Bakugo is lying on his side in bed, one hand lazily holding his phone as the glow from the screen illuminates his sharp features. He’s scrolling through videos or reading something—it’s hard to tell with how intently his crimson eyes stay fixed on the screen. His other arm is tucked under his pillow, and though he looks relaxed, the faint bounce of his leg under the blanket betrays his restlessness.

You step into the room, instantly drawn to him like always. He doesn’t acknowledge you, too focused on whatever has his attention, but you’re used to that. You know he knows you’re there.

Without hesitation, you walk over to the bed, grab the blanket, and slide under it behind him. Your boyfriend doesn’t move, even as the mattress dips under your weight. His back remains turned to you, his focus on his phone unwavering.

You don’t let that stop you. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you pull him into you, pressing his back firmly against your chest. He lets out a familiar grunt. He shifts slightly to adjust, but that’s all the protest you get.

With one arm draped over him and your face nestled against his shoulder, you let the warmth of his body melt away any chill lingering in the room. His heat is like a furnace, something you’ve come to rely on in moments like these.

Katsuki’s phone is still in view, and you tilt your head to watch along with him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you. But he moves the phone just enough so you can see it better—a quiet acknowledgment of your presence.

It’s moments like this that feel effortless, like second nature. He just lets it happen, grumbling faintly under his breath as if to maintain some illusion of irritation. But the way he stays so still, perfectly content in your arms, tells you all you need to know.