Aizawa didn’t have many options. He refused to leave Eri in the apartment dorm by herself, and he still didn’t trust many people to babysit her. His students had class and there was a staff meeting scheduled right after his ended. The small girl would just have to come along.
She was happy when he first told her this the night previously, dabbing milk from an overflowing bowel of cereal off her cheek.
I get to play with Deku!” she chanted happily, the tiny movements she made making it difficult to finish cleaning her face. The over worked man sighed and retired his hand back to the space in front of him.
“No no Sweetie, Midoriya needs to do his work. But I’ll make sure you still have plenty to do while I teach.” she nodded at this, but he knew she didn’t really understand.
So there he was, standing so she could color in his chair, and teaching with eyes that watched her more than the students he was supposed to be paying attention to.
“So when a fire quirk is-“
“Daddy. Look at my picture.” She spoke over him, causing the flow of his words to stop for a moment of praise before he went on. He thought he heard someone in the room chuckle, but decided to ignore it because they were already behind.
He went on, watching his adopted daughter hop off the chair only to hop back in again only to come down and wander the front of the room, before settling on the floor by his feet. He hoped she wasn’t being too much of a distraction, because if class 1-A failed this test, he’d have no remorse or curve for their terrible grades.
But, it wasn’t long before the small girl began begging for more attention.
“Psst. Dad. Pssst. Dad!” Came Eri’s attempts at whispering from the space under the desk. He ignored her, opting for a loving pat on the head than another break in his teaching. But that didn’t detour her. She huffed and began pulling lightly on the long black pant leg dangling in front of her. “Daddy I wanna hold your hand,” she called impatiently, but not with any whine in her sweet voice. Again without ceasing his lesson, and admittedly without thinking too much about the action, Aizawa found himself teaching about battle strategy while bent halfway over to hold a small hand with white frill lacing the wrist.
Again, if there was amusement among the students, they said nothing, and neither did Aizawa.
The meeting went smoother than the class, as it took place in Eri’s nap time; and although she didn’t sleep, she laid contently against her precious Dad the whole time.
Unfortunately, his colleagues weren’t to scared of him to comment on his so called “soft nature”. Maybe there was something good about teenagers.
Although he couldn’t help but smile when halfway through a discussion about lesson plans Eri tiredly slurred something about her Dad being the best teacher ever.
After a well deserved nap for the both of them, Aizawa waking up shortly after the toddler, he decided he’d attempt to make dinner for once. Partly because a parenting advice book said he should, and partly because his sleeping bag and cranked up heater felt a lot nicer than the cold cafeteria.
The dish started out as noodles, then turned into soup, then turned into peanut butter and jelly with apple slices as he realized he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
Eri didn’t seem to mind though, as she climbed into her chair and ate the food with s wide grin spread across her face.
“Did you have a good day at school with me today, Eri?” Aizawa asked, head tilting to the side with his cheeks full of bread. She took a big gulp from her cat-adorned sippy cup and then set it down with an excited thud.
“Uh huh! I liked getting to see all my friends. Even if we didn’t get to play.” She added the last part more quietly.
“We can have Midoriya come and play with you on Saturday if you want?”
“I’ll ask him then, although I’m pretty sure I already know his answer.”
They fell into a comfortable, familiar, silence after that. Sometimes just enjoying each other’s company was enough for the two of them. With toys scattered on the floors, books on child-development opened and abandoned on every table, and crayon masterpieces covering every speck of the fridge’s surface, they might not know what they’re doing, but Aizawa sure as hell was glad they were doing it.
And so was Eri.