Chapter 11: Cooling Off
Two weeks after the breach at Facility C, the heavy, suffocating tension that had gripped the agency finally began to dissipate.
The villain syndicate had been completely dismantled, the synthesized Quirk-erasing strains were safely impounded and destroyed by the authorities, and Takahashi was currently nursing a major migraine while managing the agency's official press releases.
Per mandatory agency protocol, you had been placed on a two-week medical leave to recover from mild hypothermia and physical exhaustion. Your quiet apartment on the edge of the district had quickly become a revolving door of visitors.
Kirishima had dropped by on Tuesday with a massive basket of high-protein snacks and a tearful apology for not breaking the bunker doors down himself. Iida had arrived on Thursday to strictly enforce your bed-rest schedule, complete with an organized itinerary of when you were allowed to walk around the apartment. Todoroki had stopped by, quietly leaving a box of premium tea on your counter and sitting on your sofa for two hours in comfortable, companionable silence while reading a book.
Even Bakugo had shown up on Friday evening, slamming a container of homemade spicy curry onto your kitchen counter, grunting a rude warning about not skipping meals, and leaning against your doorframe for twenty minutes while muttering complaints about the agency's incompetent staff.
The only person who hadn't visited was Izuku.
Instead, his presence arrived through Takahashi's official PR updates. To smooth over the media circus following your rescue, the agency had officially begun rolling out a carefully scripted "cooling off" narrative to the press. According to the news, the high-stress nature of the incident had led Deku and his agency medic to mutually step back from their public romance, preparing the public for a clean, inevitable "breakup."
You hadn't discussed it with Izuku, but you didn't mind. In fact, you told yourself it was for the best.
The fake dating contract had served its purpose, but the lines had blurred far too much, especially after that sudden, breathless kiss in the subterranean staging room. He had kissed you like a soldier taking a final, desperate breath before charging into battle, leaving your head spinning for days. But since then? Nothing. He was likely buried under back-to-back hero duties, or perhaps, you reasoned, he was realizing how complicated things had gotten and was letting the contract fade away as originally intended.
You sat on your living room rug, your bad leg stretched out straight as you slowly folded your laundry.
It makes sense, you thought, smoothing down the sleeve of a sweater. He's the Number One Hero. His world is giant, and loud, and full of impossible expectations. You're just the person who tapes his knuckles when he breaks them. Falling for him is a terrible idea.
The truth was a cold, pragmatic weight in your chest. A hero like Deku needed a partner who could fly alongside him, someone who could trade blows with disaster and stand beside him on a national podium without looking fragile. You were a medic with a bad leg and a desk full of medical charts. If you let yourself pretend that a fake contract and a moment of adrenaline-fueled affection meant something real, you would only end up dragging him down.
The front door lock clicked, clicking open without a knock.
Uraraka marched into your apartment, carrying two oversized paper bags from the local bakery and a box of iced matcha lattes.
"I have arrived!" Uraraka declared, kicking the door shut with her heel and dumping the bags onto your coffee table. "And I brought the custard pastries with the ridiculously high calorie count because Iida isn't here to audit our fun!"
"You're a lifesaver, Ochako," you smiled, reaching into the bag to grab a warm pastry. "Though if Iida sees the sugar content on these, he's just going to ask me for a biological breakdown of how fast my liver metabolizes glucose."
"Let him try!" Uraraka laughed, flopping onto the rug across from you and taking a huge sip of her latte. "So! How are you feeling today? Still sore, or are we back to seventy percent?"
"Hovering around eighty," you said, taking a bite of the pastry. "The medicine Todoroki brought over helped a lot. I should be back in the medical bay by Monday."
"Good, because the temporary medics Takahashi hired are driving everyone crazy," Uraraka groaned, rolling her eyes. "One of them tried to treat Bakugo's shoulder yesterday after training by forcing a standard cold pack onto him. He didn't blow up the room, but he did glare at her until she practically dissolved into the floorboards and ran out. Honestly, it takes a special kind of patience to handle you guys."
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "He hates being treated like he's fragile. You just have to hand him the wrap and let him do it himself."
"Exactly! But nobody knows how to manage him like you do," Uraraka said softly, her expression warming.
This was the thing about Uraraka. She had been your anchor ever since your U.A. days. When your physical hero track ended after the bunker collapse, while others treaded on eggshells around you, Uraraka had been the one to sit on your hospital bed, split her lunch with you, and listen to you vent without a shred of pity. She was the first person to celebrate when you passed your biomechanical medical boards, and you were the one who always kept a specialized high-protein kit in the bay just for her after heavy float-usage missions. She was the closest thing to a sister you had in the agency.
Uraraka leaned her chin on her palm, watching you fold a pillowcase. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly with a sudden, curious intent. "So, speaking of people who are acting weird lately..."
You kept your eyes fixed on the laundry. "If you're going to ask about the PR statement, Takahashi handled it fine. The 'cooling off' narrative is clean. There are no dramatic headlines, or media backlash. It's fading out nicely."
