one-shot; and still we moved
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi
word count: 4655 words
note: you can read this as five unconnected ficlets, or you can connect them to form one good ol' story. It works either way (I think, but I may be wrong). More notes at the end.

01. because she's drunk and unhappy (he's unhappy but he isn't drunk)

"Are you happy?"

Aizawa could hear Shiraishi shouting at the bar, arms flailing, as she pestered Hiyama, and then Fujikawa, prattling drunkenly about whether were they happy. He rolled his eyes, and finished his drink in one gulp, and then glowered at the empty glass, as if it had offended him.

In some sense, it had. How dare it be empty right now when he needed another drink? He looked up, to see Mary Jane staring straight back at him. Irritably, he rattled the ice-cubes in his empty glass, directing his glare from his glass to the bar owner.

Instead of hurrying over with a fresh drink, Mary Jane chose to confer with Fujikawa and Hiyama in hushed whispers, and as his annoyance grew, he furiously rattled his glass harder.

Shiraishi chose that moment to settle herself next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder, drink in hand. "Ai~zawa!"

He wished she would go away.

"What is it? Are you unhappy?"

Unhappy? That was putting it mildly, he felt like yelling at her. Try finding out that your father was alive, and also happened to be a complete bastard, your mother committed suicide, your grandmother lied to you and oh by the way, it was all probably all your fault. Unhappy, indeed.

But he didn't. He could never yell at her, not in real anger. She didn't deserve his anger right now. It was not her fault.

He looked the residues of his drink, the melting ice-cubes, and in one quick motion, he tilted everything down his throat, diluted alcohol and ice-cubes included.

"Great!" She cheered, smiling giddily. "I'm really unhappy, too!"

What was he unhappy about, anyway? He never needed parents. He never needed anyone. But to find out everything he thought he knew was a lie…now that thought prickled at him, like incessant, sharp needles. There was nothing he hated more than feeling unsure about himself.

"Is it okay to be unhappy?" Shiraishi pondered, arm still around his shoulder, all wide-eyed and drunk.

Aizawa ignored her, his mind already on his next drink.

"Of course it's okay!" She practically shrieked into his ear, and he winced.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fujikawa rolling his eyes at Shiraishi, and both he and Hiyama turned their backs on the two of them, choosing to chat with Mary Jane.

She was still hanging on his arm. "But why are you unhappy, Aizawa? Let's share our unhappiness. Unhappiness should be shared!"

"Shut up," he muttered, leaning back against the chair, purposely trapping her arm, hoping that she would remove it.

She didn't, even though her arm was getting crushed. She got even closer instead, resting her head on his shoulder and she raised her glass into the air and started cheering incoherently. "Let's celebrate our unhappiness!" She then extracted her arm from between his back and his chair, and struggled to sit up straighter. "You know, I'm really unhappy. That's because I'm a terrible person." She burst into giggles, and took a long sip of her drink.

"You're not," he said shortly, scowling at Mary Jane as she refreshed his drink. The bar owner shuddered, and scurried away.

"I am!" Shiraishi shouted in his ear. "I'm a terrible person and an even more horrible daughter."

"Fine, you are," he grabbed his drink and cradled it.

Without warning, her head dropped down onto his shoulder again. "I'm a horrible daughter…" she repeated, her voice lowered, and to his alarm, he saw a slight sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm horrible…"

"Shiraishi…" he sighed. He was in no mood to entertain her, whatsoever.

Her hand came up to rest on the side of his neck as she slumped against him. Her hand was cool against his flushed skin, and it felt weirdly comforting. She looked up at him, and his eyes met hers. Her fingers had somehow entwined themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leaned closer to her, eyes drifting downwards to her mouth, his hand hovering above her shoulder. She leaned up towards him, her eyes closing, and she was merely a breath away from him.

At the last moment, he pulled back. She was drunk. And he was not drunk enough to pretend for it to be one drunken kiss that no one had to answer to.

