Everyone knew All Might was an omega.
It came out early in his career, and although Yagi wasn't exactly keen on opening up about himself, he spoke openly when asked about it, citing his desire to inspire other omegas. Knowing the man as he did now, Aizawa suspected it was more due to the urging of his very shrewd PR team.
Omega heroes weren't common, but their numbers had grown in the years All Might had reigned supreme, and his sex had long since stopped being a source of interest to the public.
When he'd been new to the hero scene, fresh-faced and guileless, the media had harped on about it ad nauseam. Morning talk shows had brought on doctors and specialists, scrutinizing omega biology and heroics, all under the guise of concern for the supposed gentler sex.
"Omegas are too softhearted!"
"Those hormones? You know omegas can't be trusted to make serious decisions."
"What happens when he's in heat?"
"Aren't most villains alphas?"
Time and again, All Might had shown them all.
One particularly memorable incident stood out; when All Might fought off a villain with a seismic quirk. He smashed the assailant into the ground before rescuing nineteen civilians from a crumbling building.
By the time he was pulling the final person out, a little girl clung to his neck as she cried, news stations were already on the scene filming. Journalists rushed him, vying for attention until All Might had no choice but to say a few words about the attack.
It was a short interview, but only because it was obvious to everyone watching in person and at home what was happening.
Heavy breathing. Flushed, sweaty skin. Blown pupils.
All Might was in heat.
After that, people stopped wondering about how All Might's sex affected his hero work.
The answer was obvious – it didn't.
So, when Yagi Toshinori came to work at UA and Aizawa met him in person for the first time, he hadn't been surprised to catch a soft, alluring omega scent on the world's Symbol of Peace.
It was comforting, like Yamada when he wasn't doused in cologne, but also enticing in a way Aizawa wasn't familiar with. He'd found himself leaning into the scent just a tiny bit, just enough for Yamada to elbow him back to reality.
"Dude, have some decency."
Aizawa rolled his eyes, embarrassed at his own behavior but also mildly impressed at his best friend's ability to read him.
Later, squeezed into a small booth at their favorite bar, Aizawa had felt compelled to explain.
"He smells good."
"He smells sad."
Not for the first time, Aizawa wondered how Yamada made it through life as a teacher, with an omega’s ability to scent emotions.
"Sad, how?" Kayama reached over Aizawa, fishing the cherry out of Yamada's old fashioned.
Yamada shook his head, messy bun wobbling precariously on top of his bed.
"Kind of, I don't know…resigned."
"Based on what we saw today, he's got a lot to be resigned about," she replied.
Kayama was an alpha, but with her quirk, you'd never be able to tell by scent alone. Her personality made it abundantly clear, though.
There had been a tense period during their school years that she and Aizawa had spent at each other's throats, alpha instincts heightened by puberty and the presentation of their closest friend as an omega.
It hadn't taken long for Aizawa to mellow out, hormones leveling and his own true reserved personality pushing through.
Kayama still tried to alpha him on occasion, but he rarely cared enough to fight back.
For a brief second though, Aizawa felt that old urge to posture against her. The mere idea of another alpha catching the same scent he'd found earlier raised a low growl in his chest.
It was short-lived – he knew how stupid he was being, the school was full of alphas – but it was enough to draw their attention.
Yamada and Kayama were watching him in varying degrees of shock.
Aizawa felt a blush bloom across his cheeks and Kayama's face split into a grin, eyes shining with glee.
Yamada looked unusually calculating.
"Are you kidding me?" Kayama cackled. "You just growled. At me. Over All Might."
No amount of denial was enough to convince her that wasn't what just happened.
During those first few months working together, Aizawa came to the realization that Yagi Toshinori and All Might did not have the same scent.
Which was good for Aizawa, who actively tried to avoid Yagi, but was forced to interact with All Might during classes.
All Might's scent was still distinctly omega, heady like lavender and mint. Except it carried a sharp metallic tang that wasn't quite repellent but very clearly said ‘stay back.' Aizawa recognized it as a defensive omega scent, but it was one he'd always associated with mothers of small children or victims in fight or flight response.
Yagi's scent was similar, but instead of keeping others away, it begged them closer. Decidedly floral and wonderfully enticing. Aizawa knew he wasn't the only one who was pulled in. He saw the other alphas on staff who sometimes tracked Yagi’s movements, going out of their way to pull his chair out or make him tea.
It set Aizawa's teeth on edge, but he did his utmost to ignore it.
Then Kamino happened.
In the aftermath of his injuries, Yagi smelled a lot like he had in his powered state. Defensive – coppery and bitter. So bitter.
