Chapter Text
Recovery Girl stares down at him, and Shouta can feel her disapproving glare even through the bandages.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she says.
“All the kids are safe?” he asks.
She sighs. “They’re all safe.”
“Then yes, I am proud of myself.”
If silence can be disapproving, this one is. Shouta doesn’t really care. The important thing is that the kids are safe. Though he can’t help but ask, “And All Might-san?”
He hears her huff. “He paid a price, but he will, despite all odds, continue to survive,” she says.
That’s good. Shouta has a lot of mixed feelings about All Might as a teacher, but he is a good man, a great man even, and Shouta doesn’t want to see him hurt.
“You’re going to be recovering for a while, I hope you know, even with my help.”
“I know,” he says.
“And while you heal, you’re going to have to go off your suppressants.”
It’s not a surprise, though it does irritate him. “Are we sure—”
“Aizawa-kun, you haven’t had a heat in more than seven years. I’ve told you repeatedly that long-term use of heat-suppressants like that isn’t healthy. You can’t use them while I’m healing you anyway because they’ll just get stripped out of your system. As your doctor, I’m refusing to have your prescription refilled until I deem it safe for you to be on them again.”
“You can’t!” he objects. Being off the suppressants while he heals is one thing; being off them until Recovery Girl decides it’s okay for him to go on them again is something else entirely.
“I know your history with suppressant abuse, Aizawa-kun,” she says, and there is no pity or sympathy in her voice. “As your doctor, it would be irresponsible for me to let you go back on suppressants without—”
“I can’t fucking get pregnant anyway. There’s no fucking point to going through heats,” Shouta snaps.
He hears her sigh again. “Your heat is a natural part of your system as an omega. Suppressing natural processes is not good for your body long-term. There are other side effects to suppressing your heat that you need to consider.”
Shouta’s heard the arguments ever since he presented as an omega. Heats are natural. They help balance hormones, are integral for overall health. Omegas, even atavistic male omegas who can’t get pregnant, experience lower overall stress, have lower blood pressure, and fewer sexual dysfunctional problems.
“You know it will boost your immune system, help you heal faster, is a natural pain reliever, and will help you sleep better,” Recovery Girl finishes off with the other side effects so often touted.
“Those are all just side effects of having regular sex,” Shouta points out flatly.
“Yes, and they are all amplified by having regular heats. Particularly the positive effects on your immune system. You know omegas need to be knotted—”
“Is such bullshit,” he snarls out. “With due respect, you’re a fucking beta. If you’ve never been knotted, you don’t get to tell me how much I do or don’t need it. I do just fine on my suppressants.”
“I do stay up to date on all the most recent studies—”
“If they aren’t conducted by omegas, I don’t give a damn what the so-called ‘data’ says.”
He can sense the irritation radiating off of her, but they’ve had this argument multiple times since he started working at UA, and he has no idea why she thinks his opinion on the topic would have changed. Everyone says that omegas need to be knotted, but Shouta has been, and he hated it. He felt brainless and desperate and needy, and he hates feeling like all of those things.
That doesn’t even take into account the fact that being off the suppressants, being knotted without the possibility of being able to get pregnant, actually makes his instinctual need to get pregnant to be pregnant, to give his alpha a child, go into complete overdrive.
“There are medications to manage your Obsessive Procreative Compulsion Disorder. You don’t need to suppress your heats entirely,” she says softly.
“I’ve tried them,” Shouta grinds out. “They don’t work for me.”
“There are new ones on the market—”
“The suppressants work best,” he tells her firmly. The side effects of all the non-suppressant medications had ranged from merely irritating—the one that ramped up his libido—to frightening—the one that had left his mind so clouded and receptive to alpha commands, he’d almost gone home with three random alphas. Thank goodness that Hizashi and Nemuri had been with him on those occasions and had been able to get him home and stay with him until the drugs were out of his system.
“It’s entirely common for omegas with Maladaptive Uterine Syndrome—”
“I despise that name—”
“To also struggle with OPCD,” she continues as if he hadn’t interrupted her.
