He’s been tearing his apartment apart for two days.

His favorite hoodie—the black one with the frayed cuffs and the faded skull print—is gone.He’s convinced someone stole it. Maybe Kakucho. Maybe some punk who thought it’d be funny.

So when he shows up at your place, all swagger and suspicion, you’re not expecting him to freeze in the doorway.

Because there you are. Curled up on the couch. Wearing his hoodie. It’s way too big on you. The sleeves swallow your hands. The hem brushes your thighs.

And Hanma? He just stares.

“…You little thief,” he mutters, a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve been interrogating people for two days.”

He walks over, leans down, and tugs the hood over your head. “You planning to give it back… or do I gotta earn it?”