various pairs of gang members are seated in the back of the many patrol cars blocking the road. The few that wouldn’t fit are being watched over by the officers as they wait for a bus. Most of them look drunk or tired, and Aizawa smirks to himself. Must have been sleeping the day away as they waited for night to fall.

He spies a familiar tuft of purple hair at the other side of the police barricade, and he saunters over, his fingers brushing over the phone in his pocket as he takes in Shinsou’s expression. The kid is trying hard to act nonchalant, but while his face is blank his pose is agitated. Wide stance, arms crossed, eyes always moving. He’s clearly expecting one of the officers to stop and talk to him.

“Wow, were you waiting for me, kid? I’m chuffed,” he says, voice low with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to hear how it went. Did you get into any fights? Did--”

“We hid in the elevator shaft until we were found. No fights.”

Shinsou blinks and watches Aizawa duck under the crime scene tape that was put up. His expression morphs from thoughtful to disappointed, then quickly to disbelieving.

“What? That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it. I’m pretty good at this sneaking thing.”

“But you were hired as a bodyguard, right?”

“What, are you suggesting I should solve all my problems with fighting? That’s a last resort. If i have other options, I’ll take them. And even if it is my only option, I’ll still look for another one. The risks that come with fighting are too great. It’s not logical to seek them out, even if fighting is sometimes the only option. Do you understand?”

Shinsou makes an annoyed sound and kicks at the ground, and Aizawa realizes he was lecturing, his own arms crossed and back straight as he stares down at Shinsou’s pouty frown.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s good enough for now,” Aizawa grunts. “Now, are you sticking with me or going off to do your own thing again?”

“Yeah, could I stay the night again?” Shinsou asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he grimaces.

“Sure. It’s the least I could do for all your help.”

Shinsou smiles in relief, though it doesn’t last long. Aizawa doesn’t dawdle, turning and walking down towards the the nearest working bus stop. With the road closed down as it is, they have to go a bit further to reach one, but Aizawa appreciates the chance to walk off his lingering adrenaline. A nap will be in order once everything is done. He pulls out his phone, dialing Yamada’s number and watching Shinsou follow him from the corner of his eye as he prepares himself for the barrage of questions to come. He can already tell he'll be getting an earful for ignoring Yamada's texts, but there's a feeling of excitement and something else that fills him as he waits for Yamada's voice to come on the line.

He really needs to take the night to sort through some things, and not just about the job.

Chapter Text

“Aizawa, I was so worried! Why didn’t you reply to my texts!? Tsukauchi wasn’t picking up either and I would have called but I figured you must have been busy--”

Aizawa sighs, Yamada’s loud, worried voice coming from his phone and making everyone waiting at the bus stop smile or shuffle awkwardly as they listen in unintentionally. Shinsou just keeps smirking and watching Aizawa from the corner of his eye. Aizawa frowns and ignores them all, trying to get a word in edgewise as the bus rolls in.

“Yamada-”

“Also your text was so short! And I saw you sent it to Tsukauchi, is he there? Mrs. Tanaka just got a call and is in the other room, you’re all safe, right? I mean, you’re making the call right now--”

“Hizashi!” Aizawa sighs, stepping up to swipe his bus card as Yamada finally falls silent for a moment. His voice is softer as he finally replies.

“What?”

“Can I speak?”

“Yeah- yeah, sorry. I was just worried! You said you were just going to do recon!”

“I know, but things were different than I thought they would be. And we’re all safe. I can give you the details back at the house.”

“The house? Well sure, I can meet you there, but why not come here?”

“Tanaka is going to the hospital for a general checkup, so the call Mrs. Tanaka just got must be Tsukauchi telling her the news. So you and Yagi might as well come back, since she must be eager to go see her husband.”

“Oh-oh! Ok, thats-”

“I’ll see you both back at the house.” Aizawa says, hanging up abruptly before Yamada can get enough steam to start another ramble. He gets a text from Yamada full of emoji faces a few seconds later. Clearly he doesn’t like being hung up on. Aizawa just sends an emoji back in reply- one with its tongue sticking out- before pocketing his phone.

“So we’re headed back to Yagi’s place?” Shinsou asks. The bus goes over a bump and they both sway with the movement, Aizawa looking up to stare out the window and see what stop they’re at.

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

“But you didn’t even get into any fights.”

“How many times are you going to bring that up? It was still stressful. Being in enemy territory like that, surrounded on all sides, just waiting for an ambush or a surprise encounter- it still takes its toll, even if nothing bad happens. So it's good to take care of yourself afterwards. You have to acknowledge these sorts of things, or it will hurt you in the long run.”

“Were you in the military or something?”

Aizawa pauses, looking at the kid as the bus stops. The person sitting below them sneaks a look up, clearly eavesdropping, and he pushes Shinsou towards the exit.

“Wha- hey, we still have three more stops!”

“We’re walking.”

“I paid good money for this!”

“Chump change. And exercise is good for you. Move it!”

Shinsou grumbles but complies, both of them exiting at the back of the bus and taking a moment to watch it drive off.

“Yes, I was in the military,” he finally says, shoving his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill of nightfall. The sky has turned from blue to purple in the time they were on the bus, the sun starting to set on the horizon and turning the clouds between the skyscrapers into a rainbow of colors. He starts walking towards the west, his eyes darting between the sky and the sidewalk in front. Shinsou follows silently for a block before he asks another question.

“Does that scar on your face have anything to do with why you’re not there anymore?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Aizawa stays silent, and Shinsou huffs and asks again. After a few moments he asks a third time, and Aizawa shakes his head, feeling his stomach sour. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. Especially not when he’s still so amped up from his stressful- but successful- rescue mission. It’s bad enough that he’ll probably have nightmares again even if he takes the time to relax.

“I don’t want to talk about it. And don’t ask me again.”

Shinsou frowns but relents, looking out across the street. Aizawa winces at how harsh his own tone was, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t owe this kid an explanation. But it still gnaws at him as they pass by a grocery store, finally reaching the block where the neighborhood starts. They walk the rest of the way in silence, both of them lost in thought as they walk up to the steps and Aizawa unlocks the door. Shouto peeks his head out from around the door to the kitchen, watching them remove their shoes at the front entrance.

“Welcome back. Nice to see you again, Shinsou.”

Aizawa nods and Shinsou gives a wave in greeting, not saying anything.

“Hello, Shouto. Yagi and Yamada aren’t back yet?”

“No. Dad called and said he was on his way, though. I put some stuff in the oven for him, so dinner will be ready pretty soon after he gets back.”

“That’s great. I’m going to go take a nap.”

“Okay. Hey Shinsou, come help me with this homework.”

“I didn’t go to class.”

Shouto pauses, and Aizawa starts to head up the stairs, hearing his confident reply a moment later. “Then you can copy my stuff.”

Shinsou freezes at the bottom of the stairs, clearly torn between following Aizawa and taking Shouto up on his offer. Eventually, the offer of free work wins out, and he slowly heads towards the kitchen. Aizawa wonders if Shinsou realizes Shouto just wants an excuse to hang out- but maybe Shinsou wants an excuse too. Aizawa doesn’t hear the rest of their conversation as he shuts the door to the second floor, sighing in relief as silence greets him. He spends a few moments just resting with his back against the door, his thoughts vying for his attention now that he has a moment to think. It’s all a bit overwhelming, so he takes a logical approach to it, deciding to get comfortable first.

He heads over to the door to his room, pausing at the door frame as he looks at the messy bed. He could nap in here, but right now, Shinsou is using the room. It would feel a bit weird. He turns to look at the couch, eyeing it’s length and finding it lacking. He could certainly nap there, but he wouldn’t be very comfortable with his feet on the arm. His eyes finally land on the door to Yamada’s room, and he hesitates. Yamada did say he could sleep there while Shinsou is here. And he can try to wake up before Yamada gets here- Yamada is certainly loud enough that he should know before Yamada comes to find him. He isn’t sure why he’s so caught up on being found sleeping in Yamada’s bed, so he quickly washes his face and heads in, sitting down on top of the comforter.

The sheets are still a bit messy from the morning, but he can’t blame Yamada for that. He has his injury to deal with. It does look like he tried to tidy up, but everything is lumpy and lopsided. Aizawa carefully lies down, looking at the other side of the bed. The room is dim as the sun sets, casting a faint light on the ceiling from between the drapes. Aizawa breathes in and his thoughts drift to Yamada.

Yamada, with his bright smile and out-there attitude and ideas. The kind of man to trap a bunch of rich men into getting caught at their own party, who ends up getting stabbed by a gang leader in a back alley after a frantic chase. His endless energy and sharp mind and impulsiveness. His grating habits and his soft words of understanding, for friend and stranger alike. Yamada, the man he wants to call Hizashi. He can’t deny that while sleeping next to Yamada was more out of necessity, this time he’s sort of looking forward to it. He wants that simple intimacy again.

It’s a very indulgent thought, but he can’t deny it to himself. There’s still a lot he doesn’t know about Yamada, but this isn’t about what he knows. This is about finding out. Finding out who he really is. Finding out if they can really make this work. Finding out if maybe, this may turn into something more than just work. Yamada is friendly, of course, he can see it every time Yamada talks to him or anyone else. But thinking about it now, he can’t help but wonder if there is something different about the way Yamada interacts when it’s just them. They’ve only known each other less than a week, so it’s not like he’s in love. It’s just a crush. A crush .

Figuring that out is enough to make him want to curl up in a hole and not come out for a few days. But he’s an adult. He has responsibilities. Bills to pay, food to eat, people to take care of, and a job with an attractive man. He can’t deny it now. Yamada is attractive. His long blond hair, his sharp features, his mesmerizing eyes, his lithe body- all of them added together into one maddening package. Usually it’s not so hard to avoid thinking about people, but then he usually isn’t so hung up on them either. He can’t even remember the last time he found someone attractive. Probably back in high school. But that feels so far away. And this crept up on him so fast, during the whirlwind of getting a new job and a new place to live, hiding there under all the disorienting stress of finding a new place in life.

He breathes in, then out, counting his breaths the way a therapist taught him. His swirling thoughts slow, like a ferocious tide turning to a gentle eddy, present, but calmer, less chaotic. Having desires isn’t a problem. He can deal with it, but he needs to worry about himself first. While a relationship may seem attractive, too much weighs on this for him to take his usual stance of ‘just get it over with.’ Yamada is technically his boss. Sure, he could just ask him out, and see where it goes, but he doesn’t know for sure how successful it will be. They barely know each other. And he wants to be sure his job and home won’t be in danger before risking it over something as inconsequential as feelings and desires.

Waiting is logical. So he’ll wait, and think, and make plans. And once he has his life together, and if those feelings are still there after all of this, maybe he can make something happen. But right now, he should get some sleep.

Waking up is a gradual process, unlike usual, his body warm and surrounded with soft fabrics and comforting smells. His head feels clear, a contrast to how groggy and unfocused he usually feels. There's no pain or cramping or uncomfortable sweat. But there is a hand in his hair. It takes him a moment to open his eyes, blearily watching Yamada pull his hand back quickly. He’s sitting on the other side of the bed, torso twisted so his legs still dangle off the edge. There’s a nervous laugh, then Yamada is poking his cheek, grinning madly.

“Wakey wakey, Aizawa! Don’t you want some dinner?”

Aizawa shoots up as his heart jumps, his face flushing involuntarily as the blanket draped over him falls away. He meant to wake up when Yamada got home. How late is it? How long has Yamada been here? He turns to look at the alarm clock on the table, ignoring the finger poking his shoulder.

“Aizawa, hey, earth to Aizawa--”

“It’s nine already? Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“Because you looked so cute sleeping there!” Aizawa blinks, telling himself not to read into things. He can’t do this now. He promised himself to wait. But he only has to keep quiet, right? His eyes linger on Yamada’s, noting the change from his iconic sunglasses to the nerdy-looking thick frames he wears at home. He looks cute too. Acknowledging it to himself should be fine, as long as he doesn’t act on it too much.

“Sure. But isn’t dinner done with already? It’s so late.”

“Yagi kept a bowl in the oven, but yeah, if you don’t eat it soon, it’ll probably be kind of dry. So get up already!”

“Maybe I want to go back to sleep. I’ve had a stressful day.”

“So have I!”

“More stressful than sneaking into a gang hideout?”

Yamada pouts, crossing his arms and wincing as he jostles the bandage on his bicep. “Well, no. You got me there. But you really should eat. Yagi and Shouto worked so hard. Even Shinsou helped, but now he’s holed up in your room, or should we call it his room now? Either way, I need someone to bother, and you’re it. We need to talk about the case and other things, anyways. And--”

“Ok, ok, I get it. We’ll talk. But I’m going to go back to sleep after.” He smirks as Yamada pouts some more, watching as he gets comfortable against the headboard. He’s joking of course- dinner will do him good, and after the day he’s had he’ll need it, especially with how his stomach feels. But teasing Yamada is easier now, especially when Yamada goes along with it.

“Aizawa-” he whines, waving his good arm around. “You can’t skip dinner! I know you’re tired, but-- ok, fine. How about I bring it to you? Dinner in bed, served by yours truly. In fact, let me go get it now!”

“What? No, wait, I--”

Aizawa blinks and shuts his mouth, watching as Yamada rushes out the door and towards the stairs, making a racket as he heads to the kitchen. Aizawa just sits there, listening to the dull sounds of Yamada doing things in the kitchen below. He entertains the thought of getting up, but it seems pointless. Yamada will just insist he get back in bed now that he’s set on the idea. And he is very comfortable. He steals Yamada’s pillow from his side of the bed (how is it his side, after only a night?) and uses it behind his back to get comfortable. He adjusts the comforter over his legs, noting how Yamada just flipped over the other half to cover him instead of trying to pull it out and risk waking him. The other side of the bed looks bare now, without a pillow or the comforter. Or a warm body.

He’s jarred out of his wandering thoughts by Yamada’s return, blinking in surprise as Yamada comes in carrying a tray on his hip. His injured arm is holding a glass of water, and Aizawa feels a twinge of annoyance at Yamada’s irresponsibility to his wound.

“You’re still injured-” he starts, getting up to grab the tray from him before he drops it. Yamada huffs, putting the water down on the nightstand and rubbing at his bicep involuntarily as he pouts.

“It’s fine! I carried the tray with my other arm! And nothing spilled. And it doesn’t even hurt!”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t hurt because you’ve been taking the pills.”

Yamada makes a noise and rolls his eyes, flopping onto the bed as Aizawa makes himself comfortable again. He balances the tray on his lap, looking down at the bowl of stew, then up at Yamada’s supine form. His shirt is riding up from where he’s stretched out, legs digging into the floor, and he tears his eyes away to find Yamada’s face. He’s still pouting, looking at the ceiling- probably thinking something over.

“Hey, Yamada.”

“Hm?”

“What did Mrs. Tanaka say? Whats going to happen now that we found her husband and brought him back?”

That does the trick in opening the floodgates, and Yamada sits up, hands flying into motion as he starts to talk, no trace of a pout anywhere. He winces a few times as he pulls his wound, eventually keeping his arm pressed against his chest as he explains. Nothing of interest happened until after Aizawa called, but Yamada is intent on telling him all the details anyways. Aizawa is reminded of everyone’s glowing reviews per Yamada’s skills- he really does have an eye for the details, even if most of them are useless. But it’s sometimes the smallest things that make the biggest difference, hidden in among those “useless” things.

Aizawa eats his stew while Yamada talks, asking a few clarifying questions here and there. Yamada doesn’t stop until right before Aizawa is finished eating. He actually steals the last of Aizawa’s water, wetting his throat and shooting Aizawa a grin that makes him shiver even as he frowns in annoyance. Why does he have to be so cute doing something like that?

“I was drinking that.”

“I brought it to you! And I was thirsty! I just spent the last forever talking! Here, I’ll go get you some more.”

“No, I’ll get it. You worked so hard to bring it to me,” he drawls sarcastically, snatching the cup back and getting to his feet. He heads into the bathroom as Yamada follows him, laughing and prodding at him.

“No, no, let me get it, you did all the work today! Let me return the favor! Hey!”

Aizawa can’t help his small smile as he fills up his cup with the faucet. Yamada watches his face in the mirror, a bigger grin growing on his own face. Their eyes meet in the glass, and Aizawa turns to meet them face-to-face, idly sipping from his glass.

“Fine. You’re a go-getter. I get it! But just so you know, I’m totally promoting you for this. I mean, you rescued him! Your first case! A super success!”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Aizawa says. Yamada blinks, tilting his head so his hair falls over his shoulder in interesting ways. Aizawa pauses to watch it, but the silence stretches on as Yamada waits patiently for him to continue. Aizawa clears his throat.

“I was wondering if you’d take me on as a partner, and not a bodyguard. And not just because you aren’t hiring me as a bodyguard through the right channels. But because of how well we work together.”

“We work well together, do we?” Yamada says, voice searching. Aizawa frowns, wondering what he’s playing at. Hasn’t he noticed? He even said as much himself- that’s when it hits Aizawa. Yamada is waiting for his pitch. Waiting for him to show how much he’s been paying attention. If he’s really going to suggest they be partners, especially when Yamada has been a complete success on his own so far, he needs to bring everything to the table now and make it worth his while.

“We complement each other. You’re loud, flashy, great at acting and getting people to trust you. You’re a leader, a talker, a fast thinker. I’m steady, and grounded. I may need you to explain your crazier plans to me, but that gets you to stop and think, and two heads are always better than one. I approach things cautiously, which worked out in our favor considering how things went tonight. If our roles had been reversed, tonight would have ended very differently. Yesterday would have ended differently, if I hadn’t been just as involved as you. If you just wanted a bodyguard, why include me so much? Maybe you did this on purpose, or maybe you just haven’t realized it, but a partner is what you really need. Someone who can support you. Someone you can support in return.” he finally pauses, taking a deep breath. “Am I making sense?”

Aizawa falls silent. Yamada has been watching him quietly the whole time, eerily still as his bright eyes watch his every move. Even his face, normally so expressive and happy, is flat and emotionless. What is he thinking? Aizawa can feel a tingling nervousness running up and down his spine, chilling his skin and raising goosebumps as he waits. He starts to wonder if maybe he got it wrong when Yamada suddenly beams with excitement, his hands slapping onto his face like an excited child.

“Yes!”

“Yes..?”

“Yes, I accept! You pass! Oh, this is so exciting! I’m so glad you see it too! We make such a great team. I’ve been having so much fun with you, these past few days. Work is exciting again! Not that it wasn’t, mind you, but I did feel like something was missing. I really did. You hit the nail on the head. I need a proper partner. Like a Watson to my Holmes.”

“You’re more of a Wooster to my Jeeves.” Aizawa huffs.

Yamada snorts and laughs, leaning against the door frame hard to hold himself up. Aizawa smirks and takes another long drink from his cup, his rattled nerves slowly settling as the mood lightens considerably.

Partners. He likes the sound of that.

They make idle chatter as they clean up Aizawa’s dinner (Yamada steals his cup again, finishing the water off as they return the dishes to the sink) and head back upstairs. Shinsou slinks out from the back of the house to follow them up, acting as cool as ever as he ducks into the bathroom and starts a shower. Aizawa sighs and makes himself comfortable on the couch, feeling very tired despite his nap.

“What a day, huh?” Yamada comments, sitting down next to him on the couch. Aizawa doesn’t move except to turn his head, lying his cheek on the back of the couch as he watches Yamada through tired eyes.

“You’re telling me?”

“I know, I know, Mister I-rescued-a-man-today. You had it worse, I concede. I’ll even let you tell me about it tomorrow instead of debriefing you now.”

“Tsukauchi wants to debrief me too. Can you wait until he comes?”

“Aw, but what if I wanted you to myself first?” Yamada laughs softly, leaning in closer as he copies Aizawa’s pose. “We’re partners now, after all. We get to know everything first.”

“Yeah, sure. Should we be talking money too, or-?”

“I’m fine with an even split. I’ve had my share of full pay, and I know you won’t slack on me. We can do all the paperwork and tax stuff after we get paid by the Tanakas. Head down to the bank, get things settled...”

“Works for me”

They both fall silent, searching for something else to say as they watch each other. Their breath mingles in the air between them, the air feeling warmer by the minute as their eyes linger. Aizawa can feel the couch shifting, and he wonders if Yamada is moving closer. He can feel legs brushing against his-

The bathroom door opens with a sudden bang, Shinsou stepping out carelessly as he wears the same clothes and heads into the room they’ve given him for the night.

“Night, weirdos.” he calls out. Yamada laughs in surprise, his whole body twisting as he turns to look. Aizawa pouts, trying to hide it with a frown as he calls out in response.

“I need to talk to you tomorrow, so don’t go anywhere until I wake up.”

“But I have school. You want me to miss it again?”

Aizawa sits up, narrowing his eyes as he searches Shinsou’s expression from across the room.

“Fine, then after. But why the sudden interest in school?”

Shinsou shrugs, slowly stepping backwards through the door frame as he closes the door.

“Maybe I just feel like it.” he says, voice unreadable. The door clicks shut, and Aizawa can hear it locking in the moment of silence before Yamada is back in his space, squealing quietly.

“Aw, would you look at that! He’s so inspired by you to do better!”

“Are you sure it isn’t because of Shouto?”

“Maybe that too. I saw them doing homework after dinner.”

“Shinsou wasn’t just copying everything?”

“Some of it, sure. But he figured it out pretty quick. I think he likes a challenge.”

“A challenge,” Aizawa hums, watching the closed door with a contemplative expression. Yamada tears him from his thoughts like always, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him.

“Hey, come help me change my bandage so I can go to sleep.”

“Alright.”

Aizawa gets up and follows Yamada to the bathroom on autopilot, his brain finally kicking into gear just as Yamada takes his shirt off. It’s logical, of course- rolling up his sleeve wouldn’t work with how high the wound is. But he finds himself staring at Yamada’s slim figure a moment too long- why couldn’t he wear an undershirt? He distracts himself by grabbing the first aid kit, gathering his materials as Yamada sweeps the countertop clean to sit on it.

“You know, you could have just put the toilet lid down and sat there.” Aizawa grumbles. Yamada just grins down at him, the lights above the sink making his hair shine.

“But then I wouldn’t be taller than you! And you would have had to bend down to help me then. I figure this will be easier on your back.” Yamada explains. Aizawa can see the logic in that too. But now he’s at eye level with Yamada’s bare chest, his gaze trailing over lines of muscles until he concentrates on the task at hand.

Focus, Aizawa!

He narrows his focus to the puffy wound held together with neat stitches on Yamada’s bicep- the wound is clean, and there's no sign of infection. He makes sure to dab at it gently, prodding at the healing flesh with a q-tip so he doesn’t risk pressing to hard with his large fingers. The wound looks a lot better now than it had the night Yamada got it, but he can still remember the stab of fear he’d felt, seeing all the blood between Yamada’s fingers as he clutched the wound--

“Hey, are you okay? Is there something wrong with it?” Yamada asks in a soft voice. Aizawa blinks and looks up, catching his concerned gaze. “You put the disinfectant on then just kept staring- what’s up? Is it getting infected?”

“No, no,” Aizawa says, clearing his throat as he grabs a clean gauze pad, ripping off the adhesive strips and carefully covering the wound to protect it from dirt and germs. “I was just remembering that night-”

“The night it happened? Yeah, I keep thinking about it too. Not the worst I’ve had, but I can’t say I’ve ever been stabbed before. It was worse than I expected.”

“You held yourself together well.”

“Hah, well, thanks, but I’m pretty sure that was the adrenaline. Before you came to pick me up, they had a hard time giving me the pain meds with how much I was panicking. I think they gave me extra.”

Yamada laughs, clearly amused with his story, and Aizawa wonders how he can talk about his fear so easily. “They wouldn’t give you extra,” he mumbles, shaking his head, but his mind isn’t focused on that. Yamada opens his mouth again, but Aizawa grips his arm, below the wound and above the elbow, his large hands almost wrapping around completely without squeezing.

“Ah, Aizawa, what-?”

“Leave the dangerous stuff to me.” he says softly, looking up into Yamada’s bright green eyes. Yamada blinks, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before nodding, their gazes never leaving one another.

“I can try. It’ll be a lot easier to do that now that I have you, right?” He grins, but it isn’t as confident as Aizawa is used to. But as soon as Aizawa nods, Yamada perks up, his confidence coming back in full force.

“Of course. We’re partners now,” Aizawa says, still staring into Yamada’s hypnotizing gaze. He looks away as Yamada leans in closer, startled out of his thoughts by the warm breath on his face. He speaks up before his thoughts can stray into dangerous territory. “Why don’t you head to bed. I’m going to clean this up and wash up before I go back to sleep.”

“Aizawa--”

“We can talk over everything tomorrow, over breakfast. Or afterwards. We’ve both had a long day.”