Shouta is in pain, wrapped up like a fucking mummy, and he’s going to have to go off his suppressants while he heals, so whatever limited filter he usually has is gone. “Why don’t you just explain to me one more time how I’m just a defective omega and that all I need is a nice, big knot to fix my crazy brain?”
“Since you haven’t been actively sexual since you were a teenager, how do you know that it wouldn’t help?” she retorts.
It’s a really good thing he’s wrapped up the way he is, or he might actually hurt her.
“The suppressants do what I need them to. They keep me from becoming a mindless hole that needs to be bred,” he says through gritted teeth. They also keep him from becoming so obsessed with the idea of being a mom, of getting pregnant, about how completely inadequate he is as an omega that because he can’t get pregnant that he wants to carve out the vestigial, inadequate womb or just beg any alpha he can find to end him. He remembers that headspace. It terrified him as a teenager after he first presented and was diagnosed with Maladaptive Uterine Syndrome—a shitty way to say his uterus is vestigial and useless—and it terrifies him now, as a professional underground hero.
He hears a pen tap on a clipboard. “You’re going to need to find a partner to help you through your heats when they start up again,” she says as if Shouta doesn’t already know that. “And as your doctor, I strongly recommend you find someone who is an alpha. Despite what you think, you need to be knotted, and don’t think that sleeping with Yamada-kun again will give you what you need.”
“I’ll think about it,” he manages to say, even though he really has no intention of doing any such thing. If he really needs an alpha, Nemuri will help him, he’s sure. She doesn’t have a knot, but she is an alpha, and Shouta has never been convinced that having a knot is the be-all and end-all of alpha-omega compatibility. He’s always hated that it’s treated like the omega cure-all.
Recovery Girl huffs again. “Get some rest, Aizawa-kun,” she says.
As if he can do anything else at the moment.
Shouta doesn’t stay in the infirmary a second longer than he absolutely has to. He checks himself out against medical advice well before Recovery Girl is happy about, but he can already feel the last of the suppressants wearing off, and just laying around where any alpha could happen upon him makes his skin crawl.
The first thing to start coming back is his sense of smell. The suppressants he uses effectively make him a beta. A lot of omegas can’t or won’t use them because losing their sense of scent is simply too jarring, too anxiety-inducing. Since Shouta has never given a damn about being an omega or being any alpha’s sweet little pet, he’s just as happy not to have the overt signs of what he is out there.
He should have remembered that All Might is an alpha and that Shouta would go from being a neutral—and probably uninteresting—beta to a fertile-scented omega. He should have realized that All Might’s head would turn toward him, his nose scenting the air in Shouta’s path.
“Aizawa-kun?” he asks, surprised as Shouta sits at his desk.
Shouta ignores him. He can tell just by the way All Might’s nostrils are flaring what this is about, and he is not at all interested in talking about it. Bad enough that he can already catch All Might’s alpha scent in the air. He’s trying to ignore it, but it’s a warm scent but earthy, salty, like sunflower seeds. It’s a scent that Shouta could find cravable, and he knows damn well that All Might is not for him.
All Might opens his mouth to ask again, “Ai—”
“Shouta!” Nemuri’s voice carries across the office, and she storms over to him. Her agitation surrounds her like a cloud of biting fluff, but Shouta breathes in her familiar scent, realizing he missed it a little bit. He hasn’t really caught her scent since they were teenagers. She grabs the empty chair next to his desk, pulls it over, and sits down next to him, eyeing him closely. “Why are you off your suppressants?” she asks in a soft voice that’s meant to be at least a little private despite the space.
“Not here,” Shouta tells her, aware of All Might’s eyes on him.
Her eyes narrow at him, but she doesn’t reach out and tow him out of the room. It’s a sign of progress and her respect for the fact that she’s not his alpha. Usually she wouldn’t worry about draping herself over him and smothering him in a scent he couldn’t even smell, but with his own pheromones coming back online, she knows it’ll warn away other alphas.
He almost tells her to touch him as much as she wants, but male alphas often react badly to omegas being covered in the scent of a female alpha. Well, they generally don’t like any alpha’s scent on an omega, but some alphas are assholes who think female alphas are lesser and they think that omegas who submit to them aren’t worth knotting.
