If Derek’s life were a romantic comedy—which it’s really, really not, what with all the murder, mayhem, and supernatural elements—it would inevitably feature the moment when Erica brings Stiles home and he and sees, for the first time ever, not a gawky, uncoordinated teenager with a penchant for graphic tees and plaid, but a young man, taller than Derek now, with broad shoulders and large, capable hands that finally match the rest of him. Stiles would be walking down a staircase in slow-motion and Derek would feel the world tilt on its axis while his entire perspective on life underwent a paradigm shift. Stiles would be looking at something or someone else, and he’d laugh before his gaze shifted back to Derek and when their eyes met, it would feel like being struck by lightning. Like getting hit by the thunderbolt.

Kaner kicks off his twenty-eighth birthday party with an exponential crisis. Jonny frowns at him. “You’re having a crisis of ever-more-rapidly-increasing numbers?”

“Bakugou?” Bakugou shuffled on his feet, hovering over Kirishima and looking at the ground with stormy eyes. He glanced up to glare at Kirishima, a silent dare to call him out on his odd behavior no doubt. Kirishima forced himself not to tense. Whatever Bakugou wanted, he was about to show him and Kirishima had to get this right. Bakugou was all about showing and not telling. Kirishima nearly bit his tongue to keep in a squawk of surprise when Bakugou suddenly dropped to his knees next to him, shuffling forward until he could press his forehead to his thigh and hide his face against Kirishima's leg. Kirishima opened his mouth, questions on the tip of his tongue, and he barely managed to catch them before they could be given voice. Bakugou was trembling minutely, his entire frame so tense his muscles were twitching under Kirishima's gaze. “Just. Don't say anything,” Bakugou muttered, hands clenching in his lap tightly. “Please,” he whispered, a short choked sound.