It was strong enough to raise the hair on the back of Aizawa's neck, his quirk simmering under his skin, sensing danger, every protective instinct he had triggered.
"Does he have anyone to stay with?" Yamada whispered, biting at his cuticles, a nervous habit Aizawa thought he'd kicked. "There has to be—I don’t know—there has to be something we can do. I can't take it you guys, it's so fucking devastating."
His eyes were wet behind his glasses, and his scent had taken on a different quality, like Yagi's emotions were powerful enough to influence him.
"It's not our place to interfere," Aizawa reminded him.
It was a reminder to himself, too. Aizawa was currently fighting the urge to move closer to Yagi, grab the lapels of his suit jacket and pull him in, bury his face in Yagi's throat until Aizawa's scent overpowered his.
Hands grabbed his hair, tugging sharply enough to snap him out of the absolutely inappropriate thoughts he was having in the middle of a staff meeting.
"Keep it together, Sho."
Aizawa turned grateful eyes to his best friend before looking back to the syllabus they were supposed to be revising.
On the other side of the room, Yagi coughed. Vlad King practically fell out of his chair trying to get him a tissue and Aizawa did his best to tune it all out.
"I've never seen you like this about someone's scent." Yamada was still whispering, thankfully. "If I were anyone else I might be jealous."
Aizawa didn't have an answer. He didn't understand it any more than his best friend.
He'd never been particularly attracted to omega scent before. Certainly, never enough to pursue somebody on that basis alone. He wasn't even sure if what he was feeling was attraction, but lately it felt like he could think of nothing but Yagi.
Aizawa decided to talk to Kayama about it. She was an alpha, as well as his best friend, so he hoped she would have some insight. He found the chance one day after a training exercise.
She and Yagi assisted in supervising the students as they tested their ultimate moves against each other, and Aizawa caught them laughing together a few times.
Afterward, when they were alone, Aizawa could detect the faintest traces of Yagi on Kayama. The metallic smell had faded back to his natural, fresh blossom scent, which pleased a base, animalistic part of Aizawa's brain.
Until it remembered he was catching the scent secondhand from another alpha.
He felt the rumbling in his chest before he heard it.
"Don't make me put you to sleep Shota, I'm running low on my tear away leotards."
Aizawa took a deep breath, holding it for a second before exhaling slowly through his mouth.
"Why does Yagi smell so…different?"
Kayama tilted her head thoughtfully. "Does he? I haven't noticed anything particularly noteworthy. Well, he did smell a little off-putting after the whole ordeal in Kamino Ward, but he was injured, so that's normal."
"No, not then. His scent now, it's…I don't know how to describe it. Sort of—appealing."
"Shota," she rolled her eyes upward. "You're an alpha. Omegas are supposed to smell appealing."
"No, this is different," he insisted. "It's…more. I'm not the only one who thinks so, you've seen the other teachers with him."
She did not look convinced by his claim.
"Newsflash, Shota. All of the alphas on staff are like that with the omegas on staff."
"Alphas are supposed to be attentive towards omegas, it's how our brains are wired. You've never thought it was weird that Ectoplasm makes Hizashi and Majima coffee every morning?"
"That's not…instinct driven. He's just being nice."
Kayama looked at him wryly over the rim of her glasses. "Does he ever make you coffee?"
Aizawa tried to recall the staff room morning routine. Ectoplasm did always make enough coffee for Present Mic and Power Loader…but he just made a full pot of coffee. That was normal.
Except sometimes he poured their cups first, to make sure they got any before the other teachers had a chance at the pot. And Aizawa had once seen him make tea for Yagi too, which was especially odd because Ectoplasm didn't even drink tea.
Kayama went on. "You can't pretend like you've never noticed the way Hound Dog has Vlad wrapped around his finger."
"I thought they were a couple?"
She snorted. "Vlad wishes."
"So, no one else thinks his scent is unusually good?" Aizawa was feeling particularly out of depth. He wasn't imagining this, right?
Kayama shrugged. "He smells like an omega. I guess he smells kind of flowery—"
"Lavender," Aizawa interrupted. "And jasmine. Sometimes mint."
She lifted a single eyebrow slowly, and Aizawa blushed.
"Or something, I don't know."
"You know," she continued slyly, “they say when someone's pheromones stand out to you in a particularly good way, it means you're really compatible. Biologically."
Aizawa wrinkled his nose. They said that in shitty romance movies and hallmark cards. That didn't make it real.
He was thirty-one years old. If scentmates were a real thing, he would have come across it before. No one stood out in his memory as being particularly remarkable.
