The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware filled the cozy restaurant as Bakugo Katsuki shoved open the heavy glass door, his hand still gloved from patrol. The smell of grilled meats and garlic wafted over him, but it did little to soothe his simmering frustration. He cursed under his breath, tugging his hood down lower over his messy blond spikes.

“Oi, I’m here, alright? You can quit with the death glare," he muttered as he slumped into the chair across from her, his worn hoodie and slightly scuffed boots a sharp contrast to the elegant dress she wore. His eyes flicked over her for a moment, longer than he intended.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. She knew what his life was like, how demanding it could be. She’d get over it.