In your mind, you’d always thought being best friends with Denki was just as good—if not better—than having a boyfriend. You ‘borrowed’ his clothes, he used your body as his own personal stress toy, and bets could be placed on the likelihood that he was always touching you somehow. You’d always been close—since your first year at UA, before Denki’s height doubled and you grew into your features.

You were rookie sidekicks, only a few months post-graduation and still adjusting to the demands of your job. You’d moved into a closet-sized apartment in Shizuoka, with two boxy rooms and a little kitchenette, that was close to The Lurkers agency. Up until recently, you’d thought that the ‘casual’ flirting in your friendship—the pet names, the touchiness, all of it—were normal. Your friends took one look at your dynamic and disagreed, strongly.

“Honey, I’m home!” Denki called out, an amused lilt in his voice as he kicked off his sneakers by the door, striding into the living room. He smelled clean, and kind of sweet—he must’ve showered at the agency. He leaned over the back of the couch to pat your head, meeting your gaze with a lopsided grin. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” you hummed softly, tipping your head back to look at him properly.

“You still down for drinks with the others later?” He asked casually, referring to the plans you’d made with your affectionately-dubbed ‘Bakusquad’. “Mina texted when I was walking up—said she needs to know what you’re wearing.”