"So you've experienced this before?"
"Have I passed people on the street who smelled better to me than others? Yes. Have I found myself unable to suppress my baser alpha instincts and growled at my best friend over the attention of an omega? Not since high school."
"You've been really helpful, thanks so much." He poured every ounce of sarcasm he had available into his words.
She rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly. "Why don't you just ask Yagi out?"
"Are you out of your mind?" Aizawa took a step back, throwing his friend a dark look. "I'm not asking out a coworker. Especially not based on a—some sort of—of, pheromone bullshit."
"Whatever, Shota, die alone. It's your life." She threw her hands up.
That was about the time Aizawa decided to stop thinking about it.
So what if Yagi smelled like flowers and mint and sometimes honey. So what if it made Aizawa's mouth water from all the way across the campus anytime the wind picked it up even the tiniest bit.
He wasn't going to do anything about it, and neither was Yagi, as far as he knew.
Because, yeah, Aizawa had seen enough shitty romance movies to know that if scentmates were a thing, it was a two-way street. Yagi did not seem particularly interested in Aizawa or how he smelled, so it stood to reason that was not what was happening here.
Aizawa was sure of it.
And he felt like he was doing a pretty decent job of ignoring it.
There was a touch and go moment when they'd shared the cramped back seat of a cab visiting students' homes where Aizawa found himself seconds from pinning Yagi down and licking his throat.
But besides that!
It was fine. Totally fine.
Until one day it very much wasn't.
It was the scent that woke Aizawa up, permeating his apartment door, and drifting into his bedroom. The second his eyes cracked open, he recognized exactly what it was.
The first stirring of an oncoming heat.
With startling clarity, Aizawa knew that it was Yagi.
As an alpha, he couldn't understand the subtleties of emotion in another person's pheromones like an omega could, but Aizawa had never experienced a scent so begging and beguiling. Like new blooms on a tree, fertile and expectant, it had his dick achingly hard.
He was on his feet and halfway to the door before his brain caught up. What was he going to do, charge down to Yagi's apartment and confront him? There was a certain appeal to that idea, but Aizawa pushed it aside quickly.
It was going to be hard to bear, though. And if this were only the first day Aizawa was picking it up, then the scent would only get stronger.
Aizawa breathed deep, holding it inside for a few seconds, before releasing the breath in a shudder.
Maybe he should call in sick.
That would be ridiculous though, pre-heat could last a few weeks and then what of Yagi's actual heat?
Nezu would hardly be understanding of a three-week vacation in the middle of the school year, purely due to Aizawa inability to control his baser instincts – something he regularly scolded his students to master.
Standing in the middle of his living room, Aizawa continued to breathe slowly, in and out, until the scent no longer nagged at him to find, soothe, protect. Until his soft sleep pants were no longer tented with an inappropriate erection.
The scent was stronger outside of his apartment, but his efforts to get used to it seemed passably successful.
Skipping his typical morning routine of coffee in the break room, Aizawa went about his day as if nothing unusual was happening.
He was able to make it back to his rooms that afternoon without running into Yagi at all. And if he barely made it inside, back pressed against his front door, before shoving a hand down his pants – well, that was no one’s business but his own.
Aizawa made it an entire week like that, not seeing Yagi but increasingly aware of his presence on campus. It was almost a blessing that he’d become so attuned to his scent, as it allowed him to avoid Yagi like the plague.
Unfortunately, it also had the unexpected side effect of seriously bumming Aizawa out.
As it turned out, Aizawa actually enjoyed Yagi’s presence.
A week without Yagi’s fond smiles or his surprisingly dark commentary. The way he stooped low when passing through door frames. His softly muttered cursing.
A week without booming enthusiasm for the student’s accomplishments or stern lecturing when Aizawa was too hard on them.
A week without jasmine and lavender and mint.
A week with entirely too much jerking off.
And therein lie the reason for his forced avoidance.
The closer Yagi got to actual heat, the more Aizawa wanted to hump him.
It was becoming a serious problem.
So though he missed Yagi, he had no intention of seeking him out. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted his self-restraint, and they did live at a school surrounded by teenagers, not to mention Aizawa wasn’t particularly interested in assaulting a coworker.
Yamada, of course, found this all hilarious.
“You’re afraid you’re gonna—” His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he bent over, wheezing laughter. “You’re gonna—what, molest him?”
“Would you shut up for once in your life,” Aizawa scanned the room looking for anyone who might be listening. Fortunately, the three o’clock bar crowd was sparse and disinterested. “Don’t act like you don’t know what a whisper is.”
