Eraserhead and Scribe III

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Scribe woke early the next morning. She stretched and rolled over, and she saw Aizawa asleep on the sofa. She paused, her eyes searching his face for a moment. He was actually asleep, a state she'd seldom caught him in for long. When they'd been together, he usually woke first, sometimes leaving her for early training, often remaining beside her, reading or searching his phone for something until she woke.

If there was one thing she'd learned from being his wife, it was that Shota Aizawa did not sleep much. The fact that he was sleeping so soundly on the sofa he barely fit on surprised her.

He must be tired from his travels yesterday. She smiled a little, sitting up, letting herself indulge in a moment of tenderness for this man who still meant so much to her. She was still looking at him when his eyes opened. She quickly hid the tenderness, trying to cover it up with the strength and independence she'd developed over their time apart.

"Good morning." She reached for a hoodie, pulling it on over her pajamas even though it wasn't chilly in the little apartment. "Did you sleep well?"

He sighed a little, rising from the sofa. She turned resolutely away from his lean athletic body that was too often obscured by the capture scarf, walking toward the kitchenette. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

"Either is fine." He followed her into the kitchen. "Can I help?"

She turned, two mugs in her hands, and found herself face to face with his chest. She straightened, tilting her head back to look up at him. "I...um..."

"Sorry." He took a step back, the corner of his mouth turning up in a self-deprecating smile. "I forgot how small this place is."

Forgot? She waited until his eyes met hers, then turned away again.

Maybe. His reply indicated a shrug. Possibly conveniently forgot?

She smiled a little at the coffeemaker, but when she turned back, she placed one hand on his chest and pushed him firmly back. "Find a seat somewhere, please."

He obliged, sitting at a stool on the other side of the bar. "Tell me about what your friend told you last night?"

"Amy. She said her son, Joey, who has decided you are a stock car racer, by the way, said he was lured outside by a man with a big head." She sliced bread and placed it in the toaster as she spoke. "He won't say anything else, just that the man had a big head."

"That could mean anything." Aizawa frowned. He took the black coffee she handed him and sipped cautiously before nodding approval. "Did he say how the man with the big head lured him outside?"

"He just opened the door. And Joey went out. Which would seem to indicate a mind control quirk to me. Joey never leaves his mother's side."

"He's a kid. He's never wandered off before?" Aizawa leaned his elbows on the counter, his mug held between two hands.

"Not that I know of. Not that Amy remembers. He's kind of shy. He really sticks close to her." She turned with a plate of toast and her own mug of coffee and paused. How many times had she made them a quick breakfast of toast and coffee or tea in their little apartment in the first year dorm? Always like this, two slices of toast on one plate. She raised her eyes to meet his and saw the same memory there. Oh Shota.

He lowered his gaze. Why? Was he afraid to let her see his own feelings there? But she felt them anyway. She cleared her throat. "I guess you'd know more about how young children behave than I would, though."

He looked up sharply. "Eri is not a typical young child."

"True." She set the plate down between them. "Though I haven't even met her yet."