Aizawa keeps his attention on packing up the first aid kit as Yamada slowly lowers himself from the countertop, grabbing his shirt and slinking to the door. He can see Yamada pausing at the doorway by watching the mirror, but Yamada only says goodnight, his cheery tone at odds with the strangely tense posture he has. Aizawa closes the door once he’s gone, leaning on the countertop and running the tap as cold as he can get it, mind whirling with desires and regrets.

Chapter Text

Aizawa is quiet as he steps out of the bathroom and into Yamada’s room, noting how he left one of the lamps on. Aizawa heads over to turn it off, watching Yamada from the corner of his eye. Yamada is on his phone, already comfortable under the covers with his hair in a high ponytail. His glasses are on the nightstand and his alarm is set, the red light shining steady next to the time. Its late. Even after his nap, Aizawa feels exhausted, so he flips off the lamp and steps towards the bed.

“Oh, jeez! Aizawa!” Yamada gasps, making Aizawa pause. Did he need the light? “You startled me! I didn’t even hear you come in!”

“Sorry. Do you-”

“No,  I don’t need the light, it's fine.” Yamada blinks, clearly trying to see him in the dark, his phone illuminating his face and making his green eyes shine. Aizawa sits on the bed, and Yamada looks over at him, finding him by sound more than sight. “Will this keep you up? My phone, I mean.”

“As long as it’s quiet I’ll be fine.” he says softly. He carefully shifts under the covers- Yamada left them folded back for him, a surprisingly domestic gesture- and gets comfortable. It doesn’t feel the same as last night, when he was watching Yamada after getting back from the hospital. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep then. But now he’s very aware of Yamada shifting next to him, feeling everything through the mattress or the tug on the blankets.

Yamada hums softly as he plays with his phone, under his breath, and Aizawa wonders if he realizes he’s doing it. It’s not annoying enough for him to ask Yamada to stop. If anything, it’s kind of soothing. Aizawa turns on his side, his back to Yamada and the bright phone, his ears catching on all the sounds as he closes his eyes and tries to ignore the feeling of a body lying next to his. He’s no stranger to sharing space, but this is different from boot camp and the front.

He falls asleep to the sound of Yamada’s humming, his mind captivated by the melody. Has he heard it before? It’s almost familiar, but he can’t quite place it. It just makes him listen harder, but he doesn’t come up with an answer before he’s out, breathing steady.

Waking up just before dawn is still his habit, and he blinks and yawns, taking in the dark room from the warm bed. He’s very comfortable despite the slightly sweaty feeling- he can just rinse off when he gets up. He turns his head, planning on rolling onto his back so he can check on Yamada, but he has to freeze when his back bumps into something rather quickly, his eyes catching sight of golden hair. Yamada is curled up on his side, his face a few centimeters from Aizawa’s back, tucked almost completely under the covers as if he’s cold. Aizawa shifts closer to the edge of the bed so he can turn onto his back, his eyes never leaving Yamada’s peaceful form. He loses time to staring, barely noticing as the sun rises, shining in through the blinds and slowly lighting up the room.

Yamada gives a large huff and shifts, startling Aizawa out of his thoughts. He sits up and tears his eyes away, looking at the soft morning light peeking through the blinds, making a pattern on the soft carpet covering the wood floor. He’s lingered too long. He gets up and goes to the bathroom without looking back, leaving Yamada to wake up to an empty bed.

“Yamada.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, of course! Just let me finish this…”

Yamada sticks his tongue out as he leans in closer to the mirror, carefully applying mascara to his short eyelashes. Aizawa huffs and leans in the door, watching the process with veiled interest.

“Why do you need makeup for this? Aren’t we just picking up a check?”

“No, we aren’t just ‘picking up a check’! We’re making a final impression! We need to look professional, and capable, and all that jazz! We want them to remember us as someone they would want to rely on again in a time of need! Or at least someone they’ll talk about to their friends, so maybe their friends will hire us. It’s free advertisement! And just a good business practice in general. Appearances are everything.”

Aizawa yawns, scratching at his stomach as turns his gaze to the main room of the second floor. It’s empty, Shinsou having vacated a few hours ago to head to school with Shouto, only carrying his wallet and a pencil he borrowed from Shouto at the breakfast table. The door to the second bedroom is open, and Aizawa wonders if maybe he should just remove all of his things from there for the time being. That line of thought brings up another problem he’s been mulling over, a much bigger and more complicated problem than a kidnapping.

“Say, Yamada-”

“What’s up? I’m almost done, I swear!”

“I was just thinking. About Shinsou.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Yamada finally puts down his makeup tools and stands up straight, making a face at the mirror before turning to regard Aizawa with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you elaborate, maybe?”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been able to get much out of him, but I don’t think he has a proper place to stay.”

“Okay,” Yamada draws out the end, patting Aizawa on the chest as he squeezes past him through the doorway. “And? You want him to stay here? Why? You feel responsible? You just met the kid.”

“Well, sure-”

“I’m not trying to dissuade you, don’t take that the wrong way. I just want to hear your thoughts.”

Aizawa follows Yamada to the stairs, adjusting his collar and pulling on his nicer jacket as they pocket everything they need to go out. He has to wrap his head around how he wants to answer Yamada, and it takes until they get into a cab for him to finally reply, Yamada waiting patiently the whole time.

“He reminds me of me as a kid. And until I know he has somewhere safe to return to, I don’t feel comfortable just letting him walk out of my life. He distrusts cops, which is reasonable, but he also relied on a gang to get by-”

“Which is not so reasonable,” Yamada says. Aizawa nods, turning to lean his shoulder against the window so he’s facing Yamada.

“It’s a good sign that he’s going to school again. Maybe I shouldn’t get so involved, but-”

“But again; you feel responsible.”

Aizawa sighs. “Yes.”

“Alright. We can discuss it more later- why don’t we focus on work for now?”

Aizawa nods, and they start to work out their partnership- it’s surprisingly easy, with how willing Yamada is to share his business with Aizawa. They both make an equal share of profits from any case they take, and while Yamada is still technically the boss, Aizawa can veto things and take on cases as the lead, as long as he consults Yamada about it first. They’ll both have to work hard to make sure things get done, but Yamada is willing to handle all the paperwork as long as Aizawa trusts him to do it, only needing him for proofreading and signatures, to keep everything organized and on task. They work out a lot of details before the cab pulls up outside the Tanaka’s apartment building, and they step out still in discussion, looking more like a pair of businessmen instead of private detectives.

Yamada is the one who knocks when they reach the apartment. Aizawa is content to take a back seat for this part, which is another thing they discussed. While they can both take clients, Yamada will take the lead on dealing with them unless Aizawa insists otherwise. Yamada is better suited for the task. It’s readily apparent as the door opens and Yamada smiles easily, greeting Mrs. and Mr. Tanaka like an old friend, Aizawa just following his lead as they’re lead inside.

They all sit in the pristine living room, Mrs. Tanaka serving them coffee while Mr. Tanaka stares at them. Mr. Tanaka- Ken, if Aizawa is remembering correctly- seems much calmer now, but he also looks sickly under the bright lights. Aizawa hadn’t really noticed it before.

“Mr. Tanaka, so glad to see you well!”

“I’m so glad to be here, you don’t even know. I can’t thank you two enough- especially you, Mister Aizawa. You were so calm and collected during your rescue- it was very impressive! My wife and I wanted to give you an extra bonus, as a thank you.”

“Yes, we thought it would be an acceptable way to express our gratitude, especially with the risk you took.” Mrs. Tanaka says over the top of her own coffee cup.

“Wow, hear that Aizawa? You’re getting a bonus!”

“We both are--” Aizawa says, but Yamada cuts him off.

“This isn’t part of the original fee I quoted them, so it’s not going to be split. It’s yours. And speaking of!” Yamada turns away from Aizawa, silently dismissing him for now as he focuses on the Tanaka’s. Mrs. Tanaka picks up on his meaning quick as lightning, her hand drawing out a pre-written check from inside her purse.

“Here, the rest of the fee, with the bonus Ken and I agreed upon. I do hope it serves you well.”

Aizawa sips his coffee- black, one sugar- as he eyes the door, wondering if that’s their cue to leave. He turns his gaze to Yamada, waiting for him to start the pleasant goodbyes, but they don’t come. Yamada starts asking Ken how he is, asking about the police, how they treated him, how the hospital was- a whole plethora of questions. Enough questions that Aizawa finishes his coffee and moves to look out the window before they’re even close to done.

The conversation shifts to Mrs. Tanaka’s mother, and Aizawa starts to pay attention again, returning to stand behind the couch, resting his hands behind Yamada’s shoulders.

“So, I know you hired us to get your husband back, and all's well in that department, but I do have a few concerns to discuss with you- no extra charge, of course. Just my usual follow up. I suppose you remember what we talked about yesterday?”

Mrs. Tanaka nods, her face twisting into a frown. “Yes, I remember. About my mother being the instigator. I hired a background check firm to look into everything, so while she can’t be brought to justice just yet, I’m sure I’ll find a way. And in any case, I will never be speaking to her again. I just… it’s so hard to believe. My own mother...:”

“Again, you have my condolences. This must be a very difficult time for you, even if your husband has returned safe. We left off on a weird note yesterday- I had been asking about your father? And why he’s still listed as missing, despite it being many years since he was heard from?”

“Oh. I know why,” Mrs. Tanaka says, voice soft and sad. “I found out about a year ago. It has something to do with my father’s will, and everything going to me upon his death. That included his bank accounts- I think he knew she might try something like this. He had tried to divorce her before, I think, but she had something on him… Anyways, his lawyer came to me eventually, saying his contract with my father allowed me to read the will even before he was declared dead. At the time, I was too shocked to think about it much, but that must be why she tried this now. He’s been missing so long-”

“He’s about to be declared legally dead anyways, right? Because of how long it’s been?”

“Yes. I know my mother pushed back against it the first time, but she can’t anymore.”

“Pushed back?” Aizawa speaks up, feeling confused.

“Yeah, the state has some unusual laws regarding missing persons, due to some stuff that happened with a previous mayor and the mafia, or something,” Mrs. Tanaka explains, but she doesn’t seem too sure of herself. Yamada just laughs and nods.

“Oh yeah, all of that!” is all he says, still leaving Aizawa in the dark. Maybe he can just look it up later. Google will save him from vague conversations.

“So it really was just about the money.” Ken sighs, shaking his head. He’s staring into his empty coffee cup, but he looks up as his wife scoots in closer, their shoulders brushing as they give each other silent looks. He reaches up to wrap an arm around her shoulder, offering his comfort.

“It usually is,” Yamada says, voice soft and melancholic. “If you feel like we could be of any more help, don’t hesitate to give us a call. But I’m sure the background check and a nice team of lawyers will be much more helpful to you now.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you again, so much.”

Aizawa resists the urge to sigh as they finally start to wrap up the meeting. His eyes stray to a nearby clock as he slowly steps forward, keeping ahead of the group as Mrs. Tanaka follows to show them out like a proper host. The meeting lasted almost two hours. It just solidifies in his mind the part of their agreement where Yamada will handle the clients- he really isn’t suited or interested in this part of things. Yamada handles the pleasantries while Aizawa ducks into the hallway, keeping an eye out as if he’s doing his job, instead of trying to avoid speaking to people. To his credit, Yamada handles it just fine on his own, and soon they are riding the elevator down, Yamada tapping away on his phone for another cab. He turns to Aizawa with a smirk as they walk out of the elevator.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Don’t think I didn’t notice your little escape act.”

“There's a reason I didn’t fight you when you said you’d take lead with our clients.” Aizawa huffs. Yamada laughs, a beautiful sound that lightens his mood, even if it doesn’t remove the frown from his face.

“Well, it just goes to show how compatible we are! It’s like you said when you made your case for being partners. Now- let’s head to the bank and handle some business, shall we?”

The next few hours, while important and very informative, are also very boring, filled with banking nonsense and paperwork covered in legal jargon. At least he understands it all, even if it gives him a headache. He stumbles inside when they finally return home, kicking off his shoes and turning left to collapse on Yagi’s horribly flowery couch. Yamada laughs and pats his back before heading into the kitchen, holding a muffled conversation with whoever is in there. It holds no interest for Aizawa, who quickly slips into a light sleep, feeling safer now that his future isn’t so uncertain.

Chapter Text

The next two days are spent more like a vacation than how he would expect a new job to start, and it's certainly a very weird vacation. Sharing a bed with Yamada is thrilling and nerve-wracking in equal measure, so he goes to bed before Yamada and wakes up early, catnapping during the day to make up for it. Yamada doesn't wake him up with any late-night music sessions, but sometimes it seems like he went to bed right before Aizawa wakes up. With all his free time, he spends more time with Yagi, helping around the house, and learning everyone’s daily habits as he tries to build some of his own. For now, he just works out in the backyard in the morning while everyone else wakes up. It seems everyone only eats breakfast together on the weekends, as Shouto and Shinsou rush out before Yamada has woken up. Yagi seems happy to have someone around to help, though Aizawa finds the conversations stilted and awkward. They end up having a small argument about something as Aizawa admonishes Yagi's blind optimism, but he ends up feeling a bit bad about it later, even as Yagi reassures him its fine.

On the third day, he looks up from his recent work out session to find Yamada watching him from the second story window, his hand holding the curtain aside. Their eyes meet, and they freeze, just staring, until Yamada lets go of the curtain, which falls and obscures Yamada from view. Aizawa grabs his towel and wipes at his face, idly wondering how long Yamada was watching him.

Yamada doesn't even come down to eat for another hour, so Aizawa ends up washing the dishes as Yagi sits at the table, slowly working through a small plate of fatty, high-calorie foods.

"Say, Yagi," Aizawa starts, eyes darting to look at him before he focuses on the dishes. Yagi turns in his chair, facing Aizawa as he tilts his head.

"What is it?"

"I was just wondering about your health," He says. Being blunt is the only way he can see to go about this conversation. He’ll be living with this man for the foreseeable future, so it seems only logical to ask about him. Yagi has already asked him the usual questions about hometowns and old jobs, but Aizawa isn’t one for normal small talk. Yagi blinks, but doesn't offer anything on his own, clearly expecting more from Aizawa's end.

"Specifically your eating habits. You can tell me if you don't want to discuss it, but I have to admit I'm curious."

Aizawa rinses off a plate and sets it to the side before leaning against the counter with his hip, idly drying his hands on a bar towel. Yagi coughs softly, eyes diverted to the side as he thinks of a reply.

"Well, thank you for your honesty," Yagi finally says, a weak grin appearing on his face. "I know everyone must wonder about it, but most are too polite to ask. Not that I mind it coming from you. I suppose we're starting to know each other, so it makes sense that we should be familiar-"

Aizawa nods as Yagi rambles. Yagi catches himself and shakes his head, giving a short laugh.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm an old rambler, forgive me. What was I getting at? Ah yes. I am actually missing my stomach."

Aizawa blinks in surprise at the admission, almost dropping his towel in shock as he processes Yagi's words.

"Oh, and a lung, too!"

Yagi ends up coughing enough to spit up blood with how hard he laughs at Aizawa's wide-eyed stare, clearly amused at getting such a reaction from the stoic man. He's still giggling as Yamada rushes down the stairs, his expression giddy as he looks around.

"Hey hey what's so funny? What's the joke? Where's the fire? Spill the tea, folks!"

Aizawa rolls his eyes and turns back to finish the dishes, trying to hide the embarrassed flush to his face as Yagi wipes his mouth and giggles his way through an explanation.

"I told Aizawa here about my missing organs. I didn't even get to tell a joke about selling them or anything- his face was priceless!"

"And I missed it? Damn! Aizawa, make the face again!"

"No," He bites out, pouting as he sinks his hands further into the soapy water. Yamada comes up behind him and starts cajoling him, begging to see the expression until Aizawa flings a handful of bubbles at his face. Yagi laughs at Yamada this time.

The afternoon passes peacefully until Yamada comes to bother Aizawa into removing his stitches. It feels a bit too early for that, but when Yamada takes off his shirt to let Aizawa inspect the wound it looks healthy. Yamada just smiles at him, citing Aizawa’s help for how well it healed.

"See, I'm not even in pain any more!" He says, moving his arm about wildly. It is true that Yamada hasn't used the sling the past few days, but Aizawa knows that looks can be deceiving. He grabs Yamada's arm and presses around the wound, trying to find any pain or swelling, but Yamada is silent. He makes sure to do a thorough check-up, but the stab wound has healed well. He looks up to say as much, finding Yamada staring at him with their faces inches apart, and he finds his words gone. Yamada's eyes flutter as he sucks in a breath, and Aizawa turns away so he can take the first aid kit out of the bathroom.

"Yeah, it looks fine to me," He announces, keeping his back turned. Once he has the kit he turns to find Yamada getting up onto the countertop like last time.

"Perfect! Will this spot do again? Or we can do it on the couch. Or even my bed. Where do you want to do it?"

Aizawa clears his throat, banishing the small voice laughing at the unintended innuendo to the back of his mind.

"Here is fine. Just make sure to stay still." Aizawa opens the kit and grabs gloves, wipes, suture scissors and a pair of tweezers. "This may feel weird, but it shouldn't do more than sting. If it actually hurts a lot, then we'll need to go back to the hospital."

"Okay." Yamada nods, wiggling in place as he tries to find a comfortable spot. His face is pale, but he keeps smiling as Aizawa pokes and prods at his wound.

“Just hold still. I mean it. Yell if you have to, or just tell me to stop normally, but if you flinch, whatever is hurting you will just end up hurting more.”

“I’ve got this. I dealt with getting stabbed! Pulling these out will be a piece of cake, right?”

“You can always take one of the painkillers they gave you.” Aizawa says as he remembers the small prescription bottle.

“Oh, those were used up yesterday, it’s fine. After this I just have two more days of the antibiotic-”

Aizawa tunes out Yamada’s rambling as he washes his hands and pulls on the gloves, getting ready to handle the removal. Yamada trails off as Aizawa stops replying, his eyes watching Aizawa’s every move with a laser-focus Aizawa wishes he would use when getting into dangerous situations. But maybe that’s a bit much to hope for.

The removal is slow going, but to his credit, Yamada doesn’t flinch. He whimpers a few times, as Aizawa slowly wiggles the wires out of his skin, but there’s no yelling or swearing. Aizawa takes his time, wiping with the antibiotic wipes with every stitch removed, dabbing up the smallest drops of blood that bead up. The room is so quiet that their breathing sounds loud, and it fills Aizawa’s ears as he keeps his eyes on his task, his pulse quickening when he feels Yamada shift for a closer look and his breath ghosts along Aizawa’s ear.

“This isn’t so bad,” Yamada whispers in a steady voice. He isn’t so scared now.

“I’m doing my best to be gentle. It would hurt more if I went quicker.”

“You’re doing a very good job. It does feel weird, but there’s no pain at all. If it wasn’t on my arm, I could probably even do this myself, after watching this.”

“I’m sure you could. But it’s better to have help, just in case.”

“Makes sense. So, thank you. I much prefer this to the hospital.”

Aizawa just hums, carefully removing the last stitch and wiping away the last little droplets of blood that appear. He turns on the tap to boiling and leaves the scissors and tweezers underneath the water, standing up straight as he takes off his gloves. He comes face-to-face with Yamada, their noses brushing as Yamada looks up from his de-stitched wound. They freeze for a moment, eyes locking, until Aizawa clears his throat, turning to deposit things into the trash can.

“You can put a bandage on it, or leave it, it’s up to you,” Aizawa says. He sounds more nonchalant than he really feels. Yamada hops off the countertop with a quiet laugh, turning so he can examine his wound using the mirror.

“Maybe some gauze for now, just so it won’t bleed on my shirt, or get all agitated. But I’m so glad to have them gone. Guess this scar will stick around for awhile though. Say, does it make me look like a badass?”

Aizawa snorts fondly, shaking his head as he continues to clean up. His elbow bumps into Yamada’s as he keeps busy, trying not to stop and stare. He knows Yamada is watching him in the mirror now, and it frustrates and delights him to wonder about it. He shouldn’t be wondering about anything right now except his work. He shouldn’t be hoping he saw something in Yamada’s eyes when their gazes met.

“So, mister badass, do we have another job lined up soon?” Aizawa asks, trying to clear the air. “We made a pretty penny from the last one, but that won’t keep us forever.”

“Oh, I’ve had some offers, but none of them were really my style. I’m not the kind of guy to sit around taking pictures to prove infidelity or catch someone partying when they call out sick at work. Really not a fan of those, even if they’d be easy money. I just give them an outrageous price and they drop it themselves.”

Aizawa snorts and steps forward to finish washing his tools, handling them with a rag so the hot metal won’t burn his skin. Yamada stands to the side and watches. It makes Aizawa wonder if he’s interested in the process, or just interested in watching him. It’s a dangerous line of thought.

“So how long does it usually take for an interesting case to pop up?”

“Eh,” Yamada shrugs, wiggling his hand, “it really depends. Sometimes a few days, sometimes a week. Or sometimes a month. Longest I went was three months, but I’m kind of glad nothing popped up. I had a broken leg I needed to deal with.”

Aizawa drops the tools into the case and looks up, staring at Yamada in the mirror with a raised eyebrow. “A broken leg? Really? How did you manage that?”

“I was running from some assholes and fell down a flight of stairs. Luckily that drew a lot of attention and people rushed to help me, so I wasn’t beaten to death. A fair trade, I’d say.”

“Don’t blame me if I can’t protect you from yourself.” Aizawa sighs, turning to shoot Yamada an unimpressed look. Yamada just laughs, falling against the door as he clutches his stomach. Yamada opens his mouth to reply, but a gentle knocking on the door cuts Yamada short once they hear it. He turns to open the door without fanfare, both of them looking at Yagi with curious faces. Yagi stares back, his usually happy expression exchanged for one of worry, his mouth twisted into a frown. He wrings his hands and hunches low, speaking up after Yamada asks him what's wrong.

“Hizashi. Aizawa. I hate to ask, but I’ve just heard some news, and I need your help.”

Chapter Text

Yagi leads Aizawa and Yamada downstairs to the living room, where two green-haired people are sitting on the couch with tea. An older woman and her son, from the looks of things. Aizawa’s eyes stray to the clock on the wall- one-thirty in the afternoon. School shouldn’t be out yet. He trails behind everyone, his eyes taking in the bandages on the kid’s hands and face, the rest of him covered by a baggy hoodie and sweats. The woman looks nervous, turning the cup in her hands as she glances between everyone with darting eyes. 

“Miss Midoriya, young Midoriya, these are the detectives I told you about.”

“The ones who rent from you?” The younger Midoriya speaks up. His expression changes quickly as he looks them over, a smile overtaking his previously-gloomy face. “That’s so cool. Does Mister Yagi help you out with cases? He doesn’t talk to me about it!”

“Sometimes, kid.” Yamada smiles. “I’m known as Present Mic to my fans, but you can call me Mic.”

“Mister Mic-”

“Just Mic.”

Miss Midoriya sets down her cup and pats her son on the shoulder with a smile, getting him to stop talking without a word.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I’m Midoriya Inko. This is my son, Izuku. I remember hearing about Yamada- I mean, Mic- from Yagi, but… who are you?”

Her gaze turns to Aizawa, who is leaning against the door frame to the room, arms crossed. Her nervous expression is back, so he stands straight and approaches a nearby chair, taking a seat as he replies.

“I’m Aizawa. I just started recently.”

“But he’s very competent, I can assure you! The perfect foil to my genius! I call him Eraserhead, Eraser for short.” Yamada pipes up. Yagi carefully takes a seat at the end of the couch, next to Miss Midoriya. Aizawa watches the way her shoulders relax with him sitting there, and the way Izuku smiles as he looks up at him from the other end of the couch. There’s adoration in Izuku’s gaze, and Aizawa dimly recalls a conversation he heard between Shouto and Yagi, about his new friend and his obsession with All Might. Is that how Yagi knows them? He can imagine the man reaching out to Miss Midoriya as their sons grow closer, to coordinate sleepovers or whatever else teenagers want to do together.

“So what’s the problem?” Aizawa asks bluntly, interrupting Yamada’s spiel about his work. Yamada splutters, hands waving as he shoots Aizawa a look. Aizawa just blinks.

“OK, remember what we agreed on? I’ll handle the clients?” Yamada asks, but Aizawa knows it’s rhetorical, so he doesn’t answer. “Right. Anyways- Miss Midoriya, Yagi here says you need some help. Would you mind explaining what sort of help you need? I’m sure I can find some solution to your problem."

"Well, it's not my problem, per-say…" Miss Midoriya says, voice hesitant at first. She gains confidence after looking at her son, his expression guilty as he meets her gaze. "My son has gotten involved in some trouble. He recently joined a boxing gym, despite my misgivings. It was fine at first, but- Izuku, why don't you tell them what happened?"

Izuku swallows heavily, looking at Aizawa and Yamada before nodding vigorously. He pulls out a small notebook and starts rubbing his fingers over the closed pages, his eyes going to the ceiling as he thinks.

