Bakugo woke to warmth pressed against his side. He blinked the sleep off, head still heavy, and looked down.
You were tucked against him, face relaxed. Early light cut thin lines across the blankets through the gap in his curtains.
He went still. Then, slowly, his mouth curved. He'd wanted you since UA.
Back then it had felt like a design flaw—something his brain kept doing without his permission.
Tracking you across the training field. Getting irrationally furious whenever some extra got too comfortable standing near you, for reasons he'd spent years refusing to admit.
He never said anything. Until last night.
Last night had been some overpriced gala he hadn't wanted to attend.
Except you'd been there too, and somewhere between the second round of drinks and a conversation that ran twenty minutes longer than it needed to, something had finally cracked loose.
Now here you were. Asleep in his bed. Still holding onto him.
His grin spread, cocky. Proud of himself.
He eased his head back against the pillow, careful not to jostle you, and let his eyes fall shut again.
Years of wanting something and refusing to reach for it, and somehow, finally, reaching anyway.
His arm curled a little tighter around you.