"Aizawa, Shiraishi." He looked up to see his other two colleagues staring at them. Aizawa prayed that they did not see anything else. And evidently, they didn't, because if they did, Fujikawa would never had shut up about it. "We're leaving, and you're leaving with us, because there's no way the two of you could get home yourselves in one piece."

"Hi~yama, you're soooo nice!" Shiraishi untangled herself from him and stood up, draping herself over the disgruntled Hiyama.

Aizawa snorted, standing up. "Like I need you to…" he broke off as he stumbled, arm reaching out blindly to latch onto the equally unbalanced Shiraishi, who promptly collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"You were saying?" Fujikawa smirked.

02. because she calls him sentimental (he doesn't tell her she is one of the very few people he will ever hold sentiment for)

They were celebrating Hiyama's acceptance to the obstetrics-gynaecology programme at the University of Tokyo Hospital. Unfortunately, of course, that also meant that after more than seven years together, she was leaving Shohoku, and the Lifesaving team.

"What would Lifesaving do without you?" Fujikawa said despondently, picking at his fish. "First, this awful guy left us for Neurosurgery..." He gestured towards Aizawa with his fork, who ignored his lament. "…and now you – leaving to another hospital! I thought it was going to be four of us all the way, the awesome foursome. And now there's just Shiraishi and me. And Saejima, of course." He gave the flight nurse a winning smile.

"Nice to know that I don't rate as high as the flight doctors, Fujikawa-sensei," Saejima raised an eyebrow, spearing a piece of asparagus.

"No, Saejima, that wasn't what I meant…"

"Messing up as usual, Fujikawa." Hiyama smirked. She looked around at her comrades; they had grown together, and came such a long way together, and she supposed that they were all content at where they were now. "You know…I think I'll really miss you all."

"Your hospital isn't far away at all," Shiraishi pointed out. "You could always come back for visits, and we can always meet up."

"Meaning I'll probably see you, Fujikawa and Saejima…I guess this is goodbye for good, Aizawa?" Hiyama teased.

His eyes flickered towards her, but he said nothing, cutting into his beef.

Shiraishi, sitting beside him, elbowed him a little. "Of course you'll still see Aizawa. We all know he is sentimental at heart."

At that, Aizawa snorted. "Hardly."

"Wait, wait, let's have a group picture," Fujikawa interjected, fumbling with his phone. "All together now, everyone. I just bought this awesome new phone that could take great wefies!"

Aizawa reacted with ill-disguised horror. "Wefies? Really? What are you, a high schooler?"

"Stop complaining," Fujikawa busied himself with finding the best angle. "I thought you're sentimental. Photos are sentimental."

"I am not…"

"Come on, Aizawa," Shiraishi cajoled, pushing him to stand closer to Fujikawa. "This wouldn't take but a minute of your precious time."

Grudgingly, he stood stiffly with the group, and stared sullenly into the camera as everyone struck a smile and a pose.

"Aizawa, come on! This isn't your funeral!" Fujikawa all but yelled.

Shiraishi poked him gently in the ribs. "Aizawa…"

He turned to look at her smiling at him encouragingly, and stifled a sigh. Dropping his scowl, he tried to look pleasant as Fujikawa snapped away happily.

Later on, Fujikawa would find two photos on his phone that he deemed weird. The first photo was a photo of Aizawa smiling – although for Aizawa, that merely meant he had lifted a corner of his mouth in some semblance of a different expression.

The second photo was of Aizawa as well. He looking away from the camera, and looking at Shiraishi. She wasn't aware that he was looking at her, for she was smiling straight ahead, but his head was tilted towards her, and there was a soft expression on his face that Fujikawa had never seen before.

0-0

"Thanks for walking me home," Shiraishi swung her arms as she walked. "It's such a great evening for a walk." It was the perfect spring night, the weather cool and comfortable.

He walked beside her, saying nothing, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"I can't believe we won't see Hiyama at the hospital tomorrow," Shiraishi chattered. "It'll feel so strange. I mean, after all these years we had spent together…"

"You'll managed. All of you survived after I moved to Neurosurgery."

"Well, yes, but you were still around. In fact, you were around Lifesaving all the time, being the sentimental person you are," she teased.

