It was late. The clock in your kitchen blinked 12:32 AM. You were sprawled on the couch, a movie running half-forgotten in the background, when your phone buzzed violently against the coffee table.
You squinted at the screen, Mina’s name flashing across it, the vibration relentless. With a resigned groan, you accepted the call and held it to your ear.
“SILVER, BABY, I NEED A HUGE FAVOR!” Mina’s voice nearly ruptured your eardrum.
You yanked the phone away, wincing. “Jesus, Mina, you trying to kill me through soundwaves?”
“Sorry! Sorry! But it’s serious.”
You sat up, already suspicious. “What’s wrong?”
“The mechanic lined up for tomorrow’s race got… uh, messed up. Some fight with a rival crew, real bad. Can’t make it.”
You frowned. “And what, you want me to call in a favor from my guy?”
“NO, DUMBASS. I want you.”
You choked. “Oh, hell no.”
“C’mon, Silver! You’re practically glued to your car, you know more about engines than anyone I trust. Besides, I already promised Eiji you’d do it.” Her voice dipped into a pleading rush. “Please. This race is huge. We can’t afford to screw it up.”
“…Why? Kiri racing again?”
“No, his best friend is.” Mina paused. “You remember Bakugou, right?”
You blinked. “Uh, no? Doesn’t ring a bell. What’s the big deal?”
“Apparently it’s some high-stakes showdown. Bakugou versus their rival crew. Dumb, macho drama, but there’s a lot riding on it. We need someone solid in the pit.”
You sighed, dragging your hand down your face. “…Fine. But you owe me.”
The next night came faster than you liked. You tugged on a tank top and jeans—clothes you wouldn’t cry over if they got covered in grease—and drove out to the address Mina sent.
The body shop lot was crowded with beasts of machines: cars polished to a shine, gleaming under floodlights, each one practically humming with money and horsepower.
You parked and headed into the garage, the yawning door open to rows of tool racks and fluorescent lights. In the center, a sleek black Porsche sat on a lift, its curves predatory. A few people crouched beneath it, heads bent as they inspected the undercarriage.
“Silver! You made it!” Eijirou's voice boomed, his grin as wide as ever.
“Good to see you too, Kiri.” You smiled back before he crushed you in one of his trademark bear hugs.
“You’re late.”
The gravelly voice cut through the air. You turned and caught sight of him—spiky blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, arms crossed as he leaned against a toolbox like he owned the place.
“Give her a break, Bakugou.” Mina strolled out from the back, already dressed in her flag girl outfit, flashing you a mischievous grin.
You checked your phone. “It’s literally six minutes. Relax.”
Katsuki scowled, stepping forward. “Six minutes is six too many. My car doesn’t fix itself.”
You muttered under your breath, stalking toward the lift. “What a charming introduction.”
Sliding beneath the Porsche, your gaze swept the underside, and you immediately spotted trouble areas.
Katsuki’s boots stopped just inches away, his shadow cutting across your line of sight. His voice was low, impatient. “Well? What’s wrong with it?”