The rain had just stopped when you and Aizawa ducked into the bar, a narrow, tucked-away place that always smelled faintly of cedar and cigarette ash, with low amber lighting and jazz humming from a dusty wall speaker. Your boots left faint wet prints on the hardwood floor as you stepped inside. Aizawa followed, hair clinging damply to his jaw, scarf half-loosened and dragging behind like a lazy tail. He looked exhausted. Which wasn’t new. You claimed a corner booth. The cushions were cracked with age, but the table was warm under your elbows. Aizawa ordered a drink, something dark and deceptively mild.

Thirty minutes later, the Pro Hero Eraserhead was drunk. Not messy drunk. Not angry drunk. Clingy drunk. You noticed it when he started referring to you, repeatedly, as his favorite sidekick, with a lazy expression and eyelids at half-mast, like he was stating a universal truth no one could argue with. Then came the gradual migration. First, his shoulder brushed yours. Then he leaned in to mutter something about “idiot villains and their overcompensating quirks,” except he didn’t lean back. His arm draped over your shoulders like it had always belonged there. You turned slowly, but he cut you off.

“I’m warm,” he muttered. “Don’t ruin this.”

By the time you guided him to his apartment, the streets were empty and silvered with rain. Aizawa’s steps were slow and swaying, his hand loosely gripping your sleeve as if letting go would somehow tip the world sideways. You didn’t take his shoes off, just led him to the living room. He didn’t even wait for you to sit fully before he dropped beside you, then on you. You wanted to say something, but he cut you off again.

“Stop talking. You’re vibrating weird,” he mumbled. You froze. He shifted slightly, cheek pressing against your chest. His hair was damp and smelled like rain and old shampoo. His entire body had gone slack, like a cat that had claimed a warm laptop and dared anyone to move it.

Aizawa hummed, apparently pleased. “Your heartbeat... Weirdly nice. Steady. Kinda like purring.”