Uraraka blinked, setting her cup down. "Wait. You're actually... okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" you asked lightly, setting the folded pillowcase on the stack. "It was a fake contract from the start. We were just giving the agency time to let the public interest settle. Now that things are back to normal, dropping the stunt is the logical move."
"The logical move?" Uraraka echoed, her eyebrows knitting together in clear, troubled confusion. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the rim of her paper cup. "(Y/N), Deku kissed you. In front of us. On the lips."
"Adrenaline," you corrected smoothly, though a tiny, betraying flush touched your cheeks. "He was high on One For All energy, furious about the villain, and trying to reassure me. High-stress combat situations do strange things to people's emotional reactions. You know how Deku gets. He feels everything at eleven out of ten."
Uraraka stared at you, her mouth opening and closing as if she was violently fighting back a flood of words. Her face twitched with an agonizing tension, her jaw clenching tightly as she squeezed her paper cup until the cardboard groaned.
"Besides," you continued softly, your tone dropping into a quiet, matter-of-fact rhythm. "Look at him. Look at what he represents. Deku deserves someone who can actually stand by his side. Someone who can fight alongside him, fly across the skyline, and step onto a national stage without looking broken."
Uraraka’s eyes widened slightly. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about reality, Ochako," you murmured, offering a faint, gentle smile. "Honestly, someone like you would be so much better for him. You two had that unspoken thing back in high school, didn't you? You understand what it means to carry the weight of being a hero. You can protect his back in a fight. If you two ever decided to give that a real shot, I wouldn't mind at all. I'd genuinely support it."
Uraraka’s jaw dropped. The sheer, utter absurdity of what you had just suggested seemed to hit her like a physical blow. Her face went pale, then flushed bright red with sheer, overwhelming frustration. She clutched her head, letting out a strangled, muffled groan into her hands, clearly struggling under the agonizing weight of a secret she was practically dying to scream out loud.
"Ochako?" you asked, tilting your head in confusion. "Are you okay?"
Uraraka slowly pulled her hands away from her face, her eyes wide, wild, and deeply troubled. "You... you really think that? You really think he looks at you and sees a liability?"
"It's just the truth," you sighed, reaching for a stack of administrative papers near your couch. "Which is why I've already taken care of it. I submitted my formal request to Takahashi this morning. My transfer to the regional branch in Musutafu was approved two hours ago. I'm packing my apartment this weekend."
Silence fell over the room, sudden, heavy, and suffocating.
Uraraka froze completely, all the frantic energy draining from her posture instantly. She stared at the official transfer confirmation letter sitting on top of your papers, her eyes scanning the red approval stamp at the top.
"You filed a permanent transfer?" Uraraka whispered, her voice dropping into a shaky, horrified register. "Without talking to anyone? Without telling Iida? Without telling Bakugo? Without telling... him?"
"It's effective next Monday," you said quietly, avoiding her eyes as you stacked the papers neatly. "It's a clean break. It lets the PR team finalize the public breakup without any awkwardness in the agency, and it gives me space to get over this stupid crush before it ruins our working dynamic. It's the right choice."
Uraraka stood up from the rug so fast her chair nearly flipped backward. The sheer, explosive distress radiating off her made the air in the living room feel instantly charged.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Uraraka blurted out, her hands shaking at her sides.
"I didn't want you to yell at me," you shot back, sitting up straight on the floor, startled by her sudden, intense reaction.
"I wasn't going to yell!"
"You're yelling now!"
"Because you didn't tell me!" Uraraka shrieked, throwing her arms into the air, her voice cracking with sheer, desperate panic. "You submitted a permanent transfer to another prefecture without saying a single word to your best friend! You just signed away your position at the main agency!"
"Ochako, please calm down—"
"I am not going to calm down!" Uraraka yelled, pacing back and forth across your small rug like a frantic, caged animal. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving as she gripped her hair in absolute agony. She looked at you, then at the transfer papers, then at the door, her mind wildly racing as she realized the sheer, catastrophic mess that was about to explode.
Uraraka grabbed her jacket off the back of the sofa, backing away toward the front door with wide, frantic eyes.
"Ochako? Where are you going?" you asked, standing up awkwardly, using the edge of the coffee table for support. "We haven't even finished the pastries!"
"I'm going to the agency," Uraraka declared, her hand slamming onto the doorknob as she pointed at you with a trembling, terrifyingly resolute finger. "Do not pack another box. Do not touch that tape. I am coming back, and I am bringing reinforcements!"
Before you could say another word, Uraraka ripped the door open and bolted down the hallway, leaving you standing alone in your quiet apartment with a half-eaten pastry and a mounting sense of dread.
Uraraka didn't come back, but you knew you hadn't seen the last of the fallout. You had fully intended to apologize to her before she bolted out the door, but she had been so completely frantic, so wildly all over the place, that you hadn't even had the chance to open your mouth.
Barely twenty minutes after her dramatic exit, your phone blew up with a video call from Kirishima.
