A night patrol, a small investigation into a purse snatcher, planning this year's curriculum for his class to be. Things were slowly piling up, and Aizawa had very few hours to complete his tasks. It wasn't the most ideal situation, but it could have been worse. If he had a full class, he'd have all that on top of teaching twenty children how to be heroes. Things could be worse, he figured.
But as he went about his day checking off his list of things to do, he couldn't shake that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Something was off. He was itching for something. There was a need there. Something he'd been neglecting.
He was craving physical contact.
Aizawa wasn't one for personal contact most of the time. He preferred to keep his distance. Being a Pro Hero was dangerous work, and one slip up could cost a person everything. Most of his relationships were strictly professional as a result. He had his friends and allies, but that was about it. Normally he didn't mind that. On the contrary, it was the perfect set up in his eyes. Those he'd want to see he gets to see, and he didn't have to worry about hiding connections since they were in the same line of work.
But there were still moments, like this one, where he found himself craving something just a little more. What that was exactly he didn't know. Only that it was annoying and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible if he was going to get through his patrol in peace.
As the day passed by, Aizawa spent most of it in the teacher's office planning what he'd do if he actually kept a class longer than a day this year. There were four recommendations for this year's first year classes, and a couple of names he'd recognized here and there among the rest of the applicants. He'd have to come up with a decent lesson plan. Simple enough task, right?
A simple task made impossible by that nagging feeling. His free hand kept moving about as he wrote, trailing across his arm and moving toward his neck. He kept running his fingers through his hair, shifting in his seat as he struggled to focus. But with every passing second, he found it impossible.
So, it's gonna be one of those days, is it?
He set his work aside, opting to deal with it tomorrow before grabbing his sleeping bag and heading for the lounge. If this feeling was going to keep him from paperwork, he'd try to sleep it off. It'd worked before, so surely it'll work this time too.
Twenty minutes into his attempted sleep proved that conclusion to be incorrect.
"Dammit," he grumbled. "This is a pain." Aizawa sat up, glaring intensely at the floor as he tried to think of a solution. The most logical and simplest way to fix this would just to ask someone. But then the question of who he could ask came into play.
If I had a partner, I could just ask them. But that's currently out of the question. Most of the other teachers have gone home for the day, but that would be a little too awkward. Midnight wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Nezu would probably give me a two hour lecture about the importance of human contact. Who would-
"Oh, hey Eraser! Didn't think you'd be here."
Aizawa looked up, his tired gaze resting upon the face of Present Mic as he walked into the room. As he approached, the wheels in his mind began to turn. He's known Mic for years. They work together often, have a decent rapport with each other.
And he was within grabbing distance.
"Hey, Hizashi," Aizawa said. "Mind helping me with something?"
Mic's eyes lit up. "You need my help with something? Been a while since you asked that!"
"Is that a yes?"
"Hell yeah! Whatever it is, I'd be glad to help."
"Good. Stay still."
In what felt like only a second, Aizawa unzipped his sleeping bag just enough and reached out his arms, pulling his friend in for a tight embrace as he closed the bag again. It wasn't a perfect fit, as their shoulders prevented it from closing completely. But as Aizawa lay back down, he felt a soft sense of calm washing over him.
"Uh, Shouta?" Mic stammered, squirming in an attempt to get more comfortable. "This is kind of a tight fit. What's going on?"
"Uh, 'nothing' doesn't cause you to pull me into your arms. What's going on?"
"I couldn't focus on my work, and I have night patrol. Now hush, I need to sleep."
Mic poked him in the side, a pout on his face. "And you need me here because?"
Aizawa glanced away, embarrassment causing his face to burn. "...I just needed this, okay?"
It was a full minute of silence before Present Mic squirmed out of the bag, pulling him over to the couch and onto his lap. "Then if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right."
Aizawa watched him remove his speaker and glasses before being pulled close, his head coming to rest on Mic's shoulder as he reconsidered the situation. "Hizashi-"
"There," Mic interrupted. "Now that we're both a little more comfortable, get some sleep."
"Are you sure-"
"Sleep, Shouta. Don't make me sing for you, because I will."
Aizawa sighed in defeat and closed his eyes, the nagging feeling slowly fading away as he drifted to sleep.
When the alarm on his phone went off about two hours later, Aizawa was wrapped in a blanket, the feeling of fingers trailing through his hair gently. The nagging craving that had been bothering him had completely vanished, leaving him content and rejuvenated. He felt ready to take on the next task.
"Morning sleeping beauty," Mic greeted fondly. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," he muttered. The two of them stood up and gathered their things, and made their way out of the lounge. He didn't have long before he had to head out for patrol.
"Oh Shouta, wait a second." Mic reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Take these."
Aizawa stared at it for a second in confusion. "What is it? A love letter?"
"No!" Mic spat. "It's some freebie vouchers. Pick yourself up something to eat on your way to patrol, okay? Can't be a Hero on an empty stomach."
"Oh. Right." He gingerly took them, kicking himself mentally for forgetting dinner. "Thanks."
Mic smiled, holding back a snicker. "No problem. The least I can do."
The least you can do, huh? "Still, thanks. Not just for the food."
Before Mic could rope him into more of a conversation, he hurried off. He'd have to be fast if he was going to get something to eat before work.