Chapter Text
The best part of being pregnant was Hizashi’s unwavering beta-ness. He wasn’t smothering or aggressive or demanding like some alphas got; he actually listened to what Shouta said and would either acquiesce or provide a reasonable rebuttal; and he was fully capable of giving a back massage without it inevitably leading to sex. These were all things Shouta had appreciated before getting knocked up, of course, but he appreciated them even more now.
The worst part of being pregnant was. Well. Being pregnant.
“No hero work!” Hizashi chased Shouta around their apartment with a doctor’s note in his hand. Shouta, despite the stupid gravity-shifting lump in his midsection, managed to escape up into their attic storage space and hide in a corner while sucking a juice pack. Hizashi popped his head through the attic opening and narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re still working full-time as a high school teacher, what more do you want?”
“Wasn’t going to fight,” Shouta grumbled, finishing his juice pack and tossing the empty plastic off of Hizashi’s head. The beta just waved it off with an impatient hand. God knows how things would have been if both of them had been addled by hormones. That, and Hizashi was used to Shouta’s low-key tantrums by now. “Just used my Quirk to help out, is all.”
“It alerted the villains to your presence and you know it. They could have easily decided to take out the hidden enemy—e.g. you with a big enough baby bump your speed's been cut in half.”
“Sure, go off about my weight,” Shouta took out another juice pack from his pocket and stuck it into his mouth. “Not like sensitivity is important or anything.”
“You’re underweight for how far along you are,” Hizashi pointed out, though he did seem a bit chastised. Whatever. Shouta ignored him in favor of sucking the pack as noisily as possible. Hizashi switched tactics, widening big green eyes and pressing his lips into small pout. “And I made a real nice homecooked meal for the two of you too. Oh well. I guess I’ll just pack up the leftovers and give them to the rest of the faculty instead.”
Shouta glowered at Hizashi’s puppy-eyes. He finished the second juice pack and tossed it at the beta again. Hizashi let it hit him square between the eyes without comment, which was no fun.
“Fine,” Shouta snapped, unfurling himself from his cramped position and crawling over to the pull-down ladder. “But only because I’m tired of juice packs. No, I don’t need help getting down. Let go of me. No, I’m not going to fall.”
“Shouta,” Hizashi sighed once Shouta successfully pushed him back to the floor. It was probably terrifying to see his omega teetering on a flimsy pull-down ladder, but experience kept his feet firmly planted on the ground.
Shouta hissed at him, mortified, but Hizashi just wasn’t as affected by omega posturing. He held up his arms and, after a miserable moment, Shouta fell into them.
“Not a word,” he grumbled as he quickly scrambled to his feet. Hizashi laughed at him, the bastard, but thankfully refrained from his usual chatter. Being pregnant was miserable enough as it was, and even someone as thick-headed as Hizashi knew better than to upset an already volatile omega.
An already volatile omega that knew all of his weak spots and, despite the break from hero work, could still tie him forty different ways with his capture weapon.
But not before eating dinner, of course. Damn, the man was clever.
--
“No, I don’t want kids,” Shouta had once said, fifteen and surly and slouching further into his seat so he didn’t have to answer more idiotic questions. “Growing a parasite and then pushing it out of my ass? No thanks.”
“Oh my god, you can’t just say that,” Hizashi whined, glancing around like their teacher was going to pop back from lunch break just to give the three of them the stink-eye. Shouta began rummaging through his pockets, irritated, and made a small harrumph when Hizashi procured a juice pack from his bag instead.
He stuck the straw into his mouth as Tensei recovered from the horror of Shouta’s declaration.
“But they’re so cute,” Tensei waved around his phone like staring at the red-faced baby on the screen would somehow convert Shouta to pro-motherhood. The alpha was literally glowing, stupid arrow eyebrows looking impossibly sharp, and Shouta was too tired for this. “Tenya’s only a few weeks old and I get it, I get why kids are worth it even with the pain.”
“Because you’re not carrying it,” Shouta snapped, and really, that was the problem with alphas. It wasn’t just the agonizing childbirth. It was the year it knocked you out of commission. For a hero looking to get their career off the ground, that was unacceptable. Tensei had a good heart and would become an excellent hero, he was sure, but Hizashi’s easygoing beta air was just easier to be around. Fewer expectations, clearer scent signals.
Shouta hated the idea of losing control over his own body. Which was probably why kids… well. Kids were something he always pushed out of his mind.
He had hero work to worry about, after all. There was no room for anything else.
--
Shouta couldn’t do this.
He was young and tired and a brutal workaholic. He could barely take care of himself half the time, much less his cats. Hizashi was the same, always running off to the radio station or teaching class or hopping about the streets screaming at pickpockets who looked at him the wrong way. It was hard but workable, and things were good.
Until an accident during a heat-ring mission left Hizashi tied up to the bed, a positive pregnancy test, and Shouta breaking a five-year-long promise by picking up his phone and calling his sister.