"Uhm, it was around two weeks after I joined. One of the guys there said I should join his club- it wasn't a class, so it would be free. Which ijs what he said. But it wasn't really a club. Not a good one like at school, anyways. There people would make bets and stuff, and train together. I… should have said no, when they invited me, but they said I'd get stronger. And I did. But then the guys started talking about bets the more often I went, and I thought they meant the normal stuff, but, uh--"

Izuku stops to look at his mother, the two of them sharing a silent conversation before Miss Midoriya hugs him across the shoulders, giving him the strength to continue.

"Well, it turns out there are illegal fighting rings in the entertainment district. Where rich people go to gamble. The fighters get money based on the betting, but only if you win, so it's really…"

Izuku shivers as he remembers something, his eyes going glassy as he relives the moment in his head. Yamada leans forward, opening his mouth- probably to ask for clarification- but Aizawa stops him with a hand on his chest. He shakes his head when Yamada looks at him, silently urging Yamada to understand.

"There was a lot of blood," Izuku says, sniffling softly as tears gather in his eyes. "All I could do was stand and watch. But then Taro- uhm, he's the guy who invited me to his 'club'- he brought me to the ring, a-and-!"

Here Izuku breaks down crying, instinctively turning to curl against his mother's comforting weight. Miss Midoriya is quick to wrap Izuku in her arms, her own eyes misty, even as her face twists into a dangerous scowl. Aizawa knows that scowl. He has no doubt that if she had the power, she would be handling this problem on her own, the law be damned.

"They made him fight, Mic," She hisses, clutching at Izuku as if he might disappear. "They made him fight another boy while everyone laughed and jeered."

"So, let me get this straight. It's not just the usual sort of fight club we're talking about? They're coercing kids into it too?" Yamada asks, hands twirling as if gathering twine.

"Taro s-said those fights make the most money," Izuku stammers out, his face red and wet from crying. Yagi reaches over to offer Izuku a box of tissues from the table, his face twisted with concern. Yagi normally looks anxious, but Aizawa has never seen him this distraught before.

"And why come to us? I can only assume something else happened, if you can't just remove him from the club and keep him at school. Did they threaten you?"

Izuku nods, pulling away from his mother to wipe at his face. "Yeah. They said, since I knew where it was now, I was really a member of the club now. And that if I squealed, they'd g-go after my m-mom,"

Izuku buries his face in a tissue and blows his nose, whimpering as Miss Midoriya rubs his back.

"They know where I live, since I signed up at the boxing gym! A-and there were these guys there, I'm sure they had guns. I could see the holsters under their suit jackets. And Taro gave me a huge stack of bills and said I should take it and thank him later. I was too scared to even say anything, and kind of out of it from the fight, so I think he thought I was okay with it?”

“Did you keep the money? Where is it?” Yamada asks, rubbing his chin. “I wonder if we could get prints?”

Izuku blinks, his lower lip wobbling as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry! On my way home I panicked, and I gave it to a group of homeless people! Well, they actually stopped me because of all the bandages they gave me after the fight. They thought I was homeless too with how dirty my clothes were. I wasn’t really thinking, and I didn’t want the money…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can do without the money. Besides, it would probably have too many prints on it to be useful.” Yamada reassures the kid easily, smiling and waving his hands as Izuku relaxes. “At least it’s going to good use now.”

“My Izuku is such a thoughtful young man,” Miss Midoriya says softly, pride evident in her tone. She reaches over to take a tissue, helping Izuku clean his face while Yamada thinks. 

“I’m very proud of you, young Midoriya,” Yagi says, leaning over so he can meet Izuku’s eyes from across the couch. Izuku stiffens, blinking at Yagi owlishly.

“Wh-what? For what?”

“For how you’ve handled things. You were put into a very dangerous and scary situation. Things could have been a lot worse. But you were honest with your mother, and sought help. That can be hard, and scary, but you did it.”

Izuku’s eyes shine, his breath catching as he fails to stop his second round of tears. He launches across the couch to hug Yagi with a shout, Miss Midoriya yelping in surprise as Izuku lands in her lap. Yamada turns to Aizawa and taps his cheek, clearly turning things over in his mind. Aizawa is sure he already has a plan going. 

Yamada waits patiently for the touching moment to wrap up before continuing their talk. Izuku is now sitting between his mother and Yagi, looking worn out from the crying and attention. Aizawa frowns, taking in just how young the boy looks. He’s the same age as Shouto and Shinsou, but he could pass for younger. Is that one of the reasons this Taro guy targeted him? Younger kids, eager to prove their maturity, fall so easily under the sway of manipulators. 

“So, Young Midoriya, could I ask you to write down all the names, addresses, and anything else you can for me? I’ll help you, of course, but I don’t want to have to ask you again because I forgot. We can even draw some maps, if you think you can remember the layout of that place.”

“Oh, I did that already!” Izuku brightens up, holding up the notebook with a proud smile. For a moment, he looks like a kid again, his tear-stained face now red with a blush instead of blotchy from crying. “I like journaling, and doing research. I always write everything down when I can!”

Izuku leans forward to kneel on the ground in front of the coffee table, opening his notebook to show everyone. There are a few pages of writing, and some with diagrams that must be maps or sketches. Yamada gets out of his chair to join Izuku on the floor, balancing an elbow on the table so he can lean in for a closer look. Aizawa gets up too, but he stays standing, watching from above as Yamada asks Izuku a bunch of questions as he points to various things in the notebook. 

A familiar sound brings Aizawa from his thoughts, and he leaves the living room to approach the front door, peering out the small window to see Shouto and Shinsou approaching. School is out already? The two boys look up from their conversation to notice him lingering in the window, their postures straightening as they approach. They eye him warily as he opens the door, nodding in greeting as they shuffle in and kick off their shoes. 

“Is something wrong, Mister Aizawa?” Shouto asks, his calm expression not hiding the way his eyes flick around, trying to find a problem. Aizawa sighs.

“No, nothings wrong. I just heard the bus and came to greet you two, is all.”

“Oh, okay. Just seemed weird, is all.,” Shinsou says with a shrug.

“Yeah. Usually dad is waiting.”

“Shouto?” Izuku’s voice calls from the living room, bright but still a bit hoarse from earlier. Shouto’s eyes widen, and a sliver of a smile comes to his face as he throws his bag aside for later.

“Izuku! I didn’t see you in class- what happened?” Aizawa can hear the change in tone where Shouto must have caught sight of Izuku, curiosity turning into alarm. Shinsou frowns and follows Shouto, his pace quickening when he hears it as well. Aizawa sighs and locks the front door, gaze sweeping across the block, before joining the party. 

“It’s just some bruises…” Izuku is muttering as Aizawa returns. Shouto is sitting next to Izuku on the floor, in front of Yagi. Shinsou is standing to the side, frowning as he watches. 

"It's a lot worse than what you got in self defense class," Shouto says, his calm voice at odds with his stiff posture. 

"Hey, and who's fault was that?" Izuku laughs, gently punching Shouto in the shoulder. Shouto's posture relaxes and he punches back, the mood lighter. There's clearly a story there, one that makes even Shinsou smile. 

"I hate to interrupt," Yagi interrupts with a cough and a gentle voice, reaching out to put a hand on Shouto and Izuku's shoulders, "but we should finish what was started, shouldn't we?"

Shouto and Shinsou look around at everyone, and Aizawa wonders what they must think of the situation.

"Say, why don't you two help me make dinner? The Midoriya family is going to join us tonight, so we'll have plenty of time to talk."

Shouto nods, keeping his gaze on Izuku even as Yagi helps him up from the floor. Aizawa can't see his face, but they share a silent look before Shouto is hustled into the kitchen. Shinsou shuffles after them, looking over his shoulder as Izuku sits back down to explain everything. 

Aizawa returns to the living room, sitting in as Izuku spares no detail. Yamada asks him a million and one questions while the smell of cooking food drifts from the kitchen, the tension leaving them as a domestic feeling of safety surrounds them. There's a lot to take in, but Aizawa trusts Yamada to make sense of it all. Plus, Izuku is generous enough to tear out the pages, letting Yamada keep them.

"I can always rewrite them." He says quietly. Talking over the situation again has left him contemplative, but his crying was limited to the occasional tear, which is a noted improvement. Aizawa can't help but worry- a situation like this is sure to leave a mark on a kid so young. His mind drifts to Shinsou, just a room away, presumably making dinner with the other two. What sort of scars does he have? There's only so much he can help, but he knows just how much even one moment can change things for the better. He promises himself to keep it in mind, unsure as he is about what he can do. But these kids deserve the effort. It's his responsibility as an adult.

Yamada is silent through dinner, eating slowly and looking over the papers Izuku gifted him. The three teens make up for the silence, and Aizawa is surprised to hear Shouto and Shinsou being so talkative. But it seems Izuku is familiar with them both. He has a gift for drawing them out of their shells, his excited chatter filling their silences comfortably. As sweet as it is, the noise starts to grate on him, and he excuses himself to retreat upstairs, taking a plate of dessert with him as Yagi foists it on him.

He has a sneaking suspicion, as he looks back at the crowded kitchen from the foot of the stairs, that his quiet mornings are going to get a lot more hectic.

Chapter Text

Aizawa is asleep before Yamada returns from downstairs, and he gets a few hours of rest before jerking awake in a fearful sweat. He clutches his pillow and focuses on his breathing, keeping his eyes clenched shut, breathing in the smell of laundry detergent to banish the memory of blood. 

He opens his eyes to see the first light of dawn creeping through the shades. He gets up with a soft sigh, walking over to pull the curtains closed so Yamada doesn't wake up with the sun in his eyes. He turns to look at the man in question, eyes adjusting to the dim light as he takes in Yamada's messy hair and spread-eagle pose. They're lucky the bed is big enough to fit both of them. Otherwise Aizawa knows he'd be on the couch to avoid any awkward mornings. There's only so much he can take, on top of having his world turned upside-down.

He retreats downstairs in his sweats to find Yagi spread out on the pull-out couch, groaning as he wakes up. The couch doesn't look very comfortable, but the man must have offered his room to the Midoriya’s. 

They exchange good mornings and set about their usual routines, Aizawa retreating to the backyard to do his usual workout. He does double reps so the burn helps him forget, his mind screaming about the strain on his muscles and not the ghost of pain in his bones. He's a mess of sweat by the time he's done, too out of it to notice the younger Midoriya sitting on the steps until he speaks.

"Do you do that set every day?" Izuku asks, not meeting Aizawa's eyes when he looks over. Instead he plays with the bandage on his hand, wrapping and unwrapping it over the gauze pads on his knuckles.

Aizawa breathes for a moment, trying to steady himself before he replies. "No. I was pushing myself. It wouldn't be very smart of me to do that more than once a week."

"But isn't that how you grow muscle?"

"Who have you been listening to, kid? Sure, it might build muscle, but you'll also be causing enough stress to make the muscle break down. For the strongest muscles, rest is necessary. A steady regiment of workouts with rest days is best. Even for professional athletes."

Aizawa heaves himself from the grass and heads to the porch, wiping his sweaty hair from his face as he looks down at Izuku. The boy looks even smaller like this, curled up on the step, the hoodie hiding his downward gaze. Aizawa sighs and taps on Izuku's head with his finger, prompting the boy to look up.

"Look. You're going through a rough time right now, but you shouldn't be tearing yourself up over what happened. You're a kid. They should not have done that to you. Just keep that in mind."

Izuku stares up at Aizawa with wide eyes, and he wonders for a moment if he's going to cry again. But Izuku just sniffles and nods as he gets to his feet. 

"Yeah. Thanks. Uh, I'm going to work out too."

"Go for it. But don't push yourself. And make sure you come in for breakfast."

"Yes sir."

Yagi is in the kitchen, humming a happy tune as he prepares breakfast in his pyjamas. He greets Aizawa with a smile before wrinkling his nose, handing him a piece of toast and shooing him away with one hand.

"Please go shower and come back, breakfast should be ready by the time you're done. And see if Yamada is awake yet. He went to bed pretty early last night."

Aizawa nods and eats the toast as he climbs the stairs, idly wondering what Yamada’s plan will be going forward with their new case. Will the Midoriyas be staying here, or will they find their own safe place to stay? Sending Izuku to school doesn’t seem wise, but if he ends up staying here, he can at least get his classwork from Shouto or Shinsou. These thoughts whirl around his head as he shuffles into the main room, spotting Yamada from the corner of his eye as he approaches the bathroom.

He stops in his tracks as he takes note of Yamada’s robe, hanging off his shoulders and barely covering his legs as he lies on the ridiculous yellow chaise lounge chair. Yamada has a hand on his forehead, his eyes closed as he hums, clearly lost in thought. Aizawa finds his eyes tracing Yamada’s long, slender legs.

“What’s up, Aizawa?” Yamada asks after a moment, his eyes still closed as he starts to tap a finger on his forehead. “I’m thinking. Can it wait?”

Aizawa swallows, turning away to try and put the image out of his mind. He doesn’t need to imagine it slipping further, not right here, not right now. Does Yamada not realize what he looks like right now? “Yagi says breakfast will be ready soon. I’m going to shower.” 

Yamada snorts, shifting on the cushions. Aizawa turns at the sound, watching Yamada bend his leg as the robe slips further. He eyes the loose knot over Yamada’s slim stomach, the only thing keeping the robe from falling off completely. He looks up towards Yamada’s face, catching sight of his waxed chest. “Yagi banished you, huh? I’ll probably head down there after you’re done.”

Aizawa nods and retreats into the bathroom, uncaring if Yamada saw him or not. He strips and steps into the shower, turning it to cold.

Yamada is gone by the time Aizawa emerges. The door to the spare bedroom is open too, signaling Shinsou’s departure for breakfast then school. Aizawa takes his time getting dressed, even if all he ends up wearing is a t-shirt and sweatpants. He heads downstairs to find everyone- minus Shouto and Shinsou- at the table, enjoying a large breakfast courtesy of Yagi. He looks very happy to be doting on everyone, even as Miss Midoriya tries to get up and help. 

“Good Morning, Aizawa,” she greets him as he enters and takes the empty chair next to Izuku. “We saved you some sausage. Izuku told me you were working out earlier. You need your protein!”

“Thanks,” he says, digging into his food to ignore Yamada sitting there in his robe. It’s done up properly and tied tight, but Aizawa doesn’t want to let his mind wander and remember how it looked falling off of Yamada’s shoulders. 

“Well, I figure now is as good a time as any to discuss my basic plan for this case,” Yamada announces. Aizawa grunts to acknowledge him, but keeps his eyes on his food. Yamada barrels onward. 

"The Midoriya's will stay here in the interim, but I'll keep an eye out for another safe house just in case. I would recommend you don't go out too often- the backyard has very high fences, so it should be fine, but stay away from the front. You called the school this morning, Miss Midoriya?"

"Yes, I did. I claimed it as a family emergency. I have the teachers emailing me the schoolwork, so Izuku won't fall behind."

"I can help tutor him, if you would like," Yagi offers, smiling at them from across the table. Izuku smiles widely, his eyes sparkling, while Miss Midoriya laughs.

"Anyways, they'll be safe for now, so we need to focus on our part. My basic idea is infiltrating the ring to get it busted, so they'll be too focused on that to even worry about trying to strong-arm little Izuku here into fighting. We can go sign up for boxing classes and go from there."

Aizawa finally looks up, staring at Yamada with a flat look.

"We?"

Yamada blinks. "Yeah, us. Why- hey! Sure, I look small, but I'm tough! And anyways, I can sign up for the beginner class. Maybe they like fresh meat more. If one of us gets in, the other can pose as an agent or something. Or a gambler. I'm not sure yet."

"And if we both get scouted?" Aizawa asks as he pushes away his empty plate.

"Well, then we go in and collect a bunch of info, and then squeal like pigs in a playpen. I'll get in touch with Tsukauchi and Kayama, see if we can't get a raid to happen. We'll have to get picked up with them, but it'll be fine. You can cause a ruckus and get put in isolation, and I can start crying and everyone will think I'm a snitch. Then we can just get out of there while everyone else is being processed!"

"It sounds good, but you seem pretty sure we'll be scouted at all. And how long will that even take? A few days? A few weeks? How long will the Midoriya's have to hide?"

"Well, hopefully not too long. But we need to do this in a way that actually keeps them safe. Sure, the cops could probably raid them right now, but how many of them would escape and hold a grudge? It would be pretty easy for them to figure out the one kid who never came back was the snitch. All it takes is one person with a good memory to be dangerous. But we can go in, put names to faces, and get all of them rounded up while putting the blame solely on my disguised shoulders."

"Fine," Aizawa huffs. Yamada brightens, clasping his hands together as he leans forward to say something. Aizawa cuts him off. "If we're doing this, you're going to practice some self defense moves with me. I am not going to let you get yourself maimed because you think you can take a punch."

Yamada pouts for a moment, making Yagi laugh.

"He's right, Hizashi. It will be better for you to just pretend to be a complete newbie. And they will not be using boxing rules once they catch onto your game."

"You're so sensible, Toshi!" Yamada croons. Aizawa resists the urge to remind Yamada it was his idea.

"Alright, then we should get ready."

"Ready?" Yamada tilts his head. 

"We're going to start today. No reason not to. Then you can make all your calls and do your research while you rest."

"Jeez, you don't waste time, huh? Well, at least let me get us a proper dojo. I'm not going to wrestle you on the dirt outside. And the basement is all cement."

"Fine. Just don't waste time, otherwise we'll be doing it in the dirt no matter how much you whine."

"I hear you!" Yamada stutters, shoving his chair back as he stands up.

"I'll turn the hose on so the mud can get in your hair-"

"I heard you!" Yamada shrieks as he rushes upstairs. Aizawa shares a grin with everyone at the table, quietly accepting seconds as Yagi brings over the last pan of food.

Yamada is standing by the door, clad in bright yoga pants, a loose tank top, and low-cut socks with a gym bag thrown over his shoulder. He’s striking a pose that wouldn’t look out of place in a women’s health and fitness magazine, complete with a stuck out hip and confident smirk.

“Aizawa! For once you took longer to get ready than me! Are you just going in that?”

Aizawa looks down at his baggy sweats with a slight frown. It’s what he usually wears. He likes the freedom for movement and letting his skin breathe. And if he does get too hot, he can just work out in his undershirt, but he likes working up a sweat. 

“Yeah. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I guess I was imagining you’d wear something more… military?”

“I didn’t keep those clothes when I was discharged. I prefer these to the uniforms, anyways. Can we go now?”

Yamada nods and turns to head downstairs, Aizawa following as he pockets his wallet and keys. He finds Yamada pulling out a pair of running shoes from the closet while Yagi looks on from the kitchen door.

“You two are heading out?”

“Yeah, we’re going now! I need to keep up with my cardio, so we'll jog a bit on the way there and get to learning. Then maybe we’ll cool down with some yoga!”

Yamada is very excited about their trip, and Aizawa wonders just how peppy he’ll be after a few hours of strenuous physical activity. Yagi just hums, crossing his arms and watching as Aizawa grabs his only pair of shoes.

“Well, its too bad you didn’t ask me before all this. You’re getting such a late start, and I’d have been happy to teach you- but Aizawa probably has more techniques to teach you. Do let me know if you need some boxing tips, though.”

“Oh, well that is an idea, Toshinori! Maybe you can come help us train one day. Or maybe we can just do the boxing here. Y’know, put a bag in the basement, maybe get some padding for the floor. It’d be good practice if you ever want to follow through on your teaching idea!”

“Ah, yes! Yes, well, that would certainly be fine with me.”

“You two can work something out later. Yamada, let’s go, otherwise they’ll give your reserved room to someone else.”

“Crap, yeah! See you later, Toshi! Bye!”

“Have fun, you two!”

Aizawa is already heading out, waving goodbye to Yagi as Yamada finishes tying his shoes and hurries to catch up. Aizawa waits for Yamada to match his pace before he starts jogging, silently expecting Yamada to catch on. There’s a yelp, then the sound of running footsteps, and Aizawa grins to himself as they jog down the street towards the gym a few blocks away.

“Wait, are we going to jog the whole way there?” Yamada huffs, losing his breath as he tries to speak and run at the same time. Aizawa just nods. “Jeez, warn a guy! I could have stretched!”

“It’s just a light jog. This counts as a stretch, and will make the other stretches easier. Now keep up.”

Yamada does an admirable job of keeping up, following Aizawa’s example as they jog in place when the streetlights stop them. Aizawa tries to keep to local streets, avoiding the busier sidewalks until they can’t anymore, veering into the mid-morning crowds as they head to the gym. Aizawa stops jogging a few blocks away, keeping up a steady walk as Yamada grabs his shoulder.

“Woof, wow, ok, so I may be a bit out of shape. Surprising, with how much running away I usually do…”

“Adrenaline probably helped with that.”

“True, true. But damn, this stitch is annoying.”

“We’ll get some water and do some actual stretches when we get there, so keep up.”

“You got it, sensei ,” he chirps, bumping his shoulder against Aizawa’s as he straightens up. Aizawa just shakes his head. 

“I’m not much of a teacher,” he says, mind pulling up the conversation from earlier. “What were you and Yagi talking about earlier? About him teaching?”

“Oh, yeah! Yagi wanted to do something more with his retirement, to keep himself busy. He thought teaching might be good. You know, pass on his skills, interact with people outside of the house, make a little spending money… all that jazz.”

“So, he would be teaching boxing?” Aizawa thinks back to the poster of All Might in the main hallway, and Yagi’s sickly form. From what he can remember from the press, his retirement wasn’t voluntary, and quite sudden. “Why did he wait so long to try?”

“Five years is kind of long, huh? Well, he did have some things to take care of. Like Shouto, and his health… honestly, you’d be better off asking him about it. Gossip I may be, but I know my limits. And he would probably appreciate having someone else to talk to about it.”

“So there’s more to the story than even the press found out about?” 

“A lot more. Honestly, just ask him. I think he trusts you enough to talk about it. And if not, I trust you. Looking up what the corrupt mass media said won’t really help you at all. There were a lot of bad guesses and rumours and a whole slew of nasty slandering articles.”

Yamada pauses as they reach the gym, stepping inside and sighing at the sudden feeling of central air. It just makes Aizawa shiver. They don’t say much as Yamada signs them in and gets the key to one of the private training rooms, twirling the key ring on his finger as they head over. The room is bare except for some recessed shelves, which are empty except for some complimentary towels and water bottles. The floor goes from wood around the edges to tatami in the middle, clearly meant for martial arts. Perfect for what Aizawa wants to teach Yamada. 

“Anyways, where were we?”

“We were talking about Yagi, but I got the message. Let’s focus on what we came here to do.”

Yamada nods and moves to the middle of the floor, flopping down and starting on some simple leg stretches. His form is simple and sloppy, and Aizawa rolls his eyes as he steps forward.

"You're not going to feel very good, stretching like that. Here-"

He kneels next to Yamada and points out where to fix his pose- keep the leg straight, knee pointed upwards, arm parallel, etcetera. He pushes against Yamada's back to help him grab his toes, eyes catching on the way Yamada's hair falls over his neck and shoulders. It's mesmerizing enough that he loses track of his mental count and releases Yamada a bit late, but Yamada doesn't comment, instead switching to the next leg and looking up when Aizawa doesn't help.

"Aizawa?" He says, a question in his tone. Aizawa goes back to helping, closing his eyes as he counts to keep them from wandering. Teaching Yamada self defense had seemed like a very good idea at the time, but now that he's here, a realization dawns. He's alone in a locked room, teaching his new crush how to defend himself using his body. 

He's going to have his work cut out for him in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

Helping Yamada stretch is no easy task, but Aizawa knows the hardest part is yet to come. At least he gets a reprieve as he explains what he knows about boxing, giving Yamada the crash course so he won't be caught flat-footed in the days to come.

"You know, I could always just watch those Rocky movies," Yamada jokes as Aizawa shows him how to throw a proper punch.

"Sounds like a waste of time to me," Aizawa grunts, demonstrating a one-two punch and silently watching as Yamada copies him. "You'd be better off watching actual matches, or getting Yagi to help you."

"It was a joke!" Yamada laughs, turning to one-two punch Aizawa's shoulder.

"Don't quit your day job," Aizawa mutters, making Yamada laugh louder.

They practice the proper form for about half an hour before Aizawa changes the routine, showing Hizashi a good, steady stance to stay in while he talks.

"Okay, so practice punching more later if you want, but this should be good enough. It would be better if you appeared to be a novice, right?"

"And you'll be the old pro coming back to hone his skills!" Yamada agrees with a nod, shifting his weight as Aizawa nudges his foot.

"This is a good stance to memorize. It's easy to jump forward or back, and gives you a steady base when you block, so you aren't knocked on your ass and kicked to death. Get a feel for it, then we'll work on what to do when someone grabs you."

"Ooh, exciting. Usually I just start screaming when that happens." Yamada says with a smile, throwing his head back and starting to demonstrate.

Aizawa grimaces and steps forward to cover his mouth, grabbing Yamada into a chokehold and pulling him out of his stance with ease. Yamada goes rigid in surprise, his scream turning to a yelp behind Aizawa's palm. He grips at the arm around his neck to no avail, getting pulled along as Aizawa steps backwards.

