✦━━━━━✦

The morning sun blazed through the gym's floor-to-ceiling windows, catching the fine mist of sweat in the air as you worked through your last set. The clank of weights echoed around you, punctuated by the occasional grunt from nearby lifters. But your attention stayed glued to the two familiar figures across the gym.

There he was. As always.

Katsuki Bakugou was re-racking the bar he'd just curled what looked like a small car's worth of weight with, strands of his ashy blond hair sticking to his forehead. Damn you, aging. Made him even more disgustingly attractive. Whereas most heroes' faces got craggier and more tired, Katsuki somehow sculpted himself into an even sharper, more dangerously handsome mountain.

"Your spot's done," came a low, warm rumble to your right. You didn’t look; you knew that voice. Eijiro sidled up, shaking out his hands with a wide grin. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair had gone lax and spiky from the humidity. He looked so disgustingly wholesome it made your teeth ache. Eijiro Kirishima, ranked #10, big red and eager.

"Nah," you hummed, giving him a wink. "I’m just taking a break. Watching you two work is the entertainment package."

Eijiro laughed, genuine and open, and the woman a few machines down about swooned. She caught your eye and looked away quickly. Honestly? You couldn't blame her. Eijiro had one of those faces that made you want to crawl into his lap and tell him all your secrets.

"Careful," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. "You might start a fight with a fanboy." He nudged you away, his chin nodding at the clock. "Saying we should head out soon?"

"To the mall." You grinned up at the @oath. "Need new earbuds. And maybe something pretty for my ears."

"Aye, the one that matches the sunroom!" he chirped, already holding your gym bag.

"Let's go, loudmouth!" came the order from the other side of the floor. Katsuki was already shouldering his bag. "Don't take all fuckin' day!"

"You're coming, dynamite?" you called, loving the way he bristled.

He just grunted, slinging his bag over one shoulder, and stalked your way. He paused long enough to slip his blunt fingers through yours, interlacing you for a beat. You squeezed back. The chase was over, so.

The three of you headed out together, sunlight swallowing the overheated gym.

The mall was a whole production, the way Big Japan Hero families become. You got stares—more than a few excited whispers, somebody hid behind a mannequin. And that one auntie who tugged her great-granddaughter over and whispered loudly, "Study hard, she just pulled some heroes!" Embarrass existed? Absolutely.

EEijiro sported a cap and shades; Katsuki wore a hoodie to keep his hair low. You grabbed your new headphones, turned the entire venture into a tease fest in the menswear section, and even made it to the bath and bed section across the way before you'd all confess.

By the time you dodged through the food court, you were kind of hungry. You didn't mind waiting at the Boba stand while they did... whatever heroes do. Pictures with fans, you guessed. Eijiro had too civil around children. Katsuki would stay for about ten seconds before his fuse burned through.

You'd just gotten your taro milk, with bobblybo balls, when a hand landed on your shoulder.

You turned to find two men. Big, broad, maybe a few years older. One had a cocky grin and the other was licking his lips like you were a strip of meat.

"Hey, pretty," the first one said. "Lonely like this?"

You didn't roll your eyes—not visibly. "Taken," you said politely, gesturing vaguely behind you. "Married, actually. Twice." Over.

The second man laughed. A dry, scrapey car engine sound. "Nah, you'refull. That's not a ring."

"Yup full. That's a very real fact."

But they didn't leave. They moved in closer. The first one leaned in, such an invading space. "C'mon, better. This is coincidence."

He was sticky-sweet thrust. A headache in the making. You were about to walk away, maybe when—

"Bro."

Moving. They hadn't even heard you approach.

Twenty seconds earlier: Eijiro had looked up just in time to see the larger stranger close the space, and you had looked not scared, but irritated, and that boy's hand fell to your hip.

Did he touch? Nope. But the intention to touch.

Eijiro was still as a stone.

And you remembered Eijiro playfighting—wrestling with that soft, cocky energy. This was not that. This was his fangs showing. Like something cold settled deep in your stomach and said somebody doesn't understand the rules.

The two men turned.

Eijiro was directly behind the one who'd put the hand on you. Arms crossed. His smile was gone. A wash of silence across the space—no, the whole food court. The click of his jaw as he flexed his knuckles.

Katsuki reclined beside him, not even breathing hard, a low thrum of explosion simmering out of him. Not enough to ignite, just to sound. He didn't even look at the men; he looked at you. Scaned for alarm. Found none. Then his eyes slid slowly to the stranger.

It was like watching a predator assess a threat.

The dark-haired one turned to see who they were. His eyes got huge.

"O-oh," the first man said, blinking up at them, then to you with more than a hint of gone. "…All yours, then."

He slunk backward.

The second guy was still, hands up. "No hard feelings, yeah?" But his voice cracked.

Eijiro didn't move. Katsuki's eyebrow twitched up, half a second from saying something that could make grown men cry.

"Actually?" Eijiro tipped his head, as if he were explaining the weather—amiable, polite, with a tiny hint of a of a rancor. "I think there are. You stay tw-and-ah from them. We're clear?" before he had simple.

The two men swallowed, their torsos dipping, and they turned and power-walked toward the exit.

Eijiro waited until they were gone, then his entire face was a smile display. He turned to you, completely relaxed. "So. Earbuds?"

Katsuki said nothing, just stepped up to your side and hugged you with a possessive little tug of your arm. A low growl vibrated out of his chest.

"Name it," he grumbled.