Joke's on her

[moonshadows]

Class 1-A, being first-years, had no idea that it was unusual for there to be two teachers chaperoning them on their trip to the provisional license testing center. Present Mic, sitting in uncharacteristic silence next to 1-A’s homeroom teacher, had no such illusions and wondered what, exactly, Eraserhead was up to.

They arrived without incident, disembarked without incident, and even the brief almost-clash with the student who’d tested into but opted out of attending UA was concluded without animosity. Mic was beginning to entertain the idea that his old friend was just being needy in his laconic, reserved way when a woman’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Eraser?”

The effect on the man being addressed was instantaneous – and telling. Erasure half-flared for a heartbeat, tension transforming his posture from wary but relaxed to tightly-coiled and ready to burst into motion at the first hint of trouble. That faded almost as fast as Erasure had, leaving Eraserhead bracing for the worst and shooting Mic – all but hidden behind the tall bulk of Shoji-kun – a look of desperate pleading. Save me from this hell, it said as the woman’s voice rang out again.

“Eraser, it’s you, isn’t it?”

Memory flooded Mic as he recognized the voice: a large room in a very fancy mansion, newly-minted Pro Heroes and low-level politicians mingling; aqua hair and a wide smile as her quirk activated; panic and shouting as laughter burst from his throat, unable to be stopped, only redirected to a less-destructive frequency.

The sharp, ominous sound of glass cracking in a very expensive, very extensive fish tank set into one wall.

Ms. Joke.

“I’ve seen you on TV and at the sports festival,” she announced, approaching with the predatory intent of a juvenile cat seeing a bird, “but it’s been a while since I’ve seen you in person!”

A while? Mic frowned; if she was here, now, then that meant she was chaperoning her own class of prospective heroes – but if she hadn’t run into Eraserhead in long enough that she was commenting on it, then the odds were good he was trying to avoid her. But why? And why invite him along?

Well, the twitch in Eraserhead’s left eye certainly suggested that he’d brought Mic along as social protection and Mic started to grin, thinking of how he was going to mess with her as she walked up to Eraserhead without noticing the ultrasonic cockatoo in black leather still lurking in Shoji’s shadow.

“Let’s get married,” she announced boldly.

Without missing a beat, Eraser shot back, “Let’s not.”

“Good one,” Joke said, laughing, but she was drowned out by a wave of hilarity as Mic stepped out towards the other two, laughing in a shrill tone that made her stiffen and go slightly pale.

“Eraser, marry you?” Mic draped one arm over the other man’s shoulder and leaned against him, laughter going wheezy. “Oh, Joke, I think that’s the first time you’ve actually said something funny!”

The students of 1-A collectively exchanged a confused glance while Joke looked mildly offended. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it,” she snapped.

Mic straightened in apparent concern. “You mean…you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Yeah,” Eraserhead murmured for Mic’s ears alone, his voice burred with amusement. “Know what?”

“Eraser’s gay,” Mic announced, as if surprised it even needed to be said. “Very gay. Remember Midnight’s original costume, the one that resulted in the Hero nudity law? Eraser saw that and was so completely unimpressed that I’ve seen him look more enthusiastic about doing math homework. How have you never noticed?” he asked the stunned woman, as the students gathered around tried to figure out their reaction to this news. Before she could answer, he brought both hands to his mouth in mock-concern. “Oh no – if you didn’t know, does that mean you were sincere? I’m so sorry,” he continued without hesitation, “but he’s never going to be interested in you. No offense. You’re just not his type. You have…” He gestured vaguely. “…boobs.”

“Of course not,” Joke said gamely through gritted teeth. “It was just a joke.”

But it wasn’t, and Mic didn’t need to see the edges of Eraser’s smirk to be sure of it.

From the crowd of clustered students came a whisper that Mic tentatively identified as Kirishima: “Sensei is…?”

Sensei, apparently, decided that the time for chitchat was over and ordered his students to change into their costumes, then attend the provisional licensing exam orientation. “Don’t waste time,” he told them sternly, and was answered with an obedient chorus of agreement.

The three teachers watched as their classes – because Joke’s class mingled with 1-A as they streamed towards the entrance – passed, and in a low voice she said, “Don’t tell me…you didn’t tell them, Eraser?”

“They know everything they need to know,” he answered curtly while Mic snickered.

Silently chewing on that, she followed them into the building and – to their annoyed lack of surprise – to the same section and row of the observation rings they decided to sit in.

