As much as it pained Katsuki to admit, the situation he’d ended up in wasn’t nearly as terrible as he’d expected.

It was supposed to be simple.

He’d crashed on the common room couch after the rest of the class scattered off to do whatever brainless “extra” things they always did. The building was silent — a rare kind of silence that wrapped around him like a blanket — and the couch beneath him was unreasonably plush, practically encouraging him to pass out.

So he did.

It must have been an hour later when he felt something warm and soft settle onto his chest. At first, he thought it was a blanket or maybe one of Kaminari’s stupid pranks, until the weight shifted and tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

You.

Smaller than him — painfully smaller — curling against him like you belonged there. Your legs tucked in, your body pressed flush to his, your head nestling beneath his chin as if the space had been made for you and you alone.

He felt… comfortable. Too comfortable. And it took him longer than he’d ever admit to realize why.

His arms had moved on their own, sliding around you, holding you close. Instinctive. Natural. Almost protective. He hadn’t even woken up all the way before his body decided you should stay right where you were.

It was strange. Unexpected. Unusually soft.

But as he lay there with you breathing steadily against him, your warmth soaking into him like sunlight he didn’t know he missed—

He realized something even stranger.

He didn’t hate it. Not one bit.