It was way too early for training. The sun had barely risen, the hallways of U.A. were still quiet, and you were running on about four hours of sleep and sheer willpower. Dragging your feet toward the common room, you froze at the sight before. Aizawa was slumped over the lounge couch, wrapped in his capture scarf like a human burrito, holding a steaming cup of coffee. His hair was even messier than usual, and that was saying something. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Aizawa took a slow sip of his coffee, then finally acknowledged you with a lazy glance.

“You’re awake too early.” Aizawa hummed, noncommittal, taking another sip. Despite your attempt to say the same about him he came on top, without even using his scolding tone. Aizawa didn’t even try to deny it, but you still felt like you lost this small exchange. He just took another long, slow sip of his coffee. “I have an excuse.” He raised his cup. “You don’t.”