He stopped walking, and scruntinised her. He realised that he was in the Emergency quite often, but that was only because he was there to help with the patients with brain injury, and Emergency had plenty of those. It was hardly sentimentality.

"Do you really think I'm sentimental, Shiraishi?" He asked abruptly.

She stopped walking as well, and looked at him curiously. "You make it sound like as if sentimentality is a bad thing."

He looked up towards the dark evening skies, and let out a breath. "Sentiments…emotions…they're flighty things."

She laughed. "I beg to differ. It just means you care about something, and someone. I've seen you with those sweets in your pocket. They're candies that your grandmother used to, and still does, buy for you, right? That's sentimentality, don't you think?"

"I supposed so."

"It's not so bad being sentimental, Aizawa. It just means you have feelings," she said cheerfully, as they resumed walking. "In fact…" her voice trailed off, and she gave a huge sneeze. And another one. Aizawa was soon looking at Shiraishi in a sneezing fit.

Sighing, he removed his jacket. "Honestly, Shiraishi. If you're going to catch a chill that easily, then wear warmer clothes."

"No, it's okay, I'm fine," she waved him off. "You'll catch a cold."

Aizawa gave an exasperated snort, and flung his jacket around her, straightening the shoulders and tugging the lapels so that she was properly covered.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, giving one final sneeze.

He nodded, but he didn't say anything, and she noticed that his hands were still on the lapels of his jacket. He was looking at her, head slightly tilted, with an expression on his face that was familiar, yet unfamiliar to her. She felt her heartbeat quickened, and then he tugged lightly, bringing her closer to him.

Whoa.

His eyes were on hers now, meeting her gaze steadfastly as his fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket. He lowered his head towards hers slowly, and she froze in place, not quite knowing how to react. He was so close to her now, closer than he had ever been, perhaps. But just as he was about to close that one final gap, he stopped.

All this talk about sentimentality and feelings…they were colleagues, friends. Kissing friends and colleagues constituted as doing something stupid. And Aizawa would never do anything stupid.

He took a step back, loosening his grip. "Keep that," he said shortly. "If you fall sick, I'll be forced to take shifts at Lifesaving just to ensure Fujikawa doesn't kill anyone."

If she was disappointed, she didn't show it.

03. because it never gets easier for her (it doesn't for him as well, for entirely different reasons)

Aizawa walked out to the launching pad of the Heli. It was late in the evening, with only a little daylight left, and the Heli had been grounded for the day. There was not a soul around, except for her, a lithe figure propped against the railing, staring at the covered Heli.

He approached her slowly, and propped himself on the railing next to hers. She gave a start, and then he saw her hastily swiping the back of her hand over her eyes.

She had been crying again, that much of obvious. He felt a strange, sharp feeling – something almost akin to pain (but surely it wasn't) - at the left region of his chest, somewhere near his heart. It seemed to be some kind of automated reaction whenever he saw her crying.

"How do you know I'm here?" she asked, twisting her fingers together, not looking at him.

"Fujikawa told me you lost two patients on location today. Two children. It isn't hard for me to guess where you'd be," he pulled back the tab of his canned coffee, and held out the other can to her. She looked at the can, and took it slowly.

"I promised their father that I'd save them," she said flatly, turning over the can in her hands. "I lied."

"You didn't lie," he corrected. "You couldn't keep your promise. There's a difference."

Shiraishi let out a short, bitter laugh. "Are you, of all people, getting philosophical on me, Aizawa? Don't."

He ignored her bitterness. "I lost a patient today, too," he tilted back his head and took a long drink of his coffee. "Blood clot in the brain after an accident. Patient subsequently suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. We couldn't save her. She was nine months old."

She was quiet. They had been working long enough together to know that sometimes words were not needed. Because there was nothing to be said.

"Thing is," he stared straight ahead at the Heli. "We know all of this. We lose patients. We're not God. And I know it doesn't get easier. It should, in theory, yet it never does."

He turned to look at her. She was still gripping her can of unopened coffee, her knuckles almost white.

