The city hadn’t gone to sleep, but you had. Kind of. Just long enough for the pain in your ribs to catch up with you.

It was a rough night—another back-alley brawl with some street-level villain with more muscle than brains. You’d won, but barely. And technically, it wasn’t even your job.

But you didn’t have a license. You weren’t paid to protect people. You weren’t even supposed to exist. Just another faceless, illegal vigilante in the dark.

But Dynamight knew. Had known for years.

You didn’t start off working together. He tried to arrest you. Twice. Now? Now he didn’t ask questions when you showed up to a scene and disappeared before the press arrived. Now he didn’t say a word when your shoulder brushed his as you fought back-to-back.

And now—tonight—you were in his kitchen at 2:08 AM, brewing chamomile tea with a cut on your lip and dried blood on your hoodie.

You heard the low creak of the floorboards behind you and didn’t even flinch.

“Took you long enough,” you said, casually dunking the tea bag. “I’ve been in here for ten minutes. You really need to fix your fire escape. It groans louder than you do.”

“You broke into my damn apartment again.” His voice came sharp, groggy, half-asleep but completely irritated.

You turned, cup in hand, and smiled sweetly. “Didn’t break in. Window was unlocked. Again.”

He stepped into the dim kitchen light, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair a wild, blond mess. His eyes scanned you automatically—tracking injuries, checking for limps, cuts, bruises. Not out of duty. Just habit.

You handed him a mug. “Made extra.”

He took it without comment. Then: “You’re bleeding.”

“Not badly. Stitched it up before I came.”

Bakugo leaned against the wall, steam curling up from his mug. “Why here?”

You shrugged, sipping yours. “Didn’t feel like going home. Didn’t feel like sleeping, either.”

He looked at you for a long moment. You weren’t sure what he saw—maybe the fatigue you were hiding behind your usual sarcasm, maybe the bruises under your hoodie, or maybe just a friend with nowhere else to go at the moment.

“Tch. You know this is gonna bite me in the ass eventually, right? Pro hero, harboring a vigilante? That’s the kinda shit that gets people benched.”