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It starts with Aizawa remembering, halfway through Ethics, that he'd meant to ask Izuku to buy cat food on his way home. Without hesitation or faltering in his current lecture, he briefly meets the kid's eyes and starts to sign, completely independent of his teaching. A few of the class, namely those that know sign language, hesitate or even snicker, but a glare is enough to keep them on track.
'Problem Child, can you pick up cat food on your way home?' There's a little frown on the greenette's face, eyebrows furrowing,
'What? Dad, I'm going on a date with Toshi and Shou!" The developing scowl in amongst the kid's freckles probably shouldn't be more cute than frustrating, yet it really is adorable, not that Izuku would appreciate him saying it.
'Your boys won't mind.' He returns, because it's true. Shinsou and Todoroki really wouldn't care about a five minute stop to get some food for the cats.
'Still,' he pouts. Aizawa shakes his head, switching from the verbal lecture topic to this week's homework without a blink,
'Kid, just get it on the way home please.' He's got no less than two meetings to attend tonight, and he might not even be able to get the cats' favourite food before the only shop that stocks it closes, and sure they can eat other food, but it's not the point.
'I thought you were getting it though? And I got it last week!' Which... fuck, that's true. Ugh. Why must his kid be so good at logic; it should be restricted to just one member of the family, surely?
'You did. But I bought you extra coffee yesterday.' The hero returns, scowling a little himself. But Izuku is stubborn, and he gestures more energetically than ever when he replies,
'And I let you sleep in this weekend!' Rude kid. The fact that he's correct is completely irrelevant of course
'Brat, don't yell at me - use your inside hands!'
They both freeze for a second, staring at each other, with Aizawa's verbal lecture stopping too.
Then both of them start cackling, all Cheshire grins and crinkled eyes, by far overwhelming the lighter snorts and snickers of the others that can understand sign, and the rest of the class just watch on, utterly confused.
"What's so funny?" Kaminari finally asks, a whining tinge to his voice. Izuku, still laughing, can only shake his head, flapping his hand at Hitoshi in the hope that he'll be willing to explain it instead. The insomniac shoots him a look, but complies all the same,
"Sensei told Izuku to use his inside hands rather than yelling." The whole room starts laughing then, happily ignoring how their teacher's glare gains a Quirk-red tinge in warning, and it takes a solid ten minutes or more for everyone to start calming down properly.
The Aizawas get home that night to find that they've both bought cat food. At least they won't have to buy any more next week.
Izuku has been anxious for a few days now. Perhaps anxious isn't the right word for it, it's more like being on-edge, a rattle to his bones and his lungs, and it's far from unfamiliar, but it's usually more of a bad day thing than half the week. Which is probably why, on Wednesday night, his Dad tells him to get changed a good hour or so earlier than they normally need for their patrol. But Izuku doesn't feel like questioning it, doesn't honestly feel like talking at all, so he just nods and makes sure he has all of the knives that his sheaths can fit. If he then also tucks a few spares into his Dad's utility belt where the man won't be at risk of accidentally stabbing himself with them, then that's by the by.
Regardless, he doesn't complain when they leave their flat together, offering the cats last-minute forehead kisses and gentle tail tugs, and instead only follows his hero up on to the roofs and then beyond, pan in hand and mask secured. They travel under starlight for several minutes, quiet but for their own steady footfalls and the bustle of the streets below, ever-busier as they leave the more residential districts in favour of the seedier areas, where bars and shops and more questionable services are all found. And, at eleven at night, they're busy.
For now though, they're both content to ignore the general hubbub, only keeping half an ear out for any sounds of distress or overt aggression, and Aizawa pauses when they get to a particularly high rooftop, one with a good vantage point and lots of empty space.
"Up for a spar?" Izuku thinks for a second, knowing that his Dad won't judge him or be offended by the pause, and after that those few shallow breaths, he forces a deeper one in, ignoring that it scrapes at his throat, and nods. It doesn't even take a blink for Aizawa to be punching forwards, aimed right at Izuku's throat.
Pure instinct, found in his nature and ingrained with year's of muscle memory, has Izuku ducking and twisting. His leg lashes out, aiming for the man's ankles, yet Aizawa simply steps back, out of reach, and pivots, his own far longer leg coming up in a neat roundhouse kick.