“Eraser,” she said, giggling, as she sat down barely two seats away, “your fly’s down!”

While Eraserhead ignored her, Mic gave her a deliberately baffled look. “His costume doesn’t have a fly.”

“It was a joke,” she replied, no longer amused.

From his protective position between her and his long-suffering friend, Mic shrugged. “Oh. It wasn’t a very good one.”

An attempted dig at Eraser’s habit of expelling students was next, but he shrugged it off with a comment about them not having given him reason to…yet.

“Oh, you actually like your class this time?”

“Not really.”

“Are you embarrassed?” she taunted, laughing. “That’s so lame! Go out with me.”

“Knock it off,” he shot back, resulting in more laughter.

“Hey, Mic was joking, right?” she asked as the exam employees passed out balls and targets. “You’re not really gay, are you?”

“He’s as straight as a roller coaster,” Mic chirped, one hand mimicking the twists and turns of an imaginary ride while he made whooshing sounds.

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one giving you an answer.” Smirking, he added, “I bet Eraser tried to tell you years ago, and you didn’t listen.”

That bought them a minute or two of annoyed silence before she got bored enough to try again.

“It’s strange,” she started, leaning over to try to meet Eraser’s eyes. “You not telling them about that.”

Down in the enormous arena, the 1500-plus hopeful students were breaking into clusters and dashing for different areas in which to set up their defenses – or plan their attacks.

“You know, don’t you?” Joke asked Mic. “How every year, even though the test is different, there’s an unofficial tradition for the provisional licensing exam?”

“You make it sound like it’s a new thing,” Mic replied in a vaguely insulted tone. “All the high schools knowing what quirks UA has because of the sports festival, and our fighting styles. I did go through this as a UA student, you know?”

Down in the arena, a horn sounded. “First test, start!”

“If you like your class this year, then you should’ve told your students what always happens at the beginning. The crushing of UA,” Joke declared, her voice thick with anticipatory glee.

Eraserhead hmphed. “Sorry,” he said insincerely, “but we look a little further ahead than everyone else. Tell her, Mic.”

“It’s a tradition at UA, too,” Mic began gleefully. “One we take pride in. To be honest, if that tradition were ever broken, our students would feel cheated. How are we supposed to prove we’re the best if everyone doesn’t come after us, you know? It’s a rite of passage, making us stronger, and in our own way we’re grateful for it. If we can only win against opponents who don’t know what we can do, then we don’t deserve to win at all. Did you know that UA has a fifty percent pass rate?” he asked, grin widening as Joke’s expression told him that she did not, in fact, know this little detail. “I guess that just goes to show that UA really is a higher caliber than other schools. And this year’s class has already been through not one, but two gauntlets…I bet we don’t lose more than five between your class and Vlad’s,” he said, turning to Eraserhead.

“First round or second?” he asked.

“Hmm. That’s a good question. Most of them will probably stick together, but Todoroki…”

“Bakugo,” countered Eraser.

“Yeah, but Kirishima.”

“True.”

While Ms. Joke watched, they went back and forth half-discussing various students without ever actually finishing a sentence, as if deliberately showing off how close they were. Present Mic was known for his intricate hand gestures while speaking, so the motion of his hands drew no special attention. Eraserhead, however, was not and Joke couldn’t help but notice the uncharacteristically animated way he was waving them around – or the way the sunlight flashed off of something that glinted from his left hand.

“How cold,” Joke said when the discussion had died down. “Discussing which of your own students you think will fail.”

“I never said that’s what we were discussing,” countered Eraserhead. “That was speculation on strategy.”

Joke frowned at him. “That’s pretty condescending, Eraser. There are as many kids who want to be heroes as there are stars in the sky, and the strength of that will has nothing to do with being famous.” Down in the arena, a portion of the mountain section erupted into rubble, and she shot them both a smug look. “If you act like you’re the stars of the show and look down on everyone else, then you’re the ones that might get the tables turned on you.”

“Mic.”

The Voice Hero grinned. “I guess I have to spell it out for you, Ms. Joke, but that’s fine. The reason UA is such a higher caliber than other schools is because we expect the tables to get turned on us. Our students are taught how to turn any situation into victory, even against overwhelming odds, being outnumbered, and facing enemies with a superior power level. By coming after us in force, all you’re doing is tempering our resolve and giving us more practice. We don’t focus on perfect test scores; we focus on surviving as a hero fighting villains. We don’t train to win in an even match; we train to win when everything seems hopeless. Our wills aren’t strong because we’re famous; we’re famous because our wills are strong. Plus Ultra,” he finished, the two words blindingly cheerful compared to the serious sentences that had come before them.

