Chapter Text
By the time you finally clocked out, the world had already started to blur around the edges.
The fluorescent lights above your workstation had long since burned themselves into the backs of your eyes, and every muscle in your body felt hollowed out. Shift work had a way of stripping a person down to survival instincts. Eat when you remember. Sleep when you can. Repeat until your body stops feeling like your own.
Tonight had been worse than usual. Someone called out halfway through the shift. Then another emergency came in right before closing. Then paperwork. Always paperwork.
The kind of exhaustion settling into your bones wasn’t ordinary tiredness anymore. It felt heavier than that. Like your body was operating several seconds behind your brain.
Driving home felt dangerous. Maybe you should have called an uber. The city outside your windshield glowed in soft smears of neon and rain slick pavement while your head leaned against the seat for just a second too long between intersections.
Your fingers drumming weakly against the steering wheel. There was an ache in your shoulders. The desperate thought repeating itself over and over. Hot bath. Glass of wine. Bed.
That was all you wanted. Nothing else mattered. By the time you dragged yourself into your apartment building, your legs barely felt attached to you anymore.
The elevator ride was silent except for the low mechanical hum and your own exhausted breathing. Your reflection in the mirrored wall looked half-dead. Hair a mess. Eyes dull. Uniform wrinkled from too many hours trapped inside it.
The hallway outside your apartment was quiet. Most people were asleep by now. Probably including the pro hero living downstairs. He seems to quiet down around 9 PM.
You’d spoken to Katsuki Bakugo exactly four times since moving into the building. The first time had been accidental eye contact in the lobby. The second was when he held the elevator open with an irritated click of his tongue after watching you nearly miss it. The third was a brief “Morning,” exchanged while checking mail. The fourth involved him glaring at someone for smoking too close to the building entrance while you awkwardly thanked him afterward.
That was the extent of your relationship. Which honestly suited you fine. Bakugou was intimidating even off duty. He wasn't exactly loud, at least not the way the media painted him. He was intense though. Everything about him felt sharp. Sharp eyes. Sharp posture. Sharp voice.
The apartment greeted you with darkness and silence. There was no TV, no music, no one waiting for you.
You dropped your bag near the door without bothering to put it away properly. Your shoes followed somewhere behind you in the hallway. Your jacket landed on the kitchen counter instead of the hook three feet away.
You couldn’t bring yourself to care. The exhaustion swallowing you whole was almost delirious now.
Your bedroom light flickered on briefly before clothes started hitting the floor one piece at a time in a careless trail toward the bathroom. Normally you’d fold them. Usually you’d at least attempt to maintain some level of organization.
Tonight felt beyond “usual.”
You turned the bathtub faucet as hot as it would go, steam immediately curling upward into the cold air. The sound of rushing water filled the room.
The wine could wait.
The bath couldn’t.
You stepped into the tub before it had even finished filling, sinking down into the heat with a groan that felt pulled from somewhere deep inside your chest. Your muscles screamed in relief. The water climbed slowly around you while your head tipped back against the porcelain edge.
You were finally warm. You closed your eyes for what felt like only a second.
Then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Your entire body jerked violently awake. For one disoriented moment, you had absolutely no idea where you were. Another pounding rattled through your apartment door.
“HEY!”
A man’s voice. It was angry, very angry.
You lurched upright too fast, water sloshing violently over the edge of the tub.
Oh no. Oh no. No you did not. The faucet was still running, the water spilling over the edge.
Horror crashed through your exhausted brain all at once as you scrambled out of the tub, nearly slipping on the soaked tile floor.
The bathroom was a disaster. Water spilled across the floor in shimmering waves while the tub overflowed steadily onto the tiles.
“Shit—shit—”
You twisted the faucet off hastily before grabbing the nearest towel and wrapping it around yourself with trembling hands.
The pounding on the door came again.
“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”
Your stomach dropped.
Bakugou. Of course it was Bakugou. He lived right below you, the water must have made its way through the floor and into his apartment.
You rushed to the door, feet splashing lightly across the wet hardwood floor. By the time you yanked the door open, your heart was hammering with equal parts panic and exhaustion.
Bakugou looked furious. Actually furious. His ash blond hair messy from sleep, black t-shirt wrinkled, jaw tight enough to crack stone. His eyes burned sharp red beneath the dim hallway lights.
Water dripped steadily from the sleeve of his shirt.
“You flooded my fucking apartment,” he snapped.