When you tapped the screen to answer, it wasn't just Kirishima’s face that filled the display. He was huddled inside a breakroom at the agency, with Mina gaping over his left shoulder, Kaminari looking wildly distressed on his right, and Jirou leaning against the wall in the background with her arms crossed, looking thoroughly offended on behalf of the group.
"You're moving to Yokohama?!" Kirishima bellowed before you could even say hello, his face practically pressing into the camera lens. "Since when?! (Y/N), what do you mean your transfer was already approved?"
"Good morning to you too, Eijiro," you sighed, leaning back against your sofa and balancing the phone against a mug on the coffee table. "And hello, everyone."
"Don't 'hello, everyone' us!" Mina squeaked, shoving Kirishima’s shoulder out of the frame so she could glare directly at the screen. "You filed a permanent regional transfer to a whole different city without telling us? Without a goodbye party? Without giving me time to make a whole commemorative photo album?!"
"Yokohama is an hour away on the rapid train, Mina," you said calmly, rubbing your temple. "And it wasn't some sudden impulse. I've been agonizing over this for weeks. Given everything that happened with the contract and well, everything else, I weighed my options and decided it was the most sensible path forward."
"Sensible?!" Kaminari practically shrieked, shoving his face next to Mina's. "What is sensible about abandoning your squad?! Who is going to fix me when I short-circuit my brain during patrol?! The temp medics don't even know how I like my ice packs!"
"You like your ice packs shaped like dinosaurs, Denki, you're twenty-two years old," Jirou muttered, though she pushed past Kaminari, her face filling the frame with a scowl. "Seriously, (Y/N), this is ridiculous. You thought about this for weeks and kept us completely in the dark? We're supposed to be your friends! You don't get to just sign away your position and run off across the prefecture like you're some solo operative!"
"I'm not running off—"
"It definitely looks like running off!" Kirishima cut in, his jaw set, genuinely upset. "You're taking a permanent reassignment to another district! You didn't talk to Iida, you didn't talk to us, and God knows Bakugo already knows because he was grumbling all morning about Takahashi looking for a new head medic! If Bakugo wasn't trapped in a high-priority debrief right now, he’d be breaking down your front door to yell at you himself!"
"And who knows what Ochako is doing right now!" Mina added, waving her hands dramatically. "She sprinted through the lobby like a bat out of hell, almost knocked over a water cooler, and disappeared. The whole agency is in chaos because of you!"
The volume on the other end was rising, all four of them talking over each other in a heated, overlapping crossfire of genuine frustration and hurt.
"Guys, please," you spoke up, your tone dropping into a quiet, sincere register. You looked directly into the camera. "I am so, so sorry. I know I handled this terribly. I should have talked to all of you first. I was just... overwhelmed, and I made a call without giving you guys a chance to process it with me. I'm really sorry."
The instant the words left your mouth, the fiery tension in the breakroom vanished like a popped balloon.
Kaminari’s dramatic scowl melted into a guilty pout. Mina let out a pathetic little squeak, her shoulders dropping. Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, looking completely deflated, while Jirou let out a long, defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.
They could never stay mad at you for long, and you all knew it.
"Man... you can't just apologize like that when we're trying to be angry at you," Kirishima grumbled, though a fond, resigned smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's totally unmanly of us to lose our tempers anyway."
"Yeah, well, I'm still mad," Mina huffed, crossing her arms, though her eyes were soft. "But, I guess if you really thought about it for weeks, it's not like we can force you to stay. Yokohama isn't that far..."
"One hour," you reminded her gently.
"You better take care of yourself over there," Jirou said, pointing a finger at the screen. "And you'd better answer our calls on the first ring. If the Yokohama heroes give you a hard time, you tell us and we'll train down there to set them straight."
"I will," you chuckled softly. "I promise."
"Okay, fine!" Kaminari declared, bouncing back to his usual energetic self. "Since you're leaving next week, we're throwing a massive send-off dinner at the dorms this weekend. Hot pot, karaoke, and no agency talk. Deal?"
"Deal," you smiled, feeling a genuine wave of warmth wash over you. "Thanks, guys."
You paused, glancing toward the corner of your screen. "Is... is Izuku there?"
"No," Jirou answered, her tone softening. "Deku’s on a joint patrol sweep near the harbor with Iida. He won't be back at his desk for a while. He doesn't know yet."
"Okay," you breathed softly. "I'll talk to him later."
"See you soon, (Y/N)!" Mina chirped before the call ended.
The apartment went quiet again after the call with Kirishima and the others ended. You let out a long, heavy sigh, setting your phone back down on the coffee table.
Refusing to start packing just yet since you still had a whole week, after all, you decided to keep your hands busy with simple household tasks to pass the hours. You swept the living room floorboards and wiped down the kitchen counters, trying desperately to keep your mind off the chaos you had inadvertently caused.
Before you could even finish rinsing the rag in the sink, a loud, violent thud rattled your front door, followed by the metallic click of your deadbolt being forcefully bypassed.
