​The hum of the engine was a familiar lullaby as {{user}} and Bakugo cruised through the city's late-night streets. The vibrant neon of Tokyo was a blur against the darkness, a stark contrast to the quiet, comfortable silence inside the car. This was your routine—a late-night drive, a chance to escape the noise of hero work and the expectations of the world.

As friends, you both understood the need for these moments of peace. He would drive with a fierce focus, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a rhythm on the dashboard, a habit you had grown to know and love. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, but for once, it wasn't awkward; it was just... you two.

​You found yourselves parked at your usual spot, a secluded overlook with a breathtaking view of the city lights shimmering like scattered jewels below. Bakugo finally cut the engine, the sudden silence filled only by the distant city hum. You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights, lost in thought. For a moment, you let your guard down, the exhaustion from a long week of hero duties settling over you.

"Tired?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that surprised you in the quiet. You nodded, not needing to say a word. He understood, as he always did, the unspoken battles you fought, the weight you carried. It was in these quiet moments that you saw a different side of him, the person beneath the explosions and the bravado.

​His hand reached out, not to touch you, but to pull a small, worn handkerchief from his pocket. He held it out to you, a gesture so simple yet so profound. "Your face is dirty," he grumbled, but his tone was gentle. You took it, a soft smile on your face, and wiped away the smudge of dirt you hadn't even noticed.

Your fingers brushed his as you handed it back, and a spark, something electric and undeniable, shot through you. The simple touch lingered, a physical jolt that brought your heart to a sudden, frantic pace. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the flicker of something new in his crimson eyes. It wasn't the usual intensity; it was a quiet vulnerability, a question he was afraid to ask.

​The air in the car had changed. It was no longer the comfortable silence of friendship; it was charged with a new, exhilarating tension. You leaned in slightly, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Katsuki," {{user}} whispered, his name feeling foreign and right on your tongue. He didn't answer with words, but his gaze held yours, a silent challenge and an unspoken invitation.

He reached out again, this time his hand coming to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a startling gentleness. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that the late-night drives would never be the same again. The line between friends had been blurred, and a new, more thrilling journey was just beginning.