“I am so sorry—”
“There was water dripping on my face!”
“I hear you- I just fell asleep!”
“You fell asleep?!” The words exploded out of him immediately, rough with frustration and interrupted sleep.
Then he stopped. His expression shifted. He still looked pissed. But something in his face changed the longer he looked at you standing there wrapped in a towel, hair damp, eyes unfocused with exhaustion.
You must have looked terrible, absolutely hideous.
“You look like hell,” he muttered.
“Right.”
“You drunk?”
“No. I’m tired. I just got home from work.”
His gaze lingered on your face for another second too long. Then past you, towards the water still creeping slowly out of the bathroom doorway.
Bakugou exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’ll clean everything,” you said quickly. “I’ll pay for damages or whatever happened, I swear, I just please don’t be mad.”
Your words tangled together halfway through the sentence. You were so tired. Embarrassment crawled hot beneath your skin.
Bakugou rubbed one hand down his face, visibly trying to decide whether he wanted to yell more or go back to bed.
Eventually he sighed, “Get dressed first before your dumbass catches a cold.”
You blinked at him. You almost forgot you were standing in just a towel. You nodded quickly and disappeared back into the apartment.
—
Ten minutes later, you followed Bakugou downstairs carrying towels, cleaning supplies, and enough shame to sustain you for the rest of your life.
Bakugou unlocked his apartment door with sharp, clipped movements, visibly still irritated despite the exhaustion weighing down his posture. The hallway light spilled briefly across the side of his face, catching against the hard line of his jaw before he pushed the door open and stepped aside for you to enter first.
The apartment was quiet. It wasn’t the comfortable kind of quiet either. It was the sort built from long absences.
You noticed immediately how clean everything was. Not a single dish in the sink. No clutter on the counters. Shoes lined neatly near the entrance. The air smelled faintly like smoke residue and detergent.
Sparse. That was the first word your exhausted brain latched onto. Sparse, but lived in just enough to prove someone occupied it regularly.
A dark couch sat against one wall facing a large television. A few framed hero awards hung beside the kitchen entryway, their polished surfaces reflecting the dim apartment lights. There were weights stacked neatly in one corner. A folded hoodie thrown over the armrest.
The apartment looked exactly like Bakugou did—sharp, practical, efficient. You barely had time to absorb any of it before Bakugou stalked past you toward the hallway.
“It’s worse back here,” he muttered.
The bed was ruined.
“Oh,” you breathed.
Water had soaked completely through the mattress, dark patches spreading across nearly the entire thing. The blankets were drenched. One pillow dripped steadily onto the hardwood floor below.
You physically recoiled.
“Oh my god. It’s so bad.”
Bakugou clicked his tongue sharply from beside you, “Yeah. No shit.”
“I am so, so sorry.”
You moved automatically, exhaustion momentarily overridden by guilt as you hurried toward the bed. Your hands pressed uselessly against the soaked comforter before immediately pulling back.
The mattress squelched faintly beneath the pressure. This was mortifying, actually mortifying.
“I’ll replace it,” you said immediately. “I swear to god, I’ll buy you a new mattress tomorrow.”
Bakugou leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms, red eyes heavy with interrupted sleep.
“You don’t gotta panic.”
“I flooded your bedroom.”
“Accidents happen.”
“You literally got rained on indoors.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile but it was close enough to startle you anyway. For the next several minutes, the two of you worked in relative silence.
You stripped soaked sheets from the mattress while Bakugou grabbed extra towels from somewhere deeper in the apartment. The entire room smelled damp now, humid air sticking unpleasantly to your skin.
Saving the mattress was hopeless.
You both knew it. Still, you tried. Maybe because standing there squeezing water from his blankets into the bathtub felt easier than confronting how badly you’d messed up.
Your body ached with exhaustion the entire time. Every movement felt sluggish, delayed by fatigue and embarrassment.
“You’re gonna pass out standing up,” he said eventually.
“I’m fine.”
“You almost drowned your downstairs neighbor because you fell asleep in the tub. How does that even happen?”
You winced. “Okay. Fair. I got in the tub and I closed my eyes for what I thought was a moment then I woke up an hour later.”
Bakugou sighed through his nose before glancing at the couch in his living room. Even from the bedroom doorway, you could see how short the couch actually was. Bakugou was broad-shouldered and tall enough that his feet would probably hang over the edge.
