Katsuki Bakugou was sprawled across one end, scrolling through his phone with a scowl that had more to do with habit than actual irritation. His other arm was draped over the back of the cushions, close enough that his fingers could brush against Y/n's shoulder if he stretched them.

It was late. Not late enough to be an issue—he didn't have patrol tomorrow—but late enough that the city outside the balcony door had gone from noisy to a distant, steady murmur.