Chapter Text
When you arrive at work that morning, prepared for another boring day of answering emails and avoiding office gossip, you’re surprised to see more attention than usual surrounding the nextdoor hero agency. You pause in the middle of the sidewalk, watching from a distance as heroes move in and out, news reporters trying to get statements out of anyone who makes the mistake of pausing for even a moment. The cacophony makes you wince, your enhanced hearing already giving you a headache.
“What’s going on over there?” You hear a voice behind you, and turn to face a woman you vaguely recognize from work. You shrug.
“I just got here. I have no clue either.”
Another coworker—you recognize him better, as he usually comes in around the same time as you—walks outside from the office. He has a coffee in hand, freshly poured if the steam coming out the top of his mug is any indication.
“Hey, you guys watching the commotion too?” He asks, taking a sip from his mug.
You nod, then gesture to the agency. “Do you know what’s happening?”
“Big quirk accident, from what I heard.” He shrugs. “Apparently a bunch of heroes got hit, and now they’re all meeting to take stock of the situation.”
“You’ve heard quite a bit then, hm?” Your other coworker comments as the three of you turn toward the office again, making your way inside.
“I don’t start until eight.” He defends.
You roll your eyes and hold open the door for them, about to walk in when a shout catches your attention. When you turn to check it out, admittedly a sucker for a good story, there’s a hero running right toward you.
“Hey, we need everyone who was affected inside, now.” He grabs your arm, pulling you away from the door despite your protests. You’re dragged past the cameras, the reporters with cameras, and all the way through the front lobby before you realize the hero isn’t going to answer your questions any time soon. You allow yourself to be corralled into a room with five other people, most of which you don’t know, all of which sport some assortment of animal ears and tails.
You do recognize Dynamight, however, a pro hero that graduated around the same time as you. He has a set of wolf ears pinned backward on his head, and a fluffy tail that sways angrily behind him while he argues with a pro hero you remember from the news the week before.
Actually, now that you’ve noticed it, every hero in this room has a set of animal ears and a tail. You spot a hero with bunny ears in one corner, and another with what looks like bear features. Something settles heavily in your chest when you realize the situation, but by the time you turn around to explain to the hero that pulled you in here, the door has been closed and locked.
You jiggling the handle catches the attention of the quirked heroes in the room.
“We need everyone to stay in this room,” You hear a familiar voice say before a hand rests on your shoulder. When you turn around, it’s Best Jeanist that’s lightly pulling you away from the door, gesturing to an empty seat. “Sorry for the inconvenience, but we don’t know the full effects of this quirk yet.”
“Oh, no, I’m–” You try to explain, but you’re interrupted when Dynamight scoffs and crosses his arms.
“This is bullshit, we should be out there going after the bastard that did this.” He complains, but you notice the way the ears on top of his head flinch when he speaks, pinning themselves further to his head. Your own ears, though they’re not quite the impressive wolf ears he now sports, twitch with sympathy. You’re not the only one who notices.
“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” Best Jeanist says–and isn’t that a mouthful–corralling you to sit down, “your own explosions will incapacitate you. We need to plan accordingly.”
An angry flush crosses Dynamight’s face. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you’ve had enough.
“Hold on!” All eyes in the room turn to you. “I wasn’t hit with any quirk.”
“What do you mean?” Best Jeanist asks you after a moment of silence, the cat ears on his head swivelling toward you with curiosity.
“This is my quirk,” You take out your ID card and hand it to the hero, your quirk clearly visible with the rest of your information. “Not the byproduct of anyone else’s”
You watch Best Jeanist’s eyes widen, flicking between you and your ID for a long moment before he finally hands it back. “My apologies.” He bows deeply—incredibly polite and in-character for him, you think. “Let me get someone to open the door for you.”
You sigh and nod, furiously pondering how the hell you’re going to explain this situation to your boss when movement in the corner of your vision catches your eye. Dynamight looks you up and down, gaze pausing once at your waist, where your tail sways with relief, and once again at your ears. His stare is critical, as if inspecting you from head to toe. You can’t help but feel like a bug pinned under a microscope.
A shiver runs down your spine.
Did you… do something odd? Said something that insulted him? You don’t know, and anticipation makes your tail freeze in place while you stand in the corner of the room, waiting as Best Jeanist sends out a text on his phone.
