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Hizashi has heard Shouta complain a lot about many classes and students over their years of teaching. Not one class has been worth even an iota of the grumbling and muttering and ranting that this Hell Class has been.
Equally though, Shouta has never loved a class like he has this one, whether he'll admit it or not.
One - He doesn't like them
"Zashi, I don't even like them." Shouta is busy complaining again. He's crouched by their bathtub in the dorms, hoodie sleeves shoved up above his elbows, hair pulled back loosely in the perfect way for the blond to step up behind his husband and crouch to kiss his neck. Then he's settling down, chest pressed to Shouta's back, and listens in as his husband rumbles out complaints about how Kaminari and Sero had managed to shock half of 1-B by supposed accident this morning, and how they're a bunch of little hellions with too much energy and too little respect.
The desired effect of all of the groaning and bemoaning, however, is rather ruined by how Shouta is nearly elbow-deep in foamy water, busy handwashing Mina's favourite top because it would apparently get destroyed by the dorm washing machines. There's also a few of Momo's blouses and one of Aoyama's tops already drying on the radiator, ready to be ironed later tonight.
This is the third week he's done this. And it's the fourth week they've been living in the dorms. Hizashi's husband is so, so soft. The blond definitely wouldn't have it any other way.
Two - Really, he doesn't
"Zashi, can we retire yet?" The question is somewhat abrupt, spoken in the dim light of just-before-their-alarm, and the blond only squeezes his limbs tighter around his husband for a long moment, gathering his thoughts into something vaguely coherent,
"Shou, I've got a super cool interview tomorrow, and the third years will be doing their English presentations on Monday which are already looking rockin', and your class-"
"My class, exactly," he groans, the words slurring into an unhappy grumble.
"Aw, what now, hon?"
"Don't call me that," Shouta snarls, even as he shifts to press his lips against Hizashi's pulse point, breaths hot and ticklish. Silly grumpy caterpillar husband.
"So, what's bothering you about your class and their hero essays?"
"Because I overheard at least three of them talking about writing theirs about me. Do they not understand that I'm meant to be an underground hero? And they had the audaci-" Hizashi has to keep a giggle down at that,
"Shou, only you and they are going to see the essays. It isn't exactly-"
"That's not the point, Zashi. And I told them, when I assigned it, that if any of them put me down for a joke that I would fail them for it." Hizashi can only sigh at that, curling impossibly closer into the shorter man.
"Shouta, you've saved those kids ten times over. If they write about you, it'll be sincere," he chides, ignoring the low grumbling against his neck to continue,
"If you fail them, I'll give them extra credit in English! Ooh, no, actually I won't-" He blusters on after the confused noise,
"-I'll just ask Nedzu to override you. Then those kids will get exactly the marks they deserve!"
There's a long moment of silence, stillness.
Then Hizashi gets a sharp bite on the collarbone for his troubles, and Shouta must activate his Quirk as well because Hizashi's yelp doesn't leave their ears ringing.
"Meanie," he whines, wiggling his fingers against Shouta's side in retaliation, although he only squirms away from most of it, frowning against the blond's throat,
"Idiot."
"Caterpillar man." Oh, Hizashi does not like the Cheshire grin that he can feel then.
"...Does that make you a-"
"No!" Hizashi yelps, only able to keen when Shouta laughs against his neck. He really does have a bastard of a husband. A handsome one though.
As it turns out, no less than eleven of the class put Shouta as their personal hero. He can't fail that many of them just on principle, not when they've all done their research and actually written out excellent essays. Four of the others were for Problem Child, and the rest were either other teachers or their parents. No, Shouta didn't keep all of the essays tucked away in a folder, don't be absurd.
Three - They're loud and annoying
Shouta is hunched over their dining room table, one hand fisted in his hair and far too many papers sprawled out over the table top. He's got three mugs of coffee, two empty, in amongst them, and a collection of gel pens that may or may not have been given to him by Aoyama along with some red marking pens and, luckily for the sake of signing the legally-binding documents, some plain black ballpens. Yet again, to Hizashi's complete and utter lack of surprise, he's complaining about his class.