“I think I want to get rid of it,” he’d told her the day after he got confirmation from his doctor that he was, indeed, up the duff. He was hiding in the back room of his agency. It was time for Ms. Joke’s daily lunchtime invitation, which was a nice way of saying she routinely broke into his office and dragged him out to the convenience store for cheap rice balls. He just wasn’t up for it today. “I… I just don’t know if I’ll be a good parent.”
“Shouta, no matter what you do, you’ll be infinitely better parents than ours,” his sister had said. She’d taken the sudden call pretty well given the unfavorable way they’d parted at Shouta’s U.A. graduation. Aizawa Kaiya had always been the easiest family member for him to handle. They'd been attached to the hip before he'd decided to move halfway across the country to attend U.A.. “And you clearly want it. You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t. You would’ve just done it.”
Which was true, but she didn’t have to say it like that.
Because it wasn’t just about him being a chronic hot mess of a twenty something. He was a hot mess that was also a disaster omega. Surly, temperamental, and scathing; and without any of the usual softness that rounded out his gender stereotype, too. It had grated on his omega mother’s nerves. Their fights had been legendary, mostly because his quirk canceled out hers. It was probably what made him feel unsuited to being a mother even years later away from her influence.
He’d spent his formative years doing his damned best to ignore the cooking-cleaning-breeding lessons she tried to force onto him, after all. Having a baby meant letting her win.
The other, louder part of him bristled at the idea of giving her that much power over him. Because expectations or not, this was his baby. His and Hizashi’s.
And that was what sealed it for him. It was the realization that this stupid, life-changing bundle of cells inside of him shared genes with his mate that defeated him.
There was no way he’d get rid of something that was part Hizashi. He’d been lying if he thought for even one moment that he would.
The logistics of it were, of course, going to be hell. God knows how long this would put him out of commission. Underground heroes might not feed off popularity ratings, which was a plus, but work was still work. And Shouta loved to work.
God fucking dammit, Hizashi.
He gave himself nearly a week to brood and rage and throw an emotional tantrum. Then, he told his mate the news.
“We’re having a baby,” he said over breakfast. Hizashi spat his coffee all over the table. Shouta sighed. “Clean that up.”
“Shouta!” Hizashi ignored him as usual and flailed about instead. “Shouta, you—”
“Millions of people get pregnant every year,” Shouta said. “It’s nothing extraordinary. And I’m not joking about cleaning that up.”
“Hitoshi for a boy, Hime for a girl,” Hizashi immediately said, and Shouta had chucked a paper towel roll at his stupid cockatoo head.
The details were a bitch to work out. They ended up having to take the day off, both of them, just to sit down and get everything in order. Shouta felt remarkably calm in contrast to Hizashi’s frantic, high-energy anxiety, but he’d always done better once decisions were made. It was the choosing that filled him with dread, not the execution. They were keeping the baby.
It was just a matter of waiting it out.
Shouta sent a brief prayer to the heavens that his parents wouldn’t find out. Dear god, please don't let them find out. Things were going to be a shitshow as it was, and the last thing he needed was Aizawa family drama breathing down his neck.
--
He was right.
Morning sickness was hell on his already awful eating habits. Backaches made sleeping on the spot nigh impossible. He was snappier, grumpier and overall more temperamental. He made half his homeroom class burst into tears one afternoon and Nezu banished him to the staff lounge.
The stretch marks were annoying. The larger size prohibited him from accessing his favorite hiding spots. And the lack of mobility meant the cats were running wild without Shouta reining them in with his capture scarf because yeah. Too busy throwing up in the trash to snap it around those little bean feet.
It was almost a relief when he finally waddled into Hizashi’s recording studio one day and banged on the glass window to tell him his water broke. The fans had a field day, of course, and while Shouta disliked strangers delving into his personal life, it was something he knew would make Hizashi happy.
That, and it gave radio host Present Mic an excuse to actually leave for the rest of the day. This was at least partially Hizashi’s fault and he was sure as hell going to suffer with him for it.
Because this. This was the worst.
The pain had driven Shouta’s quirk to its absolute limits. They had to cover his eyes with wraps just to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally cancel the quirk of whatever doctor was between his legs, and the indignity was nearly worse than the pain coursing through him.
“I haven’t worn wraps since I was six,” he hissed at Hizashi, the world now a black void. His mate’s hand was warm in his, though, and made an excellent stress ball. “And that was only because I almost caused a car accident near our house and it was my punishment for the week. To make me appreciate my quirk or some shit.”
The words were slow at times, but they came out clear. Shouta was irrationally proud of keeping his vow not to scream.
He’d made Hizashi vow not to scream either, though that was more to protect the surrounding staff than a test of will. Hizashi's voice sounded teary though, especially when the contractions got so bad Shouta bit through his own lip and had needed emergency stitches.
His sister Kaiya had shown up at one point, he was sure. It could’ve been a hallucination, but she said something along the lines of beating back their parents with a stick. The lack of stern commands around the room probably meant she succeeded. Good, one less thing to worry about.