“An assistant will come get you. I can’t guarantee it’ll be soon, unfortunately.” Best Jeanist snaps you out of your musing. “The agency was… unprepared for a situation like this. We will be sure to rectify this quickly, and work towards a plan for the future.”
It’s the most PR-sounding thing you’d heard that week, but you nod in thanks anyway. Best Jeanist takes that as answer enough and walks away, quickly joining another conversation on the other side of the room. You assume that’s the end of it, and you’ll soon be on your way to your office job.
You’re quickly proven wrong.
Dynamight stomps over to you, his intimidating stature quickly taking up most of your field of view as he makes his way to your little corner in long strides.
“Hn.” He grunts, eyes fixed on the top of your head. No doubt he’s looking at your ears, but you can’t figure out why until he continues. “You don’t seem bothered by the noise.”
“Oh! No, I’m used to it.” You explain, craning your neck awkwardly in order to look at him. He’s taller than you thought he’d be, his eyes a few inches above yours. You take a moment to process just how startling that shade of red is before he speaks again, shocking you out of your musings.
“Used to it.” He deadpans, like he can’t quite believe you.
Maybe he can’t, considering how the wolf ears on his head look like they’re pinned painfully tight to his skull, nearly disappearing behind his messy hair.
“Just–” You gesture vaguely. “Desensitization.” You grew up with your quirk; you’d been forced to get used to your enhanced senses quickly in order to adapt to society. But Dynamight–and all the other heroes in this room–were suddenly experiencing increased sensitivity for the first time. You could imagine it would be difficult to get used to.
“And how the fuck–”
The man that’d dragged you here originally opens the door then, interrupting the both of you without warning. He makes eye contact with you, eyes wide and panicked.
“I am so sorry!” He dipped down into a deep bow, drawing the attention of everyone in the room once again. You waved your hands, conscious of the way even Dynamight–who had seen relatively uninterested with much–is staring.
The hero holds the door open for you and shepherd’s you outside, apologizing all the way. You, thankfully, don’t have to deal with the whole situation much longer, and the hero explains it all to your boss so you’re sitting in your office seat in no time and getting to work.
—
You’re heading out late, a bag slung over your shoulder. It’s darker than it usually is when you leave, but you had offered to stay over time anyway to make up for the issues that presented themselves that morning.
You’re just glad it’s over. A sigh tumbles out from your chest, and you make the mistake of letting your guard down.
A hand grabs your elbow and before you can even process the sudden touch, you find yourself being dragged into the alleyway you were just walking past. You’re about to turn around and yell at whoever is in the alley, reaching into your bag to grab some sort of weapon when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Shut up, it’s just me.”
‘Just me’ is an understatement. When you finally regain your bearings and look at the man, you realize you’re face to face with Dynamight again. In the low light of winter afternoon, his sharp eyes are practically glowing. And, you notice, he still sports the wolf ears, still pinned to his head. You imagine the tail is still attached to the hero as well.
“What the fuck.” You hiss, catching sight of some coworkers passing by the mouth of the alley. You’d rather not catch their attention and turn into tomorrow’s gossip. “Just talk to me like a normal person.”
It dawns on you then that you’ve just cussed out one of Japan’s top heroes, but you’re tired, and hungry, and would rather be at home curled up with a book. Dynamight levels you with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
“Fuck off, one media circus is enough for one day.” He says, in a gruff voice. “How the hell am I supposed to get used to these ?” He gestures to the fuzzy ears on his head, which are loosening their hold on his skull now that most everyone has left for the night and it’s quieter. As you’re staring at them, one of them twitches, adorably.
Fuck, you can understand why kids always stared at you with stars in their eyes now. You have to force your eyes back down to his face, which is when you notice his scowl has deepened in the time you were staring. It seems you’ve been noticed.
“Same way you get used to anything else.” You move on quickly, before he can call you out on it. “Slowly increase your tolerance.”
A guttural growl echoes off the walls of the alley, and you’re surprised to realize the raspy sound is coming from him.
“You’re shit at explaining. Come with me.” He grabs your wrist and–for the third time in twenty four hours–you’re dragged along after him.
“What—? Hold on!” You pull at his grasp but he is, unfortunately for you right now, stronger than the hero that’d pulled you around earlier today. You pound against his arm and it feels like hitting stone . He continues on, unflinchingly.
“You’re attracting attention.” Is his only response, and you go slack in complete bafflement. You take so long processing his utter absurdity that he manages to pull you all the way back to the hero agency and into an elevator, much to the confusion of the secretary sitting at the front desk.
