The gift is TOSSED at Aizawa's face, with full expectation that his teacher would have no problems catching it. It's a plain, white coffee mug--a plain, white coffee mug that would reveal a middle finger once it warmed up enough, but Katsuki offered no explanation whatsoever--not for why he gave the gift and not for what the gift actually was. Happy birthday, Aizawa-sensei.
aizawa’s problem is less in his ability to catch the airborne object – which, as projected by his student, he seamlessly intercepts with his right hand – and more so that his student has thrown a glass mug at an adult in the first place. brow furrowed and blood boiling, he calls out to him in frustration, voice pointedly raised.
back here. the rest of his command trails off as he stares in defeat at his already departed student, hand grasping the mug still and tongue clicking. forefinger and thumb come up to meet his temple and he sighs out, turning now to return to his paper work.
at some point in the middle of a dreary, tedious afternoon, it becomes clear that aizawa won’t get through it without some assistance – the caffeinated sort, if you will. shoulders slumped and feet dragging, he opts to grab the plain, white mug that his brute of a student has ‘gifted’ him and make use of it.
once his coffee is poured, he makes his way back and sets the mug on his desk. aizawa leans back into his chair and goes to stretch out his arms, but he stops right in the middle of his bone cracking melody, brows raised and eyes set on the mug changing colors.
at first, he can’t tell what it is, but aizawa is nothing if not a patient man; he watches and he waits, leaning forward and closer with intent curiosity. finally, a middle finger forms, and he’s rendered… positively speechless.