His friend was still giggling, loud even when stifled into his palm. Yamada was dressed casually, his hair down and directional speaker missing. Without the effective collar or deluge of hairspray, his natural scent was noticeable. He smelled good, soft and sweet, like fresh mochi.
His was a scent Aizawa knew well. Distinctly omega, but nothing that had ever given him a second thought. Even close to heat, when Yamada’s pheromones were sweetest, Aizawa had never felt particularly enticed.
Aizawa found himself leaning far into his friend’s personal space before he’d even realized it, nose almost touching Yamada’s collarbone as he looked closely at the unblemished, bare skin of his neck, right where the scent glands hid below the surface.
Aizawa squinted hard, consideringly, before he remembered himself and looked up.
Yamada was grinning. “Sup?”
There was no way to hide the blush Aizawa felt on his face. He rolled his eyes at his traitorous body and sat back.
“You don’t smell all that great.”
“Wow, Shota, my oldest and dearest friend. Thank you so much!” Yamada pressed a hand to his chest and blinked up at the ceiling theatrically.
“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Aizawa gestured to his exposed throat. “Nemuri said alphas are supposed to cater to omegas, but I’ve never felt inclined to bend over backward for you.”
Yamada smirked. “You did in high school.”
With a huff that blew up his bangs, Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Okay, besides when we were sixteen and everything we did was motivated by our hormones.”
Yamada waved his hand through the air, taking a sip from the rocks glass in front of him.
“Nemuri wants to see drama in everything. Some alphas are like that. More at the school than is normal, I think. Heroes, you know—hero complexes.” He laughed. “You’re not weird because you don’t treat omegas special. It’s actually kind of…nice. One of the things I like about you.”
He smiled, and it wasn't his usual obnoxious grin, but small and sort of sheepish.
“Does it bother you, people going out of their way to be nice to you?” Aizawa had never really thought about it.
Even when Yamada had presented as an omega, he’d really only thought about it in terms of how it affected him – evoking childish aggression and possessiveness in turns. Four times a year Yamada took a week off from all his jobs to go into heat and Aizawa had never considered how frustrating that might have been for a man who felt the need to fill every second of every day with productivity.
Was Aizawa an asshole?
“Eh,” Yamada shrugged. “It did when I was younger, and I wanted people to take me seriously as a hero. Now, it doesn’t really phase me. Villains certainly aren’t cutting me any slack ‘cause I’m an omega, so I don’t have time to be upset about some alpha trying to be overly chivalrous.”
His electric green eyes were even more dizzying when they rolled upwards in exasperation.
“Anyway, I’m hardly gonna complain about people being too nice to me. When they start getting shitty, then I speak up.” He swallowed the rest of the drink, holding his cup up towards the bar to flag a server before looking back to Aizawa with a grin. “You smell guilty. Why?”
“There’s just a lot of stuff I’ve never really thought about, I guess.” Aizawa wished for his capture weapon, something to hide his face in while he tried to sort out his feelings. “You’ve had to deal with a lot of bullshit. I feel like, maybe, I could have…been a better friend—I don’t know.”
Yamada’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Sho-chan! Are you finally learning empathy? It only took you thirty-one years!”
“Never mind, I don’t give a shit about your feelings.” Aizawa downed half the beer in front of him to help prove his point.
The server appeared with a new drink while Yamada got his giggling under control. She was an omega, Aizawa could smell it on her, but much like every other omega he’d ever met before Yagi, it felt uninteresting and inconsequential.
“Hey, don’t feel bad. Feelings aren’t exactly your jam, man. I’m not hurt that you haven’t asked me about my hormones or like, pried into my love life.”
Aizawa shuddered at the thought. Yamada’s last girlfriend had been terrifying, a boisterous extrovert with hair made of fire. Aizawa still didn’t know how Yamada made it out unscathed.
“And anyway, being an omega isn’t all bad. There’s some stuff I could pass on, but I’m sure there’s weird alpha shit I’d hate too. Like, moods? How the hell do alphas figure that shit out? No wonder you’re such a disaster—” Aizawa scowled, but Yamada barreled on. “I can’t imagine not being able to scent emotions! It makes everything so much more real."
“I think it sounds like a nightmare.”
Yamada smirked. “You would. Bet you’d change your tune if it’d help you figure out this Yagi situation.”
Oh God. Aizawa let his head smack against the wall painfully. He’d forgotten the entire reason they were sitting in a dive bar on a Sunday afternoon. For a full ten minutes, Aizawa had been able to think about something else besides the fact that he was losing his mind.
