Hey, thank you so much!!! Whump Fic Bingo from this post!

I was tempted to do a shipping one but then I had this idea and wanted to do it instead, I hope you don’t mind!!

Making excuses to linger because they don’t want to be alone

Warnings: references to Child Abuse

“Todoroki, whilst the last thing I want to do is discourage diligence in a student, you really don’t need to actually polish the classroom floor. We pay very competent staff to do that. And they use machines. Well, Himiko uses her quirk, but the rest of the staff use machines. And whilst I think it’s very…” Aizawa pauses, searching for the appropriate word with which to describe his latest wayward student’s antics, “admirable, that you have so much respect for your, uh, place of learning…This isn’t necessary. At all.”

Todoroki Shouto, whom Aizawa had found in his classroom forty-five minutes after the final bell of term had punched its cacophony throughout the campus, seems to be trying very hard not to look at him. Given Aizawa’s quirk and career, this is not an unusual experience for him. So he sighs, and he crosses his arms, and he leans against the doorframe. When Todoroki does speak, he does so quietly, with the kind of composure a poker player would kill for (and, in one horrific case of a face-stealing quirk user, actually did).

“I’m sorry, sir, I was just…” Todoroki pauses. Outside, the afternoon sun is low and warm. Distantly, there’s the sound of traffic and students giving one another tearful, melodramatic farewells. “I thought it would be helpful.” It’s a weak finish, and Aizawa doubts even Todoroki himself buys it. He doesn’t, if Aizawa is to judge by the brief irritation that flickers across his features. 

“Right. Well, it…” A brief struggle between Aizawa’s far too soft heart and his far harder mind ensues. His heart, weakened by a hopelessly crafted and comically huge farewell card from his third year students, wins out. “It was very helpful. But you can go now. I’m sure your family are eager to see you.”

The fact that Todoroki stiffens like he’s been stung by an insect when Aizawa says the word “family” is the kind of detail that a civilian may never have noticed. Aizawa, however, has spent over twenty years without the luxury of being able to miss subtle details, and as the single responsible guardian for twenty teenagers with a death wish, his already sharp instincts are sharpest when he’s at work. He doesn’t frown, because he doesn’t know whether he wants Todoroki to know that he noticed. Instead he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, studiously casual. “Are they not here yet?” It’s the most likely cause of hurt, and it’s the first thing he needs to cross off his list.

Todoroki frowns, glancing out of the window apparently despite himself as he slips a hand into his pocket. “Uh, no. I mean, my sister’s here.”

That’s a possible explanation, at least. “Not your father, then?”

It feels like a cheap shot to say that Todoroki freezes over, but Aizawa can’t think of a better way to describe the manner in which one of his best students grows still and cold. “No.”

Aizawa thinks there could be plenty of reasons for a teenager to be angry with his father, especially a father who was absent on the last day of term to pick him up from boarding school. He also thinks that he’s missing something. “The life of a hero is a busy one, and demanding. I’m sure he would be here if he could.”

Todoroki laughs. It’s brief, and sharp, and mirthless, but it’s so rude that Aizawa finds himself momentarily lost for words. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He clears his throat, and starts walking towards Aizawa and the door. The walls of his expression come back down and his features smooth into the same bored, calm exterior he usually presents to the world. “Sorry, sir. I should go. My sister is waiting.” Todoroki is about halfway across the classroom when he stops. One of his hands is flat beside him, palm down in a stopping gesture at the floor. He looks up at Aizawa, and a little of his facade peels back to reveal the faintest hint of desperation. The unease that has started to roll in Aizawa’s gut triples in strength, making its way to a fully fledged bad feeling. “Unless there’s anything else that I could help with? At all?”

Aizawa thinks about that. He thinks about the way that Todoroki has never, not even once, taken a trip home. UA had arranged for them of course: brief, discreet, well protected visits for students who got homesick. Almost every one of his students had taken one by now, even Midoriya Izuku and Iida Tenya, both of whom worked themselves far too hard as it was. Aizawa thinks about the way he’s heard Todoroki Enji talk about his son – or more specifically the way he hasn’t heard him talk about him. He thinks about how Enji only ever talks about Shouto as a hero, and a prodigy, and his successor, but never as a teenager or a child. He thinks about everything he knows about the world. 

Then he shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the wall with a deep sigh. “You can help me put the desks and chairs back, for a start. But you should let your sister know you’re going to be late.”

“She’ll understand.” Todoroki’s relief is palpable, and his phone is already in hand. Whilst he texts, Aizawa finds himself thinking about summer classes despite himself. 

He doesn’t know if this…Thing is a real problem, yet. He doesn’t know if it’s any of his business. But it’s a suspicion, and it’s a start, and for now Todoroki seems much happier than he had been five minutes ago. Aizawa will count that as a victory. At least for now.