"If you feel like you need to cry, go ahead," he said calmly. "But after that, you will steel yourself, go back there, and continue saving people the way you always do."

She nodded imperceptibly. A silence settled between them, and then he heard it. A muffled sob. And another one. The hand holding the coffee dropped to her side, as she stuffed her fist into her mouth, tears falling fast and hard.

Sighing, he lifted himself off the railing, and walked towards her. He reached down, and took the can from her, and then he placed himself squarely in front of her, shielding her, as if the Heli was a prying audience, reminiscent of something he once did for her, years ago.

Without warning, she grabbed the hem of his scrubs, pulling him closer to her, and pressed her face against his chest as she cried. He stood there, unmoving, allowing her to cry, feeling her tears soaking through his scrubs. Gingerly, he lifted his hand, and rested it lightly on top of her head.

They didn't know how long they were in that position, his hand on her head, her face buried in his chest as her shoulders shook with sobs. Gradually, she quieted, her grip on his scrubs loosening, as she pushed herself back, wiping off the remnants of her tears on her shirt sleeve.

"Sorry," she muttered, hiding her face. It was always embarrassing when she lost composure, more so when it was in front of Aizawa. But he was there for her. He came for her.

Shiraishi stood up, straightening herself, squaring her shoulders. She had one good cry. Now she had to put this away, compartmentalise it.

"Thank you, Aizawa." She took the can of coffee from him. "And for the coffee, too."

"Shiraishi." He caught her upper arm as she turned away from him. "Never doubt that you are anything less than what you are."

She attempted a weak smile. "I'll try not to."

His hand slid down her arm, loosening its grip, but his other hand came up to brush away the stray bangs on her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear, and lingered at the side of her cheek, his thumb hovering at the corner of her mouth. She stared at him, her eyes wide, the tears still perceptible, and he suddenly felt like he wanted to pull her to him, to hold her, and do something that he had been incessantly thinking about as of late.

But he knew that now was not the time.

He moved his hand to her shoulder, and gave it a quick squeeze, before he turned and headed back into the hospital.

04. because she is interesting (but she will always be more than just that)

Aizawa watched Shiraishi sometimes. Not that he intentionally did but he found his eyes following her as she moved around the staff station, the emergency room, in the neurosurgery clinic when she stopped by for his medical opinion. Even in the times when they passed by each other in the hospital hallways, heading towards different directions, he found himself pausing for two seconds, eyes flickering towards her back as she disappeared out of his sight (she'd mostly be running, she was always running).

She was not the only who reacted when someone called out for Shiraishi in the hospital cafeteria.

He didn't miss the fact that it was unintentional was probably more telling than had it been intentional. He was pretty smart, after all. And he knew these feelings for what they are. Whether or not he wanted to act upon them, of course, was another matter altogether.

He had very few friendships and relationships throughout his life; and one that had lasted for nine years didn't seem to be worth jeopardising.

Aizawa never did anything that was not beneficial.

But lately, it was getting to him. He found himself in Lifesaving more often than usual, often sauntering in the pretext of offering help (the new Fellows were absolutely hopeless, their sheer incompetence made Fujikawa as a Fellow looked like Kuroda-sensei). He stood in during Shiraishi's surgeries, jumping in to help her when it was evident that she needed help. He flippantly turned her down when she asked, but he knew he was not being truthful when he told her he had no desire to move.

He understood her almost like he understood himself. When he heard her voice over the phone, he knew immediately what he needed to do, even though she never asked. She didn't need to ask.

Riding the Heli was like going home.

And that was part of the reason he was contemplating on going back. He didn't tell her that, of course. He told her that he had learnt everything he needed to in Lifesaving, and Neurosurgery was where he should be at that point of his career. She nodded, and told him she understood, and he was surprised at the disappointment flooding through his body, that she didn't ask him to go back.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Because Aizawa-sensei, you will be where you need to be. And wherever there may be, it will be the right place, so long as you're saving lives."

Eventually, he chose to go back. What he told her was correct, one of the reasons was because he could get first-hand access to the patients with grievous brain injuries. But there was another reason, one that he felt that perhaps, it was time to take the leap, and tell her.