Although Eraser’s face was half hidden in the cloth piled up around his neck, Mic could see him smirking. Joke just leaned back in her seat with a disgruntled sound.

In the industrial section, something glinted and exploded.

“Todoroki,” chirped Mic. “I guess he’s going to be first to pass.”

Joke sat up. “How do you know none of Eraser’s other students have passed yet?”

Eraser hmphed again. “When they pass, you’ll know.”

An explosion of something pink in the industrial section; moments later, the number of students who’d passed went up by one.

In the relative boredom that followed, Mic pulled out his phone and toyed with it for a minute before putting it away. Several minutes passed in silence before he stood up. “I’m going to get a drink,” he announced. “I’ll be right back. Behave,” he added teasingly, something that got a soft huff from the other man.

Ms. Joke and Eraserhead watched as he sauntered off, whistling. It wasn’t long before he came back with a cardboard drink holder in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

“Where…” Joke trailed off, struggling to put her confusion into words. “Where did you get that? I didn’t think there was anyplace here to get food…”

“A local deli delivered!” was the cheerful answer, and Mic passed the drink holder to Eraser as he sat down. “Hold that? I got you food.”

As Joke tried to figure out how Mic had gotten outside and back in so fast, or if a deli had somehow managed to deliver to the inside of the exam arena, he pulled out two wrapped sandwiches and a slice of fruit tart in a clear plastic container. One sandwich got handed over in exchange for the large smoothie, while Eraserhead kept the insulated cup for himself.

“Thank you,” murmured the dark-haired man, making Mic beam.

“I wasn’t going to get lunch for myself and not get you something, you know. That would make me a really shitty friend.”

“I know,” came the quiet response. “Thank you.”

“What about me?” Joke asked.

Mic took a bite of his sandwich and replied with his mouth full, “You’re not a friend of mine. If Eraser wants to share his sandwich with you-”

“I don’t.”

“-and that settles that,” Mic concluded without missing a beat.

Joke stewed in silence while they ate, then gave Mic a nasty smile as he opened the container to enjoy his fruit tart. “You know,” she said loftily, “Our agencies were very close to each other, and in the cycle of helping and being helped, Shouta and I got very close.”

Tart forgotten, Mic turned to Eraser with a worried look. “Aizawa…”

Although he was doing his best to hide in his scarves and didn’t take his eyes from the arena, Eraser murmured, “It’s okay, Hizashi.”

“Hah!” Joke turned in her seat, secure in her victory. “How can you claim to be friends with Eraser when you don’t even call him by his first name?”

Mic lifted the tart out of its container. “How can you claim to be friends with him when you don’t even know that he doesn’t like being called by his first name?” Unconcerned, he took a bite and made a small, pleased sound.

“What?” Joke scowled. “Why would he not like being called by his first name?”

Slow and deliberate, Present Mic turned to face her with an expression devoid of his trademark enthusiasm, something that made her feel uncomfortably like she was facing a disappointed mother. “If you were really his friend,” he said in a quiet, heavy tone, “you’d know that.”

Before Joke could figure out how she felt about that statement, a high-pitched sound carried all the way from the residential urban section of the arena, and the Voice Hero brightened again.

“Jiro!”

“And Yaoyorozu,” added Eraserhead. “I wonder who else is with them.”

The counter for students who had passed went up by four.

“She learned that from you,” Eraser said with a glance towards Mic, practically humming with pride and amusement.

Present Mic beamed him in unbridled joy. “Of course! After her practical exam, she came to me for advice.”

“That explains the design change of her costume,” teased the other man.

“Hey! Just because it didn’t work for me…” Although clearly pretending to be indignant or insulted, it was obvious that Mic was enjoying the banter.

“There were parts that worked,” Eraser conceded.

“And now they work even better.”

“Yes.” Eraser slouched in his seat, trying to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. “They do.”

Mic leaned over and murmured so that Joke wouldn’t hear. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Taachan?”

That got a grumbled, choked-back sound and Mic sat back with a laugh to discover Ms. Joke watching him.

