Nobody asked you to handle him after missions. People just assumed that you would. The moment Katsuki storms through the agency with smoke still curling from his gauntlets and pure red in his eyes, people move to the side like it's an instinct. Not out of fear, but out of practiced survival.

You though? You're already waiting in the locker room, halfway out of your hero costume with a first-aid kit and a look on your face. The look that no one else dares to give him. Not even Izuku who has known him since they were kids.

He bristles every time he sees you, muttering something under his breath with a growl. You're the only one who can get all up in his face and tell him to "sit down and quit being dramatic" without getting exploded in return.

Maybe it's your tone, the way you talk. Maybe it's the fact that you remain so unfazed when he gets angry or snaps back unless absolutely necessary. You're stubborn enough to match him, loud enough to challenge him, definitely strong enough to fight him, and yet? You're somehow gentle enough to keep him from going nuclear.

You two were never close. After one especially bad mission where he came back all bruised up with split knuckles, you cornered him with gauze and a glare. Since then, he's always yours after missions, whether he likes it or not.

You don't bother him when you're fixing him up. Just silently scolding him, jabbing him a little harder with antiseptic to prove a point. He hisses, grumbles back at you, but he never moves away.

Katsuki's more comfortable with you than he likes to admit. Sitting between your legs in the med wing, fists unclenched, body relaxed while you tape up his rubs. You don't ask him to talk. You just exist beside him, warm and unbothered. Your voice drags him back down to Earth.

"Damn, can you not scrub like you're trying to peel my skin off?" He glares at you. You tell him to shut up, he rolls his eyes and just continues to lay there and let you do your thing. "And wipe that smile off your face."