Shouta loved his parents, yes, but he didn’t particularly like them. He’d probably attack them if they got within range out of hormonal confusion, so he liked to think his sister’s efforts were more for their sake than his.
(And good god, the pain combined with the memories just brought up all sorts of bad feelings. Shouta’s Sins in his mother’s eye were endless. Becoming a hero, mating a beta, moving far from their family estate, blah, blah, blah. She seemed to take personal offense at his standoffish attitude towards alphas, to his slob-like habits, to his gall. Thank god his mother needed eye contact to use her quirk or else Shouta wouldn’t have been able to cancel it out and get the hell out of town. It gave her a bitch of a headache to “suggest” things, sure, but that didn’t stop her from using it on his sister whenever she could.)
Black vision turned white with pain—“He’s crowning! Just one more push!”—and then there was no thought at all.
--
Everything hurt. His lower half, his back, his jaw. He’d been clenching his teeth shut, tears prickling at his eyes behind the wraps just from the effort it took to not scream, don’t scream.
But Shouta didn’t notice any of that at first. What he noticed was the relative silence. There was no baby crying. Babies were supposed cry, weren’t they?
“Hizashi,” he said, hand reaching out blindly. Lithe fingers wrapped around his own at once. He hated the panic lacing his voice. “Hizashi, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” except that tremble in his voice meant Hizashi was worried too. “He’s fine, just… really quiet? I mean, glad we’re not getting a repeat of my birth, right?”
“Off,” Shouta demanded, letting go of his mate’s hand in favor of scrabbling at his eyes. Hizashi’s fingers helped pull the wraps off, and Shouta flinched back at how bright everything suddenly was. There was some murmuring from the doctors, Hizashi gasping softly, and then a warm bundle pressed into Shouta’s arms.
Shouta blinked rapidly as his vision cleared. The baby may have been quiet, but he wasn't unresponsive. Big purplish eyes stared up at him from the blanket wrap. Purple eyes and a fly-away tuft of purple hair sticking straight up in the air. He looked so wildly different than either of them that Shouta couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded for a long moment.
“He looks like your dad,” Hizashi proceeded to stick his foot in his mouth. Shouta scowled darkly. Of course he would say it. Clearly fearing for the safety of his other hand, the beta flailed about trying to find a change in topic. He settled on petting the baby’s head and Shouta bit back the sudden urge to snap at him. Most omegas would have melted into goo at their baby and mate bonding, but Shouta had always been unfazed by any pheromones other than his own.
He used the last of his control to rein it in. Hizashi didn’t take it personally, not anymore, but he still sulked whenever Shouta’s instincts had him lashing out.
“Hey little listener,” Hizashi cooed down at the baby. Hitoshi. They’d agreed to name their boy Hitoshi, which seemed cute on paper but difficult in practice when two out of three syllables were the same as his dad. Maybe a nickname. Hiichan? Toshi? “You put your mommy through hell, didn’t you? You little troublemaker.”
The baby stared at his father briefly before returning his attention to Shouta.
Shouta stared back. Hizashi hadn’t been wrong when he’d compared him to Shouta’s father, but it was still grating. The last thing Shouta wanted was for his son to inherit either of his parents’ worst traits. He’d been hoping for a more Hizashi-like child for the sake of them all. But now that Hitoshi was out and in his arms, Shouta almost felt ashamed of himself. The baby was quiet and dark-haired and curious like Shouta, even if he’d inherited that shocking Aizawa purple that Shouta’s mother had spared him of. Perhaps Hizashi’s genes would come through in his quirk. Speaking of… Shouta brushed back the tuft of hair and reached out a hand.
He tweaked the baby’s little red button nose.
Yamada Hitoshi screeched.
“Definitely not super voice!” Hizashi had the gall to laugh through Hitoshi’s sudden decision to put his lungs through a test drive. The doctors seemed relieved, however, and tried to take Hitoshi away while the baby wailed and wailed. Shouta growled at them and tucked the baby away from their grubby hands. He had no more patience left to keep his prickly omega instinct in check. Irrational omega behavior, a voice sounding awfully like his logic-prone father commented. The doctors only have your best interests in mind.
“I don’t care,” Shouta mumbled while pressing his nose to Hitoshi’s fluffy hair. He smelled like soft baby. Like his soft baby. His and Hizashi’s.
“Hitoshi,” Hizashi spoke over his crying, petting their son’s hair and wearing a disgustingly goopy smile. Hitoshi’s face was red and wrinkled like an ugly dragonfruit, far uglier than Iida Tenya had been in that photo so many years ago. But the blond was looking at him like he was the world. It was… Shouta didn’t know how to put the warm feeling in his chest into words. Sweet? Meant to be? It was like falling in love all over again, but not in that romantic way. In that gross, this-isn’t-happening, messy way that had plagued Shouta all through high school and into his young adult years, until he couldn’t deal with it anymore and tied Hizashi to his ceiling.
Like that.
It was almost nice.