"They're so annoying and loud, Zashi. Gave me a headache today, don't think I can even read right now." Hizashi knows that statement is a blatant lie, or rather an exaggeration, because Shouta is literally signing papers for Todoroki to be put under split guardianship between UA via himself and then Rei-san herself, not long released from the hospital. And he's been reading every single word of every single sheet of paper. There's a lot of papers.
"You're getting there, Shou-shou," he offers up instead, somewhere between an agreement and a dismissal, and his husband can't even be bothered to glare at him once Hizashi steps up to rub a hand along the back of his shoulders, thin fingers digging in to all of the knots and tension ruthlessly.
"Doesn't feel like it, Zashi. It never ends with them." There's a melancholy edge to that, and it hurts the taller man to hear, honestly, because Shouta has done so much for this class, and they for him, that it's not much fun to see him blaming himself for things beyond his control.
"Good thing you're stubborn then, hm?" Which leaves it up to him to try and alleviate some of that self-placed burden.
"Guess so," Shouta mumbles, tilting back into the blond's touch. Hizashi leans down in return, letting his hair curtain them both in, and they both just breathe for a while.
"They really are hellspawn though. Might make them run the Hell Course a few extra times tomorrow." Of course he can't stop complaining. Such a sweet, soft grump.
"If that lets you stay in denial, Shou, then go ahead," Hizashi snorts, and ignores the indignant grumble he gets in return. Grump indeed.
Four - All they do is break things
Hizashi shouldn't have mentioned Shouta's class. Well, not that his husband ever needs an opening to talk about them because he can be watching Hizashi making dinner and just start ranting about them, but still.
Right now though, Hizashi is setting up another playlist for Put Your Hands Up, whilst Shouta is sitting on the back of the sofa, phone balanced on his knee and Eri sitting in front of him, half-asleep and content. Hizashi's heart feels so very full.
"Technically, the kids have been doing fine," the seemingly-random comment breaks the silence unashamedly,
"Except I left the room for five minutes during homeroom because Iida insisted that I give out the next term's syllabi today rather than tomorrow because he's a pedantic little shit and, Zashi, guess what I came back to?" He's already heard this story twice today, but if Shouta needs to ramble about it again, Hizashi's happy to listen,
"Hm?"
"Seven broken desks. One destroyed bag that Dark Shadow kind of cried over despite her being a Quirk creature with no tear ducts, and Yaoyorozu lost an inch of her ponytail, which had Jirou trying to stab Sero and Bakugou's eyes out over. To be fair, her aim has improved significantly. So has Sero's manoeuvrability in tight spaces," the complaint-turned-bragging quickly slides back though, Shouta groaning under his breath again,
"Oh, and one of the bones in Ojiro's tail got fractured and all of it was started because Problem Child stubbed his toe badly enough to break it. They-" He breaks off into a sigh, and puts the hair braiding tutorial that he'd paused back onto playing, patting Eri's head gently in wordless apology for stopping.
"All they do is break bones and destroy desks."
Despite all of this complaining, there's a reason that Shouta is braiding Eri's hair other than liking having busy hands, and their little girl loving the simple affection: Tsuyu and Problem Child want their hair braided. They've both been growing their hair out - Midoriya with an undercut and currently the top of his curls are long enough to brush his shoulder blades, Tsuyu's long enough to sit on now - and wanted to have it braided for Heroics lessons. But they also wanted their hero's advice on which hairstyles would be safest, and of course rather than saying he doesn't know much about it, Shouta had agreed to teach them on Monday. So now he's spending all weekend messing with his family's hair, the incredibly soft man that he is. So weak for his kids, all twenty one of them.
