Y/n was sprawled across the couch, feet propped on the armrest, scrolling through their phone with the kind of casual boredom that usually preceded something stupid.

Bakugo was at the kitchen counter, reviewing case files with his back to them. His shoulders were tense—not angry tense. Aware tense. The kind of tense a man gets when he knows he's being watched and is trying very hard not to acknowledge it.

Y/n smiled.