"This is how easy it would be," Aizawa whispers, his voice low and serious, "for something bad to happen to you."

Yamada just freezes, taking a deep breath through his nose, and Aizawa thinks he's going to try screaming again, but Yamada just licks his palm, trying to be as gross as possible. Aizawa doesn't budge, grimacing and sighing as Yamada tries again.

"Don't rely on that. You can't guarantee they'll let go. This isn't kindergarten."

"Ok." Yamada mumbles behind Aizawa's hand, starting to slump as he gives up. Aizawa lets him go, releasing him so he falls to the floor in a heap. Yamada gasps as his ass hits the floor, looking up at Aizawa with an offended expression.

"Actually, that's a good strategy. Become dead weight." Aizawa nods, miming a chokehold. "Usually they'll be surprised, and have to try and get a better grip on you, and that's when you slip out. Normally, being on the ground will put you at a disadvantage, but if you're quick you can get away before they recover, or even hit them where it hurts."

"So, kick them in the dick?" Yamada smiles, reaching up to silently ask for Aizawa to help him up.

"Yes." Aizawa snorts, taking Yamada's hand and tugging him up with ease.

Yamada huffs and smiles, gripping Aizawa's hand for a few more seconds as they regard each other, their warm breaths mingling with how close they are. Aizawa's smirk fades as he fights to keep his gaze from drifting down to Yamada's lips. He clears his throat and releases the grip first, taking a step back and getting into position, waiting for Yamada to do the same. Yamada follows his example, his expression smoothing out as he slowly lets out a deep breath.

"So let's try that again, without the element of surprise this time. Let's act on the assumption that you will be aware when someone will attack you, perhaps because they caught onto your ruse, or you reveal yourself for dramatic effect-"

"You know me so well!" Yamada laughs, his smile wide and charming. Aizawa tells his traitorous heart to calm down even as he admires the way the light shines off of Yamada's eyes.

Aizawa clears his throat and continues with the lesson, describing the actions Yamada needs to take as they mime it out in slow motion, before practicing it at quicker speeds. To his credit, Yamada is a fast learner, but he's also distractible, quick to change his focus from the lesson to a joke or a question. It feels as if he's not giving his all by sidelining what Aizawa is teaching, and it aggravates him, setting him on edge even as Yamada surpasses his expectations.

"Have you had lessons before?" He asks casually, focusing on his breathing as they take a small break.

"No, not since those measly high school lessons you get. But I have been in a few fights. Some of these holds feel familiar." Yamada shrugs as he talks, acting nonchalant, but it brings an important thought to Aizawa's lips.

"If that's the case, tell me about one time you got caught and couldn't get free. You've managed to get out of everything so far, so maybe we should have started with that as the focus."

Yamada turns in place as he thinks, rubbing his hands together as he looks at the ceiling. He seems a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn't shy away as Aizawa steps closer. Aizawa knows he may be touching on a sensitive subject with this, but he needs to know what Yamada needs help with, so they can avoid a bad situation in the future. It's why Yamada hired him, after all. But Yamada has to be able to protect himself when Aizawa isn't there.

He waits silently for Yamada's response, tilting his head in expectation as Yamada turns again and looks at him. There's a bit of a flush to his face now, accompanied by a shaky smile, catching Aizawa's attentive eye before he even speaks.

"Well, it's like you said earlier. I'm at a disadvantage if they get me on the ground, right? I've been pinned to the wall before, but I spit in their eye. When I get grabbed, I tend to just twist and scratch. I've even let them take some of my hair just to get away! But there was one time I got tripped, and they had me pinned from behind. Luckily the cops were already on their way, but he grabbed my hair and put a hand on my neck, and he was sitting on my back so I couldn't lift my shoulders or reach him with my legs."

Aizawa nods, watching carefully as Yamada talks. He seems less nervous the more he talks about it, his own eyes looking around the room as if reminding himself that he's in the present. It sounds like a tense, dangerous experience, and Aizawa doesn't want things to go downhill after progressing so well, even with Yamada's constant side-tracks.

"Alright. Pins were going to be our next area of focus anyways. Would you want us to cover that specific one first, or work up to it?"

"I think we could do that one first," Yamada nods, but his posture shifts and his fingers tap at his arm in a nervous gesture.

"Ok. We can try. But if you say stop, we'll stop and try something else, okay?"

Yamada takes a deep breath and nods, his posture straightening again after Aizawa's reassurances. He stretches his arms above his head and fixes Aizawa with a look, expecting him to continue things.

"But before that, do you know how to cushion your fall? If someone is pushing you, or you trip, you don't want to be injured or knocked senseless just from that alone."

"I can do a pratfall, is that what you mean?" Yamada grins, pinwheeling his arms as he pretends he's about to fall on his ass.

"No, it's not." Aizawa sighs, but he can't stop the smile forming on his face. At least Yamada's cute face is worth the momentary embarrassment.

He shifts the focus back to their lesson, falling forward onto the mats and using his arms and hands to break his fall. He makes sure to demonstrate how to roll out of a fall, to make it harder to be caught and to facilitate getting up quicker. They practice that for ten minutes straight, until Yamada whines about his poor hands and even Aizawa is grimacing about the tingle. But Yamada has the form down perfectly, so they can pick up practicing anywhere.

Aizawa calls another short break to let their hands and knees recover, idly stretching his legs as he watches Yamada gulp down some water. Yamada notices what he's doing and silently joins in, probably taking it to be part of the lesson. Aizawa doesn't bother to correct his assumption, getting distracted by the way Yamada's legs move in his tight yoga pants. Yamada's hair has come out of the up-do he put it in earlier after their lesson about hair-pulling, and now it falls all over, sticking to his face and neck and forcing him to brush it back constantly. Aizawa watches the way Yamada's hands go through the motions unconsciously, carefully gathering up his messy hair and throwing it over one shoulder until he leans the other way and has to repeat the process.

"So, is there something important about this pose…?" Yamada asks, jarring Aizawa out of his thoughts. He meets Yamada's gaze, catching sight of his raised eyebrow and knowing smirk, and realizes he's been caught staring.

"No, just got distracted," He says quickly, cursing his choice of words as Yamada smiles.

"Oh, was it something you saw?" Yamada teases, his voice low and amused. He flips his hair again as if to prove a point, but Aizawa just shakes his head.

"Let's get our  minds back on the lesson. We only have an hour left, if I'm reading that clock correctly."

"Oh, yeah! Lets get the pins out of the way- after this, I think we definitely should outfit the basement. Getting some training in every day would really help- not that I'm not learning a lot right now!"

"No, I understand. Practicing often will help with muscle memory, and will only benefit you." 

"It would be so nice to work out at home too. No need to worry about public showers, or dealing with people staring, or-"

"Yamada, mind on target," Aizawa says, voice stern enough to jolt Yamada out of his rambling. Yamada nods, standing to attention as he waits for Aizawa to direct him.

This leaves Aizawa with a new problem he can't back out of. Now he has to pin Yamada to the floor and press their bodies together for an extended amount of time without losing his focus, and keeping Yamada on task so he can actually learn. He swallows heavily as he goes over a plan in his head, wondering just how he's going to deal with this. Yamada just looks at him expectantly, blinking and shifting as he starts to get antsy. Aizawa can't let this drag out. He needs to act and stop over thinking things.

"Alright, let's get this over with. I think this time, I'm going to have you pin me first- to show me the exact position you're worried about, and so I can show you a few ways to get free of it before making you go through that again. Sound good?"

Yamada blinks in surprise, nodding energetically and gaping as Aizawa lowers himself to the floor. Aizawa folds his arms and rests his chin on his hands for a moment, waiting for Yamada to catch up. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stay loose even as he feels Yamada stepping over him, the weight of his hips hitting Aizawa's back a moment later. Even with the clothing between them, Yamada feels so warm, and Aizawa has to force himself to focus as Yamada leans forward and grabs his hair.

It's at that point that he realizes he's made a grave mistake.

Aizawa focuses on breathing as Yamada tugs on his hair, ignoring the warmth slowly spreading through his body. Yamada's hands are gentle despite the position they're in, clearly afraid of hurting Aizawa as he tries to show him what happened.

"Yamada, you can grip harder. Show me exactly how it was, so I can show you what I would do to get out of it." Aizawa asks, keeping his mind focused on the task, ignoring how good Yamada's slim thighs feel as they squeeze his chest. It's a good thing he's facing the floor- Aizawa isn't sure he would be able to meet Yamada's gaze like this.

Yamada complies with the request, giving Aizawa the distraction he needs as the hair pulling becomes too painful to enjoy, the hand on his neck digging in and forcing his head into an awkward position. Yamada's thighs squeeze harder, to keep him from wiggling out, and Aizawa has to remember that Yamada will not be stronger than whoever is pinning him.

The clearest solution comes as Yamada adjusts himself, trying to hold on as Aizawa starts to wiggle. The hand on his neck is easier than the hand in his hair, but Yamada did say he isn't afraid of losing some hair. Aizawa pulls his arms in to create space between him and the floor, grimacing at the push on his neck as Yamada tries to keep him still. In a swift movement he rolls himself onto his side while hooking one of his legs up and back, until his ankle has caught Yamada's side. With the force of his roll, Yamada topples to the side off of Aizawa's back, his legs and hands releasing Aizawa as he tries to break his fall on instinct. Some of his hair is tugged in the process, but Aizawa bears it with a quiet grunt, now on his back with his knees braced. He gets to his feet in one quick motion, taking a step back and looking down at Yamada as he scrambles up less gracefully.

"Wow!" Yamada says, grinning and watching Aizawa with amazement, his face flushed and chest heaving as if they'd just been running instead of practicing CQC. "Can you show me one more time before I try it out? I think I understand what you did, though."

"Sure. I do want to see if you can force me to fall with your legs- you may just have to flip into your back instead, then go from there. If you can't do it to me, then you definitely won't be able to utilize that on anyone as big, or bigger, than me."

Yamada nods, listening intently as Aizawa gets back on the floor, still explaining the technique.

"Any time you find yourself pinned face-down, getting on your back is your first step to freedom. Even if you can't force them off when you roll, you have more options on your back. So you want to do this- see how I'm tucking my arms beneath my chest? Give yourself that space, so your body can move into the roll. Pushing up your hips with your knees will facilitate that as well."

Yamada gets on the floor beside Aizawa instead of retaking his position as the pinner, watching Aizawa like a hawk and copying his every move. Aizawa can't help a glace back as Yamada lifts his hips, wanting to check his form but getting distracted by his pert butt, perfectly displayed in his tight yoga pants.

"Like this?" Yamada says, eyes sparkling as he catches Aizawa's attention. Aizawa nods, trying to act as if he wasn't just staring at Yamada's ass.

"Now, you use your hips as the focal point of the roll. You may need to jam them up into whoever is pinning you, if they're sitting lower on your back or hips. It has the fortunate side effect of hitting them where it hurts."

"Right in the dick!" Yamada crows, rolling with his hips as he says it. He falls onto his back with a laugh, arms clutched tight to his chest as he looks to Aizawa for approval.

"Yeah. Right in the dick," Aizawa repeats with a snort. "That was a good roll, but let's see if you can do it while I'm pinning you."

Aizawa gets to his knees and motions for Yamada to turn back around, ignoring the spark he feels in his chest at seeing Yamada obey him so readily. A small part of his brain warns him that this will only go badly, but Aizawa is focused on his job, which right now consists of helping Yamada train to defend himself. 

He settles in across Yamada's back, taking a loose grip on his soft hair and smooth neck- it's more important to practice the motions than to make him tear his hair out, so there's no need for real force. He ignores the urge to grip Yamada just a bit tighter anyways, knowing he really shouldn't. Yamada feels a bit tense, but he's smiling when he turns his head to look at Aizawa from the corner of his eye.

"Should I start?" Yamada asks, shifting underneath Aizawa in anticipation.

"Whenever you feel ready. A real attacker isn't going to ask."

"True," Yamada says, wiggling some more as he pushes up against Aizawa to get into position. 

Aizawa doesn't make it easy, but he keeps himself from hurting Yamada too much, not wanting to do more than bruise as he presses him back down. His own plan falls apart as Yamada rolls up against him and he reflexively moves back, heat pooling in his gut and making him bite back a groan as Yamada flips onto his back with a victorious smile. 

"Hah!" He cheers, staring up at Aizawa with a flush that mirrors Aizawa's own. "Okay, so now what?"

Aizawa has to pause, collecting himself so he can focus on the task at hand. But it's hard to think with Yamada wiggling under his hips, his hair now loose and spread out across the floor like he's posing for a naughty photo shoot. His eyes look so green under the bright lights of the gym, contrasting the deep red flush of his face.

"Now, I pin you again." Aizawa says, keeping his voice low and steady as he grabs at Yamada's wrists. 

Yamada doesn't resist, just letting Aizawa pull his wrists up and pin him him. It really shouldn't matter, but having Yamada act so willing does things to Aizawa, and he takes in a deep breath, back prickling as Yamada stares him down unabashedly. He needs to get it together. He needs to be professional. He needs to teach Yamada to break a pin, then he can go home and lock himself in the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

He doesn't get very far teaching Yamada the next part, but not because he doesn't try. His voice breaks halfway through his next explanation, and Yamada zeroes in on it, teasing him and wiggling some more, acting like a brat as he pushes Aizawa's buttons. It comes to a head as Aizawa describes how Yamada should try sliding between an attacker's legs, and Yamada tries it before Aizawa says he's ready. He pushes up and twists, pressing up between Aizawa's legs and making Aizawa gasp as a big problem makes itself known to them. Aizawa feels like time slows down as his eyes widen, and Yamada's face twists with surprise, then understanding, his own eyes and mouth wide open as he stares up at him.

"Aizawa-"

"We're done." Aizawa huffs, releasing Yamada as if he got burned. He gets to his feet and stalks over to his water bottle, refusing to look back.

Chapter Text

Aizawa is sweaty, sore, and at the end of his rope as he walks out of the gym, pointedly ignoring Yamada as he makes good use of the provided towels to wipe himself off. He tosses it in one of the towel bins on his way out, letting Yamada deal with signing them out as he steps into the hotter air outside. He takes a moment to breathe, his thoughts still straying to their self-defense lesson, to the softness of Yamada's skin and the way Yamada felt beneath him as he taught him to break free of a pin. He feels riled up despite the tired ache in his muscles. At least he knows Yamada learned something, even if it was more than just self-defense.

Fuck.

Yamada is subdued as he joins Aizawa outside, and they make their way home quickly, jogging back. Each attempt Yamada makes to start a conversation has Aizawa increasing their pace, until Yamada is a full block behind. Aizawa is too caught up in his embarrassment to care, storming inside the house and retreating to the upstairs bathroom before Yamada even catches up.

His time alone isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped, and he isn’t surprised to see Yamada waiting for him as he steps out of the bathroom, clad in Yamada’s spare robe. He’s content to duck into Yamada’s room to change in peace, but Yamada clears his throat and stands up from the couch. Aizawa pauses, holding in a sigh as he turns his gaze to Yamada’s frowning face, taking note of how the man will not meet his eyes. 

“Aizawa, I just want to apologize.”

“What?”

“For earlier. For- acting so inappropriate. I should have been more professional. You are going out of your way to train me, after all.”

“I wouldn’t say it's out of my way- you did make me an equal partner in this,” Aizawa says, huffing out a sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. “But thank you for the apology.”

“So, are we good?”

“We’ll be good after you leave me alone for a few hours.”

“Oh. Ok! I’ll go bother Yagi. I won’t talk to you until after dinner, promise!”

Yamada smiles and flounces into the bathroom, leaving Aizawa speechless as the door shuts in his face. He opens his mouth as if to retort, but he can’t think of anything to say, and shouting through the door would be embarrassing, so he drops it and heads into the bedroom. 

Putting on a clean pair of clothes from his bag is all he can muster with his fading energy, so he collapses onto the bed, staring at the corner he’s claimed as his. Yamada has slowly been cleaning out a space for him in the stuffed dresser across from the bed, but Aizawa hasn’t put his clothes away yet, keeping them in his collection of travel bags as if he might be moving again soon. But with Shinsou’s situation still unclear, he may be sharing for much longer than anticipated. He’s no stranger to sharing a room, but bunking in the field is different. Here, he could reach out and touch Yamada in his sleep. He could wake up late and catch Yamada waking up too, or catch him getting dressed-

He groans and covers his head with a pillow, blocking out the light filtering in through the blinds, wishing he could block his thoughts as easily. He starts to think about making payments for his phone to lull himself to sleep, staying completely still even as Yamada comes in after his shower. Yamada asks in a whisper if he’s awake, breaking his promise already, but Aizawa doesn’t answer, feigning sleep as his crush gets changed just a few feet away. Aizawa wonders if life is torturing him for catching feelings as he listens to the soft sounds of cloth on skin, hyper aware of where Yamada is in relation to the bed. 

He’s spared further embarrassment as Yamada ducks out once he’s done, and Aizawa sighs against the mattress, feeling like a useless teenager. This really shouldn’t affect him as much as it is. But Yamada is alluring, like a bright light on a dark, moonless night. He’s not conventionally attractive, but Aizawa has always found himself drawn to men with unusual looks, his eyes catching on features others might say don’t look good together. But he’s hopelessly charmed by the man’s strange mustache and loud fashion, the masculine cut of his face and the feminine drape of his hair. It’s like a magnet pulling at his eyes, calling him to look when he should have other things to care about. 

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in too deep. 

Aizawa stumbles down to a full dinner table a few uncomfortable hours later, finally feeling relaxed but not wanting to think about it. Yagi, Inko and Izuku greet him cheerfully, while Shouto waves. Shinsou gives a nod before turning back to his food, eating like a starved man as Yagi shovels more food onto his plate. Yamada ignores him like he’s ignoring his own full plate, staring at his phone as he scrolls through what looks like a long email. 

“Evening,” Aizawa grunts, stepping to the cabinet to grab a plate for himself. 

“Aizawa! Good to see you awake. I was wondering if I should go get you.” Yagi smiles, gesturing to the last empty seat at the table. It’s between Yagi and Yamada, right against the wall.

“If I don’t come down, I’d appreciate being left alone,” Aizawa clarifies, taking his seat and looking around the table. 

Shouto, Izuku and Shinsou are more focused on the food and their phones than anything else, but Aizawa does catch them looking at him from time to time. Inko catches his gaze and averts her eyes, easily flustered by getting caught looking. She doesn’t look away when Yagi meets her gaze, though. Yagi is smiling at everyone, living up to his role as household caretaker and shoveling food onto Aizawa’s plate before trying to serve some more food to the teenagers.

Yamada is still ignoring him.

It shouldn’t rankle him. He is the one who asked to be left alone, after all. But it seems he’s grown fond of having Yamada seeking him out and wanting his attention. He takes a bite of food and tries to read the email over Yamada’s shoulder, but the text is too small. Yamada clicks away from it to a different email, and Aizawa has the feeling they must be related to their current case to have Yamada so absorbed. He’ll have to catch Yamada’s attention this time around. 

“Hey, loud mouth,” Aizawa says, tapping on Yamada’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Eat before your food goes cold.”

“Wha- huh?” Yamada looks up and blinks his eyes rapidly, staring at his food and the full table as if he got teleported to a strange location.

“Eat your dinner. Yagi worked hard on it. You can catch up on work later.”

“Oh, oh, right! Sorry Yagi, the notification was just too interesting, you know…” Yamada rubs the back of his head with a quiet laugh.

“I don’t mind it! I know you get caught up in your work sometimes.” Yagi smiles and tilts his head. Aizawa’s eyes trail to the three teens, who are pretending not to listen in. 

“It’s no excuse for me to be rude, though.” Yamada counters, turning to Aizawa with a smile. “Thanks for getting me out of my head. Will you go over the case with me after dinner?”

“Sure.” Aizawa nods, ducking his head to shove a large bite of food in his mouth. He feels like he was just part of an after-school special about polite manners at the dinner table, and he wants to leave. 

Izuku and company are quick to leave the table when they're done, with reassurances from Inko that she'll stay and help clean up. Shouto says something about helping Izuku catch up on what he missed as Shinsou follows them to Shouto's room, their voices fading as they disappear into the back of the house. Aizawa frowns as he's reminded of the situation the Midoriya's have to endure. He'll have to try and focus on getting their plan in motion so they don't have to hide any more.

He eats quickly with that in mind, but he gets bogged down with seconds as Yagi cheerfully spoons them onto his plate. He just sighs and goes with it, realizing he'll have to wait for Yamada to finish eating too, and Yamada's pace is glacial. He eats slower this time, narrowing his eyes when Yagi tries to offer him thirds and making Yagi laugh as he holds up his hands in surrender.

Yamada suggests they discuss the case over dessert upstairs and Aizawa leaps on it, nodding and bringing his plate to the sink. He passes on pie, but Yamada takes the time to cut himself a slice before following Aizawa upstairs. His phone is out again before they even reach the top, his pace slowing as he starts to read again. 

Aizawa makes himself comfortable on the garish flower-print couch as Yamada shuffles in and puts his pie on the coffee table. He elects to just sit on the floor instead of pulling one of the plush armchairs closer, ignoring everything again as he scrolls through something on his screen. Aizawa clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Yamada looks up at him. 

“Wha- oh! Oh, sorry, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” Yamada laughs, scooting across the floor so he’s between the couch and the coffee table. He angles his phone so Aizawa can see it, pointing to the emails he was reading. “I got some good info from my sources- I think we’ll go talk to Ecto tomorrow, and Tsukauchi if he has the time. We should put our plan in motion after that.”

“Around what time will we be going?”

“Ah, Ecto said he could meet us around four?”

“That late?” Aizawa tilts his head, scratching at his chin as Yamada blinks up at him. “Are you opposed to me signing up for their boxing course tomorrow morning? It should be less suspicious if we sign up on separate days.”

“True, true- you do get up early enough, too. Just keep in touch, then, and we can meet up for a late lunch or something. Also, make sure to get some kind of receipt- I can write that off as a business expense later!” Yamada’s smile is brilliant as he leans back against the couch, his hair fluttering around as he cranes his neck to keep looking at Aizawa’s face. 

“Sounds good to me.” Aizawa nods, turning his gaze from Yamada’s shining hair to the phone in his hand. “So, tell me what we know.”

Yamada starts explaining all the info he’s gotten, some of it from the Midoriya’s, the rest from his various sources, most of them going unnamed. Apparently the illegal fights have been on the police’s radar for quite awhile, but with some very rich and powerful backers nothing much has been achieved. Every recruiter that’s been brought in have kept their mouth shut, either from fear or the promise of money. Probably both. 

“With what I’ve gathered, it looks like we’ll need to get some kind of video evidence of the richest people involved, to implicate them in a way they can’t just talk or pay their way out of. At the very least, if we get that far, the fights should be broken up, and the Midoriya’s won’t be bothered, since they’ll have bigger fish to fry. Namely us. And the police. And prosecutors. Maybe the FBI. Who knows who else will get involved?”

“Are we going to have the cops raid the place, or get in and out and share the evidence afterwards?”

“Still not too sure on that. The evidence would be the safer route, but a raid would get more people, if it doesn’t go to shit. I mean, these rich dicks probably have bodyguards with guns. Even if the evidence route is slower, and more criminals will slip through the cracks, it’s still safer than a full-on brawl type of situation. I mean, if little Izuku was pressured into this, think of who else may be fighting there?”

Aizawa nods, thinking over the situation with a sinking stomach. Yamada is right. They could set everything up perfectly as inside men and call in a raid, but people would get hurt. Criminals and innocents alike. It would be chaos, and just thinking about it makes Aizawa feel on edge. How would they even differentiate between the guilty and the pressured innocents? A raid would be more likely to catch the low-ranking people, the cannon fodder for the cops as their uncaring bosses slip out the back. They need to get evidence to bring down the big guns, the guys calling the shots. 

“So a raid is out. We can’t expect outside help, then. We need to be able to get in and out without being caught or killed.” Aizawa says, rubbing at his stubbled jaw in thought. 

“Sounds doable to me. We’ll be going in deep, then. Living our covers. We probably won’t be able to come back here once we start the job properly, just in case.”

“Fine by me. I may just rough it like I used to.” Aizawa shrugs, blinking as Yamada frowns. “What? Apartments are expensive, and even homeless shelters need money.”

“You’re right, I just don’t think about it much.” Yamada trails off, turning to his pie as he twirls the fork in his fingers. “If you’re fine with roughing it as your cover, then I’ll trust your judgement, but I can totally pay for a cheap motel or something too. Which, by the way, what /will/ we use as our covers?”

“Mine is easy. I’m a veteran down on his luck, looking for a break. Loose morals, eager for easy cash. Maybe with a shady job already. I can join the gym looking for a place to shower and a locker to keep my stuff in. Better to pay twenty a month for a locker room when you can’t afford a roof at all.”