"Besides, in Lifesaving, there's you."

She had been smiling at him, and at that, her smile slipped slightly. "What?"

He didn't turn his head to look at her, but he watched her from the corner of his eye, and her expression indicated that she had no idea what he was talking about. He suddenly had this overwhelming urge to take two steps closer and grab her, and to claim her lips with his, just to let her know what exactly he was talking about.

But he didn't.

Instead, he said nothing else, and they stood in silence before the elevator pinged, and he reached his floor. Walking out, he then stopped.

"You're interesting."

He heard her squeaked out an "eh" as the elevator doors closed. He walked off, smirking to himself. Perhaps she would think about it, perhaps she wouldn't. But he fully intended to show her, soon, what he meant precisely, by interesting.

05. because she's his (and everyone needs to know that)

The first time Shinkai asked Shiraishi out, Aizawa gritted his teeth hard, and it took all his self-control to maintain a stoic face, to not to react to Shinkai's flirty tone. He had spent the whole morning arguing with Shiraishi, and that put him in a bad mood. And it somehow irritated him incessantly when she turned to him after the doors closed behind Shinkai, and wondered out loud what was all of that about.

He stood with his back against the wall of the elevator, arms crossed, trying to keep his face impassive. "He's asking you out," he snapped. Nine years together, and you tell this guy we're not close?

Without waiting for her to say anything, he stalked out of the elevator, fuming.

0-0

He was happily bickering with Shiraishi over lunch regarding the incompetence of the Fellows when a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see Shinkai grinning at them, lunch tray in hand.

"Aizawa, Shiraishi-sensei. Mind if I join you for lunch?"

He felt his heckles rising, but before he could say anything, Shiraishi smilled back, and pulled out a chair. "Certainly, Shinkai-sensei. Please, have a seat."

Shinkai sat down, pulling his chair closer to Shiraishi.

Too close, Aizawa thought, fighting to keep his expression neutral, as Shinkai began chattering about his morning in Neurosurgery.

"We've gotten so much busier since you stole Aizawa from us," he smiled winningly at Shiraishi as she laughed.

"We could hardly steal Aizawa. It was his own decision after all. No one can make him do what he doesn't want to do," she cast a glance at him. "Right?"

He muttered something noncommittal under his breath, nearly stabbing at his salad.

"Well, I have to say it's a little bit more pleasant at Neurosurgery now without Aizawa glaring at me every five minutes."

"He does that? I can't say I'm surprised…" they both started laughing together.

Aizawa had enough of this. He stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back with a loud clatter. "I'm heading back to Emergency. See you there. Or not," he added snidely, and strode off towards Emergency, seething inwardly.

He could literally feel smoke coming out of his ears.

0-0

It was happening again. He was going through the Heli roster with Shiraishi when Shinkai popped into their office like a bad rash, that ever flirty, perverted smile on his face.

"Shiraishi-sensei, I know you're ending your shift soon, so I'm here especially to ask you for a drink," he propped his elbows on the counter, looking at her and ignoring Aizawa completely.

Aizawa kept his head down, refusing to react, but he tightened his grip on the pencil he was holding, pressing so hard into the paper that it was almost tearing.

"Ahhh…Shinkai-sensei. I would love to, but I promise Hiyama I'll have a drink with her."

"Well, I could come along, if Hiyama-sensei doesn't mind…"

SNAP!

Both of them started, and turned around to see Aizawa holding a broken pencil.

"Aizawa…?" Shiraishi stared at him curiously. "Are you all right?"

"I'm going to check on the patient in 3A," he said curtly, dropping the pieces of pencil and heading towards the exit.

If he had stayed there for a minute longer, he swore he was going to punch Shinkai in the face.

0-0

It was late at night, and they had just finished a routine round of checking the vitals of the day's emergency patients.

"She's stable," Shiraishi handed a patient file to Aizawa. "Yokomine will follow up tomorrow morning."

He nodded, taking the file from her. "Fujikawa and Natori are on Heli duty tomorrow, right?"

