Someone is following him. Whoever the hell it is, they suck ass at being discrete about it.

They're lucky he's feeling a little generous today— he decides to give the person the count to five to leave him the fuck alone. One…two…threefourfive. What? He never specified how fast he would count.

He halts the moment he steps out of the school gates. The footsteps behind him stumble, the sound of shoes clicking against cobblestone scuffle to a stop.

His scowl deepens.

He takes an educated guess, the next words automatically rolling off his lips, "Fuck off, Deku."

Silence returns him. His back molars grind together, his anger gauge rapidly filling up. Fuck it. He whips his head around so suddenly that his jacket flaps in the wind.

It takes him a second to recognize the face, and when he does, the angry tirade catches in his throat. Like soda losing carbonation, Bakugou's firecracker fury fizzles out to mild irritation.

"Oh it's you," he says. (Somewhere in the far, far, corners of the mind, he notes that it's strange for his anger to dissipate so quickly, but he doesn't have time to dwell on stupid shit like that.)

She stands before him—still all curves and soft edges— but there's a hard solemnity to her eyes that almost intrigues him. It oddly suits her.

"What the hell do you want Urara—?" His mouth snaps shut. He…knows her name? Since when did this useless piece of information worm itself into his head?

"Tch," he clicks his tongue, red eyes narrowing sharply. "Well out with it, the fuck you doing stalking me?"

That pops her back to reality. She puffs out her cheeks, the ever-present red blush even more noticeable. "What? I'm not stalking you!" She insists indignantly.

"The hell you're not!" Bakugou shoots back. "Well hurry the fuck up, I ain't got all day."

She sighs, but stands her ground. That look hardens her eyes again and she stares directly at him.

"Train with me," she says, her voice leaves no room for dissent.

Bakugou holds her gaze. The Uraraka standing before him is still oozing sunshine, but…he recognizes the glint in her eye as easily as breathing. A gritty hum vibrates in the back of his throat. He lets himself consider.

Still, the cons for Bakugou far outweigh the pros, and he promptly tells her so, "No way. There's nothing in it for me."

She deflates, lips tugging into a frown. He turns around to leave, that's enough time wasted for today, he needs to—

"Don't you want to be the strongest?"

Bakugou pauses. He tilts his head to the side. "Of course I fucking do. Why are you even asking such a stupid question?"

She takes a step forward.

"You're strong. Great on the ground and good in mid-air too. If you could spend more time in mid-air, you'll be able to perfect those attacks too." She lifts up her palm and spreads out her fingers. "If you can float, you can practice longer."

Bakugou shifts his shoulder back and cranes his neck; he can see her face now.

It's not a bad sell, but it's still not enough. He doesn't need her, or fuckin' anyone, to get stronger.

As if sensing his impending answer, Uraraka continues, "You were so cool during the sports festival! I want to train against your super strong quirk."

It's not a new compliment. It isn't supposed to sound special anymore. Yet, he feels pride swell in his chest and he shifts his heel, turning to face her fully.

There's still something he can't quite figure out.

"You're friends with that four eyes president and Deku aren't you? Go bother them."

Uraraka blinks, then closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Yes, they are my friends. But…" she opens her eyes, "I know they would hesitate to use their full strength on me. I need to train with you because you won't. If I can hold my own against you, then I can against anyone."

He thinks of the sports festival— even bloody and bruised, the fire in her eyes was far from extinguished. The fight would have been fun if she didn't pass out. A feral smile pulls at his lips.

"Fine." He looks up through his eyelashes and asks slowly, his voice dipping low. He takes a step forward. "Are you ready?"

He hears her slight gasp, like she never expected him to agree.

"Think about it hard. Are you ready, for me?" Bakugou warns, "If you're going to change your mind, do it now. I hate wasting time."

There's a pause, the silence thick and charged with electricity. Then, she smiles—wide, unabashed, and with an almost wild excitement.

"Hell yes."

x-x-x-x-x-x

She's not Kirishima, or two-face-hot-and-cold, or even the fuckin' nerd.

He walks towards her, his form casting a shadow over her body lying on the ground.

She cracks an eye open, the other eye already beginning to swell and purple. "Hey…" she croaks out.

He says nothing.

She coughs a bit, clearing her throat. "You sure didn't go easy on me, I'm going to be so sore tomorrow."