Yamada nods, taking a bite of his pie and chewing as he thinks. Aizawa lets him think, lying across the couch and making himself comfortable as he waits for Yamada’s big plan. Considering how long he stays silent, it’s sure to be big, but Aizawa can’t know for sure it’ll be good. He’ll just have to wait and see, and hope it isn’t completely off the rails.

One thing is clear, as Yamada spends the next two hours throwing out ideas while Aizawa vetoes them- they need more information. They agree to disagree, and to move forward with phase one the next day: Aizawa will sign up at the gym first, they’ll talk to Yamada’s contacts, then hash it out again after dinner somewhere. They end up working this out as they get ready for bed, garnering a look from Shinsou as he slinks up to the room Aizawa now thinks as his. Aizawa just bids him goodnight then goes back to arguing as Yamada applies a face mask.

They reach their agreement as they crawl into bed together, and Aizawa’s heart clenches hard as his brain unhelpfully points out how domestic it all is. He knows Yamada is just going to read before getting up to take off his face mask before finally joining Aizawa properly, but it feels like a scene from an old movie, the ones where the parents get into bed together to talk about their day before falling asleep. He pointedly turns away from Yamada, pretending the lamp from the nightstand is bothering him. 

“Want to borrow one of my sleeping masks?” Yamada asks, looking up from the book in his lap. Aizawa just grunts. “Or I can go read in the main room-”

“Its your bed. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, really, it’s fine.” Yamada says, shifting the covers to get up.

“I can sleep anywhere. Like I said, don’t worry about it. Besides, it’ll be good practice for when I’m sleeping outside again.”

“I really think a motel would be better…” Yamada huffs, falling silent. Aizawa hears a page turn before Yamada speaks again. “I just know I’ll be worried. I already am.”

“You hired me as your bodyguard, I’ll be fine.” Aizawa grunts, desperately wishing he could sleep. This conversation is making his heart ache.

“But we’re partners now. And I’d like to think we’re friends too. Either way, I’ll worry. Just… think about it? Please?”

“Fine. We can discuss it tomorrow.” Aizawa says it with finality, his tone brooking no argument. 

He adjusts the blanket and settles in to sleep, focusing on keeping his breathing even to hide how fast his heart is beating. His brain keeps replaying the way Yamada said /partners/ in that soft, worried tone and it’s driving him crazy. He just wants to sleep. He needs to be well rested for tomorrow. But he can’t help but wonder what kind of expression was on Yamada’s face when he said that. Should he have looked? Why does that matter? It would only matter if his feelings are the ones calling the shots. But they aren’t. He is in control here. 

Telling himself that doesn’t banish the warn, fluttering feeling in his stomach, though. 

Sleep does not come easy, and he finds himself waking whenever Yamada moves. Aizawa can only lie there and listen as the man hums quietly under his breath while reading. Sometimes the pages turn quickly, but sometimes it’s awhile before Aizawa hears it again as Yamada lingers on a page. He sometimes hears the faint noises of the house settling, or a car driving by outside. It should be relaxing, but he finds himself waking again as Yamada gets up to remove his mask. 

He doesn’t bother trying to drift off again until he feels Yamada get back into bed. The nightstand light clicks loudly as Yamada turns it off and then there is silence, broken only by the sound of breathing. A tingling on the back of his neck has him on alert, his mind searching for the cause as he listens to Yamada breathing out, his breath tickling against his hair. 

Oh. 

Yamada is watching him sleep.

Aizawa shivers unconsciously as he wraps the blanket tighter around himself, taking a deep breath to calm himself as Yamada shifts again. It’s almost a relief to feel a tug on the blanket as he realizes Yamada has turned around. He rolls onto his back without thinking, freezing in place as he looks at Yamada’s silhouette in the dark. His hair is still the brightest thing in the room, illuminated by the barely-there light from outside. Aizawa rolls back over to resist the urge to touch it, to move closer to Yamada, to seek his warmth as the chill of night sets in. He wants to be proud of his control, but he falls asleep feeling cold.

Chapter Text

Aizawa wakes before dawn despite his horrible night, stumbling out of bed and into a cold shower through pure habit alone. He doesn’t bother trying to shave, only giving minimal care to his hair and pulling out his old, faded workout sweats. He stuffs his sleeping bag, a few spare pieces of clothes, and some random toiletries into his duffel bag, trying to make it look like he lives out of it. 

He has the bag open on the bathroom counter as he stuffs some toothpaste and a can of spray deodorant into one of the side pockets when he catches movement in the mirror. He looks up to find Shinsou watching him from the doorway, the boy meeting his gaze in the reflection before looking away. Aizawa turns to face him properly as Shinsou starts to rub at the back of his neck.

“Are you leaving?” Shinsou asks, his gaze directed at the door to Yamada’s room.

“Yeah.” Aizawa nods, thinking about whether he should take the bus or just try to walk there. Would it be better to show up earlier or later?

Shinsou’s mouth pinches at his answer, and his body language gets shiftier, as if he’s nervous about something. Or guilty. Aizawa zips his bag closed and slings it over his shoulder, tilting his head as he waits for the boy to speak.

“Is it because of me?” Shinsou asks in a whisper, his mouth twisting as he glares at Yamada’s door.

“Is what because of you?” Aizawa frowns, blinking at Shinsou in confusion.

“You leaving. Because I took your room.”

“Okay, no. I am not leaving forever.” Aizawa sighs, stepping forward as he keeps his voice calm. “When you asked, I thought you just meant for the day. So I said yes, because I am going somewhere for work. I may not be back tonight, or tomorrow, depending on some things, but I will be back eventually.”

Aizawa frowns as Shinsou’s posture deflates, as if he was expecting to get scolded for something. He leans in the doorway, trying to be as unthreatening as he can while Shinsou gets himself together. 

“Why did you think I was leaving forever? Because of the bag?”

“No, not just that- I just- last night, when you were talking with Yamada. I kind of heard some stuff. I didn’t mean to. I was going to go to my room but I didn’t. You said something about being homeless before, and I did take your room here, and, well, I kind of maybe thought Yamada was kicking you out since there wasn’t much space? I didn’t stay to listen.”

Aizawa snorts, gesturing at the couch with his thumb as Shinsou frowns at him.

“Look kid, if Yamada wasn’t okay with sharing, I’d just use the couch. It’s better than concrete. And besides, we’re business partners now. I’d be kicking up a fuss if he suddenly changed his mind and tried to kick me out. I’m not going anywhere, not because of anybody, understand?”

Shinsou nods, realization clear on his face as he slowly starts backing away and gesturing towards his room. He avoids meeting Aizawa’s gaze- Aizawa can only assume he must be embarrassed about his wrong assumption. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s good. I’m just going to get ready for school…” He gestures at his room with his thumb.

“You do that. Make sure you keep going even if I’m not here. I’ll have Shouto or Midoriya snitch on you if you skip.”

“Sure, whatever you say, old man.” Shinsou snorts, finally meeting Aizawa’s gaze as he gives a sarcastic salute. 

Aizawa heads to the kitchen once Shinsou is gone, grabbing some granola bars and water bottles to stuff in his bag, looking over the selection of fruit in search of a light breakfast. Yagi catches him on his way out with a banana, and he pauses, figuring he can update Yagi on their current plan before disappearing on him. He is technically their client, after all.

“Good morning, Aizawa! Heading out to train again?”

“Sort of. I’m going to go sign up for some boxing lessons, and hopefully get a lead on our case. I might be gone for the next few days, so don’t worry about me if I don’t come back. Unless Yamada says something, just assume I’m okay.”

“You’re leaving? Are you going undercover?”

“Pretty much. Please don’t try to contact me while I’m gone. If it’s an emergency, then keep it vague- I may have to act like you’re calling about something else. Who knows.”

“Sounds dangerous.” Yagi frowns, crossing his arms as he fidgets. “Sneaking around never suited me. I always faced my problems head on. But that won’t work here, will it?”

“No, it won’t. Not yet at least.”

“Be careful then, Aizawa. I’d like to see you come back, if only so you can help me remodel the basement. But I’d like your honest opinion of my cooking, too.”

“I can help with that.” Aizawa huffs, giving Yagi a quick smile before he heads to the door. 

He can hear Izuku and Shouto coming into the kitchen as he leaves, but he doesn’t turn back to talk to them. Yagi can let them know if he feels he can trust them. He supposes it’s a good thing he got to talk to Shinsou before he left, but it’s likely Shinsou was waiting for him, considering the misconception he had. The kid must have been pretty worried about it to get up so early. Or perhaps he didn’t sleep at all. Aizawa hopes that the kid managed to get a little sleep, but Shinsou always looks tired, so he can’t know for sure. 

Problems for another day.

The bus is leaving before he can reach the corner so he opts to walk into the city- he can consider it his morning workout. It’s only three miles anyways. He has the spot memorized from Izuku’s notes, and he heads in the general direction until he finally finds a familiar street name. 

He’s a sweaty mess by the time he reaches the gym, but it feels like the perfect set-up. He can see a young woman at the check-in counter through the front windows, and the barest glimpse of the gym itself behind her. He pretends to study the hours on the door and one of the promotional flyers before coming in. 

The woman is instantly on alert once she sees Aizawa properly, but she keeps her friendly smile as he approaches the counter. He sets down his bag with a grunt and leans his elbows on the cool surface, enjoying the air conditioning while the woman starts to talk.

“Welcome to the Morningstar Boxing Club! I’m Tiffany, one of the clerks. What can I help you with today sir?”

“I think I’d like to sign up,” Aizawa grunts, looking towards the door to the locker rooms.

“Sure thing! Were you looking for classes, or just general gym use?”

“Just the gym, for now. Say, are there lockers for rent here?”

Tiffany pauses, her smile tightening as she falls for his trap, instantly assuming he’s homeless from that question and his appearance. “Why yes, there are! They aren’t very big, but they can hold enough for general gym usage.”

“That sounds good to me. Do I need a card to sign up, or can I use cash?”

“Both are accepted. Will you be using cash today sir?”

“Yes.” Aizawa nods, and they enter into the whole song and dance of signing up for a monthly gym membership. Tiffany is very thorough when explaining the rules and regulations, and Aizawa takes note of them all, doing his best to keep his act up. He does surprise her by showing his veteran’s ID to get a discount, covering part with his thumb and making sure she misspells his name just in case. She doesn’t bother asking him for an address, and he’s just glad they don’t take down more information than that- he has no desire to be stalked by criminals if they’re the ones running the place.

Once he’s signed up he goes to get comfortable in the locker room. He has to pass along the wall of the large room to get there, giving him a clear view of the boxing rings and punching bags set up in sections. There is also a free weight section to one side, and some doors which must lead to private rooms- most likely for the classes that were mentioned. 

A few of the men watch him quietly as he sidles towards the locker room, but no one calls out or tries to stop him. He silently takes note of them while hiding his eyes behind his hair, feeling grateful that he had let it grow out so much. Nothing of note happens as he ducks into the locker room, so he locates his locker, sets up his things and takes a shower.

One of the men from earlier is lingering on a bench when Aizawa returns, but Aizawa pretends to ignore him, redressing in his ragged sweats and using his spray deodorant liberally. The other man doesn’t speak until after Aizawa has locked everything up, catching him on his way out the door.

“Hey man, you’re new, yeah? Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but you look like you could use some company. Want to come practice with me and the boys?”

Aizawa narrows his eyes, looking between the man and the door, acting as wary as he can. Whatever the man sees just emboldens him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you look like you know your way around a fight. C’mon, go a round with me. I mean, why else would you choose a boxing gym if you’re not going to punch someone?” the man laughs, and his smirk grows when Aizawa nods.

“Sure. Fine. You have the equipment?” Aizawa asks.

“Yeah, just follow me!”

They head off towards one of the rings in the corner, towards a group of men of all shapes and sizes, but all share a certain desperate air to them. The only ones who look completely at ease are Aizawa’s guide and a lanky man with a crooked smile. 

“Hey, who’s your friend Tom?” Crooked Smile asks, stepping away from holding a punching bag for a short, fat man with a very impressive beard.

Tom just smiles and shrugs. “I dunno. He just looked lonely, so I figured I’d ask if he wanted to hang. You know how I am.”

“That’s our Tommy.” The bearded man laughs. 

“Santa, my man! Let me help you with that!” Tom laughs too, taking Crooked’s spot so the man dubbed Santa can continue his routine. Aizawa watches them for a moment, keeping Crooked in the corner of his eye as Santa flubs a punch and has to correct his posture.

“We got all levels here, but I find teaching someone the ropes can make you improve faster than on your own, y’know? Say, my name is Taro, what’s yours?” the crooked-smile man says, his face dripping with false charm. Aizawa can feel the hair on his arms rising, but his face stays blank as he turns to face the man properly.

“Hm. You can call me Wa.”

“Wa? Like a baby crying? Just Wa?”

“Just Wa.”

Taro laughs and shrugs, walking back towards Santa and Tom to take his old spot back. “If you say so! Here, Tom, I’m back, go hang out with your new friend.”

Tom laughs and waves Aizawa over as he heads to a nearby bin, pulling out some padded armor to wear in the ring. “Here’s the equipment- just find whatever fits and lets do this! I wanna see if my gut was right about you.”

Aizawa pulls on whatever isn’t too tight and calls it a day. Looking at Tom, he gets the feeling he doesn’t have much to worry about. He considers going easy on him, but he considers his options. If one- or all- of these men are connected to the secret fighting ring, then he needs to impress them to get pulled aside for it. Besides, he can play it off as pent-up frustration from being out on the streets, stringing up a story to keep the wool over their eyes. Give them just enough information and they can assume the rest. People will see what they want to see. 

Standing in the ring, Aizawa can feel his heart start to pump faster. He takes a corner and starts to loosen up, bouncing on his toes and shaking out his arms. All the guys stop practicing to gather around to watch, and Aizawa casts his gaze over all of them. None of them catch his gaze like Taro does, though. He wants to go with his gut on this one.

“Hey Wa, ready when you are!” Tom calls out, shuffling over from his corner to the center. His footwork is fast but messy. Aizawa takes it slower, keeping himself steady as they face off in the middle ring.

Tom attacks first, a quick left-right that Aizawa blocks easily. The force jars his arms, but any pain fades instantly- speed seems to be the only thing this guy has going for him. Aizawa returns one punch for every five, though they appear to be in a stalemate of blocking to all the spectators. But Aizawa is biding his time, watching as Tom starts to run out of steam, his footwork getting sloppier and his punches sliding off the blocks. 

It only takes one quick punch to send Tom tumbling as the crowd around them cheers. Tom doesn’t even bother trying to get back up. Instead he takes off his head guard and grins up at Aizawa with admiration.

“Man, you’re barely even sweating! You’re the real deal! Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Boot camp,” Aizawa grunts, and an understanding noise comes from the crowd around them. 

“Hey man, you and me both.” One of the other men calls out, his own hair cropped short in the telltale military style.

Santa grins and points between the two of them. “You two can spar then! Don’t get me involved!”

“You’re such a softy, Santa!” Someone laughs, and the small crowd devolves into happy chatting. Two other guys rush to the bin for equipment, so Aizawa quietly exits the ring to deposit his armor.

He spends an hour practicing on the bag with the other veteran, who introduces himself as Lee. He’s quiet and reserved too, so Aizawa starts to “open up” about his problems as they switch off spotting for each other. Aizawa pretends not to notice Taro lingering nearby, acting nonchalant as he listens in to Aizawa’s manufactured sob story. Aizawa barely goes into detail, but his plan pays off perfectly as Taro corners him in the locker room later, his crooked grin returning as he starts up a conversation. 

“You’ve got moves, Wa, I’ll give you that. I’m glad Tom invited you over.”

Aizawa just grunts and picks up his bag, clearly ready to head out. He even makes sure to check his phone, noticing a few texts from Yamada in his inbox. He can answer those later. He has something important to deal with right now. His gaze lifts to Taro’s face, watching him impassively as he waits for Taro to reveal his hand. Aizawa's pulse quickens as Taro starts to speak, but his phone rings, and Taro smiles at him.

"Important call?"

Aizawa looks at his phone and nods. "My boss."

"Better get that." 

He takes a deep breath and presses answer as he holds up the phone to his ear, speaking tersely as he eyes the man next to him. He really doesn’t like the way the man is smiling at him.

"What is it boss? I'm with someone right now."

There's a moment of silence on the other end, then Yamada speaks with a deeper voice he hasn't heard before, picking up on the situation immediately.

"Then hurry it up. I need you to make sure you can deliver the package tonight. I'm waiting with it right now, understand?"

His voice is loud enough for Taro to hear, and Taro blinks in surprise as Aizawa grimaces to play along.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it boss." He grumbles, hitting the end call button as he shoves his phone in his pocket. 

He doesn’t meet Taro’s gaze as the man whistles, throwing an arm around Aizawa's shoulders. Aizawa represses a shudder as his head snaps around to glare at Taro.

"Well, seems you're in much deeper than I thought."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course! Neither do I. Speaking of not knowing things, I totally have no idea what would happen if you came back tonight around, say, midnight? Know what I mean?"

"The gym is open that late?”

“For members, yeah. You can’t sign up for things, but your shiny new card lets you swipe in. I know the hours posted on the door say we close at ten, but thats for normal folk. The rest of us don’t plan around nine-to-five, know what I mean? Besides, it’s dangerous at night. I heard what you were telling Lee- at the very least, you won’t have to be outside.”

So his plan worked? If Aizawa is reading things correctly, Taro is inviting him to come try out for the fight club tonight, under the guise of helping a homeless veteran stay off the streets. He has no reason to avoid the offer, so he fights back his gut instinct to refuse. Aizawa just nods, shrugging off his arm and walking towards the locker room door. He needs to leave and meet up with Yamada- as hopeful as he was, he really wasn’t expecting to hook a fish on his first day. It’s barely even noon. 

“I’ll see you tonight, big guy!” Taro calls out, clearly sure he’s the one who has someone hooked. And he does, but not for the reasons he thinks. Aizawa holds back a victorious smile, already looking forward to telling Yamada he’s in.

Chapter Text

Aizawa quickly heads out of the gym, ducking through some alleyways and watching his back so he can be sure he isn’t followed. Once he’s sure it’s safe he makes himself comfortable behind a relatively new dumpster, sitting on his bag as he pulls out his phone again. With one button he’s calling Yamada back, his eyes still shifting around as he watches the alley for any signs of movement.

“Hello?” Yamada answers the phone, using the same deep voice from earlier. 

“Hey Mic, I’m clear. Thanks for the cover.” Aizawa says, reverting to their code names, just in case.

“Oh, hey! Yeah, no problem. You were at the gym?”

“Yeah. I made contact. Guy named Taro, the one Midoriya Izuku mentioned. Where are you at now? We need to talk.”

“You made- oh wow. Wow, okay, uh- I was thinking brunch, so why don’t we meet on Main and Third? There’s a cafe there- big flowers on the sign. Can’t miss it.”

Aizawa nods to himself as he brings up a mental map, trying to figure out which direction to head in. He gets distracted by the sound of rustling, and he looks over to find a stray cat sniffing at an exposed bag of garbage. His eyes track it’s every movement as he talks, losing focus as the cat turns to look at him.

“I’ll be there. Can’t say when. You can order if you want, I might be a bit late.”

“Why?” Yamada asks in a worried tone. “Did someone follow you? Where are you-”

Yamada stops talking as the cat yowls, hearing it through the phone. Aizawa just stays still, grinning as the cat walks up to him and yowls again, clearly expecting food.

“Oh. Huh.” Yamada says, a laugh bubbling out as he catches on. “Well, I’ll order some coffee and make myself comfortable, then. Just don’t get here too late, I still have my meeting with Ecto, and he isn’t a fan of tardiness.”

“You got it. I’ll see you soon, Mic.” Aizawa grins, holding his free hand out for the cat to sniff. Yamada hangs up after saying goodbye, and Aizawa puts his phone away to dig out some food from his bag, coaxing the cat closer. 

Aizawa finds Yamada at the cafe in question an hour later, feeling loose and content. He’s put his hair up in a bun and changed his shirt, feeling paranoid despite knowing how unlikely it is to bump into Taro with how big the city is. The lunch rush is over by now, and the cafe is empty enough for Aizawa to see Yamada easily. He’s sitting in a back corner at a small table flanked by a standing light and a potted plant, giving them more privacy than anywhere else in the cafe. It’s a good spot. 

The table is littered with empty cups and plates, though one plate holds an untouched muffin and Yamada holds a mug with milky coffee. Yamada doesn’t even notice him until he grabs the chair to sit down, and Yamada finally looks up from his phone. 

“Oh, Aizawa! You’re finally here! I saved you a muffin- did you want anything else? A coffee? We have an hour or so before we should head out.”

“I’ll start with this,” Aizawa says, grabbing the muffin and taking a bite. It has cranberries in it. Did Yamada choose it for himself originally, or is he trying to guess what Aizawa might like?

“Alright, fair enough. Anyways, how did it go? You said you made contact with Taro? Do you think we’ll be able to use him?”

Aizawa nods, chewing slowly and dragging out the silence as Yamada fidgets. To his credit, he stays silent while he waits, but Aizawa can tell he’s getting impatient as he turns his mug in circles. Aizawa smirks after he swallows, moving as if to take another bite and laughing as Yamada gasps in outrage, catching on to Aizawa’s scheme. 

He takes pity and starts explaining his story between smaller bites of the muffin, giving Yamada time to process the information he’s dumping. Yamada types notes on his phone instead of talking during the silences, only speaking up to ask a leading question for more information. Aizawa feels like he told the story well enough, but Yamada asks for descriptions of everyone Aizawa can remember, as well as names. He’s vibrating with excitement as he downs the rest of his coffee, still typing away at his phone as Aizawa takes the chance to finish his muffin.

“Aizawa, this is amazing ! Your first day, and you’re already set to get in! This is going great so far… I hope this doesn’t get out of control, but I’m sure you can make up an excuse if you feel like it’s going too fast. We’ll have to see what Ecto can tell us so you aren’t going in blind, but if you’re going in first, I think you should take lead on the plan. You’ll be in there first, after all.”

“Makes sense. I think we should keep the cover that you’re my boss. Keep it vague, but give them the sense that you sell drugs or something. Maybe I can invite you in for making bets?”

“That’s a great idea! I mean, I wasn’t opposed to having to fight my way in, but this works too. Or I could be an associate. I can do lots of voices! Keep your boss as a mysterious benefactor over the phone or something. I’m just not sure you should be going in alone, so we need to keep the options open.”

“Fine. Whatever works. But if I can get you in as someone other than a fighter, just go with it.”

Yamada holds up his hands, grinning. “I’m not disagreeing! I’ll do it, I promise! Anyways, we should be heading out. Ecto is expecting us. Can you go flag down a cab while I get some coffee to go? I’ll get you a cup too.”

“Dark roast, black,” Aizawa grunts, getting up from his chair with a stretch. His muscles still feel a bit sore from his earlier exertion, and he wonders if he’ll have time to take a nap before heading to the gym at midnight.

He grabs his bag and heads outside as Yamada clears up the table and gets three coffees to go in the largest size available. Yamada’s is some iced monstrosity with whipped cream and sprinkles, while the other two seem to be exactly the same.

“Ecto likes his brew the way you do.” Yamada laughs as he joins Aizawa in the cab. 

Aizawa dutifully takes the cup holder as Yamada buckles in and gives directions to the cabbie. They’re there in a few minutes, which seems like a waste of money from Aizawa’s perspective, but he can’t fault Yamada for wanting to be on time. It’s his money, anyways. They file out of the cab, juggling the drinks and bags between them until everything is collected and the cabbie drives off. 

Aizawa takes a moment to look up at the nondescript three-story building in front of them, a simple brick construction sandwiched between a charming bakery and a taller office building with more glass than plaster. The first floor houses an optometrist, but Yamada leads him to the side entrance for the upper floors, pressing the buzzer for suite 2. Yamada smiles for the camera installed into the wall, and soon the door is buzzing as the automatic lock is disengaged. 

“Ecto has his office here,” Yamada explains as his voice echoes in the narrow stairwell. 

Aizawa frowns. “So he works at the diner, and has a side business for, what, selling info?”

“Oh, no, this is his PI agency’s office. We just work together on the side, you know how it is.”

“So, what, the diner is just to help pay the bills?”

“Hey, you’d have to ask him!” Yamada laughs. “That’s his choice, not mine!”

“How many jobs does a guy need?” Aizawa mutters, taking stock of the second floor as they reach the landing. It’s a simple hallway with two doors, but only one is in use- the other door is blocked off by a plethora of potted plants sitting in the sunbeams coming from the only window. 

“I think three would be a good number,” Yamada replies, taking Aizawa’s rhetorical question seriously. He knocks on the door as Aizawa grimaces, imagining how tired he’d be with all that work. 

“Come in!” a vaguely familiar voice calls out from behind the door, and Yamada opens it with an excited flourish, holding up the tray of coffees.

