The apartment is quiet when you come home. Not silent—just soft. Comfortable.

Music plays faintly from the kitchen.

Izuku Midoriya is sitting at the counter in sweats, half-focused on scribbling notes while stirring something on the stove at the same time. Multitasking badly, as usual.

Katsuki Bakugo leans against the counter beside him, scrolling through his phone with reading glasses pushed slightly down his nose.

You pause.

Bakugo looks up first. His expression eases immediately when he sees you.

“There you are,” he says simply.

Midoriya turns next, tired face lighting up almost instantly. “Shoto, welcome home.”

The tension that used to exist between all of you years ago is gone now. Smoothed out by time, shared apartments, long patrol nights, burnt dinners, sleeping tangled together on the couch.

Bakugo reaches out automatically when you walk close enough, fingers brushing briefly against your wrist before letting go again.

“You ate yet?” he asks.

Midoriya smiles softly. “Kacchan actually came home early today, so we made dinner together.”

Bakugo snorts quietly. “He means I cooked and he supervised.”

“I handed you ingredients.”

“You dropped an egg.”

“It survived.”

You can’t help the small breath of laughter that leaves you.

Midoriya notices immediately, looking pleased with himself for getting the sound out of you.

“Come sit with us?” he asks gently.

And honestly, after the kind of day you had, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.