He clicks his tongue, is she complaining already?

As if reading his thoughts, she continues, "I'm not complaining! I'm happy." A small smirk plays at her lips. "Besides, I got you with that last shot."

Instinctively, his hand runs across the gash across his forehead. When he retracts it, red stains his fingertips. It's not a lot— his fingers aren't even completely coated with the liquid. "Pft," he huffs, "so what? Look at what state you're left in."

She tries to shrug, though her shoulders can barely lift past a centimeter. "It's fine. I still got you," It seems like she wants to say more, but her eyelids droop, and with a flutter of her eyelashes she drifts into unconsciousness.

She's not a top-tier threat; she's not Kirishima, two-face-hot-and-cold, or even the fuckin' nerd.

But she's not a weakling, and she sure as fuck isn't fragile.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"You didn't have to drop me off at Recovery girl," she stops by at his desk to say.

Bakugou glowers, twisting his torso to glare at her. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he sets the record straight.

She hums, rocking back and forth on her heels. Uraraka opens her mouth, but is cut off by Kirishima's cheery voice.

"Yo! Uraraka what's up? You joining us for lunch?" Kirishima grins brightly, motioning for her to sit down.

Bakugou growls, what the fuck is Kirishima thinking? He's ready to shut down the invitation, there's no need for them to interact unless he's beating her to a pulp on the battlefield.

But…he doesn't. The words aren't flying out of him and he doesn't know why the hell not.

"Hey Kirishima-kun!" She replies equally as brightly. "Thanks, but I'm going to meet up with Deku-kun and Iida-kun soon. I just wanted to stop by to thank Bakugou-kun."

"I told you, it wasn't me damnit. Don't you listen?!" He snarls back.

Her eyebrows lift, but not in surprise. She doesn't fucking believe me, he reads her unspoken words as plainly as if she shouted them.

After a moment, she rubs the back of her head and shoots him a sheepish smile. "Oh, okay. Sorry about that then," she drops the subject. "Anyways, same time today? I'm feeling a lot better than I look—I swear."

Once again, he's ready to retort back that he's a busy man and won't drop his plans for her, (he has a very busy schedule planned of solo training and sulking around town) but what comes out of his mouth is instead, a grunt, and, "Whatever."

Her smile blooms something vibrant. The warmth is obnoxiously contagious, that's the only explanation for why he suddenly feels hot.

"Thanks Bakugou-kun! I'll see you later today," she chirps, and bounds out of the room to somewhere else—he doesn't watch her as she leaves, he doesn't care and that's final.

As he turns back to his lunch, he can feel the weight of Kirishima's curious gaze.

"So…" the red-head begins.

"Shut the hell up," Bakugou deadpans. "She kept bothering me to train with her until I got so pissed off I had no choice but to agree."

"Ohh…is that how it went?"

"Yeah it is," Bakugou reaffirms, he stabs his chopsticks into his bed of rice and shovels the food into his mouth.

"You know, she looked pretty banged up. Don't you think you're overdoing it for a training session?"

His chopsticks pause in midair. Bakugou grimaces. Such a stupid thought has never occurred to him, he doesn't know why Kirishima wasted his breath asking such a dumbass question.

"What bullshit are you saying? What the fuck is the point if you're not giving it your all? Besides," Bakugou's chopsticks return to his rice. He states his next words with the same casual objectivity as observing the weather, "Uraraka can handle it."

x-x-x-x-x-x

This is fucking awesome. He is fucking awesome. He shoots an explosive blast behind him and propels through the sky, riding the momentum to roll into mid-air somersaults.

When he floats to a stop, he shakes his head to release the vertigo that's making the clouds spin in circles. His grin is stretched wide. The brisk air in the sky prickles his skin; he greedily inhales the fresh oxygen. The schoolyard unfolds below him—everything is saturated in color, glistening innocently in sharp clarity. It is unclaimed territory ready to be reigned. No one but him will be the king, he will dominate this entire school, then, the world.

"How's the view up there Mr. King-of-Explodo-Kills?" Uraraka calls from below, waving at him.

He grunts from the back of his throat. She's freakin' teasing him, the nerve of that girl.

"Shut up, it's a great hero name."

Uraraka laughs with her whole body, her short hair bouncing with her. "No," she says in between breaths, "It's absolutely terrible."

"What'd you say bitch?!"