“Ecto! Buddy, pal, long time no see! I got your emails- muchas gracias, by the way. You said you found some more info for us? Here, large black, just the way you like it.”

Aizawa follows Yamada in, closing the door behind him as he looks around. Ecto is sitting at a desk that takes up one whole wall, which is bogged down with two computers, a laptop, miniature filing cabinets and many piles of loose papers. There are a few bookshelves as well, filled to the brim with papers and electronics. It makes him feel like he just walked into a consignment shop that recently took stock from some office that went out of business. 

Ecto himself looks the same, but not as tired as before. It makes sense, seeing that he isn’t at the diner today, but something feels off. Aizawa ponders it as Yamada exchanges pleasantries with the man. Perhaps it's just strange to see him in another context? He can’t pin the feeling down so he pushes it aside, stepping up to grab his own coffee and participate in the conversation.

“Yeah, so Aizawa says he’ll be heading back there tonight- you have the blueprints for the gym, right?”

“I have ‘em right here.” Ecto says, voice muffled by the same kind of medical mask he was wearing last time. Why is he wearing it outside of the restaurant?

Aizawa steps forward as Ecto pulls out a few sheets of paper, showing miniature blueprints for the gym he just infiltrated. Ecto lets him spread the papers out on the clearest part of the desk, talking quietly while yamada sips loudly at his colorful monstrosity.

“Since I can’t take the blueprints with me, I stopped going to the office like we used to. I just get them scanned and sent to me now. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t want to start saying I technically did or did not break a law or abuse a loophole or, y’know-”

“The usual.” Yamada smiles.

“The usual.” Ecto nods. 

Aizawa just snorts and traces his finger over the blueprints, counting all the rooms. There’s a basement hidden in the back, with access through a corridor that leads to most of the classrooms and offices. He’s just guessing, but the larger rooms must be for classrooms, with the smaller ones in the back being used as offices, storage and cleaning closets. Possibly an employee area too. Fortunately there’s no second story to worry about, but Shouta is pretty sure he’s going to find himself in that basement in a few hours. He looks at the open layout- one large room, with a small bathroom attached. It was probably meant to be a storage area, or an employee area. There’s a small exit going up to street level- the sidewalk entrance then. He remembers walking over it on his way to the front doors, rusted over and bolted shut. Obviously hasn’t been used in awhile. Not the best, but if he needs an escape route, it might do. 

“Alright. Looks like they have two ways into the basement but only use the one. My best guess is I’ll be there tonight, doing whatever it is this Taro guy wants me to do. There’s also a fire door and an entrance to the alleyway in the back.”

“They probably have cameras back there. Most businesses in the area do, anyways, so everything there is monitored,” Ecto pipes up, raising one finger. “Ironically, most of the store fronts do not have cameras- inside, sure, but they don’t catch the main street. For this block, it's only the small ATM and the bank itself that record anything.”

“No red light cameras?” Yamada frowns.

“Not here, no.”

“I wonder if they planned for that. They can control their own internal cameras, and ‘lose’ the footage from the nights that they run their secret fight club, without worrying if they’ll be seen going in and out.”

“They didn’t tell me to avoid going by the bank.” Aizawa says, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

“They’d still have plausible deniability. Or maybe they didn’t plan for this. Or maybe it slipped his mind. Right now, there are too many variables for me to be certain about any of it, but I like keeping the possibilities in mind anyways.” Yamada waves his hands around as he thinks, clearly trying to come up with every scenario. 

“I’ll go by the bank and see if they mention it.” Aizawa says, standing up and handing the blueprints back to Ecto. “If they mention it tonight, then your idea is probably right.”

“More than just probably,” Yamada laughs, pointing at Aizawa and giving him a confident smirk. 

Aizawa smirks back. “Whatever you say. Anyways, Ecto, did you have any other information on this underground fighting ring?”

“Some. They recruit from multiple places, not just that one gym. Some of it is through the gangs though, so they must have a big stake in this. They probably have their members fight to prove themselves, or to fuel feuds, or just to try and rake in some extra cash. It must be pretty lucrative now with how big it’s gotten.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t been shut down yet, if it’s so large,” Aizawa says, holding up his hand as Yamada opens his mouth. “I know, I know, large organizations can go a long time without being busted- but with multiple rival gangs involved, you would think someone would have squealed about it, to try and get their rivals locked up.”

“I was thinking about that too.” Yamada frowns, setting down his drink to cross his arms and lean against the desk. “It has to be whoever is running the fights in the first place, whoever's keeping them in line. A steady flow of cash and threats, perhaps? Paying off the gang leaders so have them send their grunts in as fodder for the ring?”

“Someone rich, but neutral,” Ecto nods, pulling out a large manila folder stuffed with papers. “With enough money to hire bodyguards and mercenaries not affiliated with any gangs- outsourced, perhaps? It would be a sweet deal, to get paid extra to move to a new city for a job like that. Most people who do those jobs don’t have roots down anywhere anyways.”

Yamada takes the folder as Ecto hands it over, opening it up to reveal pages of personal profiles, with pictures stapled to each one. It's very impressive, and Aizawa is not surprised to see Yamada pull out a stack of cash and hand it over. There’s a lot of information and work in that dossier. 

“Nothing concrete in there, but that list has the hundred richest people in the city- I put couples on the same page to save space and time.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Ecto. Hats off!” Yamada grins, idly flipping through a few. 

Ecto’s eyes crinkle as he smiles under his mask, and they fall into a comfortable silence as Yamada peruses the folder with Aizawa looking over his shoulder. There are a lot of names and faces to look at. Aizawa wonders if he should be worried about trying to remember them all, or if he should leave that up to Yamada. But there’s always the chance he will see someone and Yamada won’t be there, especially if they don’t manage to get Yamada into the fight club in the first place. 

“Let me have a look,” he says, reaching over to grab a handful of the papers and sliding them out of the folder. Yamada sputters, almost dropping the folder as he tries to stop him, but Aizawa just huffs. “I’m not going to be returning to the house, remember? I can’t take this with me, either. So let me have a look now. I don’t need to read them. It’s the pictures that are important.”

“Ah, true. Okay. Here, just have a seat and look them over.”

“While he’s doing that, let me show you something I’ve been working on- I could use a fresh perspective on it,” Ecto says, waving Yamada over to his computer.

Yamada hands over the dossier and steps up behind Ecto’s chair, leaning in to look at the screen as Ecto brings something up. Aizawa doesn’t bother trying to sneak a peek- it isn't his job or his problem. He watches them for a moment as he puts the folder on the desk, grabbing a spare chair to use. The two of them don’t talk as Ecto clicks to something else, the two of them engrossed in reading, and Aizawa turns to his own task.

Some of the faces look familiar, mainly the politicians and media-friendly CEOs that are always appearing in the news for some publicity stunt. Other’s are completely new, and he focuses on those for longer, hoping he will recognize them if it comes to that. Yamada and Ecto start talking in low voices but he tunes them out, concentrating on his task even as his eyes start to burn and ache, getting tired from being used so much for so long.

He grabs his coffee and takes a sip, only to find it empty. When did he drink it all? He looks down at the messy stack of papers and realizes he’s almost done. He looks around the room for a clock, but freezes as he catches sight of Ecto finishing his own drink, his medical mask pushed down and revealing the scars on his lips. One looks like the surgical aftermath for a cleft lip, but the others look like they came from malicious intentions. His teeth are a perfect, pearly white, contrasting with the dull colored scars. Aizawa turns his head away. It’s not his business. 

He spreads out the last few papers to finish his side of things, starting to get antsy sitting around for so long. 

“Looks like you’re almost done,” Yamada comments, sidling up to Aizawa slowly. He leans on the desk within Aizawa’s vision, and Aizawa blinks as he realizes why. Yamada doesn’t want to sneak up behind him. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

“No rush. You’re the one with the meeting tonight, anyways. I’m just going to be doing more research, and working on my disguise. What do you think- black hair, or red?” Yamada twirls a lock of hair around his finger, cocking his eyebrow as he waits for an answer.

“How about a bald cap?” Aizawa deadpans, earning him a laugh from Ecto. Yamada pouts.

“I would not look good bald, so I’m going to ignore that. I’d look like, like- I dunno, Eggman’s twink brother.”

“Who’s Eggman?” Aizawa frowns, while Ecto doubles over in laughter. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll probably do black. It’ll make choosing clothes easier.”

“Fashion is the biggest thing you have to worry about right now?”

“No, just one thing of many. Besides, when you keep the heat on the pot it boils and burns- sometimes you have to let a thought simmer to get the good stuff.”

“Did Yagi give you that metaphor?” Aizawa chuckles, shaking his head and turning back to the dossier. 

Yamada huffs a laugh but leaves him be, grabbing the stack Aizawa already looked at and reading some himself. When Aizawa looks up again, Ecto is typing away at something while Yamada is still leaning against the desk, one long leg crossed over the other as he frowns down at the papers in his hand. Aizawa can just barely see Yamada’s face through his curtain of hair, and he finds himself watching the way Yamada’s eyes move as they track over the page, his eyelids blinking and twitching as he reads and thinks things over. 

He tears his gaze away to look at the last few pages in the dossier. It just seems to be more of the same- rich, older men, many divorced, and all sporting the same sort of look and style. Aizawa isn’t one for fashion, but even he is bored of seeing the same type of suit and colors on almost every single man in the line up. At least the women have more variation, even if it's all too ostentatious for his tastes. The last one catches his eye, her tasteful diamond pendant earrings being paired with an excessive diamond necklace, both standing out against her brown hair and black dress. She’s very pretty in a made-up way, just like many of the wives included in the pairs, but she’s single. Out of the whole group, she's one of three unmarried women who made the list. At least it makes them easier to remember, even if he’s not sure if any of them would be involved. 

Aizawa clears his throat, shaking his head as he holds up the last few pages. “I’m done. You can keep these. Not sure I’ll remember names, but I’ll recognize the faces. I can always point them out again afterwards.”

“Sounds good to me. So, what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to slip out the back and find the dirtiest alleyway I can for a nap.”

“Huh? Why?” Yamada frowns, his nose wrinkling at the thought of dumpsters and sticky sidewalks.

“So I can smell the part. I want to keep up the cover that I chose that place to take showers at. I don’t want to accept their little club too quick, even if it goes well tonight. I already have that pretend job as your drug runner, remember? They’ll have to make it worth my while for me to risk life and limb.”

“True, true. Tell you what- I’ll keep doing research and get my disguise ready on my end of things, while you focus on getting them to give you an offer you can’t refuse by the end of the week. I don’t want to rush this, but you shouldn’t be sleeping rough for so long- and you did get your hooks in a lot earlier than we thought you would…”

“A week it is, then. If you have to call or text, keep with the story please.” Aizawa says, giving Yamada a serious look.

“Of course, of course! I am nothing if not a professional!” Yamada laughs, giving Aizawa a charming smile. “But just in case, how about a codeword- a safeword? Something like… whats a good word? Mayday? Fubar? If you’re in trouble but can’t just outright admit you’ve been had, y’know?”

“Those seem a bit on the nose.” Aizawa snorts. He stands up with a groan, rolling his shoulders as he gathers his bag. “How about I just say I’m too busy for a job? Pretend you’re asking me for something I don’t want to do and am refusing- if that happens, I can’t leave safely, so you should come get me.”

“Okay, yes, I like that better.” Yamada nods, scratching his chin. “We’ll go with that.”

Aizawa walks to the door as Ecto starts to type on the computer, giving the room a wave as he steps into the hall. “You two have fun with your research.” he says, feeling relieved he won’t have to sit around reading like they will.

“Stay safe!” Ecto calls, but he doesn’t turn around. Aizawa makes it to the top of the stairs when he turns to find Yamada shutting the office door, clearly following him.

“Is there something else?” Aizawa asks, tilting his head in question. Yamada approaches and grabs his arm gently, his confident smile fading to something softer. 

“Be careful out there, alright?” Yamada asks, tone laced with worry. Their eyes catch, and Aizawa’s stomach feels tight as his heart does a somersault in his throat. He breathes in as his eyes search Yamada’s for a moment, but he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. What does he want to see?

“I will.” Aizawa says, voice catching in his throat. He pulls away slowly, swallowing as he takes to the stairs. “Just don’t be rash while I’m gone.”

“Can’t promise that!” Yamada laughs, and Aizawa clings to the soft feeling it brings him as he steps outside.

Chapter Text

Aizawa gets into his role as he heads through the alleys, petting dirty cats and looking for a good place to nap. He finds the perfect spot- an abandoned construction site, with a hole in the fence hidden by a blue tarp. He climbs in easily, getting dusty in the process, but that suits him just fine. The dirtier he can get without touching rotting trash, the better.

Apparently it's a popular spot for homeless individuals, and they stare at him silently as he looks them over. He gives them a bow in greeting before taking out his sleeping bag. "I just want to sleep," he says.

One of the women points to a corner shaded by some more blue tarp. It looks like a children's fort, with lumber and stone stacked up, but it's more likely that it's an abandoned makeshift shelter. He nods in thanks and heads over to it, crawling into the shade and positioning his things into a bed. He doesn't feel too dirty yet, but he can take a dust bath before heading back to the gym. He watches a few sparrows do just that, tweeting happily as they beat their wings and cover themselves with the dry dirt. Yamada would probably know why they do that, and he would explain on a tangent while gushing about how cute they are or something.

He huffs and rolls over, closing his eyes and clears his mind, drifting off to sleep with his usual stubborn determination.

Aizawa wakes up to his phone buzzing, and he opens his eyes to darkness. He lies there long enough for his eyes to adjust before getting up, grabbing his things and making sure that while he gets dirty, his sleeping bag stays clean. He’ll have to find a laundromat after this so he can wash his clothes before sleeping again. He crawls out of his borrowed home to find the others still there, huddling around a covered fire with a few small lanterns around. They wave and he waves back, heading towards the hole in the fence. 

He looks up when he notices someone approaching- one of the women, wrapped up in so many layers that he can’t quite tell how old she is, especially in the dark.

“You can stay, you know. That spot has been empty a while.”

“Well, I have work, but… thanks. Maybe in the morning.” Aizawa says, putting stress on the word work. The woman starts to head back to her group, walking backwards slowly as she nods.

“Okay. Stay safe, then. Some gangs have been assaulting us at night for sport, so keep an eye out. Usually the younger or older ones.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he says, starting to duck under the tarp again. He pauses, then turns to address her one last time. “If I don’t come back, don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

“I believe you.” the woman says, her expression unreadable through the darkness. He can just barely make out her silhouette with the lights behind her, and she looks to be clutching her layers tighter as she hunches over and turns her back. 

His mind wanders as he walks through the labyrinthine back-alleys of the city, thinking about his plan and his persona while keeping an eye out on the darker corners. It isn’t until he steps inside a corner store to buy a light snack and drink that he figures out why her comment gave him pause. His eyes trail over a few teens getting snacks together, and his mind conjures up young Midoriya, laughing with Shouto and Shinsou at the table. Then he thinks about the bandages on his arms, and how he said he was patched up by a group of homeless folks. He’ll have to go back and ask them about it. 

He grabs two bottles of water and the first package of chips he can find, buying them with cash on autopilot as he heads back into the night. He doesn’t even taste the food, but it fills him up enough that his stomach stops begging for dinner. He gulps down half his water bottle in front of the bank he discussed with Yamada, eyeing it and wondering where their cameras are. The fact that he can’t find them in the darkness makes him wonder how many people are aware that they’re there. Would they even bring it up at the club, or could he use this to his advantage? 

Pulling out his phone, he sends a quick text to Yamada before erasing it, just in case someone checks his chat history.

Yamada, see if you can open up an account with PREMI bank. I want to pretend I “found” a lost card and am going to withdraw cash from the ATM at the corner for betting money later. I’m sure you pay me well as “my boss”, but it’ll look better if I get hooked on the betting and get that desperate.

Not waiting for a reply, he heads down the street towards the gym. The front lobby is sparsely lit, giving off the impression that they’re closed, but when he slides his membership card through the reader by the front door, the lock buzzes and he heads in with no trouble. He makes a beeline for the locker rooms, grunting in greeting when he sees Tom and Taro waiting for him. Taro holds his arms up as he welcomes Aizawa back, but Aizawa just brushes past him and heads to the bathroom to do his business while Tom laughs. 

After washing his hands and face he heads back out, nodding to the guys and opening his locker.

“I was kind of expecting you to be messing with me when you said the card would work.” Aizawa grunts, making Taro laugh. 

“Wa, my man, I would not lie to you! We’re pals now, aren’t we?” Taro crosses his arms. Aizawa only glances at him, not wanting to look at his greasy smile just yet.

“No. Not until you show me what this secret midnight club of yours is. I don’t think we can be friends if you take my kidneys.”

Both the guys choke in surprise before breaking out into loud laughter, clearly amused by his response. Aizawa makes sure to lock up his wallet before kicking his bag under the closest bench since he can’t fit the rest. The guys are still laughing when he turns around, so he fakes a smile. Sure, he’s pleased he can get them so easily, but he can’t bring himself to smile genuinely in a situation like this. 

“Come on, stop giggling like schoolgirls and show me why I’m here.”

“Ah, Wa, my man! I’m so glad you’re here,” Taro wipes at his eye and giggles as he throws an arm across Aizawa’s shoulders. He starts leading Aizawa out of the locker rooms and towards the back hallways. A man Aizawa doesn’t recognize is sitting on a rolling office chair just down the hallway, tensing up when the door opens only to relax when Taro waves. Aizawa doesn’t see it, but he’s sure the man has a gun with how his arm was moving. Aizawa makes sure to give him a lazy wave, not wanting the man to see him as a threat. 

Taro opens the door to the basement, and he can suddenly hear a lot of noises that were hidden before. A quick look reveals that the whole stairwell has been covered with drywall. The drywall looks uneven, and he realizes they installed some home-made noise cancelling walls. Aizawa takes a steadying breath as they head into the basement, Taro finally releasing him and walking in first. Opening the door at the bottom increases the noise tenfold, and Aizawa suppresses a wince at all the yelling and the loud whistles. 

As soon as he steps through the door and turns to look at the room, he can see what he’s dealing with. Other than the stairwell, nothing has been blocked off, so the whole basement is open and easy to see. A large boxing ring sits in the middle, surrounded by wire fencing instead of the usual ropes and posts. It looks like a death-match cage. A crowd of at least thirty people surrounds it, cheering and yelling as two men go at it in the ring. He instantly recognizes Lee, but he doesn’t know the other guy. Looking closer, he doesn’t see any other faces from the morning at all. It’s a bit of a relief- Santa and the others didn’t look like they could handle this sort of thing.

Tom pats him on the back after a moment, taking Taro’s place as he wraps an arm across Aizawa’s shoulders. Aizawa finds himself getting dragged towards the entrance of the ring, where Taro is grabbing a megaphone. He doesn’t resist, and the two of them stop by the stairs just as Lee knocks his opponent down.

“Ohh, good one Lee!” Taro says using the megaphone, unlocking the doors. “Sorry to interrupt the match, but it looks pretty settled to me, eh?”

Taro laughs while the crowd cheers and boos. Aizawa can see cash changing hands in the crowd. So at least here, the betting is between the people and not through a bookie. Interesting.

“I just wanted to introduce a new friend of ours! Met him this morning, and I liked him right from the start. Wa, come on up here and say hello!” Taro grins and leans over, beckoning Aizawa over like a dog. He scowls but steps up to the stage anyways, patting Lee on the shoulder as he passes the man. 

“Nice to see you.”

“Good luck, Wa.”

Aizawa’s skin prickles as all eyes are on him, but he doesn’t let his emotions show. He keeps a blank face as Taro prances around the edge of the ring, playing to the crowd like a proper showman instead of a con. Taro plays up his tragic past and embellishes his fight from the morning, pointing to people in the crowd Aizawa can’t see as he asks who wants to fight Aizawa first. 

“I’m fighting already?” Aizawa asks, crossing his arms. He tenses up and starts to act agitated, even though he saw this coming.

Taro puts down the megaphone as he replies, patting Aizawa on the arm. Each touch makes Aizawa’s skin crawl. “Wa, don’t worry, it’s just your test. You pass, you can stay and make some great cash- or lose it, if you wanna bet on the wrong guy. Besides, if you win this, I give you a hundred- a nice gift to start you off right. You can’t bet if you’re broke, after all!”

Aizawa looks down to see Taro pull out a large wad of cash from his pocket, mostly twenties and tens. He sighs then nods, acting as if Taro won him over- he just needs to go with it. The deeper he can get, the closer he is to closing this case. 

Taro goes back to entertaining the crowd and asking for a volunteer. He even promises to bet on the challenger, just to prove he isn’t setting someone up for a fall. To the crowd, Taro probably seems like an honest guy, but Aizawa feels like he can see right through him. If he’s really the recruiter they need, losing a couple hundred on a beginner’s match is pocket change to him. 

Soon enough, a man identified as Crash comes up to try his luck, looking Aizawa up and down with a confident sneer. Aizawa is still in his dusty clothes from earlier, though his face and hair are mostly clean from the quick sink bath he took. With his baggy sweats and unkempt hair, he knows he doesn’t look like much, but he feels no fear as Crash stares him down.

“You guys don’t use the padding here?” Aizawa asks. 

Crash snorts. “Aw, Taro, you said this guy was ex-military. He just sounds like a baby to me!”

“Nah, we don’t use the padding down here, Wa. Part of the rush, you feel? We got real money on the line here, so at least it’s worth it!” Taro laughs. He turns and holds up his megaphone as he heads out through the gate, standing at the top of the stairs to announce the match.

“Gentleman, remember these rules! First sign of blood, match is over. Three falls and you’re out! If you forfeit, you get kicked out and can’t come back. Regular boxing rules apply, but I won’t nitpick if y’all wanna kick- anyways lets see some action! Ready, set, match!”

Aizawa hunches down as soon as Crash charges forward, pretending to be bracing for impact as he shifts his feet. Crash throws a punch with his left as he winds up with his right, so Aizawa ducks to the right, easily sliding to the side as Crash’s momentum carries him forward. Aizawa just has to punch him in the back of the head to get him to fall, and the crowd goes wild, cheering and cajoling. He hears a lot of insults being tossed Crash’s way, and he backs up to the other side of the ring as Crash gets up.

“Lucky hit, asshole.” Crash spits at him, approaching cautiously this time. They circle each other before Crash starts throwing punches again. His form is good, but his tells make them so easy to dodge. Aizawa steps back whenever he blocks a punch, letting Crash get overconfident again as he waits. He wants to try for three downs, but the longer they fight, the angrier Crash gets. More and more punches are getting aimed at his face. Crash’s go to strategy must be drawing first blood. Aizawa gets the feeling Crash won’t be easy to stop once he’s downed for a third time, so he makes up his mind to end it here and now. 

Crash throws a punch at his elbow and he winces as it connects with the old scar tissue. The tingling pain is a shock he quickly gets used to, and the small lapse in control ends up giving him the perfect opening as Crash aims a heavy hit at his face. He squats down and ducks it easily, before launching into an uppercut that snaps Crash’s nose easily. The man wails and stumbles back as blood starts gushing from his broken nose, and Aizawa wisely backs away as Tom and Lee rush in to grab Crash and lead him out of the ring. The man yells in pain and anger, clearly making threats, but Aizawa really can’t hear him over the wild screaming coming from the crowd. Someone even jumps onto the wire fencing in his excitement, laughing and calling Aizawa “the man”. He lets himself smile as he slowly approaches Taro, shaking his hands to loosen them up and banish the rush of adrenaline.

“Damn Wa, you really went for it. Here, your hundred, as promised.” Taro hands him five twenties then turns to four guys jeering at him. “Yeah, yeah, I heard ya guys! Here’s your cash! I won’t be betting on Crash anytime soon, that’s for sure!”

Aizawa pockets the cash and steps to the side of the stairs leading to the ring, watching as two more guys eagerly rush into the ring. Taro jumps right back into announcing as Aizawa approaches Tom. Tom gives him a smile and a nod before turning back to the match and pointing at the man in a red shirt.

“Hey Wa, wanna make a bet? I’m thinking Carl here is gonna get first blood.” Tom turns around when he doesn’t immediately get an answer, watching Aizawa with a curious look. “What, don’t wanna risk your new-found funds? There’s no bet limits here, man. It’s just between us bros, no bookies. Whaddya say? I’m betting five on Carl.”

“Okay.” Aizawa nods. “Fine. I’ll bet five on blue-shirt there getting knocked down three times instead.”

Tom laughs. “Ah, you see what I see, huh? That guy’s called Xu, but some of the guys here have a rude nickname for him- ah, well, he tries his best, and betting on his matches is always a toss up, which keeps it fun! I’ll take your bet, bro.”

Aizawa ends up winning that first bet, then losing his next two. He plays the evening carefully, trying to make sure he acts hesitant enough that they don’t get suspicious, while still seeming to fall for their lures. Gambling is quite the nasty to habit to break once you’ve fallen in, but it won’t be believable if he’s entrenched on his first night. Especially not after his story about being homeless and desperate for cash to pay certain debts. He keeps his bets small, and confides to Tom that he just doesn’t want to bet higher on odds he isn’t familiar with. 