“You should try talking to him.”
“Oh, right. And I would say what, exactly?” Aizawa scoffed. “Hey, Yagi, I know it’s a biological imperative you have no control over, but could you stop going into heat? Thanks.”
Aizawa didn’t even flinch at the balled-up paper napkin Yamada threw in his face, not bothering to shake it free when it got stuck in his tangled hair.
What did it matter anyway?
“Or you could talk to him like a normal person?” Yamada sighed. “He’d probably appreciate it. He’s been really down, lately.”
This caused Aizawa to pause, and he gave Yamada a go on look.
“Like, Yagi’s scent is always mildly depressed, but lately it’s been even more of a bummer. I don’t think it’s his heat either.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know man, maybe his closest friend at the school avoiding him like the plague for a week?”
Something clenched painfully in Aizawa’s chest, but he pushed it down, shaking his head hard enough to dislodge the napkin.
“We’re not that close.”
Yamada scoffed. “I know you genuinely believe you’ve been successful in staying unattached, but in reality you hang out with him more than even me, these days. Or you did before you started this weird alpha bullshit. He misses you, dude.”
“You’re seriously overestimating my value in Yagi’s life.”
“And you’re seriously underestimating it. The man likes you. I know it. Nemuri knows it. The whole staff knows it—probably even some of the smarter students, too.”
Aizawa was starting to sweat, his heart pounding a little harder than was strictly necessary for merely sitting in a dark bar drinking shitty beer.
“Look Sho,” Yamada cut him off. “You know I love to sit around and listen to you lie to yourself, but this is one of those times I gotta pull the best friend card and tell you to wise the fuck up.”
“You really think he—” Aizawa struggled to get the word out, “likes me?”
Blonde hair almost whipped him in the face, Yamada threw his head back so quickly. “Yeah, man!”
Shocked faces turned towards their table at the volume of his voice, both they both ignored it, used to those type of reactions.
“Urgh,” Aizawa groaned, laying his head against the table despondently. “What am I supposed to do, Hizashi? This doesn’t change anything—” It changed a lot. “I can’t go talk to him now, when one whiff has me hard and panting. I’m pathetic—”
“No arguing there,” Yamada’s voice traded exasperation for cheer. “But I have an idea.”
Those words from Yamada Hizashi were enough to send a shiver down his spine, but Aizawa was not in a position to be picky. He looked up.
Yamada grinned. “Get him to come to you.”
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t Yamada’s worst plan.
There were probably other ways he could have gone about settling all of this, but with most of the blood pooling in his groin these days, he didn’t have a lot of energy to spare towards brainpower.
Some parts were a little flimsier than others – ’he can’t approach you in a public area, obviously, but you’ve been giving him the slip all week so you should be okay!’ – but overall, it was solid.
So Aizawa tried not to feel too stupid as he left a black sweater in the teacher’s lounge the next morning.
It was one of his favorites, well-worn and unwashed – ’that’s important!’ – it was baggier than most of his already over-large tops.
He left it on the couch, tossed carelessly across the back like he’d merely forgotten it. He didn’t run into Yagi, having ducked into the lounge after classes already started – his students could wait – which meant that now Aizawa had nothing to do but sit and wonder.
When he returned briefly around lunch, it was still there, and Aizawa tried to brush off the pang of anxiety in his stomach.
It was possible Yamada was wrong, and Yagi wasn’t actually interested in him that way. Maybe Yagi was sad Aizawa had been avoiding him, but it could have just been one friend hurt by another friend’s callous treatment.
Or maybe Yagi did like him, but like a normal person, e.g., not Aizawa, he wasn’t particularly affected by his scent and didn’t have much interest in his sweater.
Aizawa brought this concern up to Yamada the day before, who waved it off.
“He’s going into heat soon. Even if he’s not gaga for your scent, in particular, he’ll still appreciate something soft and alpha-y to nest. I’m not into you, and I steal your shit now and then.”
Aizawa tried to put it out of his mind, but he still snuck back to peek into the lounge after class.
The sweater was gone.
Warmth curled in Aizawa’s chest, and he had to fight a smile.
The next step was more difficult, but Aizawa had faith in Yamada’s plan now, and therefore more determination to see it through.
Luckily for him, Yagi was a creature of habit. Aizawa found him in the shared space of the teacher’s dorms drinking tea enough to know about what time he would be there.
Usually, Aizawa joined him. Not overtly, not at first. In the beginning, he’d tended to grab a spot on the other couch and grade papers, not saying a word. Sometimes he’d bring a book or catnap.
