The Analyst

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚇𝚇𝚇𝙸: 𝙼𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

"(L/N)! (L/N)! It's ok! I'm here!"

My eyes shoot open, and my vision is blurry. I blink, realizing I had tears in my eyes, letting them drip down my face. I see Bakugo in front of me, holding my hand with both of his.

"It's ok, he can't hurt you anymore." He said calmly. I look around, realizing I'm in my room and that I just had another nightmare. I'm ok.

I sit up, rubbing my tears away with one hand.

"Thank you for um, being there for me. I'm sorry I woke you." I said.

"I was already awake. I was about to get up to cook breakfast or something and then you started shaking and whispering to yourself." He explained.

Fuck, that's embarrassing.

"Well thank you for waking me up. I needed that. I'll go cook breakfast now." I start to get off my bed, but am tugged back by Bakugo's grip on my hand.

"Um, Bakugo. My hand por favor." He looks at me in confusion, obviously not knowing Spanish, before he looked down at his hand.

"Oh right."

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"Do you have a shift today?" I asked while Bakugo and I ate muffins. We sat at the island I had in my kitchen, picking off pieces of blueberry deliciousness and stuffing our faces.

"Yeah, starts at ten." He says simply, taking a sip of whatever the hell he had in his cup.

"Good thing we got an early start then, wouldn't want you to be late." It was currently 8:48.

"Eh, whatever. I don't want to go to work anyway. What are you gonna do since you're out of a job?"

"I'm not out of a job, I just have a mandatory two week leave for recovery. Plus, it's a paid leave so ha."

"Whatever extra, answer my question." He grumbles, reaching for his second muffin.

"I'm not sure. I might just hang out here or stroll around town. At some point later this week I need to go to TBS to do a news interview." I rub my face, burning it in my hands. "I'm dreading that."

"No one says you have to go, just don't." He says as if it's that simple, speech slurred by the muffin in his mouth.

"If I don't show, they'll just come to me." I explain, putting my plate in the sink. "I might call up Mirio. Maybe." I say more to myself than to anyone else, trying to find ways to fill my time.

"Why would you call him? He's just a teacher." Bakugo says, scoffing.

"Is that jealousy I hear in Bakugo's voice? Wow, never saw that coming. For your information, when I had lunch with the teachers at U.A. after my seminar, Mirio said he would love for me to help him teach a Heroics class. Since I have all this time on my hands, why not do it now?" I explain.

"I'm not jealous! Are you stupid?!" Bakugo exclaims, standing beside the sink while I wash our plates. I laugh, putting a plate on the dish rack.

"Make yourself useful and dry the dishes." He grumbles to himself as he picks up a towel, beginning to dry of the plate.

"Jealous?" I hear him say quietly, "I'm not jealous, who the hell does she think she is saying I'm jealous." I hold back my snickers, knowing that I value my life over laughing at Bakugo.

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"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Bakugo asks for the thousandth time. (In reality, it was really only six, I'd been counting.)