“Nah, I get you, man. We all got bills to pay. But still, there’s nothing like the rush, am I right? And hey, we allow you to bet on yourself here, so if you’re ever feeling tight, just challenge someone and say the winner gets the spoils. I’m sure Crash would love a rematch, hah!”

Aizawa nods, staying long enough to watch another match before bowing out. The crowd has grown a little since midnight - he can see a few people with uniforms who probably came after night shifts - so he slips out with a quiet goodbye to his “friend” Tom. His skin prickles as he walks past the guard in the upper hallway, but the man merely nods at him again, so he makes sure to nod back. He heads into the locker room and showers on autopilot, staring down at his bruising knuckles as he turns everything over in his head. It’s going to be a rough week, but he can do this. 

Chapter Text

Aizawa feels like he has a very productive week, despite all of Yamada’s insistences that he get a motel. Sleeping in the dirt isn't great, sure, but it helps him get into his role, remembering how desperate he used to feel and putting that into his performance in the ring. He doesn't go every night- he tells Tom about his "delivery job" in a hushed whisper one night as they watch a match from the back of the room. It serves to excuse his absences when he goes to meet up with Yamada. 

He's feeling confident as he approaches the motel room Yamada has booked for himself. He approaches it carefully, keeping an eye out to make sure he isn't being followed, but he hasn't spied anyone yet. He knocks five times then waits, leaning against the wall and looking out at the dark city skyline, lit up by artificial lights that block out the stars. 

"Wa, come in." Yamada says carefully. Aizawa slips inside the room as Yamada closes the door and locks it. He’s wearing a fitted suit, and his beautiful blond hair has been dyed a shimmering black. His neatly-trimmed mustache has been shaved off. Instead of his usual shades or square glasses, he’s wearing a sleek, futuristic looking pair, and when Aizawa looks, he can see color-changing contacts in Yamada’s eyes. As the face of their pair, it would make sense for him to hide his appearance. Aizawa just hopes he didn’t make the wrong choice by not making his own disguise. 

Hopefully his fast-growing beard will be enough. 

They move to the back of the room and sigh, dropping their metaphorical masks. Yamada sits down in the only chair while Aizawa just flops onto the bed with a satisfied groan. Yamada snorts.

"Hey, I told you I could get you a room! Don't mess up my bed!"

"I took a shower before I came here." Aizawa grunts, sighing happily at how soft the bed feels. "And don't waste your money."

"It wouldn't be a waste…" Yamada grumbles, but he drops it. "So, got anything new for me? Did you manage to talk to that group you mentioned?"

"Yeah." Aizawa nods, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks. Lying down makes him realize just how tired he is, but he fights back the urge to sleep so he can update Yamada on his progress. "They trust me now, since I've been sleeping in their territory for the past week. I traded some food with them too. Told them I have a job so they don’t feel so bad about getting the better deal."

"Did you ask them about Midoriya?"

"They mentioned it on their own when I asked about who was targeting the homeless. Turns out they had a different camp a few weeks ago. That's where Midoriya stumbled onto them, and when they decided to move."

Aizawa looks over when he feels a weight on the bed, finding Yamada wiggling up to sit next to him on the duvet. "Go on, I'm listening!"

"Anyways, I asked them where it was, so I could avoid it, and they said it was down in a place called DURBO?"

"Oh, under the overpass, I know it. It's an old neighborhood that's been gentrifying in recent years. It’s near the river. But the docks are a good twenty blocks down from there. I doubt Midoriya went that far before meeting the group, so it must be in the area. The  docks would have the space, but all of it is being used, and there are plenty of patrols there anyways, with all the stock they handle…”

Aizawa stays silent, listening  to Yamada’s rambling as he thinks through the information he’s been given. He can’t say he’s very familiar with all the neighborhoods in the city, but Yamada keeps his ear to the pulse, which is certainly helping them out now. 

“Well, DURBO has has a *lot* of construction recently. And I mean a lot. Mostly renovations on older buildings to make fancy apartments, but I think I saw a few posts about construction halting on some abandoned plots…” Yamada pulls out his phone and starts looking for something. Probably on one of his apps. Aizawa just feels glad he doesn’t have to use them. 

“A-hah! Yes, looks like a few buildings burnt down quite a while ago. One new apartment block was built, but the other lots have been fenced off and have been sitting empty while the owners are trying to get the building plans approved by the city.” Yamada looks up to see Aizawa yawning and he laughs. “Ah, too bored to care about all this stuff? Well, we may have found our spot. I would imagine apartment blocks that big would have had large basements for boiler rooms and other maintenance reasons. Maybe even multiple basements. I do remember a few realty tycoons in that big list Ecto gave us.”

“Something for you to look into.” Aizawa snorts. “I’ll go back to getting into fights and leave all that stuff to you.” 

Yamada frowns, watching as Aizawa rolls his shoulders and stretches out, taking up more of the bed. “How is that part going, anyways?”

“With getting Taro and Tom to invite me? Well,” Aizawa starts, but Yamada shakes his head.

“No, the fights themselves. You aren’t getting hurt too much, are you? You can tell me ‘it’s just boxing’ all you want, but if you’re getting hurt, you should be able to take care of yourself…”

Aizawa stays silent for a moment, watching Yamada. Thinking. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, sitting up with a low groan. He is hurt. Covered in bruises he hasn’t really looked at with how he rushes through his showers at the gym. He’s aching and tired, and sure, he’s had worse before. But he can admit this much, right? Yamada isn’t like his old commanders. 

“Nothing worse than bruising,” he admits quietly, rolling up a sleeve to show Yamada a large, yellow bruise on his upper arm and a smattering of purple ones on his forearm. Yamada reaches out as soon as he sees them, his touch gentle as he holds Aizawa’s arm like it’s made of glass. 

“Aizawa-” Yamada looks up, swallows, blinks. Opens his mouth to say more, but Aizawa cuts him off.

“I knew this would happen, going in. We knew. And this stuff looks worse than it is.”

“Are there any more?”

“Some, but not as bad. I block with my arms, so they get the worst of it. They don’t use padding in the basement, I told you.”

Yamada chews on his bottom lip, stewing on some thoughts as he looks Aizawa’s arm over again. He clearly wants to say something, probably to finish his thought from earlier, but he surprises Aizawa by keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he springs up from the mattress, stepping into the small bathroom and grabbing a bag on the small countertop. He’s opened it before he sits back down, and pulls out a familiar cylindrical jar.

“You got Tiger Balm?”

“Yeah, Toshinori mentioned it…” Yamada says, unscrewing the cap.

“Did Yagi give it to you?” Aizawa asks, reaching out to take the jar. Yamada pushes his hand down, then lifts some balm with his fingers. Aizawa freezes, watching Yamada’s fingers rub in gentle circles over the bruises on his arm, almost missing Yamada’s reply.

“No, I went and got this earlier this week.” he says, eyes locked onto Aizawa’s arm like a laser focus. Aizawa shifts his arm, and Yamada leans in closer unconsciously, so caught up in what he’s doing. “I figured I should have a kit. Be prepared. I knew injuries were going to happen, but…”

Yamada looks up as he finishes rubbing the balm onto Aizawa’s arm, blinking when he realizes how close he is. Aizawa doesn’t try to move back, watching Yamada with an even expression. It’s Yamada who leans back first, gesturing at Aizawa’s other arm for a moment as he finds his words.

“Your, ah-  the other one-”

“Yeah.” Aizawa nods, rolling up his other sleeve. He shifts so he is sitting the other way, giving Yamada easy access. Yamada applies the balm just as carefully on this arm, and Aizawa suppresses a shiver. The bruises hurt, but Yamada’s touch is so soft and careful, he can almost forget the pain for a moment. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. It’s… intimate.

“There. Done.” Yamada says. His voice sounds a bit thick to Aizawa’s ears, and his eyes linger on Aizawa’s arm. He hasn’t even noticed Aizawa is staring. Aizawa knows he could end this now. But he doesn’t want to pull away just yet. He’s been pretending all week, lying to people’s faces about his past, his intentions, his feelings- he doesn’t want to lie to himself, if only for this moment. 

He looks down to roll down his sleeves, then in one quick motion grabs the bottom of his loose shirt and pulls it over his head. He shakes his hair and looks up to find Yamada staring at his chest, eyes wide with surprise before they narrow with concern. He reaches out to touch a bruise on Aizawa’s lower ribs, then one just above his heart, closer to the shoulder, trailing his fingers across Aizawa’s skin instead of lifting them away. Again they trace a path to the next bruise, right below his clavicle on the opposite side. 

“You can get these too, right?” Aizawa asks, keeping his voice to a whisper. 

Yamada still startles a bit at the sound, and nods vigorously as he smears more balm on his fingers. He’s just as gentle this time, and Aizawa finds himself breathing a bit deeper, just to press his chest up against Yamada’s fingers, watching as Yamada accounts for the movement and pulls back just slightly, not wanting to press too hard and cause Aizawa pain. He isn’t used to being treated like he might break, and he finds his mouth is dry when Yamada speaks up to ask him a question.

“How did you get this one?” Yamada asks, putting balm on the bruise below his clavicle. 

Aizawa swallows and wets his tongue as he thinks of his answer. “I let this guy get a shot in so I could take him out. Raised my arm just a little too high in a block, so he went under, just like I wanted him to. I’m glad he didn’t angle it more.”

“He could have broken your collarbone if he had, right? Would have put you out of commission for awhile…”

“Thank heaven for small mercies, then?” Aizawa grunts, lifting his hand to poke at the bruise in question. Their hands brush as he does, and Yamada grabs it, looking at the wrappings on Aizawa’s knuckles. He doesn’t even ask before starting to unwrap them, pooling the wraps on the blanket as he looks at Aizawa’s bruised knuckles. He clicks his tongue and pulls Aizawa’s hand closer, starting to rub balm onto his knuckles and fingers. His knuckles hurt too much to enjoy, but when Yamada starts to rub at his palm his eyes flutter as he sighs in relief.

“Feels better now?” Yamada asks in a whisper. He’s quick to grab Aizawa’s other hand to repeat the process, focusing on his palms whenever Aizawa tenses up too much.

“Feels good…” Aizawa says. What he really wants to do is ask Yamada to rub his head next, but he reigns himself in. This might already be too much. At least Yamada is clearly eager to help, even as Aizawa second-guesses his lingering touches. 

Now really isn’t the time to be asking just what Yamada feels for him. 

“Stay here tonight.” Yamada says without preamble. He stops massaging Aizawa’s palm, but he doesn’t let go, looking up to meet Aizawa’s gaze. Aizawa tilts his head. “It won’t break your cover to sleep in a real bed for one night. And we can reapply the balm in the morning, before you leave. If you’re as close as you say you are, you need to be in as good shape as you can get, right?”

Aizawa wants to say no, to pull his hand away and pull his shirt on and retreat back to his fortress of bricks and tarp, but he stops himself. He’s already taken it this far. He’s tired, his eyelids feel like heavy weights, and he really doesn’t want to move. So he just nods, lying back down. Yamada holds onto his hand until he realizes he’s still holding it, placing Aizawa’s hand down onto the blanket. Aizawa barely notices, taking a deep breath and relaxing against the soft bed. He’s warm, and clean, and comfortable, and he doesn’t have to worry about someone jumping him in the middle of the night, or a sudden storm soaking his temporary home. He’s safe here, with Yamada watching over him.

So he sleeps.

Chapter Text

Yamada is already awake when Aizawa finally gets up, despite the fact that Aizawa fell asleep first. He feels very well-rested, and Yamada is full of energy as usual as he gravitates to Aizawa’s side to offer him a selection of food from a nearby coffee shop. He almost wonders if Yamada even slept at all, but the other side of the bed says he did. How accustomed to Yamada has he become that Yamada joining him didn’t wake him even once? 

“You look so grumpy when you first wake up,” Yamada laughs as he presses a small cup of black coffee into Aizawa’s hand. “Here, I got breakfast, so eat up.”

Aizawa takes a sip of the coffee; it’s just the right temperature, so he takes a large draft as Yamada holds out a breakfast sandwich. It’s loaded with protein: sausage, bacon, egg and cheese. Aizawa feels starved just looking at it, and he grabs it without a second thought, feeling thankful that the wrapping on the bottom catches his mess. He doesn’t have it in him to put any effort into eating neatly right now. 

He can feel Yamada settling in next to him on the bed, but he doesn’t pay it any mind until he feels Yamada’s fingers rubbing balm on his arm again. He chews slowly as he turns to watch Yamada’s fingers rub in slow circles over the bruises on his arm. It feels just as good as it did yesterday, and Aizawa swallows as he looks up at Yamada’s face. Yamada’s dyed hair obscures some of his face, but he can see how intent Yamada is about his task; he’s concentrating so much he isn’t even trying to talk. Aizawa looks away, staring at the wall as he takes another bite of his sandwich. He can appreciate the silence.

Yamada is finished with his arms by the time Aizawa has finished his food, so he throws his trash away before facing Yamada and giving him his hands. His knuckles still hurt, but he can feel the stiffness fading a bit as Yamada moves on to his palms and he flexes his fingers. His mind drifts as Yamada works, plans for the day and the week forming in his head. He has a lot of people he needs to keep fooling, so it’s a good thing his cover story is so simple. It gives him more time to think about the people he needs to fool, what their motivations may be and what sort of tactics he should use to get what he needs. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yamada asks, bringing Aizawa back to reality. He starts rubbing balm onto the bruises on Aizawa’s chest, though he looks up to meet Aizawa’s eyes for a few seconds. 

“Just thinking about what I need to do this week. I don’t want to waste more time, but I can’t force them to invite me to the fights… I’m going to start getting in deeper with the betting this week. You’ll be the guy I owe my debts to, my mysterious ‘boss’. Did you decide on a name, by the way?”

“Oh, uh- I was going to use Kuroda. Ecto got me a fake ID I can use, in case they try to check that sort of thing. I’m thinking maybe you should quote-unquote lose yours, and not afford to pay the fee for a new one.” Yamada finishes applying the balm to his shoulder, but his hand lingers as they talk.

“Hm, makes sense. I’ll leave it here, then.” Aizawa moves to get up, pausing when Yamada’s hand doesn’t move. They look at each other for a moment, then Yamada takes his hand back, getting up and going into the bathroom to wash his hands. 

Aizawa shakes his head, forcing back the hopeful anticipation growing in his chest to focus on the task at hand. He grabs his wallet and takes out all his smallest bills, leaving the rest of his winnings in there as he places it on the nightstand. He won’t be needing it for a while, and he can spend the pocket change he has on food before going back tonight. He’ll spin some story to Tom about having his wallet stolen and needing to pay his debt by tomorrow. He just has to act desperate enough to be convincing, and throw himself into fighting. At least there, on the ring, he doesn’t have to pretend. If he stays here, he wouldn’t have to pretend either; except, that’s not quite true. What he has with Yamada… what do they have?

Whatever it is, he can’t let himself get distracted by it. They have a job to do.

“I’m heading out.” Aizawa says, pulling on his shirt and grabbing his bag. He’ll leave everything he has with him back at the construction site tonight, to add to his story of being robbed. He can blame it on some made-up homeless guy- those stories are common enough that Taro and Tom should believe him easily enough. 

“So soon?” Yamada rushes out of the bathroom, drying his hands as he walks over. “You don’t have to go back until night time. We could talk plans-”

“I’ve got my plans.” Aizawa says, looking away from Yamada’s sad face. If he looks back, he isn’t sure he’ll be able to say no again. “I’ll text you when I need the card. You can use what’s in my wallet for that.”

“Aizawa-”

He opens the door and walks out, making sure to pull the door closed behind him. He doesn’t hear it open as he walks down to the stairs leading to the parking lot, setting his mouth into a frown and his mind to the task ahead. 

Aizawa staggers to the bathroom in the back of the room, his head spinning too much for him to think. He makes it to the sink before he spits up the blood filling his mouth, his throat burning with the action. He turns on the tap for cold water, splashing his face a few times and rinsing his mouth before letting his hands sit under the water. The water isn’t cold enough to numb him, but it feels better than nothing. At least it helps him think.

A hand on his shoulder has him jolting up in surprise, his aching eyes glaring at whoever is disturbing him. Taro smiles apologetically and holds up both his hands in a placating gesture; Aizawa can see Taro is holding an ice pack in his other hand.

“Geez Wa. Tom told me you were having a bad day, but that was something else…” Taro laughs, handing Aizawa the ice pack. 

The ice stings when he holds it to his face, but he knows it will help eventually. He grunts in response to Taro’s attempt at conversation, turning to lean against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting against the cool tile. Taro joins him, sighing as he settles down. 

“I collected the money you bet- should be five hundred total now, right? Didn’t want the guys to leave before you collected.”

Aizawa looks over to see Taro holding up a stack of bills with a gentle smile. The soft look is at odds with what he knows Taro is involved in, but Aizawa plays into it. He has to. He takes the stack of money with his free hand, slowly thumbing the corners to try and count it without taking the ice pack off his face. Taro laughs and carefully takes the money back, starting to count it where Aizawa can see it. He frowns thoughtfully when he sees it’s more than he was expecting, and Taro winks as he puts the stack back in Aizawa’s hand.

“A gift from me. I bet on you all night tonight, after all. You won me quite a bit. So I’d say it’s only fair.”

“...thanks.” Aizawa grunts, hiding his face as he tucks the money into his shoe.

They fall into a companionable silence. Somebody comes in to try and use the bathroom but Taro waves them out with a laugh, telling them to go to the other one. The person doesn’t even try to argue; they probably took one look at Aizawa and turned right around. Aizawa isn’t one for conversation, but he has to draw Taro in, so he clears his throat, grimacing at the taste of blood on his tongue.

“Did Tom tell you why I was havin’ a bad day?”

Taro does an awkward cough, tugging on his collar for a second before laughing. “Ah, yeah, sorry, me and him tend to gossip- but he wouldn’t tell no one else, promise! But this guy- the one you owe this debt to, is he this mysterious boss you got that call from?” Taro watches him like a hawk, clearly curious about it in more than just a friendly way. 

“Yeah.” Aizawa says, his voice rough with pain. He may have won all his fights, but he still took a beating- good thing the pain helps his cover. “He’s got me on a payment plan. Would have been fine, but that bastard robbed me while I was sleeping…”

“Man, that shit sounds rough…” Taro sighs, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “So your boss, he makes you work for him, and it wipes away your debt?”

Aizawa nods.

“That’s- okay. But you don’t get money for food, or a place, or anything? That’s kinda fucked up, man. No wonder you’re so stingy.”

“Betting would be more fun if it wasn’t for everything I have.” Aizawa makes sure to sigh deeply, slumping even more. “Everything I got tonight will be gone by tomorrow night.”

Taro hums, and they fall into silence again. A muffled cheer goes on outside the bathroom- another fight has probably ended. Taro stands up with a grunt, and Aizawa wonders if that’s the end of it, but he pauses at the door.

“Just wait here a sec, okay Wa? I’ll be right back.”

Aizawa grunts, not bothering to move as the door shuts. His heart starts to race as he thinks; is Taro going to invite him to the real fighting ring? Or has he caught on? There’s no way that’s possible- Aizawa’s cover is too good for that. He does wonder if maybe it would be better to be prepared, just in case, but by the time he’s gotten to his feet, Taro has returned. He holds out an unopened can of beer first, then waves a notepad so Aizawa looks at it.

“Here Wa, I’m gonna give you my address. I figure, as long as I’m home, you could have a safe place to rest. We seem to keep the same hours anyways. What do you think?”

Aizawa blinks in surprise, pulling the ice pack away from his face to regard Taro with both eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah man. We’re friends, ain’t we? I wouldn’t do this for just anybody, but you’re a good guy, Wa, I can tell. Plus you've been putting up with my harebrained ideas since the first day we met. Now, if you do end up coming by, there will be ground rules, but,”

“That’s fine,” Aizawa interrupts him, speaking quickly, not wanting to lose this chance. “I can follow rules. I lived in the barracks long enough. Couldn’t even fart without permission from my CO.”

Taro bursts into laughter, leaning against the wall as Aizawa cracks open the beer and chugs it down. Taro takes the can and the warm ice pack when he hands over the paper with the address, starting to walk back towards the concession area. Aizawa follows, memorizing the address on the paper. 

“Once you get it down, burn that paper or something. I don’t need the other guys knowing where I live- not that I don’t trust them, but I don’t want someone like Crash showing up where I sleep, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand.” Aizawa nods. “I should head out soon- but what time will you be back? I don’t want to show up when you’re already asleep.”

“Hey man, grab some more ice and another beer before you go at least, huh? Y’know, maybe we should start offering food too…” Taro trails off for a second before shaking his head. “Just get there before six. I like to sleep as the sun comes up. Say, you know how to cook?”

“Uh… just simple stuff, and pancakes. I’m pretty good at those.”

“You mind cooking some up for lunch later, then? I can grab the stuff on my way back. I usually just eat out.”

“Yeah, sure.” Aizawa nods. He grabs another beer, sipping it slowly this time. He pulls out his phone, pulling up a text from his “boss”, pretending he can’t see Taro peeking at it.

Same time and place. Don’t forget.

The job will be easy if you pay in full.

He slips out after bidding Taro and the others goodbye, heading into the locker room to take a long, hot shower. The bruises Yamada spent so much time applying balm to look better where there aren’t any new bruises forming on top. He entertains the idea of staying again, but he can’t pass up on his plans with Taro. He wants to feel those gentle hands applying the cool balm again, but he won’t be able to stay awake like last time. He can’t afford to do that now, as nice as it would be.

The meeting with Yamada is short. He hands over the paper with the address, and some of the cash, dodging Yamada’s concerned questions over the state of his face. It makes his chest ache to act so brusque, but it's easy to ignore with how much pain he’s already in. He can’t be getting distracted now. Not when he’s so close. But Yamada’s sad look stays in his mind as he drops by the camp at the construction site to give away the cash and pick up his sleeping bag. It follows him all the way to Taro’s place, until the ache in his chest feels worse than his face, and he gives in to Taro’s suggestion to drink themselves to sleep way too easily. 

Waking up with a hangover would be preferable to whatever the fuck is going on with his heart.

Chapter Text

Aizawa wakes up feeling warm and comfortable, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. With how cold the nights have been lately, his brain jolts into wakefulness at the deviance from the norm. He’s greeted by the sight of a small apartment, sparsely decorated, with a large futon taking up the middle just a few feet away. He sits up quietly, taking a better look at everything as he fights back the nausea from his hangover; a large trash can is filled with takeout boxes, a recycling box filled to the brim with cans and bottles, a small and spotless kitchenette, two closets, a small bathroom, a large television, and the couch Aizawa is currently sitting on.

A soft snore emanates from the futon, and Aizawa rubs at his face as he remembers his impromptu drinking contest with Taro the night- no, morning- before. His aching eyes turn to find a digital clock on the DVD player reading 1:45 PM. Well, at least he actually got some sleep. He pushes away his sleeping bag and shuffles into the bathroom as quietly as he can, locking the door behind him and turning on the tap. 

Cold water feels soothing, but he can’t just stay at the sink rinsing his face off, so he opens up the medicine cabinet, frowning at all the unmarked bottles inside. He grabs the one that still has a tag, checking the pills against the picture on the bottle before taking two. He idly considers looking at the other bottles, but decides against it; he isn’t after Taro for recreational drug use. They need to find the fighting ring and disband it so Taro has no reason to chase young Midoriya down to keep him quiet. 

He looks up at his reflection, wincing at how red his eyes are. He scratches at the thick beard and mustache growing in. They make him look older. He wonders if maybe Yamada likes beards- he has a mustache of his own. But that doesn’t mean he’d like facial hair on someone else. He grimaces when he realizes what he’s thinking about, shaking his head and focusing on finishing his morning routine.

Taro is awake when Aizawa finally comes out of the bathroom, clutching his head and staring at nothing. Aizawa snorts and does a one-eighty, grabbing the acetaminophen he just took and shaking the bottle in Taro’s face.

“Let me remind you, it was your idea,” Aizawa says, wandering over to the small kitchenette as Taro groans. 

“Could have done without the reminder…” 

“Too bad.” Aizawa snorts. He manages to find some mismatched plastic cups in the cupboard, which he promptly fills with cold water. He hands one to Taro before relaxing on the couch, sipping his drink slowly. 

There isn’t much for him to do but relax, even as a part of him wonders if Taro has something up his sleeve. But nothing happened last night when they were both smashed, and Taro is just stumbling around now, dealing with his hangover while going through his own routine. The futon gets rolled up and pushed aside; clearly Taro doesn’t care much for storing it properly. Considering how new it looks, he probably just buys a new one instead of bothering to try to clean and mend it. 

