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Moonlight pooled in glowing puddles on the hardwood floor, casting the common room in soft, pale light. Shouta was sat on the slightly-charred, apricot orange couch. His finger clacking away at the keys of his scratched up laptop, fine tuning the lesson plans for his gremlins’ next semester.
Shouta was enjoying the blissful silence – A rarity in his career path – Cradling a hot mug of coffee between worn, scarred fingers. Allowing the heat to loosen his tense muscles, and warm his cold skin.
He pushed his reading glasses further up his nose, skimming over the black text on his screen, eyes still straining despite the warm light filter on his screen. The sound of soft tapping continued to echo through the lounge area of the dorms.
Some part of him – Worn and rusted with time, tucked in deep behind his warm, bloody, ever beating heart – Felt at ease, knowing that he was near his kids. Much like a gargoyle standing atop its podium, stone wings ready for flight, and sharp teeth carved in a menacing scowl.
Closing his laptop and placing it on the table in front of him, Shouta shut his eyes. Allowing himself to sink into the soft cushions of the couch, he pulled back his shoulders, letting his back arch into the movement. He let out a content grunt at the easing tension of his muscles, intertwining his finger, and pulling them out in front of him to deepen the bone deep relief. Shouta yawned, his eyes shutting even tighter.
Shouta was snapped out of his blissful stretch when he heard the ding of the elevator. If he was a less guarded man, he probably would have flinched at how the noise pierced the dead silent night.
Despite the fact that it would be extremely illogical for a villain to act so nonchalant as to use the elevator in UA, Shouta was still snapped into attention. Which wasn't exactly very effective when his joints felt like liquid.
He watched over the hallway leading from the elevator like a hawk, eyes emitting a soft glow as they turned yellow, and hair shifting as though under water, despite the messy bun it was pulled back in.
“Zawa..?”
Oh, it’s just Problem Child. Shouta blinked, his bun succumbing to gravity again, and eyes returning to stormy grey. “Problem Child,” Shouta kept his eyes on Midoriya, though, this time he let his guard drop, and gaze soften. Midoriya was someone who was exceptionally hard to pretend to be, the kid's personality being an indecipherable mess of anxiety and utterly sincere kindness.
They had learned this when some Toga wannabe has worn Midoriya’s face to class, and Bakugou had instantly recruited Uraraka to “HELP BLOW THAT FUCKING FAKE ASS DEKU TO SMITHEREENS!”
Midoriya seemed to take Shouta’s acknowledgement as an invitation, as he began to wander over to the couch he was sitting on. “Zawa,” Midoriya looked up at his teacher, scrunching his eyes – And, seemingly, unintentionally his nose – Up at Shouta, in a mouthless smile
“Are you ok, Problem Child?” Shouta was vaguely concerned, the Problem Child had never been this outwardly affectionate.
Midoriya only responded with a small huff, and a sleepy blink up at him. Curling his short frame into Shouta’s right side.
“Jus’ a nightmare,,” ‘Midoriya's words were muffled into Shouta’s black shirt, so it took him a moment to decipher the kid's reply. But, when he did, Shouta brought up a hand to pet through messy, green curls. Slowly working through any tangles, that his fingers caught on.
“Don’t worry kid, I’ll keep them away while you sleep.”
Shouta's chest felt mushy, the rusted over lump of protective love, stained in long since browned crimson, and buried under ropes of nerves, and overgrown veins, being torn open again, the hard stone shell crumbling away to expose a sensitive, fleshy, interior. The pain was so eerily familiar. It was like cloudy blue hair, and small white band-aids all over again.
“Thank you,” Shouta could practically hear the sleepy smile in the kid's voice. He responded with a ruffle to his hair, only for Midoriya to bump his head up into Shouta's hand, like a cat, some small corner of his brain peeped.
Leaning back into the couch Shouta let his eyes drift shut, some reasonable part of his mind muttering about the aches sleeping like this would most definitely cause. Though that stream of thought was instantly cut off when Midoriya flopped his head onto Shouta’s chest, muttering sleepy nonsense into Shouta’s shirt.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shouta cracked open an eye, and bopped the kid's freckled nose. Earning himself a small huff.
It was a bit mortifying to realise that Shouta was treating the kid like a cat. But Midoriya didn't seem to mind it, so hey.
With affection pooling in his chest, Shouta let himself nod off.