The door swung open with a bang.
Bakugo stomped into your entryway, his gauntlets slung over his shoulder, his hero suit smudged with soot and smelling strongly of smoke and burnt ozone. Right behind him stepped Todoroki, looking slightly more composed, though his tactical collar was unzipped and his ice-dusted hair was wildly untamed from whatever high-grade villain sweep they had just wrapped up.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Bakugo barked before he even took off his boots, his crimson eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated fury.
"Bakugo, take your shoes off," you said automatically, holding your ground behind the counter despite the sudden spike of adrenaline in your chest. "And how did you even pick my lock?!"
"I didn't pick it, I forced the latch, so shut up!" Bakugo snarled, kicking his heavy boots off against the wall with unnecessary force. He marched right into your living room, looming over your small space like a thunderstorm. "Kirishima called us the second we stepped out of the debrief transport. What is this garbage about you transferring to Yokohama?!"
"It's not garbage, Katsuki," you replied, keeping your voice tightly controlled. "It's an official reassignment. I signed the paperwork this morning."
"Without telling anyone!" Bakugo shouted, his palms sparking with small, angry pops of orange light. "You just decided on your own to pack up your shit and run away to some third-rate maritime district? Who authorized this?!"
"I did," you shot back, stepping around the counter. "Because it's my life and my career! Given the contract situation and the PR mess, it makes the most sense. The agency needs a clean slate, and I need space."
"A clean slate?" Bakugo scoffed, taking a sharp step closer, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "You think running away fixes anything? You think Takahashi pulling a fake breakup story out of his ass gives you an excuse to abandon ship? You're the head field medic for our primary strike unit. You don't just jump ship because things got loud!"
"I am not jumping ship, I am doing what is practical for everyone involved!" you insisted, your own temper flaring as the exhaustion of the day caught up to you. "Look at the big picture, Bakugo. Every time I stand in that medical bay right now, everyone is walking on eggshells. Takahashi is scrambling to control the narrative, the press is hounding the agency gates, and the entire primary unit is distracted. I am a distraction to this agency right now!"
"You think we give a damn about Takahashi's press releases?" Bakugo stepped right into your space, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth gritted together. "You think I give a damn about news cameras? You got targeted because those bastards played dirty in the vault, not because you don't belong in our unit!"
"It's not just about the vault, Katsuki!" you argued back, gesturing broadly between the two of you. "It's about the fact that this entire fake dating disaster spiraled completely out of control. It was supposed to be a simple PR cover, and instead, it turned into a complete operational nightmare that compromised Deku and put a target on the medical wing. Leaving gives the agency a clean break to finalize the public story without all this constant, suffocating awkwardness."
"So your brilliant fucking solution is to cut and run?" Bakugo slammed his hand down on your kitchen counter, the heavy impact rattling your mug. "You spent three years busting your ass to earn the head medic slot for your agency! You fought through regional board reviews, you built our field-recovery protocols from scratch, and now you're going to hand all of that over to some temp medic who doesn't even know how we fight?!"
"Yokohama is a major district!" you snapped, your chest heaving as tears of pure frustration pricked the corners of your eyes. "I'm not throwing my career away. I'm taking a high-stress trauma post on the coast."
"It's a side-grade and you know it!" Bakugo shouted back, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce, suffocating intensity. "You're taking it because you're scared of facing the mess here. You're letting a bunch of PR suits and a bad week dictate your entire future!"
He glared at you, his chest heaving, his jaw tight as he took a slow, heavy breath, his tone dropping into something dark, raspy, and dangerously quiet.
"Don't get me wrong." Bakugo leaned down slightly so he was looking straight into your eyes. "You're an annoyance. But one with potential. I didn't spend three years watching you patch up my blast burns just for you to quit and go fix minor scrapes on coastal patrol."
"I'm not quitting—"
"It is quitting." Bakugo turned on his heel and grabbing his gauntlets off the floor. "You're running before the fight is even over. Figure your shit out, (Y/N)! Because if you actually pack a single box, I'm blowing up the moving truck!"
Without waiting for another word, Bakugo slammed his boots back on, yanked the door open, and stomped out into the hallway, the heavy echo of his footsteps vibrating through the floorboards.
Silence fell over the room once more, sharp and ringing.
Todoroki, who had remained standing quietly near the entryway the entire time, let out a soft, measured breath. He unclasped his hero boots neatly, stepping inside with quiet, deliberate grace.
"He's right, you know," Todoroki said softly, walking over to stand near the window. His heterochromatic eyes looked down at you, calm and entirely devoid of Bakugo's fiery aggression. "About the quitting part. Even if his delivery is terrible."
You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your face with both hands. "Shoto, please. I really can't take another lecture."
"It's not a lecture," Todoroki murmured, his tone gentle, almost soothing compared to the storm that had just passed through. He leaned back against the windowsill, crossing his arms loosely. "We just finished a six-hour containment raid in the rain. Midoriya was with us for the first half before Iida pulled him for harbor sweep."