There was something about being around Yagi that was soothing, and it wasn’t just his scent.
Eventually, he’d begun sharing the same couch as Yagi, commenting on his atrocious grading – far too lenient – or whatever he happened to be reading at the time – terrible courtroom dramas.
After a while, Yagi had started to expect him. He would make two cups of tea, before Aziawa showed up. Sometimes Yagi never even remembered pick up his book, too caught up in conversation or comfortable shared silence.
Fuck…no wonder he was upset about Aizawa avoiding him.
Feeling like the worst kind of asshole, but also weirdly excited, Aizawa utilized this knowledge of Yagi’s schedule to make his move.
Aizawa gathered up the soft throw blanket he kept on his couch, the one he usually wrapped himself up in when he fell asleep there. Quietly, he snuck it into the common room, leaving it on the couch he knew Yagi preferred, before darting back to his own place.
He waited for a few hours, far later than Yagi usually stayed up, before creeping downstairs to check. He could have put it off, he had to walk through the common room to leave the dorm in the morning, but he had to know. The sweater could have been a fluke. Someone else could have taken it by mistake. If Yagi took the blanket…it meant something. It had to.
Holding his breath, Aizawa checked around the corner.
The blanket was gone.
Aizawa didn’t sleep that night. He tried not to think about it – Yagi wrapped up in his blanket, covering it with his scent.
It was maddening.
Very early the next morning, or incredibly late that same night, Aizawa wasn’t sure, found him in the teacher’s offices. No one was there at this hour, so Aizawa was free to slink up to Yagi’s desk and rifle through his things.
He wasn’t actually looking at anything too hard. That wasn’t the point of this.
Un-showered and slightly sweaty from a night spent tossing and turning, Aizawa knew the scent of alpha would have been evident to anyone.
That he was taking care to rub the scent gland in his wrist over the chair and papers was the real reason for the early morning infiltration mission.
Aizawa wasn’t sure what had made him think of it – this hadn’t been in Yamada’s plan – but for some reason, it had felt important.
Yagi had taken his things, soft fabrics that would go well in a nest, they would also carry his scent. But it was only two items, and most omegas covered an entire bed in soft pillows and blankets. Aizawa’s scent would be drowned out almost immediately in Yagi’s own.
That couldn’t happen.
He needed—Aizawa wanted—
He just had to know Yagi smelled like him.
It was imperative.
So that was how Aizawa found himself standing over Yagi’s desk, lightly touching his things, at three in the morning – like an absolute creeper.
He sat down in Yagi’s chair slowly as the realization that he was acting like a lunatic came over him.
Was this normal? There was no way this could be normal.
He was just about to text Yamada, three am be damned, when the door to the office opened.
Whoever was coming in wouldn’t be able to see Aizawa, it wasn’t like he’d turned a light on like a sane person, but Aizawa had no trouble at all recognizing who it was.
Jasmine and lavender and mint. The usual faint trace of honey was so much more pronounced, heavy with impending heat.
Yagi gasped softly, pausing as he reached for the light switch.
With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the moonlight spilling through the window, Aizawa could just make out the way Yagi froze.
Aizawa stood up, became aware of his raging erection and how obvious it was in his thin sleep pants, and sat back down.
“What, um… What are you doing?”
“Sitting.” Dying. Literally dying, Aizawa was sure of it.
“Oh, uh—I’m sorry I interrupted. I’ll just—” Yagi began to turn to leave, and Aizawa felt something grip deep down inside of him.
“Stay!” For a second, Aizawa thought Yamada had snuck into the room until he realized the shout he could still hear echoing off the walls had come from him.
Yagi remained frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Aizawa could just make out the gleam of brilliant icy blue in the moonlight.
Taking deep, even breaths, Aizawa tried to will himself into serenity. He had to calm down, stop staring at Yagi like he was a meal waiting to be eaten. He was so distracted counting his breathing – inhale in four, hold for seven, exhale in eight – that he didn’t notice the way Yagi was sidling nearer.
It wasn’t until he spoke, and his voice was so close, that Aizawa realized what had happened.
“Why are you sitting at my desk?”
For a second, Aizawa couldn’t remember. Why was he in the teacher’s offices at three in the morning? Why was he sitting at Yagi’s desk and not his own?
It was so hard to think with those sweet, floral pheromones drifting closer and closer.
Why was Yagi moving closer?
“My things…” Yagi was looking at his desk. Aizawa wasn’t sure how much he could see in the dark – did he realize the state Aizawa was in? He had to smell it – but he must have noticed the way his papers had been moved. Rifled through.
