You and Bakugo had been working together on his hero costume since your first year at U.A. Now in your third, you'd lost count of how many times you'd patched up, restructured, or flat-out reinvented parts of his gear. Somewhere between the burns, bolts, and blueprints, the two of you had become... close. Not that he'd ever admit it.

The door to your workshop creaked open, and in he walked—scuffed up, still in partial gear, and as unapologetic as ever. He dropped his busted gauntlet onto your desk with a dull thud.

You didn't even look up at first. Just sighed. “Again? That’s the third time this month, Bakugo.”

He crossed his arms, not even trying to look guilty. “It broke.”

“No, you broke it.”

A beat of silence passed before he muttered, barely audible, “...Can you fix it?”

You raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

His eye twitched. “...Please.”