“Okay, hear me out. Stay in my apartment for tonight. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. This is my fault and I don’t want you out on the streets exhausted because your upstairs neighbor flooded your bed.” You ramble, the words slipping out before you could reconsider.
Bakugou hesitates before speaking, “The hell I am.”
“You don’t fit on the couch.”
“And you do?”
“My couch is bigger. I can survive one night.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly. Firm. Reflexive.
You stared at him tiredly.
“Bakugou.”
“I’m not kicking you outta your own bed.”
“You’re not kicking me out. I’m offering.”
“You worked some nightmare shift and can barely keep your eyes open.”
“And I flooded your apartment.”
Silence. Bakugou looked irritated by the logic.
You pressed the advantage, “C’mon it would be cruel to leave a pro hero without a bed after ruining his mattress,” you said. “People would write articles about me.”
“Hah.”
“You can stay until the replacement comes.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Please. I need to make this up to you. You are welcome to never talk to me once your new mattress arrives.”
The exhaustion in your voice must have done something because Bakugou finally stopped arguing.
“…Fine,” he muttered at last. “One night.”
Relief flooded through you, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, dumbass. You’re the one giving up your bed.”
You ignored that. Mostly because your brain was beginning to shut down again in real time. Together, you carried what remained salvageable upstairs.
The hallway felt quieter now. It was late. The building itself had settled into deep nighttime silence while both of you dragged exhaustion behind you like heavy chains.
Inside your apartment, the earlier chaos still lingered faintly. The smell of lavender soap hanging in the air.
Bakugou stood awkwardly near the entrance while you gathered fresh blankets from your bedroom.
“Seriously,” you said while shoving clean sheets into his arms, “I’ll buy a new mattress tomorrow. I mean it.”
“I heard you the first five times.” He grumbles.
“You can stay here until it comes.”
Bakugou looked like he wanted to argue again. Then he took you in for the first time since coming upstairs. You were no longer wracked with adrenaline.
Your hair was damp, your posture was sluggish, you even blinking slowly like staying conscious was physically difficult. His expression tightened slightly.
“…You always work yourself half to death?”
You laughed weakly. “Unfortunately.”
The apartment fell quiet afterward.
You suddenly became hyperaware of everything. Bakugou was standing in your apartment holding your spare blanket. The fact that one of Japan’s top heroes was about to sleep in your bed because you accidentally flooded his apartment.
None of this felt real.
“I’m gonna clean up first,” you muttered eventually. “Bathroom’s yours after.”
Bakugou grunted something that sounded vaguely agreeable.
By the time you stepped into the bathroom, your body felt almost disconnected from your brain. You washed quickly. The warm water helped slightly, though exhaustion still sat impossibly heavy beneath your skin. You scrubbed your face, changed into soft sleep clothes, and brushed your teeth mechanically.
Through the thin apartment walls, you could hear faint movement outside. Cabinet doors were opening. Was he rooting through your stuff? Whatever. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You emerged from the bathroom nearly twenty minutes later to find most of the lights dimmed. Bakugou stood near your bedroom doorway, one large hand rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. Your bed looked strange with someone else sitting on the edge of it.
Stranger still when that someone was Katsuki Bakugou.
He glanced up immediately when you entered the hallway.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked. His voice sounded rougher now. Less sharp around the edges.
You nodded. “I’ll survive the couch.”
You pointed vaguely toward the bathroom. “Feel free to get cleaned up.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes but obeyed without argument.
You stared blankly at the couch in your living room. It suddenly looked much more uncomfortable than usual.
Fantastic.
You grabbed one of the spare blankets and collapsed onto it anyway, too exhausted to care about comfort anymore. Your body sank heavily into the cushions.
The apartment lights were low enough now that everything blurred soft around the edges. Somewhere down the hallway, water still ran steadily through the bathroom pipes.
Then silence. There were a few quiet footsteps. There was something oddly careful about the way he walked. Deliberate. Quiet despite his size.
The bathroom light clicked off. You kept your eyes closed as Bakugou moved through the apartment. You felt the pause when he reached the living room.
“Hey,” he said softly.
You hummed weakly without opening your eyes. “Do you need another blanket?”
“No,” he murmured.
“…Thanks for letting me stay.”
You almost thought you imagined it. By the time you forced your eyes open slightly, Bakugou had already disappeared into your bedroom. The door remained cracked open.
After some quiet shuffling of sheets, your apartment returned to silence. For the second time tonight, sleep hit you instantly.