You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the mention of Izuku. "How was he?"
"Focused. Efficient," Todoroki replied calmly. "And completely miserable."
You swallowed hard, looking down at the floor.
"Kirishima told us you might think this is irreversible," Todoroki continued softly, his gaze steady on yours. "You signed the transfer. The board processed it. You think the system is locked in place."
"Isn't it?" you whispered. "It's official regional paperwork, Shoto. It's not something you can just pull back because you changed your mind."
Todoroki tilted his head slightly, a very small, subtle ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You work in agencies run by Midoriya, Bakugo, and myself. There is a way for everything to become right if you actually want it to be. Rules get rewritten every day when it comes to us. You know that."
He stepped forward, stopping just in front of you. He reached out, patting your shoulder with a hand that radiated a faint, comforting warmth.
"Think more about this, (Y/N)," Todoroki said softly. "Don't make a decision based on how heavy things feel right now. Midoriya is on his way back from the harbor. Talk to him properly before you decide your fate."
You nodded slowly, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "Okay."
"Good," Todoroki murmured. He turned, slipped his boots back on at the door, and gave you one last quiet nod. "Take care."
With a soft click, the door closed behind him.
You stood alone in the quiet apartment once again, Bakugo's furious words and Todoroki's gentle advice lingering in the air. Sitting down at the small table by the window, you picked up your sketchpad, using the quiet, familiar rhythm of drawing to pass the hours and quiet your racing heart.
The apartment went quiet again after the call ended. You let out a long, heavy sigh, setting your phone back down on the coffee table.
Three hours slipped by in peaceful, brooding solitude.
In the silence, your mind couldn't stop racing. Ever since you had been placed on medical break following the vault incident, Izuku had felt so distant. He hadn't visited. He hadn't texted beyond brief, formal check-ins. You had spent the last two weeks trapped in your own head, slowly convincing yourself of the absolute worst. That the trauma of the kidnapping had snapped him back to reality, that he realized how messy this "fake dating" arrangement had become, and that he was intentionally stepping back to let things quietly dissolve before Takahashi rolled out the official PR breakup. You thought he was trying to reset the boundaries. You thought he was trying to push things back to normal.
Just as you were topping off your tea with hot water, a sharp, heavy knock rattled your front door.
You froze, teapot still in hand. Walking over awkwardly, you unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
Izuku stood on your front porch.
He was still in his full hero suit, his dark green cape slightly damp from the afternoon drizzle outside. His messy green hair was wild, plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he was breathing in shallow, rapid gasps, looking like he had sprinted straight from the agency the second his shift ended. His face was flushed, his wide green eyes swimming with a chaotic mix of panic and breathless desperation.
He looked past you into your quiet, completely un-packed apartment.
His face drained of all color.
"(Y/N)." Izuku wheezed, his voice small, raspy, and completely frantic. "Are you... are you leaving right now?"
You stared at him, holding the teapot like a shield. "What? No. Why would I be leaving right now?"
"Kaminari," Izuku breathed out, slowly dragging a gloved hand down his face with a long, muffled groan of absolute defeat. "He sent a voice memo in the group chat... he said you were packing your bags and moving to Yokohama today. He said if I didn't hurry, I’d miss you entirely."
You blinked once, twice, as the realization washed over both of you in quiet, shared surprise.
Neither of you had to say it out loud. Kaminari hadn't made a mistake, he had deliberately exaggerated to panic Izuku into sprinting across the city to your front door STAT.
The sheer, frantic adrenaline completely drained out of Izuku, leaving a heavy, awkward stillness in its place. He stood there on your porch, looking entirely foolish in his Number One Hero gear, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was standing and how hard he was breathing.
"Oh," Izuku murmured, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "Not today then."
"No," you offered softly, stepping back to open the door wider. "Not today. I have a whole week. Come inside, Izuku. Take your boots off."
Izuku unclasped his heavy hero boots, stepping into your entryway in his socks. The sudden shift from high-stakes panic to quiet normalcy hung thick in the air, wrapping the living room in a strange, hesitant awkwardness.
"Here," you said, walking over to the counter and handing him a cold glass of water. "Drink this. You look like you ran through a wall."
Izuku took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second, sending a sharp, familiar spark straight up your arm that made you pull back just a fraction too quickly. He downed the water in silence, setting the glass on the counter with a quiet click.
He sat down on the edge of your sofa, his hands resting on his knees, his green eyes wandering around the cozy, untouched room.
"Nice... tea," Izuku offered quietly, trying to summon a faint, polite smile.
"It's just chamomile," you replied, sitting down on the rug across from him. "Helps with the soreness."
"Right. Good. That's... good," Izuku murmured. He fell quiet, reaching down to fidget with the edge of his gloves, pulling at the reinforced strap just to keep his fingers busy.
"So," Izuku began, his voice low, trying so hard to sound conversational despite the obvious strain behind it. "Yokohama. That's... a big sector. Lots of coastal patrols and heavy maritime trade logistics."