It doesn't land, can't do when his son is falling back into a handspring, callused hands taking all of his weight and allowing for him to lock his ankles around the hero's, pulling him off-balance. Aizawa pushes off of the ground though, and his momentum has Izuku's elbows nearly giving way beneath him.
He keeps his balance though, and in lieu of keeping his Dad's leg trapped where it's a bit too close to his stomach for comfort, he lets one elbow give in so that he can twist down and to the side, catching himself only because he's expecting it. The hero, on the other hand, lands far more heavily, judging by the little rush of breath he grunts out. From there it's all adrenaline and movement, Izuku finding stability and contentment in the familiar rhythm, the warmth of glancing blows and the solidity of harsher ones, the glint of his Dad's dark eyes and the gleam of the stars above. Anything negative falls away, slips like sand into the gaps between their roofs, leaving Izuku breathing deeply and cleanly despite the physical exertion. The beat of blows is a familiar dance, the shifting of flips and falls and fists a home of their own, and nothing is more calming and joyful than this endless moment with his hero, sparring beneath the stars.
Izuku giggles. At first thought it seems like there's no reason for it, until Aizawa realises that Cadaver is scenting along the back of the kid's knees, whiskers undoubtedly tickling at the sensitive skin there, and it's in that moment that true knowledge strikes the man like lightning.
His son is ticklish. Very specifically ticklish, apparently.
However, being the patient underground hero that he is, Aizawa hoards this knowledge until the time he needs it. And that time comes over a week later, when the brat decides to wake him up with an absolutely revolting All Might alarm of all things. Still half-asleep but as quick as ever, the man lunges forwards, tackling the kid's legs from where he's stood snickering beside the bed, and they both go crashing unceremoniously to the floor, barely cushioned by the pile of clothes there. Then, before Izuku can wriggle free, Aizawa adjusts his grip and tickles.
It takes the grand total of four seconds for Izuku to burst out laughing, face pinking with the effort of it, and then he's squirming and wriggling in place, kicking out and scrabbling at his Dad's hair, not really pulling or tugging but definitely trying to push him away. Aizawa can't help but laugh himself, a deep chuckle that reverberates through them both, because his son is bright and bold and laughs more every week, but this is a pure, childish glee, nothing bittersweet or sarcastic or hysterical about it. No, this is utter delight, more breathless by the second, and Aizawa might not have heard a more wonderful sound in his life.
Of course, it's rather inevitable that after a solid minute or two of turning red-faced, Izuku gains back just enough coherency to hunch over and, in lieu of trying to shove his Dad away, he instead starts reaching down, nimble fingers sneaking around until they can start to dig in along the side of Aizawa's ribs and then they're both laughing and squirming, trying to simultaneously get away from each other and get in their own tickle attacks. At some point, between breathless gasps and helpless snorts, the hero manages to start up a song he only very vaguely remembers:
"Well I have a little secret-" He loses the next few lines to a particularly loud chuckle, syllables creeping in and cracking around the edges,
"-my secret just to you-" Aizawa twists onto his back, pulling Izuku's legs with him, and gasps on,
"-fall under a spell. I turn into a crea-" Some of the tune is lost to his own laughter and barely-there breathing, not to mention the fact that he's not exactly a singer in the first place, yet there's so much light in his kid's eyes, so much raw glee in his eyes, fireworks and fairy-lights and supernovas, and it's only increasing with the silly song.
"-come a tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle monster-" Honestly even just this song would probably have him out of breath on a good day, so right now it has Aizawa absolutely dying, wheezing on his back and finally resorting to just bear-hugging his arms around Izuku, keeping both of them from tickling each other as they try to actually breathe again.
"You... you're a bastard," Izuku huffs, smile sun-bright as he looks up at the man, propping his chin a bit painfully atop Aizawa's sternum.
"You'a brat," he returns, thoughtless and easy despite the lingering strain to his chest.
"Hobo caterpillar."
"Problem Child." They're both Cheshire grinning, the expressions too soft around the edges for anything other than a morning like this.
"Your Problem Child."
"My kid."
"M'Dad." Neither of them move to get up just yet, particularly not when Caitlin mews quietly from the doorway before scarpering in and curling atop Izuku's spine, instantly purring softly. Well, they're stuck here now.
(They do end up being ten minutes late to homeroom, but luckily a single glare keeps Iida quiet. That doesn't stop Nedzu from assigning them some tedious intelligence gathering as punishment though. Sadistic bastard.)
