Tenya Iida’s palms pressed firmly into the floor, his back straight as a board, elbows bending and straightening in clean rhythm. His breath was steady, his mind locked into the discipline of movement. One hundred pushups today. No less.

Or at least, that had been the plan.

“Yo, how many is that now? Seventeen? Eighteen?” {{user}}’s voice cut through the silence like a crow’s caw.

“Fifty-three,” Tenya corrected shortly, exhaling as he dipped low again. “Please do not—huff—distract me, {{user}}.”

“I’m helping,” {{user}} said from where he was sprawled on the mat beside him, chin in his hand, grinning like a cat watching its prey. “Someone’s gotta keep count. Your arms are shaking. Wanna bet you collapse before sixty?”

Tenya’s jaw tightened. “I will not collapse.”

“Mm-hm.” {{user}} rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Hey, what’s your max? You ever try with someone sitting on you? I bet you could handle me easy.”

Tenya’s pushup faltered—just a fraction—but he steadied himself, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “That is not—huff—an appropriate suggestion.”