"Yeah," you nodded, keeping your tone carefully level. "The regional director there wanted someone who specializes in high-stress tissue recovery. Their local teams go through gear and recovery cycles pretty fast."
"I doubt it's faster than us," Izuku offered with a tiny, breathless attempt at a smile. "Nobody breaks things as fast as Class 1-A."
"That's not something to boast about, Midoriya," you murmured gently.
Izuku’s smile faded almost instantly. The fragile, superficial topic dissolved, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence.
He stared down at his hands, his knuckles white against his gloves.
You stopped tracing the rim of your tea mug, looking up to meet his gaze. His green eyes were no longer frantic. They were wide, searching, and laced with a lingering hurt.
"Izuku." you began softly.
"Why didn't you talk to me?" he asked, not with anger, but with a low, aching frustration that cut deeper than yelling ever could. "You spent weeks thinking about this. You filled out official transfer forms, talked with Takahashi, and made a permanent decision about your career... and I had to find out from a chaotic group chat message."
"Because I thought it was what you wanted," you whispered, turning your gaze down toward your lap. "The contract was temporary, Izuku. You haven't come by once since I was put on medical leave. You barely texted. Takahashi is already prepping the public statement about us stepping back, and you didn't fight it. Leaving for Yokohama gives the agency a clean break, and it saves both of us from pretending anymore."
Izuku winced, his shoulders curling inward slightly. "Pretending?"
"Yes, pretending." you said, your composure finally fracturing as weeks of built-up hurt spilled over. "You completely pulled away after the vault. You acted like... like what happened between us was a mistake. I thought you realized how out of hand this fake relationship got. I thought you were trying to fix it, trying to let things quietly cool down so we could just go back to being normal professional colleagues."
"I wasn't trying to let things cool down." Izuku blurted out, his voice cracking as he leaned forward, his green eyes wide with a desperate, painful urgency. "I wasn't pulling away because I wanted to go back to normal."
"Then why weren't you here?" you shot back, tears finally stinging the corners of your eyes. "I was sitting in this apartment for two weeks, Izuku. Every time my phone rang, I hoped it was you. Every time someone knocked on the door, I thought you were finally coming to talk to me. But you didn't. You vanished. What else was I supposed to think?"
Izuku froze, looking as if you had struck him squarely in the chest. He dragged a hand through his wild green hair, a sharp, choked noise escaping his throat as he stared at the floorboards between you.
"I was terrified," Izuku confessed, his voice dropping so low it was almost a whisper, trembling with a raw, agonizing vulnerability. "I was... I was completely trapped in my own head."
You stared at him, your chest heaving as you wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "Terrified of what?"
"Of myself," Izuku choked out, his hands clenching tightly into the fabric of his hero suit over his knees. "I kept thinking about the vault. I kept thinking about how you ended up there in the first place. You got hurt because of my enemies. Because of my title. And then, in that room... "
He swallowed hard, his breath coming in uneven, ragged hitches.
"I spent two weeks sitting in my room, staring at my phone, hating myself," Izuku continued, his eyes brimming with tears that he couldn't hold back anymore. "I kept telling myself I was selfish. I thought... what if I forced that on you? What if I was using the fake contract as an excuse to push my feelings on you when you were already traumatized and injured? I thought if I showed up at your apartment, I’d just be imposing on you, that I’d be making your recovery all about me."
You sat completely frozen, the heavy, suffocating walls of suspicion you had built over the last month crumbling into absolute ash.
"I didn't visit because I was scared that if I saw you, I wouldn't be able to hide it," Izuku whispered, tears spilling over his freckled cheeks without restraint. "I was scared you'd look at me and realize that Number One Hero or not, I'm still just a mess who doesn't know how to protect the person he cares about most without putting them in danger. I was trying to figure out how to be better for you... but I waited too long. I got inside my own head, and I let you think I didn't care."
He looked up at you, his green eyes completely open, raw, and desperate.
"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I'm so, so sorry. I didn't want things to go back to normal. Normal was torture."
Your breath hitched in your throat. All the anger, all the quiet bitterness you had nursed over the last two weeks evaporated, replaced by a deep, aching warmth that made your chest tight.
Izuku slowly slid off the edge of the sofa, dropping onto his knees on the rug right in front of you. He didn't crowd your space, but he reached out, his gloved hands hovering hesitantly before gently, reverently resting over yours on your lap.
"I didn't kiss you in that vault because of adrenaline," Izuku confessed softly, his thumb tracing a slow, trembling circle over your knuckles. "I did it because I've been in love with you for months. I was just too much of a coward to say it until I thought I was going to lose you."
He squeezed your hands, his voice dropping into a tender, unwavering whisper that vibrated straight into your soul.
"Don't go to Yokohama to escape a mess that I made in my own head," Izuku pleaded softly, his green eyes searching yours. "Please. Stay here. Stay with me... for real."