Ping!

The elevator doors opened to reveal Shinkai on the other side. "Shi~raishi-sensei."

"Ah, Shinkai-sensei, hello. It's really late, you're still here?"

"Well, so are you," he said, leaning closer in a flirtatious manner. "We should go for supper together."

Something in Aizawa finally snapped. "She's not interested, Shinkai," he growled, taking a step forward, effectively wedging himself between Shiraishi and Shinkai.

"Aizawa!" Shiraishi sounded shocked.

Shinkai, on the other hand, just looked at Aizawa, head tilted, and then he snickered, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Got it. Understood. Well, good night." The elevator doors opened again, and he sauntered out, whistling jauntily without a backward glance.

The doors closed again, and she glared at him. "That was so unbelievably rude, even for you."

"I hate that guy," he gritted out, one hand clenching into a fist.

"So? That doesn't mean you had to be so…argh!" She swatted him with the file she was holding. "You're terrible."

The elevator stopped at their floor, and she stalked out, her manner one of extreme annoyance. He followed her, as equally annoyed.

"Are you interested in him?" He demanded, as they walked into their empty office.

"What? Aizawa, what is wrong with you?" She threw her files onto her table, and scowled at him.

"Do you really not know?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed her pen at him. "I'm supposed to read your mind now? Why are you being all…angry?"

Looking at her, all irritated and flushed because of Shinkai, of all people, and he couldn't stand it anymore.

Fuck it, he thought and before he allowed himself to think any further, he had taken her by her shoulders, and pushed her backwards, pinning her against the edge of her desk. She let out a squeak, the pen she was holding clattering onto the floor as he grabbed her wrist.

"I'm angry, because I cannot stand the thought, and the sight of Shinkai getting close to you."

And before she could react, he leaned down, and captured her lips with his, his mouth hot and aggressive, colliding with hers. His hands drifted to her waist, and then her hips, as he slanted his tongue over her bottom lip, demanding entry.

He wasn't ready for the wave of emotions that crashed over him when she kissed him back, arms sliding up his back, his neck, fingers twisting themselves in his hair as she pressed herself to him. She let him in, her tongue tangling with his, and he groaned audibly as he tasted her finally, and she was much more intoxicating that what he had imagined.

His hand slipped under the hem of her scrubs, fingers digging into the bare skin of her hips as she emitted little sighs between their kisses. She slid her tongue against his in his mouth, trying to take control of their kisses, and he let her, feeling his head almost spinning with passion. He lifted her up, and sat her on the table, wedging his knee between her legs as she wound her arms around his neck, lips still fused to his.

He didn't know how long they had been kissing, and he didn't particularly care either, until she started to push him back. "Aizawa…wait," she said, tearing away from him, panting. "We can't. We're at work."

He was breathless too, as he reluctantly pulled back, his hands not straying from her hips. As his heartbeat steadied, he looked at her carefully. She didn't look horrified or embarrassed, she didn't look like she didn't want him, she merely looked worried because they were at work, and Shiraishi wasn't one to break the rules.

Aizawa had a sudden urge to burst into laughter. Instead, he leaned closer to her again, and ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

"And if we weren't at work?"

She smiled at him, sweetly, albeit shyly, but surely. Reaching up, she placed her hand on his cheek, and pressed a soft kiss onto his mouth, and that told him all he needed to know.

Notes: I remembered when I started writing for Jdrama/JE fandom, there were a lot of such prompts floating around – five/four/three times they didn't and one time they did sort of fics. I've written a couple (for JE mostly) and always found them quite fun to write. And since Aizawa and Shiraishi plot bunnies are just absolutely refusing to leave my brain, so here you go.

Side note: the first draft final ficlet actually had Aizawa pinning Shiraishi against the wall of the elevator and kissing the hell out of her. But I can't justify the elevator's speed if they're going to have a hot make out session, so…

But someday I will write an elevator thing. Because the elevator is their thing. And they will need to be trapped in there for longer periods for anything interesting to happen.

Okay, shutting up now. Reviews, comments, criticisms are love!