Fuck. It’s been three fucking days off his suppressants and he can already feel his thought patterns shifting. This is why he likes his suppressants so much—he can just live his life like any average beta, not dealing with all the nuances and subtle, stupid power games alphas and omegas play with one another.
Nemuri sits back and crosses her arms. “How long are you going to be off them?” she asks, apparently figuring out why he has to be off them.
He sighs, turning to face his computer, only to realize that with his hands still bound, he can’t do much. “Until my doctor decides I should be back on them,” he says low, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Judging by the way Nemuri’s nostrils flare, he’s not doing a good job of keeping it out of his scent. Fuck, he’s been on suppressants for so long, he doesn’t remember how to control this shit. Worse, it’s going to come back erratically, not that his heats were ever predictable. That was a common problem with atavistic omegas like him—with their bodies not able to conceive, they often didn’t settle into predictable rhythms.
“If you need something—”
“I’ll ask,” he assures, interrupting her. He does turn to meet her eyes, though the omega in his head tells him he shouldn’t. She’s one of his best friends and he’s met her eyes since they were teenagers. He doesn’t need to bare his fucking neck for her just because his instincts are starting to rear their ugly heads.
It occurs to him that he should really pay attention to the dynamics in his class now. On his suppressants, he doesn’t have to worry about all this bullshit. He sighs and hopes that he’s instilled enough respect in the students to not have to battle them.
The class is so surprised to see Shouta back in the classroom so soon, it takes two whole days before the alphas in the class start to perk up and notice. He’s a little surprised that Midoriya is an alpha, but he’s an alpha who is compassionate. Some omega is going to be very lucky to have him. If Bakugou could get out of his own way, and off his own suppressants, that might actually work. The constant chip on his shoulder suddenly makes a lot more sense if he’s been battling being an omega and trying to become the next Number One Hero. Todoroki is also on suppressants. It’s an unusual concentration of atavistic omegas, but he makes a mental note to offer to talk to them about it at some point.
He knows their files have the details about their dynamics, but he’s never paid much attention to them: a hero has to be able to operate in the field regardless of conditions, and they have to be able to manage their instincts if heats or ruts are triggered. There are counselors for all alphas and omegas on campus, but there hasn’t been a need for an atavistic omega counselor for a few years. He wonders why Recovery Girl or Nezu haven’t mentioned it to him, but after the fit the last one threw, well, maybe it’s not that surprising.
Kirishima and Shoji are also alphas, as are Ashido, Jirou, and Asui. Not surprising to have so many alphas in an A-class. Alphas and omegas only make up about 20% of the general population, but it seems like some of the most powerful quirks tend to manifest in the alpha and omega dynamics.
Suppressants will hide an omega’s scent from an alpha, and the ones that Aizawa favors also suppress his own ability to scent. It does not always hide his scent from other omegas, but scenting can be very hit and miss among atavistic omegas.
Honestly, everything that’s standard about normal omegas can be kind of hit or miss with atavistic ones. They’re throwbacks, no matter how much people hate using the term. Shouta has never been particularly offended by it. He’s a genetic anomaly, his body and hormones acting as if he has a functioning, fertile womb, even though the last male omega pregnancy on record was nearly a hundred years ago.
Still, he’s starting to produce the scent of an omega, and he has enough young alphas in his class that it becomes necessary for All Might to partner with his classes to keep the peace. There aren’t many omega-lead hero agencies, but there are a few, and they are going to have to learn how to deal with their instincts and follow fucking orders, regardless of who is issuing them. But they are sixteen, an age where the instincts can be the most uncontrollable, so having All Might to give him a little more authority doesn’t hurt.
Even if it grates.
“Aizawa-kun,” All Might says as Shouta gets up to leave at the end of another long day. It’s been a little over a week now, and he knows that his scent is back in full bloom, as one particularly sorry schmuck told him on his way home last night. He can also smell All Might, and as Shouta’s ability to scent has come back, All Might’s scent has grown more complex. It’s still earthy, salty, craveable like a snack, but now it’s also tinged with the copper of blood, and a clean scent so sharp, it’s almost acrid, like when someone has used too much lemon-scented cleaner. Its imperfection doesn’t make the scent any less appealing. In fact, it makes it more.