When the elevator doors close right in front of your eyes, you turn to look at him with a frown.
“This is kidnapping. You’re kidnapping me.”
He silently presses the button for the fifth floor. Your scowl deepens, but you’re curious now, so you stand with your arms crossed and wait the short time it takes for the elevator to go up five floors.
When the elevator dings to indicate the doors opening, you notice his ears pin down to his head again, and his tail tucks itself between his legs. You tilt your head, allowing yourself to be corralled forward once more.
“Stupid fucking quirk.” He mutters, quiet enough that you’re sure you weren’t supposed to hear it. “Stupid fucking sounds stabbing my goddamn head.”
You wonder for a moment if you’ve done something to majorly piss him off, on top of the quirk already affecting him. You wonder, then, if he’s going to kill you.
It… wouldn’t be the worst way to go, you muse to yourself while he leads you through a small labyrinth of desks and offices. You eye his biceps for a moment.
Yeah, wouldn’t be the worst way.
Yet, when you reach his destination–a small desk with his nametag sitting neatly in one corner–all he does is tell you to sit, gesturing to a small chair nearby. When you do, he takes the chair on his side of the desk and levels you with a glare. When it’s clear he isn’t going to be continuing your conversation any time soon, you awkwardly clear your throat.
“So… were you just waiting in that alleyway for me to come out?”
He continues to glare. “No.”
Oh, he totally was. “How long were you hiding there?”
“Fuck off. Explain with better detail how you got used to your increased senses. I’ve had a headache all day from the smells .” He growls, and you have the honour of witnessing how pro hero Dynamight’s freshly quirked tail puffs up with rage.
“Well, first,” You start, leaning back, “You’ll probably want to go home and temporarily put away anything that has a particularly strong scent, or might be too loud.”
He huffs in irritation, but you continue on before he can interrupt you.
“Second,” You hold two fingers up, “Slowly–and I mean slowly– reintroduce yourself to those scents and sounds, and then begin working on going outside. Or just stay inside until the quirk wears off.”
“That’ll take too long, it has to be physically turned off and the bastard is slippery.” He mumbles to himself, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Fucking shit, I’ll have to ‘desensitize’ or whatever.”
“I know some good soundproofing materials, there’s a great brand I use with my place.” You begin pulling out your phone, preparing to show him the brand so he can buy stuff for himself, but he makes a curious noise that has you hesitating. You glance over to him, raising an eyebrow when he just stares at you with a calculating stare.
“You have this shit set up already?” You nod, slowly. “You got a spare room?”
Wait.
You nod again, but your stomach drops out of your ass and your ears begin to burn. There’s no way he’s about to ask you what you think he’s going to ask you, but just imagining a pro hero like him in your home has your cheeks turning red. You really wouldn't mind waking up to a buff pro hero in your home.
Which—no! You shouldn’t be thinking that, and anyway, there’s no possible way he’s actually going to ask to-
“Fine. I’ll just crash at yours until we catch the villain that did this.”
Oh, shit .
—
Your place is quiet when you unlock the door, as usual, though that’s quickly changed by Dynamight immediately charging in to inspect the place. You have no clue why you agreed to this, to room with someone you hardly know other than what the news provides. Maybe you’re just a pervert. But you regret it immensely when you catch him eyeing your decoration with disdain.
“Can you not afford a good fucking couch?” He asks, eyeing the cushions. You admit, they’ve seen better days, but it’s difficult to keep things neat and tidy all the time when you’ve got a pet cat that likes to shed everywhere.
You say as much, muttering, “Porkchop does as she wants.”
He turns to give you a questioning glare—how the hell he manages to convey so many emotions with a glare is beyond you—when said cat rounds the corner, meowing loudly for food. Dynamight’s ears quickly pin to his head again while you take off your shoes. You maneuver around him and busy yourself making her supper while he stands in the doorway and scowls at Porkchop.
“Are you coming in?” You question, finally feeding the beast. She rubs up against your leg once before diving toward her food dish. Dynamight sends you a withering look and kicks his boots off, sauntering in with his huge bag slung over his shoulder. Then, he rounds a corner and disappears, silently moving further into your house.
Alright.
You sit down on the couch with a sigh, burying your head in your hands.
You have no clue what you’ve just gotten yourself into, you think.