"You are NOT going out dressed like that!"
Kyotoku had found his voice again, and it came out strangled.
"Oh, you look adorable, sweetie!" Mika clapped her hands together, completely steamrolling over her husband's objection. "Doesn't she look adorable, Izuku-kun?"
Every eye in the room turned to him.
Jiro's blush deepened to a shade of red that probably had a name in technical color theory. Her fists clenched at her sides. Her jacks rose like angry snakes preparing to strike.
She's going to kill me if I say the wrong thing here. But she's also going to kill me if I say the right thing. Might as well make it count.
"You clean up nice, Compass."
Jiro's entire body went rigid. Her blush spread from her cheeks down her neck and probably further. Her jacks whipped through the air in random patterns, completely beyond her control. Her mouth opened and closed several times without producing sound.
Direct hit. Target neutralized.
"I... you... that's..." She sputtered. "Shut up!"
"Didn't say anything bad."
"Your face said something bad!"
"My face is a national treasure."
"Your face is going to be a crime scene!"
"Ah, young love." Mika sighed happily, ignoring her daughter's homicidal expression. "It reminds me of when your father and I first started dating, Kyoka. He used to make me so angry I wanted to hit him with his own guitar."
"I did make you angry." Kyotoku seemed to have given up on the intimidation entirely and was now watching the exchange with the defeated expression of a man who had realized his daughter was growing up whether he liked it or not.
"You still do, dear."
"I know."
"Can we PLEASE just go?" Jiro had reached the bottom of the stairs and was practically vibrating with embarrassment. "Before my parents say anything else mortifying?"
"But we haven't finished our tea," Izuku said mildly.
"TEA TIME IS OVER."
She grabbed his arm and started dragging him toward the door with impressive strength for someone her size. Izuku let himself be pulled, offering a polite wave to her parents as he went.
"It was lovely meeting you both!"
"Come back for dinner sometime!" Mika called after them.
"MOM!"
They reached the front door. Jiro was already fumbling with the handle when Kyotoku appeared behind them, making one last stand.
"She will be home by ten." His voice had recovered some of its attempted authority. "Not 10:01. Not a minute past. Do you understand me, boy?"
Izuku turned to face him, and for just a moment, he let his expression become completely serious. No smirk. No teasing. Just honest respect.
"Yes, sir. Absolutely. She'll be home safe and on time."
Because I actually do respect that he cares about his daughter. Even if his intimidation techniques need work.
Something shifted in Kyotoku's expression. A tiny crack in the hostile facade. Like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to think this boy wasn't the worst thing that could happen to his daughter.
Then Izuku ruined it.
"We wouldn't want her to be late for her beauty sleep."
Kyotoku's eye twitched.
Jiro made a strangled noise.
Mika burst out laughing somewhere behind them.
"OKAY BYE." Jiro yanked the door open and shoved Izuku through it. "LOVE YOU MOM. DAD YOU'RE EMBARRASSING. BYE."
The door slammed shut behind them.
Cool evening air washed over them as they walked down the path toward the street. The sun had almost completely set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that matched Jiro's hair.
Izuku waited.
Three... two... one...
"I am so, so sorry." Jiro buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. "My dad is an idiot. My mom is worse. My entire family is a disaster."
"I thought they were charming."
"They are not charming! They're mortifying!"
"Your mom's nice. She offered me cookies."
"She was interrogating you with cookies!"
"Effective strategy. I respect it."
Jiro groaned, long and pained, her hands still covering her face. Her jacks hung limply at her sides like they'd given up on life.
Izuku let the silence stretch for a moment, enjoying the cool air and the fading light and the fact that he was here, walking beside a beautiful girl who had actually agreed to spend an evening with him.
Not bad for a Quirkless nobody.
"For what it's worth," he said finally, "your dad's intimidation game needs work. But his heart's in the right place."
"He's been practicing that glare in the mirror for years."
"I could tell."
"He's not actually scary."
"I know."
"He just wants to protect me."
"Also know that Compass.
Jiro finally lowered her hands, her face still flushed but no longer approaching critical meltdown. She shot him a sideways glance, her sharp eyes searching for something in his expression.
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Because you helped me find my way." He shrugged. "To Uraraka, during the exam. Your hearing guided us through the chaos. Like a compass."
Jiro went quiet.
Her jacks twitched.
Was she... blushing again?
Definitely blushing. I am a master of this.
"That's..." She cleared her throat. "That's actually almost sweet."
"I have my moments."
They walked in comfortable silence for a few steps, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the sidewalk.
Then Izuku offered her his arm, like something out of one of those old movies his mom liked.
"Ready for our not-a-date?"
Jiro looked at his offered arm. Looked at him. Looked back at his arm.
She swatted it away.
"We're not doing that."
"Doing what?"
"The whole gentleman thing. I'm not some princess who needs to be escorted."
"Never said you were."
"Good."
"You're more like a dragon, really."
"A dragon?"
"Fierce. Dangerous. Capable of breathing fire when provoked."
Her lips twitched. Just slightly. Barely noticeable unless you were watching for it.
There it is. That's the smile she's trying to hide.
"I hate you."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
"And yet, here you are."
"Against my better judgment."
"The best things in life usually are."
They reached the end of the block. The bus stop where they'd agreed to meet before heading to the concert venue stood beneath a flickering streetlight that had seen better days.
Izuku checked his phone. 7:15. They had plenty of time.
"So." Jiro crossed her arms, a defensive posture that was becoming very familiar to him. "Just to be clear. This is still not a date."
"Crystal clear."
"This is an observation. A field study."
"Of course."
"I'm here to watch you fail at your ridiculous harem protagonist fantasy."
"Naturally."
"And when you do fail, I'm going to laugh."
"Looking forward to it."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not taking any of this seriously, are you?"
Izuku considered the question. The girl standing in front of him, punk rock perfect in her fishnets and combat boots. The cool evening air. The flickering streetlight. The way her jacks kept betraying her emotions no matter how hard she tried to hide them.
"I'm taking all of it seriously," he said finally. "Just not the parts you want me to."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I don't care about labels." He met her eyes, holding her gaze steady. "Date. Not-a-date. Field study. Whatever you want to call it. I'm just happy to be here with you."
Jiro stared at him.
Her jacks went perfectly still.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then she looked away, her face turning red again, and muttered something under her breath that might have been "insufferable" or might have been "stupid broccoli" or might have been something else entirely.
The bus rounded the corner, its headlights cutting through the gathering dusk.
"Come on." Jiro started walking toward the stop, not looking at him. "We're going to miss the opening act."
"Yes ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am!"
"Yes, Compass."
"I hate that name!"
"Your jacks say otherwise."
She spun around, her earphone jacks rising like twin serpents, and Izuku grinned at her with absolutely zero remorse.
Best not-a-date ever.
The bus doors opened with a hiss.
Jiro stomped on board without another word.
Izuku followed, still grinning, and wondered what other domestic terrors awaited him in the evening ahead.