“Wait,” she said with an intent look. “What did you just call him?”

“What he likes to be called,” he answered loftily.

“Which is?”

“None of your business.”

Beside him, Eraser huffed in amusement. Then, slowly, he brought his left hand up to take Mic’s right. Fingers tangled together, he pulled the other man’s hand towards him and pressed a kiss to it, eliciting a tiny squeak from the Voice Hero. Satisfied, he leaned back to continue watching the exam – but did not relinquish Mic’s hand.

In the broken mountain area, something was happening – but explosions also peppered the section of highway on the other side.

“Well, that’s Bakugo,” Mic said doubtfully, gesturing at the highway, “so the other commotion must be Midoriya, but it’s hard to see what’s going on. We should have brought binoculars.”

“Worried?” Joke asked hopefully.

“Of course not,” protested Mic.

Eraser grinned behind his scarves. “I can’t wait to see what they do. I just wish I could see it.”

More explosions from the highway section; the counter of students who had passed went up by three. From the broken area, thin lines of tape holding boulders like unwieldy balloons. And up above, faint cooing from a flock of pigeons who had stopped by to watch the commotion. Eraser and Mic shared a look, then beamed at the birds.

The boulders came down.

The count went up by another three.

A group of eight passed, and Joke shouted encouragement to them at realizing they were her students. Ten spots left.

Eraser’s hand tightened around Mic’s, but neither of them said anything.

Then, like a beacon of hope, a column of glittering light shot up into the sky.

“Aoyama,” Mic said, leaning forward and gripping Eraser’s hand tighter.

“Mm, but who else?”

The birds took off, flying towards that beacon.

An entire crowd began converging on where Aoyama was, but they were outnumbered by the enormous flock of pigeons converging on them. A bright flash of light and scattered chaos, both UA teachers watching intently, and two more students passed, leaving eight slots.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Mic glanced over to see Joke watching, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. On his other side, Eraser practically radiated smug satisfaction.

Four.

Three.

One from Shiketsu High.

The final two passed, and a near-tangible wave of disappointment rose from the rest of the arena.

“I told you,” Eraser announced, not looking at Joke. “When my students pass, you’ll know.”

Mic beamed at her. “On behalf of class 1-A, I would like to thank your students for contributing to the so-called crushing of UA. We wouldn’t be as good as we are without the cooperation of all the other schools. Plus Ultra! Go big or go home,” he added in badly-accented English.

Joke shot him a dirty look, but said nothing.

There was an intermission while the students who did not pass were extricated from the quirks of other students and trickled out of the arena. Mic discussed the possibility of getting popcorn to feed the pigeons, but the idea was nixed based on how much popcorn would be needed and the fact that the birds had already dispersed. Ms. Joke excused herself for a few minutes, but sadly returned to resume her seat and offer them what was very probably trick gum. They declined, and the announcement of the second round began.

“Well, for all hundred of you who passed the first test, please watch this.”

As the three teachers watched, hidden explosives went off in every area of the arena, converting each of them into a disaster area. The first to move was Mic, who turned to pull Eraser’s head down onto his leather-clad shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, firmly reassuring. “It’s all fake. No one’s actually trapped. No one’s going to die,” he insisted as the announcement went on to detail the second round, where the students would act as first responders and be graded on various aspects of organization and rescue. “See? They’re actors. Stunt men. It’s fake blood. No one’s actually hurt.”

A shuddering breath was the only response he got, the other hero’s body taut and trembling, but he kept up the soothing murmur and was rewarded with an arm around his waist. The announcement concluded by declaring that the second round would start after a ten-minute break, during which time the employees of the Help Us Company would presumably get into position for “rescue”. The next nine and a half minutes were spent in silence unbroken by anything but Mic’s soft humming, and finally Eraser took a deep breath and indicated that would like to sit up. Mic released him, but pulled their clasped hands up to kiss Eraser’s fingers.

“Thanks, ‘Zashi,” murmured Eraserhead, retreating into his scarves but not letting go of the hand holding his. “What,” he demanded, staring past the other man to where Ms. Joke was staring.

“What was that?” she demanded back, pointing at Mic.

Mic just stared at her. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?” she shot back, annoyed. “Your ‘I know everything’ act isn’t funny, Yamada.”

“Congratulations, you read my public profile and you know my name.” Mic’s tinted glasses hid his scathing look, but his words conveyed it just fine. “If you actually cared about Eraser instead of just obsessing over him like a self-centered teenager, you would have looked into his school records and you would know why he had a bad reaction just now.”