You stared at him, the quiet hum of the apartment returning as the silence settled between you. The raw, vulnerable truth of his words hung in the air, all the agonizing overthinking, the self-doubt, the sheer distance you had both created out of fear, dissolving right there on the rug.
For a long moment, you couldn't even speak. You just looked at his freckled face, at the hot tears still tracking down his cheeks, at the way his fingers were trembling where they rested over yours.
A ragged, tearful laugh escaped your lips, breaking the heavy spell.
Izuku blinked, his green eyes widening with a sudden, anxious panic. "(Y/N)?"
"You are an absolute idiot, Izuku Midoriya," you whispered, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief.
Before he could stammer out an apology, you raised your hands, cupping his warm, tear-streaked cheeks. The contact was so sudden, so intimate, that Izuku let out a sharp, hitching gasp. His skin was flushed and hot against your cool palms, his pulse hammering wildly right under his jaw.
The kiss started as a quiet, trembling surrender. It was soft, gentle, and overflowing with two weeks of bottled-up longing. Your lips met his with a tenderness that made Izuku’s breath hitch completely in his throat. He froze for a fraction of a second, as if his brain was still trying to process that this was real, before a shudder ran through his entire frame and he melted into you.
It was slow, sweet, and reverent. His hands slid up from your lap, his gloved fingers hesitantly tracing the line of your waist, carefully pressing you closer as if testing if you were really going to stay. You tilted your head, deepening the pressure, letting him taste the salty tang of your shared tears and the warm, quiet reassurance that you weren't going anywhere.
Izuku let out a low, shaky exhale against your mouth, a sound so full of pure relief it made your heart ache.
But as the initial shock faded, the rhythm of the kiss shifted.
The sweet, lingering comfort began to burn hotter. Izuku’s fingers twitched against your waist, the thick leather of his hero gloves digging in just a fraction deeper, pulling your hips flush against his knees. The space between you evaporated. The lingering adrenaline from his sprint across Musutafu, combined with the sudden, overwhelming realization that you loved him back, ignited something fierce and unrestrained in him.
His mouth grew firmer, hungrier. The kiss deepened, sweeping into something deep and demanding that sent a sudden, searing wave of heat straight down your spine.
You let out a soft gasp against his lips, and Izuku took advantage of it instantly, his tongue sliding past yours, tasting you with an intensity that took your breath away entirely. The gentle, hesitant boy who had been fidgeting on your sofa seconds ago vanished, replaced by the full, suffocating weight of his presence.
"Izuku." you whimpered against his mouth, your hands leaving his cheeks to bury themselves deep into his thick, damp green hair, tugging him closer.
A low, deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat, a sound so raw and uncharacteristic for him that it made your core tighten. He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, just long enough to drag his mouth down your jawline, his hot, ragged breaths burning against your skin.
His hands shifted, his gloved fingers threading through the fabric of your soft sweater, gripping your waist with a firm, possessive strength. He pressed his mouth back to yours, harder this time, parting your lips with a bruised, desperate heat that made your head spin.
The sexual tension that had been quietly building under months of fake-dating, subtle touches, and lingering glances exploded all at once. It was in the heavy, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest pressed against yours, the heat radiating off his body through the thick material of his hero suit, and the way his knees flanked yours on the rug, trapping you pleasantly beneath his frame.
You arched into him as you pulled his shoulders down. You could feel the rigid metal and reinforced Kevlar of his armor, but beneath it, his entire body was rigid with strain.
The rest of the world faded into complete insignificance. Right there on the rug, surrounded by the warmth of your quiet apartment, all the months of pretense, fear, and unspoken words fell away as you finally came together, completely and without reservation.
Later, the afternoon rain had softened into a gentle, steady patter against the windowpane.
The living room was bathed in the quiet, dim light of dusk. Izuku lay beside you on the sofa, his massive, warm frame wrapped around yours, one of his heavy arms draped possessively over your waist while his fingers lazily traced soothing patterns on your hip. His green hero suit was discarded nearby, leaving him in just a soft dark shirt, looking softer and more human than the world ever got to see him.
You traced quiet circles on his chest, breaking the comfortable silence.
"So," you murmured softly. "I suppose I actually have to deal with Takahashi now."
Izuku chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest beneath your cheek. "Yeah. He's going to have a stroke."
"It's technically my fault," you sighed, sitting up slightly and propping your chin on his chest to look at him. "I'm the one who submitted the regional transfer paperwork. It's already in the central system, Izuku. I can't just call the regional director and say, 'Never mind, my fake boyfriend confessed to me, so I'm staying.'"
Izuku snorted, a bright, boyish grin breaking across his freckled face. "I mean, you could. It would make a great official record."
"Be serious!" You swatted his chest lightly. "The bureaucracy alone is going to take weeks to undo. Honestly, maybe it's just easier if I go to Yokohama for a few months. It's only an hour away, and—"
"Absolutely not," Izuku interrupted instantly, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you back down firmly against him. His tone was light, but his grip was unyielding. "You are not moving to Yokohama."
"Izuku, the paperwork is signed."
