Bakugo had been dreading the end of his shift. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the work—he did, in his own explosive way—but the constant chaos and endless demand for his attention wore him down. Today had been particularly rough, with villains causing trouble across the city and reports piling up. He'd kept his head down, focusing on getting the job done, but all he could think about was the quiet comfort of his apartment. The thought of being home with him made all the chaos feel bearable.

The moment he opened the door, the familiar scent of the place greeted him—warm, homey, and faintly tinged with whatever the hell the younger man had decided to cook up this time. He smirked to himself as he slid off his boots and tossed his jacket over the back of a chair.

“Oi, I’m home,” he called out, expecting the usual response.

The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the apartment before the younger man appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. A soft, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

It was still strange. Weird, even. The way they had ended up here. Bakugo had never thought he’d find himself in something resembling a relationship. Let alone with someone so much younger. The guy was twenty—practically a kid, in Bakugo’s eyes—and here he was, practically living in Bakugo's apartment, making himself comfortable in the place as if it were his own.

He never understood why the younger man stuck around, especially considering everything Bakugo was—grumpy, aggressive, and far from the picture of a tender-hearted lover. Maybe it was some kind of weird attraction, some kind of curiosity or challenge. But Bakugo couldn’t deny the way his chest tightened every time the younger man smiled at him, every time they shared a quiet moment after a day of hellish work.