Chapter Text
Aizawa trudged through the early morning sunlight on his commute to U.A., bleary eyes blinking sleep away. Three days a week he arrived a couple hours early to get in some training before class.
Today, however, was a tough morning. All mornings are tough for Aizawa, but some days it was an effort to even groan at the thought of “being awake”. Nevermind the alarm, he didn’t need to set one after so many years of being a pro-hero. Popping awake at the slightest disturbance, late nights patrolling the streets for petty criminals, plus his underground hero work putting him in situations that require no sleep for days on end. Nowadays, sometimes the sun wasn’t even peeking over the horizon before Aizawa was up, bed head and coffee in hand.
This was how he was now on this Tuesday morning. New sunlight in his eyes, hair an absolute mess and coffee in a loose grip as he approached the school. Despite all his effort, he still struggled to get out of bed once he was awake. He was stubborn like that. This resulted in him not being able to dress properly before slamming his apartment door shut and stumbling down the stairs. What did he care? Hardly anybody was up and about at this hour, nevermind at the school.
So who was around to care if he was dressed in his training clothes already? The ones nobody was previously allowed to see. The ones that included short, soft gray shorts and a thin, once-white tank top. Now it was stained. Sweat stains, of course, even some blood stains, but also coffee stains and ink smears. Stains you get just from living, stains that proved use, not just work. Stains that proved Aizawa existed outside the school, outside hero work. But what did he care? There was nobody around as he walked through the expansive lawn of U.A.
Nobody, except for All Might, that is.
Aizawa dropped his drained coffee cup into the trash can he passed on the side of the sidewalk, then cut through the dewy grass, trying his hair up as he went. He was wasting no time today, mildly angry for waking up late, and for waking up at all. He was almost half an hour later than normal, and he still had his whole routine to do.
All Might, though he was sitting off to the side, almost out of sight, was around to see. He saw Aizawa’s messy hair, saw him with a band between his teeth, hands twisting into his jet black hair, now up and out of his face. He saw the light, almost careless frown. He saw the stained tank top, the proof. And he saw the shorts.
All might, stopped looking, though, after the shorts. Because after the shorts came Aizawa’s thighs. And All Might didn’t want to see that. Well, he did, but he didn’t want to. Too late, he saw them anyway. All Might sighed at his own weak will. He quickly looked away, blushing, but Aizawa didn’t seem to notice him there on a bench beside the tree to his left.
And so All Might was left there, still blushing, and trying to get the image of Aizawa’s pale, muscled thighs out of his mind. He felt a small gush of blood rush into his mouth. Banish the thought, Toshinori, he told himself, stifling a cough.
Aizawa carried on as usual, entered into the school gym and dropped his bag onto the floor. He began his training routine, none the wiser of the ripple he had caused in his coworker. Because, he thought, nobody was around.