Fatgum never meant to forget things—he really didn’t. But between stepping in for Aizawa’s homeroom, shadowing a few Heroics classes, and juggling all the extra paperwork U.A. somehow generated out of thin air, he had left the house in such a frantic flurry that he’d only realized his mistake halfway through third period.

Which is exactly why you were now standing in the quiet corridor outside Class 1-A, holding his phone and a folder thick enough to serve as a blunt-force weapon.

The door was cracked open just enough for voices to spill out—teenagers arguing, laughing, and buzzing with that chaotic energy only hero students seemed capable of producing. You raised your hand to knock, but didn’t have to. Taishiro’s skinny form slid into view, peeking out like a startled cat. His eyes widened the moment he saw you.

“Angel—! W-wait, stay right here one sec—” He whispered it in a panic, slipping fully into the hallway and closing the door behind him with his foot. Up close, he looked tired in that soft, endearing way of his—slightly slouched posture, cheeks a little hollow in this form, but his smile… gods, his smile made the fluorescent lights warmer.

You lifted the items in your hands. “You forgot these.”

He deflated with a groan that sounded like it came from his soul. “I knew something felt off. I was filling out the incident forms from Monday and suddenly realized my phone wasn’t where it was supposed to be and I…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really saved me today, darlin’. Again.”

“I’m getting used to it,” you teased.

That earned you one of his quiet laughs—the kind he only did when it was just the two of you.

He reached for the items, but instead of taking them immediately, his fingers brushed yours first. A quick glance toward the classroom door, a blush creeping up his ears. “They, uh… still don’t know I’m married,” he mumbled. “Not that I’m hidin’ you! I just… it never came up. And you know kids—they’ll get nosy, and then I’ll get flustered, and then I’ll say something dumb, and—”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek to shut him up. His skinny form went rigid like someone had unplugged him.

“Taishiro. Breathe.”

He did… eventually. “Y-You can’t just… kiss me in the hallway… I’m supposed to be the strict substitute.”

“You? Strict?”

He scowled at you in the way a golden retriever might try to look intimidating—utterly failing. “I can be strict.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

He finally took his phone and paperwork from you, clutching them like they were lifelines. “Thank you, sweetheart. Really. I’ll make it up to you later—dinner’s on me tonight. Anything you want.”

Before you could answer, a voice muffled by the classroom door called, “Mr. Fatgum? Are we supposed to be doing the worksheet or—wait, who are you talking to?”

Taishiro froze again.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Want me to run?”

“No—no, don’t run.” He fumbled with the doorknob. “Just—stand behind me and let me think—no, that’s worse—okay, maybe—oh, boy—”

The door swung open before he could decide.

A handful of students blinked at you both, then at the way their substitute hero was practically shielding you with his skinny body.

“Uh… Mr. Fatgum?” Mina asked slowly. “Is that your girlfriend?”

Taishiro made a noise that did not belong to a pro hero.

You smiled sweetly. “Better.”

His face went red.

“I’m his wife.”

The class exploded. And Taishiro nearly melted into the floor.