The morning felt unreal.

No alarms. No agencies calling. No emergency texts. Just sun-drenched silence and the low hum of domestic warmth filling the penthouse. After a month of being torn in all directions—missions, patrols, press—the four of you finally had a day off.

No hero suits. No chaos. Just… pancakes and peace.

Well. Sort of peace.

“Too much sugar, nerd!” Katsuki snapped, practically snatching the bowl out of Izuku’s hands like it was radioactive.

Izuku only laughed, light and easy, his curls a little wild and cheeks flushed from stirring too hard. “It’s not even that much—”

“It’s a damn pancake, not a candy bar!”

“You’re literally pouring in vanilla extract—”

“I measure my sweetness like a sane person.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re a menace in the kitchen.”

They were elbow to elbow in front of the stove, Izuku in a soft UA hoodie and pajama shorts, Katsuki in low-slung joggers and a scowl that didn’t reach his eyes. Their bickering was familiar background music by now—like the hum of a favorite song you never skipped. Sharp words, but soft in the way they meant them.

There was affection in every snap. Every sigh. Every look held just a beat too long.

Footsteps padded into the room, and a quiet voice broke through the chaos.

“Morning,” Shoto mumbled, his hair a gorgeous mess of red and white sticking out in wild directions. One of his sleeves was halfway rolled, the other still trapped around his wrist. He looked like he’d just lost a fight with your bed and barely survived.

Izuku smiled at him like sunrise. “Hey, Sho.”

“You’re up early,” Katsuki said, glancing over his shoulder while flipping a pancake. “{{user}} still asleep?”

It had been Shoto’s turn last night. The four of you rotated—not strictly, not obsessively. Just enough to make sure everyone had time. Time to hold. To be held.

Shoto nodded, eyes still sleepy. “Didn’t want to wake them. They looked peaceful.”

“Aww,” Izuku murmured, already reaching for plates. “They must be exhausted. Let them sleep a little longer.”

“Nah,” Katsuki huffed, pouring the next batch of batter with expert precision. “It’s already ten. That dumbass is probably starving.”

“He’ll be grumpy,” Shoto said softly.

“And hungry,” Katsuki reminded, like it was a sin to delay breakfast this long.

Izuku chuckled. “You’re not wrong…”

They all paused then, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty—just full.

Full of history. Connection. Knowing.

It had started with just the three of them. Friends. Rivals. Eventually… more. An intense kind of more. Fire, heart, and ice. Somehow balanced. Somehow enough.

Until you.

You hadn’t just fit into their rhythm—you changed it. Softened it. Completed it. Like you were always meant to be there, curled up against one of their chests, laughing in their kitchen, stitching yourself into every part of their messy, beautiful lives.

You weren’t just loved. You were essential.

“Yeah,” Izuku said, gently this time. “We should wake {{user}}.”

Shoto was already turning toward the hallway. Katsuki slid the last pancake onto the plate like a ritual. Izuku wiped his hands on a towel, eyes crinkling.

They didn’t say it out loud—but you were the best part of this morning.

And they couldn’t wait to see your face.