Five - And they're obnoxious too
"And they think they know me so well. I mean, they know about you, and Eri, and I told them about Oboro when we had our last group therapy session because some of them need a better perception of consequences and the effects of loss on those around them despite everything they've already been through, but they actually bought me something 'just because'? There's no logic to it whatsoever." Hizashi can't believe that his husband, whilst drinking out of a truly massive mug covered in cartoon cats playing with balls of yarn given to him by his class randomly, is still complaining about said class and said mug.
He wishes his homeroom gave him random gifts because they saw it and thought he'd like it. Then again, he should just be grateful that his second year class haven't nearly died with him several times.
"It was absolutely awful of them, Shou, really." Never let it be said that Hizashi can't be sassy. And also never let it be said that his husband can't be oblivious when he's caught up in his own head. Case in point:
"It really was," the man huffs, staring into his coffee. Hizashi smiles to himself, because he still finds it adorable when Shouta gets all huffy over minor things, and is happy to listen as his husband goes on to complain that his Problem Child and Bakugou had another fight in class that was actually tame enough for the other kids to pick up some bad ideas from. Or reckless ones, rather.
Plus One - But they're his (And he loves them)
Vlad nigh-on storms into the faculty room, fangs poking out of his scowl, and comes to a stop just out of reach of Shouta, arms crossed and a glare in place,
"Oi, Aizawa, apparently 2-A was giving my class problems again." The underground hero only rolls his eyes, not even looking up from his paperwork,
"Oh, what, and Monoma didn't start it?"
"No, actually, he just mentioned that my class have been working in the USJ ahead of-" All of the faculty room collectively wince at that, because there are some things that shouldn't be brought up and that is very much one of them, particularly in such a dismissive way.
And yep, Shouta is visibly fuming, Quirk flaring and face falling stony-still. Vlad's in trouble.
"So he brought up one of my kids' biggest collective traumas?" Most of the room wince again at that, because Shouta is more than angry. No, he's gone to the steady part of incandescent, eye of the storm,
"Wow, so fucking sensible of him. Frankly, if they didn't attack him with a genetically-modified monster, a disintegration Quirk, and the sight of their teacher half-dead in a crater splattered with his own blood, then I think their reaction was probably fucking warranted, don't you?" Hizashi inches closer to his husband then, because none of them like the reminder, himself included.
At least Vlad is beginning to look a bit more hesitant now, visibly leaning back from Shouta,
"Aizaw-" They all know it's not going to do him any good though, not when Shouta's face is etched in rage. And his voice is a low, rumbling snarl, more like a dog than the cat Hizashi would typically compare him to, fury tensing every line of his body,
"I don't want to hear it. Go sit through a sensitivity course with your little rat, and I'll continue the therapy we're attending." Vlad doesn't run away, but it seems like a close-run thing given how he sinks back to his desk, and Shouta slumps back into his own chair with a huff, arms crossed and glower unfading.
"Hey, Shou." His husband glances over at him, and some of him relaxes even if it's nowhere near as much as Hizashi would like.
"Go see your kids. Spar with them or something."
"Mm. Thanks Zashi," he grumbles, trailing a hand along his husband's shoulders on his way past. He doesn't even deign to look at Vlad.
That night, Hizashi isn't surprised at all to pop his head around the door of 2-A's dorms to find pretty much all of the class sleeping around the common room, with his husband smack in the middle of it all. Midoriya, Tsuyu and Ashido have claimed Shouta's chest to drool on, several more of them having limpeted onto the hero's arms and legs. A few of the class are awake, Kaminari and Sero talking quietly, Hagakure scrolling through her phone, but all of them are here. Good.
Smiling, Hizashi can't help but take a few photos, waving a greeting to the half-awake kids that look over at him. They smile back, rather lazily so, not even blinking at his presence, and Hizashi is glad for it. Shouta's kids like him too, and that's enough for the blond. For now, he'll go home to be with Eri for the night, knowing that Shouta is safe and happy and sleeping piled up with his lovely hellspawn like the true Dad that he is.
He doesn't like them. Really, he doesn't: they're loud and annoying, all they do is break things, and they're obnoxious too. But they're his and he loves them very, very much.