"I'll pull the Number One Hero card," he declared naturally, as if stating a simple fact.
You blinked, staring at him in utter disbelief. "You're going to use your hero ranking to override a medical transfer?"
"For the first time in my entire career? Yes. 100%," Izuku said, nodding with absolute conviction, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "I will walk straight into the Director's office tomorrow morning, in full suit, with all my medals, and tell them there was an administrative error. If Takahashi complains, I'll tell him I'll take a two-week media sabbatical. He'll fold in five seconds."
"You are abusing your power, Midoriya," you laughed, shaking your head in fond disbelief.
"I am protecting my home," Izuku countered softly, his smile softening into something painfully tender as he leaned up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. "Besides, Kaachan would explode my office if I let you leave. He's already mad enough."
You couldn't help the quiet, breathless laugh that bubbled up in your chest. Sitting up slightly, you rested your chin on his sternum, looking down into his soft green eyes.
"Oh, I know he's mad," you sighed, running a hand over your face as the memory of earlier that afternoon rushed back. "He and Shoto literally forced my front lock open right after their raid. Bakugo stood in my living room, shouting at the top of his lungs about how I was 'cutting and running' to a third-rate maritime district."
Izuku didn't even look surprised. A fond, tired little smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his thumb tracing a comforting circle on your hip. "Yeah. I figured."
"He told me I was an annoyance with potential," you chuckled softly, though a fond warmth bloomed in your chest. "Honestly, I get why he was so angry. I handled everything so terribly with everyone. I'm going to have to apologize to him properly, but... God, I just hope he forgives me."
"He already has," Izuku said simply, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.
You blinked, staring at him. "He has?"
"Kacchan marched straight up to me at the agency right after he left your place," Izuku revealed, a mischievous gleam flickering in his eyes. "He cornered me in the hallway, grabbed me by the collar of my suit, and said, 'If you don't go fix this right fucking now, Deku, I'm blowing up both your offices.' So... yeah. He was mostly just furious at me for letting you get to the point of filling out the paperwork."
A soft, incredulous laugh escaped you. "Unbelievable."
"Trust me, he'll reprimand you for a solid twenty minutes the next time he sees you," Izuku added, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "He'll make you listen to a whole lecture on agency loyalty, and then he'll consider us square."
"And what about Ochako?" you asked, wincing slightly as you remembered her dramatic sprint out of your apartment earlier. "I think her blood pressure hit an all-time high today. Honestly, everyone's blood pressure is probably through the roof because of me. I should set up a mobile clinic this weekend just to check their vitals."
"Uraraka was frantic, but she's just worried about you," Izuku reassured gently, his fingers tangling through yours. "She's going to tackle-hug you the second you walk into that send-off—well, staying-party."
You tilted your head, a sly, teasing grin suddenly spreading across your face. The lingering warmth of sex still hummed beneath your skin, but you couldn't resist poking at him just a little bit.
"You know," you began, trailing a fingernail lazily down his collarbone, "back in high school, I always thought you and Ochako were going to end up together. You two had that whole cute, blushy thing going on back then." You leaned in close, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief.
Izuku went entirely silent. He stared up at you, his face slowly turning the exact shade of a ripe tomato.
"What?" Izuku squeaked, his voice cracking horribly as his eyes went wide. "Uraraka? (Y/N), we—we literally just—you and I—on the rug—just now!"
"I'm just saying!" you giggled, thoroughly enjoying the complete state of panic you had thrown the Number One Hero into. "You had a massive crush on her!"
"(Y/N)!" Izuku groaned, dragging both hands over his flaming face and burying a pathetic little noise into his palms. "That was years ago. We were fifteen! Why are you teasing me about high school crushes when my clothes are still thrown across your living room floor?!"
"Because your face turns bright red and it's ridiculously cute," you hummed, leaning down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his flushed cheek.
Izuku peeked out from behind his fingers, his dark green eyes full of hopeless, overflowing affection as he looked up at you. He pulled his hands away, reaching up to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with unbelievable tenderness.
"There's nobody else," Izuku whispered softly, all the comedic panic melting away into raw, earnest sincerity. "It's only ever been you."
Your heart did a sudden, dizzying flip. You melted back down against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you close, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder.
"So..." you murmured into his hair, a soft, teasing smile returning to your lips. "Just to be clear..."
"Yeah?" Izuku breathed against your skin.
"Are we a thing now?" you asked innocently. "Like, officially? Or are we still 'fake dating for PR'?"
Izuku let out a deep, chest-rumbling laugh, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "We just spent an hour completely ruining your living room rug, (Y/N)."
"Details, Midoriya," you hummed, raising an eyebrow. "I need verbal confirmation. The head medic requires clear documentation."
"Yes," Izuku whispered, his grin softening into something painfully sweet as he leaned up to press his lips against yours. A slow, tender, perfect kiss that tasted like home. "We are definitely a thing now. For real."
"Good," you breathed against his mouth, sinking happily into his warmth.