Unsurprisingly, the final round of the monthly night of Heroics Faculty Fun Hell Night comes down to the Aizawas versus Mic and Midnight. Scattered around the room are the other teachers, several groaning and grumbling. Cementoss is slumped against the door, holding his head in his hands and muttering, apparently still traumatised from being told that if he's connected to an urban area the entirety of the concrete in that urban area could arguably be an erogenous zone for him; Snipe is obsessively disassembling and re-assembling one of his guns, feverish, and every click and slide has Thirteen twitching. All Might is sprawled out over one of the sofa, guided there by a tutting Recovery Girl when he'd been unable to stop choking on some blood he'd spit-taken, which definitely hadn't been caused by Izuku sauntering up to his Uncle Nem, hips swaying and a rather lascivious smirk on his lips, sliding his hands along her shoulders and neck as he slips onto her lap, leaning in close to her face and whispering something that startles a laugh out of her. The laugh had won him the dare, and he'd happily pecked her on the cheek before darting up again to return to his Dad's side, cackling at the various states of horror and mortification from around the room.
The next round had been what apparently traumatised Hound Dog. Aizawa had listed, over the course of five minutes, no less than thirty ways that cats are better than dogs and how, therefore, Police Officer Sansa is objectively better than Hound Dog himself. The man is now frantically looking up cat and dog comparisons, and how much of that carries across with mutation Quirks. He looks rather demented, frantically typing and hunched in close to his computer, and the Aizawas keep on sharing amused glances whenever he huffs loudly at something. Vlad King has shoved on a pair of headphones, steadfastly ignoring proceedings now that he and Snipe have lost.
Ectoplasm has actually manifested no less than five clones and proceeded to curl up in a corner with them all draped over him after dry-heaving for several minutes. The tinned cat food that Izuku had dared him to eat really hasn't gone down well.
Then again, neither has the way that Nemuri had shimmied in Power Loader's face. The poor man had very carefully tried not to look, but with Hizashi holding his hands, he couldn't even cover his eyes. So, inevitably, he covered them and lost the dare. And, with that, it had been only the Aizawas and their adjacent family left in the round of dares.
"Broccoli baby, I dare you to kiss someone!" There's a fraction of a pause then, the time for everyone to process the words, then two distinct voices call out over the top of Nedzu's cackling.
"Yamada fucking Hizashi!"
"You buffoon! Idiot! Imbecile! You absolute fucking disgrace to all gays!" Aizawa and Nemuri's respective outrages are for blatantly different reasons, particularly judging by how the woman goes on, eyes flaring,
"You don't just dare someone to kiss another person without specifying where!"
"Not to mention it's my kid! You two are so incredibly dumb, why do I even let you near him?"
Izuku, even whilst all of this is happening, snatches up his Dad's hand to kiss his knuckles, smirking the whole time. Dare complete.
"What?!"
"But Shou, he's our nephew! Our Broccoli baby!" They're both visibly upset, not to mention very loud, and Izuku's snickers joins his mentor's cackling.
"Doesn't mean you can corrupt him!"
"Shouta, darling, he has two boyfriends and can pole-dance. I don't think I can corrupt him." The underground hero freezes for half a moment, even as there's the familiar sound of blood-choking from the direction of Yagi's sofa that breaks the tension.
Nedzu, for once deciding to be the arbiter of peace rather than chaos, claps his paws together. Despite it technically being a soft sound, everyone in the room has long-since become trained to be attuned to it, so they all pause in their spats and searches and near-sleep to look over at the principal.
"I do believe, no matter how amusing this may be, we shall have to draw the evening to a close here! Shouta-kun, Izuku-kun, you are of course the winners, and you are accordingly and respectively owed three coffees of your choice from each of the other faculty members. The whiteboard tally will be updated for tomorrow morning! Is there anything else tonight?"
"Yes, can you fire these two?" Aizawa immediately asks, jabbing a finger at his supposed best friends, only to get blatantly ignored by the creature. Typical.
Regardless of Nemuri and Hizashi's continued existences, the free coffee does wonders to cool Aizawa down again. However, the class hearing about that particular Heroics Faculty Fun Hell Night has him demanding even more coffee. It turns out blackmail goes a long way; who knew?