“And if you were really his friend, then he wouldn’t have been avoiding you after you both graduated!”

For a very long moment, Mic just stared while the announcement of the second round echoed from the control booth. Then he raised his left hand, all five fingers extended in a show of restraint, and waited until Joke’s eyes settled on the ring that glinted from his ring finger.

“Eraser is more than my friend,” Mic said evenly. “Our history is none of your concern. I will thank you to keep your crass suggestions to yourself in the future, as neither my fiancé nor I appreciate them.”

Joke started to laugh, but it cut off abruptly as the cool tingle of Erasure washed over Mic. “You…you’re joking,” she said unsteadily. “It has to be a joke. You’re not…”

“Engaged?” suggested Mic, suddenly cheerful again. “We are!” To prove the point, he pulled Eraser’s left hand up so that she could see the matching ring clearly. “It was very sudden, so we don’t have a date set yet-” and now he knew why his future husband had slid the ring onto his finger so abruptly, and dragged him along to the licensing exam “-but when we do, rest assured you won’t be invited.”

That got him glared at before Joke snapped, “You’re not very funny, you know.”

Mic kissed Eraser’s hand and smirked at her. “I’m hilarious, you just aren’t smart enough to appreciate it.”

Nose in the air, he draped one arm around his fiancé’s shoulders and the two of them turned their attention to the rescue efforts going on down in the arena.

“If we lose any of them,” Eraser said quietly, “it’s going to be here. They haven’t had the second-year training yet, and…”

“Bakugo.”

“Mm.”

“Maybe Kirishima…?”

“Individual scores.”

Mic sighed. “You’re right.”

As Joke tried not to watch, he took Eraser’s left hand in his, kissed it, and set it back down to pet gently, like a bird taking shelter under his hand.

Unlike the first round, there was nothing flashy about the staged rescue mission – until Gang Orca stormed onto the scene with faux terrorists in tow.

“This situation would be difficult even for a pro,” Eraser said, leaning into his fiancé’s embrace. “To go this far for the provisional license…”

“After Kamino, though…”

Eraser made an unhappy sound, but otherwise did not stir. “Yeah. They may need this experience.”

Joke left her seat to lean on the back of the row in front of them, disbelief all over her face. “Gang Orca? Is he going all out?”

“Better than going all in,” Mic muttered, making Eraser huff into his scarves.

“Oh,” he muttered back, “are you saying you don’t like going all in?”

Mic choked back a laugh. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Mmm, I do.” Although the amplifier prevented access to Mic’s neck, Eraser turned his head the other way to kiss the fingers resting on his shoulder.

Down by the first aid station, a shockwave of ice announced that Todoroki had entered the fight with the mock-villain. A burst of wind, however, indicated that Yoarashi had also entered the fight and it was only a handful of seconds before they started bickering, the enemy completely forgotten.

“Well, that’s two,” sighed Mic.

Eraser made a disgruntled sound. “Can’t be helped.”

“Still…” Mic raised his voice so that Joke could hear it clearly. “Eighteen first-years passing is nothing to be ashamed of. Certainly better than eight.”

Joke stiffened, but did not rise to the bait.

In silence, they watched the drama of flame and wind play out, taking turns kissing each other’s fingers, until the horn sounded and signaled the end of the round.

“I guess we should start heading down while scores are tallied,” Mic sighed.

Eraser hummed. “Don’t want to move?”

“It’s comfy,” he complained insincerely.

Smirking, Eraser stood and used his still-tangled hand to tug Mic to his feet. As Joke watched in surprise, he tugged Mic off his feet like they were dancing the tango and kissed the other man so soundly that he staggered and nearly collapsed when Eraser let him up again.

“Wow,” Mic said in a high, tiny voice. Then, grinning, he swept Eraser into the same position and returned the kiss with equal passion.

When Eraser had gained his feet once again, there was a soft smile on his lips and a lack of tension in his posture that Joke had never seen before.

“Shall we go?” Mic asked, extremely pleased with himself, before launching into badly-accented English. “My future husband?”

Color stole up Eraser’s cheeks, and not even ducking his head into the scarves could hide it all. “Yeah,” he answered gruffly, and the two of them sauntered off towards the stairs, leaving Ms. Joke speechless behind them.

They did not look back.