Aizawa’s heart was racing, it felt like he was going to be sick. Yagi was standing so close now, he could reach out and touch Aizawa if he wanted to, and there was sweat winding its way down from Aizawa’s temple. He gripped the chair hard.
There was only one rational thing to do in this situation.
“I wanted them to smell like me.”
Time seemed to slow, and Aizawa was suddenly very aware of the ticking of the analog clock on the wall.
“My lesson plans?”
“I want you to smell like me. You took my sweater and my blanket, but…it might not be enough.”
Standing in front of him, Yagi squirmed.
“You…knew about that?” He touched lightly at his face, and Aizawa wished the room was bright enough for him to see if Yagi was blushing.
“I left them out for you to take.”
Yagi took a step back in surprise and Aizawa fought the urge to grab him before he could move further away.
Aizawa hesitated, tilting his head to the side sharply until there was a cracking pop. How much to reveal?
“Hizashi said it might help. With your heat.”
Aizawa still couldn’t see, but he knew for sure Yagi was blushing then by the way he tugged his bangs into his face as if to hide.
“You want to help with my heat?” Yagi’s voice was sort of…hopeful.
“Yes, please. Is there anything—"
“Your scarf…” Yagi’s eyes darted away, flashing in the darkness.
“It’s a capture weapon,” Aizawa said automatically. He immediately wanted to shake himself, at the way his words made Yagi swallow nervously. It didn’t it matter what his binding cloth was called, Yagi could call it a fucking scarf if he wanted to.
“Yeah, that…” More looking away. “Do you, uh—have more than one?”
Aizawa’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Yes. Why?”
“Can I…” Yagi released a shuddery breath. “Can I have one? I’ll give it back! I just…”
The blood in Aizawa’s body rushed, and for a second, he felt faint. Fuck. Yagi wanted his capture weapon to nest with.
Aizawa didn’t know what emotion his scent revealed just then, but suddenly Yagi was huffing loudly, clearly upset. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. I don’t understand—why would you…”
“I didn’t know—” that you liked me, that this would be welcome, that I’m an idiot, “how to act.”
Yagi didn’t seem sure of what that meant. Aizawa wasn’t exactly positive either, he’d lost the ability to think rationally about three days past.
“Have you never been around an omega in pre-heat before?”
“It’s just you.” Aizawa cringed, backtracking. “Not you. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I don’t—I can’t stop—ugh. There’s something about your scent—”
“Oh!” Yagi gasped, and once more Aizawa was made aware of how close he was. Even nearer now. Close enough to lift a knee and slide into Aizawa’s lap.
Aizawa ached at the thought, and he might have even moaned a little, but it was hard to tell with the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
“Aizawa-kun…” Shit. His voice was softer. Lower. Like Yagi was bending over to whisper a secret. “You smell agonized.”
Much without his permission, Aizawa’s hands reached out to grab Yagi’s hips. “Stop me if you don’t want this.”
But instead of pulling away, he was pushing into Aizawa’s space, sliding a knee over Aizawa’s legs, clambering into his lap and settling his ass against Aizawa’s straining dick. Pressing his own erection into Aizawa’s stomach.
Aizawa was going to blackout.
He might have, already.
Yagi’s hands wound into his hair, long fingers snagging in tangles. “Shota—” Aizawa’s hands on his hips tightened. “Please tell me—”
“I want you,” he suppressed a groan as Yagi rocked his hips. “You smell so fucking good.”
“I thought it was just me,” Yagi breathed.
With a rush of heat through his body, Aizawa finally gave in to the urge he’d been suppressing for almost an entire year, burying his face into Yagi’s neck.
Yagi inhaled sharply, his body stiffening as Aizawa ran the tip of his nose from his chin to the hollow of his throat, breathing heavily over his skin.
“Your scent,” Yagi shivered. “It’s so wonderful. Why do you smell so wonderful?”
He pressed his cheek against Aizawa’s skull, burying his nose into dark hair. His hands slid down around Aizawa’s shoulders, wrapping him up.
Aizawa shook his head, too caught up in the unadulterated aroma of the man in his lap to talk. He ran his hands up Yagi’s back, grateful for his thin pajamas, pulling him in closer. He was still hard – they both were – but he didn’t want to do anything more. Wasn’t ready to let Yagi out of his space even the tiniest bit.
“Shota—” Yagi began, breaking off in gasp when Aizawa licked over his scent gland. “I need…”
“What?” Aizawa spoke into his throat, his lips skating across overheated skin.
“Kiss me.” Aizawa could feel Yagi’s blush. “Please.”