Aizawa starts wondering if he should leave, or try to snoop more, when the shower starts up in the bathroom and Taro peeks his head out through the door. 

“Hey, Wa, do a guy a solid and make those pancakes you mentioned. I think we could both use the carbs, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Aizawa nods, cracking his neck as the bathroom door closes. He eyes it for a moment, listening to Taro fumble around inside before grabbing the TV remote and putting on the news. 

He finds a bag of ingredients on the counter from the night before, and the mini-fridge reveals a small carton of milk among various six packs of beer and microwave meals. It reminds Aizawa too much of how he had been living just a month before. His thoughts turn introspective as he gathers the ingredients and just follows the recipe on the back of the pancake mix box. 

How different would his life be if he hadn’t gone along with Kayama and met Yamada? Would he still be in that shitty halfway house, wandering the streets trying to find a job that wouldn’t aggravate him to no end? It’s a bit funny, to think that he’s been living on the streets this past week, but his life is so much better than it had been. Much more complicated, sure, but being able to make his own schedule and have a purpose makes everything else feel manageable. He’s pretending to be a homeless man in an underground gambling ring and he feels like he has his life together. Should that concern him?

“Woah, earth to Wa!” Taro pats Aizawa on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He holds up the spatula reflexively, lowering it slowly as Taro raises his hands in surrender. “Shit, sorry man. Shouldn’t have startled you.”

Aizawa sighs, turning back to making the pancakes on the one-burner stove top. “It’s fine. Just… not used to this.”

“Really, my bad, man. But hey, those look pretty damn good.” Taro leans in to grin at the plate of pancakes Aizawa has made already.

“You can start if you want. That’s about half. But I used the milk, so there’s nothing to drink but water or beer-”

“Aw, dammit! I totally forgot!” Taro breaks out into a loud bout of laughter, and Aizawa turns to watch him jump into a pair of jeans and grab a shirt from one of the closets. “Don’t judge me for my bachelor lifestyle. I’ll go grab some shit from the store down the block while you finish up.”

Taro grabs his wallet and keys and jumps into a pair of worn sandals, then he’s gone, his shoes loudly slapping their way down the hallway outside. Aizawa snorts, setting the heat to low for a moment. He chances a look out the door, but Taro is really gone, so he locks the door and goes to investigate the closets. There’s nothing of note that he can find, not without risking moving things too much, but that in itself feels suspicious. The apartment is a classic bachelor pad, but if Taro is really making bank as a recruiter, what is he using the money for, other than the drugs and the constant stream of take-out? The television is nice, sure, but the tag on the back says it was produced over a year ago- it’s not a newer model. 

Aizawa returns to making the pancakes with a sigh. He isn't going to find anything incriminating here. Not physical evidence, anyways. Taro will have to be his source of info, and while Aizawa is still wary of this whole arrangement, he's confident Taro doesn't suspect anything. He'll need to make sure he doesn't let anything slip during this new cohabitation situation.

Taro bangs back into the apartment with a victorious shout that has both of them clutching their heads as their hangovers flare up again. Taro drops his bag on the small counter and groans while Aizawa calms his heart rate.

"Ah, damn, should have waited on the yelling…" Taro groans, massaging the bridge of his nose. He sniffs the air as Aizawa finishes cooking the pancakes, shooting Aizawa a pained grin as he takes one of the mismatched plates. "But y'know what? This morning is already looking up for us, buddy."

The week blends together as Aizawa flits between Taro's apartment, working out and fighting at the gym, and wandering the streets while pretending to be on a job for his "employer". During one of these outings he meets up with Ecto at the diner, taking a seat in the back and eating a large burger while he waits for the man to meet with him. 

He can see Ecto helping his servers get orders out, but soon enough Ecto is sliding into the booth across from him with a sigh. He has a different mask on today- its grey with a cartoon smile on it. He's wearing a different pair of glasses too, but Aizawa can't remember the other pair enough to say what's so different about them. Yamada would be fashion-conscious enough to know, but Aizawa chases that thought away.

"Hey Aizawa, I'm a bit surprised to see you here without Yamada. You look like shit. What's up?" Ecto reaches over to steal a fry, slipping it under his mask. 

"I wanted to buy some info," Aizawa shrugs, ignoring the roundabout way Ecto is asking about his bruises, setting down the last piece of his burger and wiping at his mouth. His beard has grown out enough to start catching crumbs on his chin, which is quite annoying.

"Well, sure. What did you have in mind?"

Aizawa takes out a slip of paper with Taro's address, his full name- which he found on a credit card bill that had been slipped through Taro's mail slot one morning- and a detailed physical description. He then takes out a wad of cash from his betting at the ring, tossing all of it to Ecto as the man raises his eyebrows.

"I'll have to count it to be sure, but I'm guessing that's more than I usually charge." Ecto says as he grabs everything. He glances at the paper before folding it up neatly.

"I need to get rid of it somehow. And I want to make sure it's enough."

"This the guy Yamada was talking about?"

"I wouldn't know what he's told you. But he's supposed to be my in for this case. Not sure if I'll even need any of the info you find, but,"

"Best to cover all bases." Ecto nods. He tucks all the money away and stands up with a nod. "I'll have a look at what I can dig up. If you can't meet me here in three days, should I give it to Yamada?"

"Give it to him anyways." Aizawa says. "I'm not sure I'll need the info, but I'll come if I can."

"You got it." Ecto lingers at the table for a moment, looking Aizawa over. "Yamada was worried about you. I can see why."

"It's just bruises," Aizawa shrugs. He shoves the last of his burger into his mouth, not wanting to continue the conversation.

"Well, take care, Aizawa," Ecto says, his voice betraying the frown hidden under his mask.

Aizawa finishes off his food and heads back out, checking the time on his phone. He has time before the fights start again, but he makes his way over there anyways, already thinking of what job he'll tell Taro about tonight.

"Damn, dude, you've been vicious lately," Taro sighs as he hands Aizawa another beer. He sits down next to Aizawa on the couch, both of them staring at the television without really watching it.

Aizawa just grunts, taking the beer and pressing it to his bruised lip. He feels beyond sore, everything throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Maybe he can take a cold bath to numb it all for a little while, and to keep his mind away from thinking about Yamada's soft hands soothing all his aches.

"Hey, earth to Wa… You listening man? You ain't dying on me, are ya?"

"No," Aizawa grunts. His eyes shift from the television to the growing light of dawn peeking through the blinds. He feels so tired.

"No to the dying or the listening?"

"Both."

Taro snorts. "You're a funny guy, Wa." He falls silent, and Aizawa finally starts to drink his beer, letting the alcohol cloud his mind. Taro speaks up again as commercials come on, his body tensing up even as his voice stays nonchalant.

"You know, I know a way to make you more money."

Aizawa's pulse jumps, and he takes a steady breath to keep himself calm. He grunts in response, keeping up his act even as his heart starts to race.

"It's as illegal as the betting is, but I mean, you're as deep in this shit as me, so, why would you give a fuck, huh?" Taro laughs, and it sounds nervous.

"What is it?" Aizawa asks, giving Taro a sideways glance. "It's not like my ' job', is it?"

"No, no man, nothing like that. It's another fighting ring, but, eh…" Taro pauses, turning his empty beer bottle around in his hands. "It's not as friendly as my little gig. But that boss of yours has something over your head- yeah, yeah I know, don't ask about it- so, well, the danger doesn't mean much to you, does it?"

"So a fighting ring with bigger stakes?" Aizawa says, letting himself act more interested. He blinks, then frowns, asking in a low voice, "I'm… Not going to have to kill anyone, am I?"

Taro stays silent for a long moment, still turning his bottle in his hands, before he replies. "Maybe. If you got high enough in the ranking. But that's where all the big bucks are. They meet twice a month. Lots of rich types go to bet. And the fighters can bet on themselves. Well, they have to bet on themselves. You pay it as an entrance fee, of sorts, and you get at least double back when you win- loser gets nothing, obviously. Lots of gangs participate and pay the fee for their members to fight. I fought a few times too. Only at the bottom level, though."

"But there are death-matches." Aizawa says quietly as his stomach churns.

"Yeah," Taro says quietly. "There are other themed fights, but the death-matches are the most popular. Shits fucked up. But… well, you and I are kind of in the same situation. I got a boss too. I didn't want to keep fighting, so I had to recruit instead."

"So this isn't really an offer, is it," Aizawa scowls, but Taro surprises him when he turns, shaking his head and holding up his hands.

"You can say no, man! For real, I can find someone else," Taro's voice cracks and he turns away. "I was thinking I'd get that asshole Crash to go. Seems like his thing, anyways. But, I mean. When I say the payouts are big …"

Aizawa takes in a deep breath, watching the way Taro's tense shoulders shake slightly as he rubs his hands together. Aizawa can't remember ever seeing Taro act this way. It's unsettling, and Aizawa feels bad for considering this is just an act. It seems so genuine, but this is the man who had gotten Midoriya involved. A kid. Just how much can he believe?

"I'll do it." Aizawa says. Whatever is going on with Taro, this is exactly the break Aizawa needed.

Taro whips back around to stare at Aizawa for a long moment, one hand dragging down the side of his face. “You sure man? I offered ‘cuz I’ve seen how desperate you’ve gotten, but it’s not like my little fight club is going anywhere.”

Aizawa nods. “I’m sure. But I’m gonna need two things from you first.”

Taro’s eyes narrow but he nods. “Okay, and those are?”

“First, I’m gonna need to know more about these fights, like what the starting fee is, and all that.”

“Sure, yeah, we could talk about it more tomorrow. What's the second thing?”

“Stop buying shitty beer.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa is deep in thought as he heads to his meeting with Yamada. He hasn't told Yamada that he's in yet, but he did ask to meet two days earlier than usual, texting him while pretending to take a long shower in the bathroom. All the information Taro gave him this morning over pancakes is whirling around his head as he staggers up to Yamada's new motel room, exhaustion dragging at his limbs and eyelids. He idly wishes they could meet later, but he's the one who asked to move the time, wanting to tell Yamada everything after Taro finally invited him to the fight ring they've been looking for. Maybe once they’re done talking he can take a nap.

Yamada is quick to answer the door when Aizawa knocks five times, opening his mouth to talk as Aizawa pushes his way inside. His eyes widen when he sees Aizawa's face, following behind Aizawa like a concerned mother as the door closes and locks behind them.

"Aizawa, what happened to your face? Is this why you wanted to meet? What happened?" Yamada's voice is soft, but tinged with panic as he finally turns Aizawa around to get a proper look at him. Aizawa didn't try to look in the mirror after his last fight, just going straight to the shower this morning so the steam would keep him from seeing his reflection.

"No, this isn't why I asked to meet," Aizawa says, holding back a flinch as Yamada touches his aching cheek. He grabs Yamada’s wrist to keep him from touching, continuing to hold it as he continues. “Taro finally told me about the fight ring- the actual one.”

Yamada’s eyes widen again, and he crowds in closer, not trying to get loose from Aizawa’s hold. Instead he starts pushing him, and Aizawa lets himself be pushed, sitting down on the bed as Yamada stares him down and talks a mile a minute. “He did? What did he say? What did you learn? Where is it? When? How are you going to get in?”

“Yamada,” Aizawa sighs, clutching at his bruised eye and putting a hand on Yamada’s chest to try and push him back.

“What- are you still in pain?” Yamada switches tracks immediately, concern written all over his face. His hands hover, indecisive, touching Aizawa’s shoulders then his arms for a split second before pulling away as if he might hurt Aizawa with his kitten-strength touches. “You can tell me this stuff later, we should get you looked at first. Did you lose a fight? Do you need medical attention? Painkillers? Can I help?”

“No, what I need is a nap, and for you to sit down and listen.”

Yamada promptly sits down right next to him on the end of the bed, and Aizawa figures that's the best he’ll be getting right now. He launches into an explanation of how he got Taro to tell him everything, already knowing Yamada would ask about it if he didn’t start from there. For all his eccentricities, Yamada is thorough, even about seemingly pointless things. Yamada, to his credit, sits silent, apparently enthralled by his story, watching Aizawa’s face with a light frown and nodding as a sign to continue. 

By the time he actually gets to explaining about the fight ring, his throat feels too dry, and the aching in his face makes every expression burn. Yamada finally places his hand on Aizawa’s shoulder without taking it away, and Aizawa leans into it. Exhaustion is catching up to him.

“Aizawa, you’re not going back there tonight.”

“Yamada-” Aizawa sighs, already set on saying he can’t stay despite how badly he does want to.

“No. You need to rest, and we need to update our plans. You’re not just going to dump all of this on me then leave again. I’m putting my foot down. You can tell Taro your ‘boss’ gave you a harder job than usual, and you told him about the fights, so we’ll need to discuss how that went down so our stories are straight. And you spending some time here, resting, will just add to that story.”

Aizawa turns to stare Yamada down, but Yamada’s gaze is hard, brooking no argument. Aizawa’s stinging eyes beg him to back down, and he blinks, finding it hard to open his eyes again.

“Look, you can barely keep your eyes open,” Yamada says in a soft voice. “You need to rest. Your wounds-”

“I looked at them when I showered. They just look bad,” Aizawa grunts. 

“Aizawa, I can tell you’re in pain.” Yamada huffs. He slides off the bed to grab at Aizawa’s shoes, managing to tug one off before Aizawa can jerk his foot away. “You need to rest!”

“I can take my own shoes off,” Aizawa grumbles as he takes off his other shoe. He holds up both his hands as Yamada stands, clearly intent on helping him more. “And you’re right. I need sleep. How about you grab me some water and pills, I can undress myself just fine.”

“Okay, okay,” Yamada shrugs and heads into the small bathroom. 

Aizawa slips further up the bed as he listens to Yamada messing with the tap and rummaging around. He doesn’t hesitate to take off his oversized sweatshirt and pants before slipping under the covers. His body aches in protest, but he doesn’t give in to the urge to lie down yet. He still has to tell Yamada about the fights so he can do more research and planning. At least sleep should come easy afterwards, with how tired he is, and the heavy drapes blocking out the sunlight from the window. 

“You aren’t falling asleep on me, are you?” Yamada asks as he returns, a bottle of pills in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He sits down next to Aizawa, his concerned gaze, tracing over the bruises on Aizawa’s face and arms as he hands over the goods. Aizawa is just glad he still has a t-shirt on- no need for Yamada to see those bruises too. “For once, I really wouldn’t mind if that’s the case. You look awful.”

“You’re a real charmer,” Aizawa says with wry humor, taking two pills and downing the full glass in a few quick gulps. 

Yamada opens his mouth, and Aizawa expects a witty retort, but Yamada just closes his mouth with a soft shake of his head. He swallows, reaching over to trace along the edge of Aizawa’s bruised eye. Even the gentle touch hurts, but Aizawa doesn’t flinch. He just reaches up to grab Yamada’s hand, pulling it away from his face and holding it in his lap as he speaks.

“Seriously, I’ll be fine. It’s only bruising and swelling. If something was broken, I’d be able to tell- or did you forget I have medical training?”

“I- no, I didn’t forget. It just looks-”

“Painful? It is. And I promised to rest, so can you drop it? We have more important stuff to talk about.”

Yamada’s face twists as if he ate something sour. “Your health is important- but yes, we do need to talk. Tell me what Taro told you.”

Aizawa licks his lips and starts, closing his eyes as he talks. He goes slow, to make sure he doesn’t omit any details Yamada might find helpful, and also so he doesn’t have to backtrack or repeat himself. He rubs at his good eye with his free hand every once in a while to fight off the urge to sleep, and is constantly reminded he’s still holding Yamada’s hand when the man gives him a gentle squeeze in encouragement, urging him on as he fights past increasing bouts of yawning. 

“That’s everything he told me, but considering how long he’s been involved, there’s probably a lot more,” Aizawa sighs, scratching at his hair and yawning again. 

“It’s still a lot to take in,” Yamada says. Aizawa opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking up as Yamada starts to push. “I’m going to make some calls and think up some plans while you sleep.”

“Good idea.” Aizawa finally lets himself lie down, sighing heavily at how comfortable he feels. He expects Yamada to get up and grab his phone, but he lingers as Aizawa starts to drift off, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Aizawa’s hand. It’s nice. The bed isn’t as comfortable as it is back home, but it’s worlds better than Taro’s couch or his sleeping bag. Maybe it isn’t the bed at all. Maybe it’s just Yamada. But the thought drifts away with his consciousness as he falls into a deep sleep, finally allowing himself to rest easy, feeling safe.

Chapter Text

Aizawa idly scratches at the healing bruises on his face, looking at Taro with a slight grimace. They're standing together in a back alley a few blocks away from the gym, just to the side of a flickering light. Taro is smoking, his posture relaxed as he leans against the brick wall behind him, but Aizawa can see the way his eyes flit from one side to the other. He's anxious. Aizawa taps a finger on his thigh and keeps scratching his face- he needs to act nervous too. He needs to make sure Taro believes Yamada is as dangerous as his stories imply. Why else would Aizawa be so desperate?

Taro can make his own assumptions, as long as they're not the truth.

They both tense up as a pair of footsteps approaches, sharp and quick against the concrete. Two pairs of eyes meet one as Yamada rounds the corner, his dyed black hair and sleek chrome glasses shining in the fluorescent lights. Aizawa stands up from his slouch, shooting Taro a look before moving to stand between the two men.

"Taro, this is my boss, Kuroda," Aizawa grunts, playing up the awkwardness.

"Always so polite, Wa." Yamada's grin is bordering on a sneer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Taro. I am quite excited to hear more about this business venture you have offered to my employee."

Taro takes one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it, crushing it under his heel as he nods.

"The pleasure is mine, Mister Kuroda. My boss will be very pleased to know we have another bettor joining our ranks." Taro's voice is greasy, dripping with false charm, the way he used to talk when Aizawa first met him. It makes his skin tingle- when did Taro stop talking to him that way? It’s a good sign that Taro trusts him, but the thought just makes his stomach cramp. 

“Yes, of course. I am quite curious, but I’m not going to promise anything before I get to see what I’m going into. Wa here said it had to do with boxing?”

“Well, it’s a fighting ring, so sometimes they have boxers rules, but most of the time it's more mixed martial arts- its up to the bosses how they want the fights to go. Watching two men fight with their hands tied behind their back is funny, but the real stakes come to who is willing to go the furthest, if you catch my meaning.”

“More than just first blood, I take it?” Yamada crosses his arms, tapping a finger on his elbow. He looks lost in thought, but Aizawa figures Yamada has his whole speech planned out in his head already. “Sounds like my kind of game. Do I need Wa here to buy my way in?”

“Yeah, you need to be backing someone if you want to get in. If your man dies you can always just pay the entrance fee after that, but you have to sponsor someone first.” Taro’s eyes slide to look at Aizawa as Yamada scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. Aizawa just takes a deep breath, meeting Taro’s gaze before closing his eyes, letting Taro read whatever he wants from Aizawa’s expression. 

“Yes, fine, I’ll sponsor Wa. He’s pretty good in a scrap. And it’s about time he found a more lucrative way to be useful to me. This is why I never went into the money-lending business…” Yamada huffs and reaches over, gripping Aizawa’s shoulder almost tight enough to hurt. Aizawa grimaces as if Yamada really is hurting him, watching Taro’s face through his eyelashes. “I am not handing any money over until we’re at the location. I won’t be scammed.”

Taro rubs his hands together, bringing his greasy smile back as he nods. “Of course, of course! You have to make sure it’s the real deal- and besides, you don’t pay an entrance fee the first time- you’ll be betting on your man Wa here, with a minimum bet of five thousand dollars. He can bet on himself too-”

Yamada cuts Taro off with a snort. “No, he won’t need to. All the money he wins will be mine, so there’s no need. It’s not like he has any left to use anyways. I’m assuming straight cash? I’ll be sure to have it. Now, is there a coat check?”

“Ah, so you do know how this works,” Taro laughs and nods, “Yes, they’ll ask for your phone and any weapons on your person to be left behind or surrendered before entering. And you will be searched, just a fair warning. If you wish, you can bring a locked box or suitcase to store your things in, if you’re feeling paranoid?”

“A novel idea. Perhaps I’ll do that. It wouldn’t do to leave my things behind for too long. Now, can I have the time and address? I do have business to attend to soon.”

“Oh, of course, here-” Taro rummages in his pocket for a moment before handing over a folded slip of paper. “This is the rendezvous point. Since we have already met, I’ll be the one escorting you.”

Yamada snatches the paper from Taro’s hand, glancing at the contents for a few seconds before nodding and tucking the paper away, all in one smooth motion. He sneers and turns to walk back the way he came, not even waving as he speaks. “I will see you then. And Wa, keep an eye on your phone. You have an hour before I need your services.”

“I understand.” Aizawa says, voice and eyes dull as he watches Yamada turn the corner. 

He looks over at Taro, taking note of the man’s twitching face. One second turns to ten turns to twenty, but once the sound of Yamada’s footsteps disappear completely, Taro groans and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Goddamn, Wa, you really picked a bad one, huh?” Taro reaches out to rub Aizawa’s shoulder gently, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s the one Yamada was pretending to squeeze.

“Didn’t really have a choice, so to speak…” Aizawa huffs, letting himself collapse against the nearest wall and slide down into a comfortable crouch. 

“Life, huh?” Taro leans against the wall next to Aizawa, looking down at him as he pulls out a cigarette. “Ain’t that the shit… Well, you got an hour to kill, what’re you gonna do?”

“Just sit here, I guess. No need to make myself tired trying to do anything else.” Aizawa shrugs. He just has to wait for whatever Yamada texts him, then head back to the motel to meet him so they can talk like they planned. 

“Damn bro, that’s boring- eh, don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna try and make you do anything. Rest is a good idea.” Taro falls silent after that, lighting up his cigarette. The smoke wafts down to tickle Aizawa’s nose, and he grimaces, resisting the urge to sneeze. Thank god smoking wasn’t Taro’s biggest vice- he isn’t sure he could take sleeping in a smoker’s apartment. Taro speaks up again after a few silent puffs, clearly intent on keeping Aizawa company for a little while longer. “Hey man, speaking of rest- I got my hands on some muscle relaxants the other day. You could have one when you get back tonight, if you want. Unless you actually went to the doctor about your ugly face.”

Aizawa snorts, shaking his head. “No, the doctors said my ugliness was chronic, nothing I can do about it. No use going to see them when they can’t help.”

“So cold, even to yourself.” Taro laughs, even as Aizawa tries to tell himself that accepting the drugs later would be a bad idea. But he can remember how nice muscle relaxants made him feel, forcing his tense body to finally relax- it’s a tempting offer. Too tempting.

“Might not make it back tonight, actually.” Aizawa says. Better to just avoid it. He realizes after he says it that he left his sleeping bag at Taro’s place, but it’s too late to back down now. He can always stay with Yamada- and perhaps that would be for the best, even as his stomach sinks at how easily the thought makes his heart race. He doesn’t need these feelings complicating things right now. Too many variables.

“Oh, really? What makes you say that?”

“Boss is gonna want to make sure he can bet on me without worrying. And he probably has it in his head that I should earn that five thousand he needs, as if he doesn’t have it already…”

“Fuck, man… sorry. Well, I’ll be up until dawn anyways, so don’t be afraid to come back late. I mean it. I can lose a few minutes just to let you in. You do look like you need the sleep.”

“That’s… thanks. For everything, actually.” Aizawa keeps his gaze fixed on the concrete, the perfect picture of a man trying to cling to his shattered pride. 

“Eh, don’t mention it. We don’t need to get sappy-” Taro pauses when he hears Aizawa’s phone ping, sighing and crushing his cigarette. “Well, looks like that's your cue. I’m gonna head to the gym- you know where to find me.”

“Yep.” Aizawa says, pulling out his phone and looking at the message without reading it.

Taro takes a few steps then stops, turning to look at Aizawa over his shoulder. “For real, you know where to find me, man. Don’t let that shitbag work you to death before your premier. I’m gonna bet it all on you, you hear me?”

“I hear ya.” Aizawa finally looks up, shooting Taro a tired grin. “See ya.”

Taro gives a final wave over his shoulder before walking away, clearly not in any rush. Aizawa gets to his feet, slowly walking the way Yamada went earlier. He doesn’t look behind him, but he uses the twisting back alleys to his advantage, making sure he isn’t being followed before finally heading back to Yamada’s motel room, already feeling some of the stress leaving his muscles. Maybe he can convince Yamada to let him sleep some more before they work out the next plan. 

Maybe he can get Yamada to help with his bruises again.

Outwardly he’s frowning, his haggard appearance at odds with the hopeful dance his heart is doing inside his chest. It's foolish. He shouldn’t be feeling so giddy, he’s a grown man on a dangerous mission that could probably get him killed. And yet the mere thought of his business partner has him acting like a fool with a crush. Which he can’t deny it is, at this point. He wants to focus on the case, to worry about what he’s getting into, but for once, worrying doesn’t come easy. He’s too busy trying to banish the thoughts of Yamada, inadvertently thinking more about his tangled feelings in the process.