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Shota was staring. He knew he was staring; he was simply incapable of stopping. He’d tried it, at first, and had actually managed to look away. But quickly his eyes found its target once more. By this point he’d given up on doing anything productive for the day. He could, of course, leave the teachers’ lounge but the only thing worse than having that in his sight was not having it at all.
“You’re staring,” Mic said.
Thank you, Captain Obvious, Shota thought but didn’t say. He did grunt, though, to show he’d heard, simply because Mic wasn’t the type of person who wouldn’t repeat himself, and in a louder tone.
“I’m sure the kids will make you one if you ask,” now Mic sounded far too amused. Shota would step on his foot or drive an elbow into his stomach if they were standing closer. As it was, they were both sitting by their desks which, while close, didn’t let Shota hurt his friend like he deserved.
It’s not about the flower crown, Shota thought but like hell was he saying it out loud. Anyway, he knew Mic knew it wasn’t about the damn flower crown. At least, not by itself.
No, Shota could not keep his eyes away from Yagi and the flower crown he had on. He just looked… really, really good.
All of his hair, including the two longer strips of hair he kept in front of his face, had been brushed to the back, so that the flower crown fit around his head perfectly, allowing his face to be seen in a way Shota wasn’t quite used to. And if he knew this would be his reaction if he had, he sure as well would have prepared himself.
He didn’t think there was enough preparation for this, though. Not the way Yagi sometimes raised a hand to the crown, to make sure it was safe, the way his cheeks reddened at it. Shota found himself having to bite his tongue at one point not to make a truly embarrassing noise at the sight but who could blame him?
He wanted to hit his forehead against his desk. This. Was. So. Unfair.
Mic snorted next to him and it was only years of practice that forced Shota not to react; no matter how much Mic pretended, Shota knew he couldn’t actually hear his thoughts.
“You should tell him he looks good,” Mic said and Shota, at least, appreciated that he was talking in a lower tone than usual.
Shota, once more, didn’t bother to reply and although Mic sighed, he didn’t say anything else either.
Somehow, Shota did manage to grade a few more papers before office hours were finally finished. Still, he knew Yagi wouldn’t be leaving so soon – he’d gotten better over the months, but he needed more practice in marking papers quicker – and Shota didn’t bother lying to himself when he went to the little kitchenette and turned on the kettle.
He was slow as he prepared the tea, listening as more colleagues left the room. He didn’t have a plan, he had no intention of complementing Yagi and the flower crown, but he wasn’t surprised to see they were the only two still in the room when he walked back in.
“Here,” Shota said as he lowered the mug on Yagi’s desk and because this wasn’t the first time, he kept holding onto it, Yagi giving a little jump at his voice.
“Ah, Aizawa-san!”
Oh no, this had been a mistake. Because now that Shota was standing that much closer, there was no escaping the inhuman power Yagi’s face combined with the flower crown had.
“Aizawa-san?” Now Yagi was frowning. Shota blinked, forcing himself out of his stupor, wondering if Yagi had been saying anything. He hummed.
“I was just thanking you for the tea.”
Shota grunted; he’d already tried the “no need” method and had received a smile and “nevertheless, you’re going out of your way, the least you deserve is a thanks”.
Shota had never particularly liked All Might. He hadn’t started by liking Yagi’s presence either though, at least, he had felt like an actual real person. But Yagi had quickly gotten under his defenses. Shota was utterly powerless against such kindness.
Yagi raised a hand to the flower crown, blushing once more.
“A-1?” Shota asked, even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t comment on the damn thing. Oh well, not like there was any witness beside the two of them and Yagi wasn’t the type to gossip.
“Ah, yes,” Yagi was still blushing. He grabbed his mug and raised it to his face, apparently trying to hide behind it.
Shota had no idea how old Yagi was, but he must be fifty at least, so it really shouldn’t be possible for him to be so damn cute.
“It looks good,” Shota said and Yagi blinked. He was still holding onto the mug, but it wasn’t nearly big enough to hide his smile, even if it didn’t have the ridiculousness of All Might’s (no, really, Shota had questions about that; it simply hadn’t been natural).
“They did a good job with it,” Yagi said and Shota knew he could nod and accept it. Yagi certainly wasn’t expecting anything more. That, of course, just made Shota’s heart squeeze because despite everything he’d expected, he found himself caring for this man and he deserved so much more.
“You look good with it,” Shota clarified and Yagi blinked.
“Oh.”
He didn’t say anything else and Shota wondered if he’d overstepped himself.
“Thank you, Aizawa-san,” Yagi said in a lower tone, eyes downcast, hiding, and Shota’s heart squeezed.
You deserve beautiful things, Shota thought and then, because he wasn’t a coward and because he didn’t think Yagi had heard the sentiment nearly enough times, if ever, forced the words out.
Yagi was the one staring now. Shota forced himself to stay grounded, be studied silently, so that Yagi could see there was nothing but the truth in what he’d said.
Yagi blinked, looked away first once more.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Well, Shota was out of words as well.
“Would you… would you like to go for a walk?” Yagi asked, looking Shota in the eyes, even as it seemed like he was forcing himself to manage it.
Shota nodded, “it’d be my pleasure.” His voice sounded rougher than usual and his hands were sweating around his own mug, tea now too lukewarm to be drunk, and his heart was also beating faster than usual, but Shota wanted.
To see more of Yagi unguarded, to go for a walk and then… who knew. He was willing to make the jump if Yagi was. And from the small smile he gave him as he got up, the way his fingers lingered when he grabbed Shota’s mug – knowing that he wouldn’t drink something that wasn’t piping hot –, made him hope.
Shota inhaled. Exhaled. And then he followed Yagi out of the lounge, walking beside him and with flowers in his field of vision. Their hands brushed against one another and Shota, deciding that he was feeling brave, looked at Yagi and took a hold of his hand, not interlacing them, just holding on.
Yagi looked surprised at him, but pleased, and there was that beautiful tint of pink on his cheeks once more. Shota smiled.