It was effortless for Aizawa to press his lips to Yagi’s throat – his mouth was already right there. He was rewarded by the loosening of Yagi’s shoulders. He kissed again, higher and a little harder, and Yagi’s entire body seemed to relax against him.
Aizawa placed a kiss at the underside of Yagi’s jaw, wet and with a hint of teeth, and the scent of Yagi grew exponentially heavier.
Stifling a groan, Aizawa finally pulled back far enough to meet Yagi’s mouth with his own. Biting at his bottom lip and pushing his tongue deep inside.
The sugary scent of honey was beginning to overwhelm the usually fresh scent of flowers, and Aizawa felt a dribble of precum soak into the cotton of his pants. Yagi mewled into his mouth, grinding his hips down.
This close to heat, he was probably wet.
Aizawa pulled away with a wet smack, saliva breaking between them. He leaned his forehead against Yagi’s chest and tried to catch his breath, but he didn’t let go.
“Toshinori,” Aizawa ignored the way the sound of his own name made Yagi squirm, desperately trying to regain his composure. “I’ve been an idiot.”
Yagi rumbled with laughter and Aizawa was glad his face was hidden.
“I like you,” Aizawa spoke into his chest. “I thought it was just your scent—I’ve never wanted anything like I want your scent—but I was being naïve. It’s…more.”
Yagi hummed low in his throat. He was still relaxed, the endocrine cocktail his body had served up at being scented kept his muscles loose and pliant.
“You smell honest.”
Aizawa snorted, smiling softly. “That’s helpful.”
“I don’t just mean right now—although you do. I meant, in general. Your scent…it’s honest—and sometimes anxious. Like cold wind in the forest. Pine trees.”
Aizawa held his breath. No one had ever told him what his scent was like before. It was so intimate.
“This entire time…” Yagi sighed. “We’ve wasted a lot of time.”
Time passing was what Yagi feared most. Aizawa felt foolish for ignoring his feelings for so long. For denying them what they’d both, apparently, wanted.
Aizawa hummed before something struck him. “What are you doing here this late?”
“Ahh, I, um, couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get some work done before I’m out for a week.”
Right. Yagi would be indisposed for an entire week. Now, the past week spent avoiding him felt even more wearied. Aizawa tried not to imagine what Yagi would be up to the whole time he was out, instead, focusing on his other words.
Yagi twisted restlessly in his lap, and Aizawa was made acutely aware of how long his legs were, how precariously Yagi was perched over his thighs. He placed a steadying hand on the small of Yagi’s back.
“I have…weird dreams, during pre-heat. Keeps me up.” He sounded tired. “Your blanket helped.”
There was a rumbling in his chest at that thought, but before Aizawa had a chance to feel embarrassed, Yagi’s scent ratcheted back up. Less honey, more jasmine and mint.
Aizawa couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was a pleased scent.
“You should sleep in my bed.”
“O—oh?” Yagi was always so timid when offered assistance, it made Aizawa crazy. Like he was scared to say yes, afraid it would be yanked back.
Knowing that he’d spent most of his life alone, fighting villains during heats and pushing down natural omega urges explained a lot of it, but still.
He deserved to be helped.
Aizawa wanted to help him. “Yeah. If having an alpha scent makes it easier—”
“Yours,” Yagi interrupted. “Specifically. Just so we’re clear.”
Then again, just because he was occasionally timid didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of incredible directness.
“All the more reason. You have to get a good night’s sleep if you want to be an effective teacher.”
“From the man who barely sleeps at all?”
“I could probably sleep, right now.”
It was true. The tension had left Aizawa's body, the adrenaline from being inundated with Yagi’s scent having passed. He’d calmed, no longer hard, and if he laid down, wrapped in jasmine and lavender and mint – he’d sleep soundly.
“Come on.” Aizawa pushed Yagi gently out of his lap, pulling on his wrist to tug him towards the dorms. Yagi followed willingly.
Herding him into his apartment like an overprotective sheepdog, Aizawa felt something primal settle inside him once he had Yagi splayed out in his bed.
This was good. This felt right.
Yagi agreed, if the soft, omega purring was anything to go by. Aizawa kept his head pressed to Yagi’s chest so that he could hear it better.
“Thank you,” Yagi slurred, his fingers wound into Aizawa’s hair.
Aizawa tried to reply. Tell him he had nothing to thank, that Yagi was helping him sleep just as much as the reverse, that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. But he couldn’t seem to work his mouth, give voice to his thoughts.
Instead, he just hummed, a content note, and let the smell of honey and flowers carry him off.