“What is it?” he asks, burying the urge to shake his head and clear the scent. He knows it won’t work. He crosses his arms, grateful that it’s normal body language for him and that he doesn’t have to worry about looking unusually unwelcoming. His fingers still itch to reach out and feel All Might’s arm.
All Might clears his throat, which makes him cough up a little blood, and the copper-iron bite of it fills the air. Shouta wonders if he’d taste it if he licked All Might’s skin.
He stomps on that line of thought firmly, hating his biology anew. “Yes?” he prompts, wanting to get this over with and leave.
“I, just…” All Might trails, unusually timid and uncomfortable before straightening to his full height. “I wondered if you perhaps already had a partner for your heat?”
Whatever Shouta thought All Might was going to ask, that wasn’t it. He stares blankly, sure he misheard, before saying, “I’m sorry if it’s bothering you—”
Waving his hands and shaking his head frantically, All Might interrupts him. “That’s not—I didn’t mean to say it bothered me,” he blusters on. “If you, perhaps, didn’t have a partner, I wanted to… offer.” His voice gets unusually soft and small on the last word, losing the confidence that Shouta thought was inherent in him. “If you didn’t find me…” He winces. “...objectionable.”
Shouta is staring again, but this time, he feels it’s completely justified. If he didn’t find All Might objectionable? Who the hell could find All Might himself an objectionable heat partner? He’d almost think it’s some sort of joke, except for the way All Might is slouched again, braced, as if expecting a blow.
A dozen excuses fill Shouta’s brain. He knows Nemuri would help him through his heat if he asked, for one, so he could arguably say he has a partner. There’s no way that All Might could seriously want someone like Shouta as a partner, even just for heat. There’s no way that All Might is that hard-up for partners. The answer that comes out is arguably the worst one that Shouta could give. “I can’t give you children, you know.”
All Might flushes, and it should be patently illegal for a man like that to flush as if embarrassed. Shouta’s ass clenches longingly, imagining how big All Might probably is if he’s anywhere near proportionate to his height, and he can feel it tighten and the warmth that precedes slick. Fuck.
“I know,” All Might says, looking down at his hands. “I’m not… I wasn’t asking because I wanted…”
“Because you wanted to knock me up?” Shouta asks, and it’s harsher than it should be, but just the mere offer is making him ache, making him imagine what children with this man might look like. Maybe a little boy with dark hair but eyes that glow as if lit from within, or a little girl with sunshine-bright hair and shy, dark eyes?
The warmth becomes wet, and he can see All Might’s nostrils flare. “Aizawa-kun—”
Shouta has no ability to control his scent; he’s simply been on suppressants for too long. His body is screaming yes, yes, do me now, take me, fuck me, knot me, while his heat aches behind his ribs, pounding out breed me, breed me, breed me, and he fills the air with those twin, impossible desires.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he manages to choke out around the desperate need. His arms ache to hold a child, his child, to give All Might the perfect progeny he should have.
Progeny that Shouta can’t give him.
He doesn’t let All Might get another word out before racing out the door. He hears All Might call his name again, but he doesn’t give chase, even though his instincts must be dying to chase and pounce and claim.
Except Shouta has nothing to offer but a slick hole and his maladapted uterus. A shriveled, useless womb, Shouta calls it. What they didn’t tell him in school, what they still don’t like to tell atavistic omegas, is that most alphas will never want them as anything more than a convenient toy. Who could blame them? The alpha instinct to breed is a powerful one, so what good is an omega who can’t get pregnant?
Shouta’s arms ache again, longing for a child. He crosses them over his abdomen tightly and bites back a sob. He doesn’t stop running until he gets to Hizashi’s. With his arms and hands still bound, he can’t be at home alone right now.
Hizashi looks at him, his wet eyes, wild, windswept hair, surely smells how ready he is, even if Hizashi doesn’t have the instincts to fulfill the need Shouta is exuding. He doesn’t say anything, just pulling Shouta close and stroking his hair. The quiet support makes the sobs Shouta had somehow kept locked in his throat burst out, and he weeps against Hizashi’s shoulder.