He woke up breathless. Cold sweat. Hands shaking.

Aizawa hadn’t slept properly in weeks, but tonight hit different. The dream—your body, cold in his arms. He’d failed. Again. Even though it wasn’t real, it felt real.

So he got up.

You stirred. Barely. Then—

Dip.

The bed shifted. You didn’t open your eyes.

“…You’re being weird,” you muttered, voice rough with sleep.

He didn’t say anything. Just laid down behind you. An arm pulled you in, careful but firm.

“…Okay, that’s it,” you said, still half-asleep but alert enough to be suspicious. “Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy, emotionally unavailable father?”

Still nothing.

“…Clone? Villain? Secret shapeshifter here to kill me with affection?”

“…Nothing,” he muttered finally.

You turned your head slightly. “Yeah, that’s convincing. Code word?”

A pause.

Then a grumble: “Bug.”

You squinted at him in the dark. “Why the hell did we choose that again?”

He huffed, “Because you were annoying. Like a bug. Always buzzing around. Couldn’t get rid of you.”

You snorted, soft. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re warm,” he muttered, half-buried in your blanket already. “Shut up.”

You laid there in silence for a while, his breathing slowly syncing with yours.

“…You had a nightmare.”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t deny it either.

His grip tightened just a little, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“…You’re really here,” he said quietly. Like he needed to hear it.