Her laughter peters into chuckles, she ignores him and seamlessly transitions, "Wow, Bakugou-kun! You adjusted so quickly to flying."

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but lets her slide. "Of course, for fucks sake who do you think I am?" He replies, his muscles unconsciously flexing.

Uraraka beams, she looks unnecessarily proud even as she insists, "I'm not going to lose to you though."

"Hm," Bakugou smirks, he swings his arms in front of him and locks onto her. "We'll see about that."

"Skill release!" She calls at the exact moment Bakugou unleashes his explosion.

The weight returns to him like a rope snaking around his feet, sinking him to the ground. His stomach lurches as he sails down headfirst, red eyes widening as he plummets. A sneak attack like that, however, is nothing but child's play for him. There's a slight delay, but he blasts explosions towards the ground and orients himself right-side-up by.

"The hell was that dirty trick? It sucked too, since I didn't get a lick of damage on me."

"Stop using your blasters for a second," Uraraka instructs.

Bakugou frowns, but does as he's told. He's floating again, as weightless as a cloud.

"You can turn it back on without touching your opponent again?" He tries to keep his tone from sounding impressed.

"Seems so! You're my first guinea pig though, still got to work out the kinks."

"What the fuck?"

Uraraka grins, flashing him a peace sign. This girl is crazy, he decides. "You got a little surprised there didn't you? Don't worry I won't let you fall. You can trust me!"

"Tch," Bakugou crosses his arms firmly over his chest. "Hell no."

Crass and violent he may be, Bakugou never lied. (Yet he can't help but feel like he just did.)

x-x-x-x-x-x

"It's finally Fridayyyy!" Kirishima drawls out the last word as he pops out of his chair to stretch. Bakugou hears the sound of cracking joints as Kirishima extends his arms, followed by the shuffling of notebooks and pencils getting dumped into his backpack. The clunky footsteps heading towards him feel more like routine rather than annoyance, first Uraraka now Kirishima? When did he start tolerating people and how does he make it stop?

Bakugou grunts his acknowledgement, but doesn't say anything more as he stands up. Kirishima's sunny demeanor, however, remains unfazed as he probes, "Hey do you got any plans today? Let's watch that new car movie, Roaring and Raging 8! You'll like it, there's a ton of action and explosions."

"Is it going to be any different from the first 7?"

"Nah, but who cares? I'm throwing my money at it anyways."

Bakugou snorts, shouldering his backpack and heading for the door. "Pass. I'm busy."

"Eh? You're going to train with Uraraka even on a Friday? Man, you've been at it all week. You two sure don't get tired of each other, huh," Kirishima deduces.

"What the hell? Have you been stalking me?"

Strangely enough, Kirishima's red eyes light up. "Nope, just took a good guess." Clenching both fists, Kirishima looks to the side and starts murmuring. Bakugou doesn't care about the shit that Kirishima is saying to himself, but he unwittingly catches the words "so manly" and "I want a cute girlfriend too."

"Hey!" Bakugou barks. "Stop jumping to dumbass conclusions."

Kirishima smiles like an idiot, which Bakugou promptly growls back at. However, he's cut off from unleashing his rant as Kirishima looks at something past his shoulder, and if possible, grins more widely.

"Yo Uraraka! Good timing. You think you can convince him to take a day-off from training and catch a movie with me?"

Like a phantom shifting out of the shadows, Uraraka's by his side. Bakugou startles, but quickly regains his angry composure, how did he get so distracted? He should have detected her in a heartbeat.

"Hey Kirishima-kun! What a coincidence," she angles her head towards Bakugou and smiles. It's almost like she's happy to see him. "I was just coming to tell Bakugou-kun that I can't train today. I'm watching a movie with Deku-kun and Iida-kun."

"Which movie?" Kirishima asks.

"Roaring and Raging 8!" She supplies.

Kirishima's face lights up like he's opening a Christmas present. "Hey, us too!"

There's too much happiness radiating from those two; he feels nauseated. "Whatever, I'm going home," Bakugou grumbles.

"Okay, I'll meet up at your house at 7 and we'll head out together," Kirishima calls.

"I told you I ain't going. I've got better things to do," Bakugou retorts.

He hears Kirishima groan from behind him, Bakugou has a feeling he's throwing his hands up dramatically too. "Oh come on! Your schedule totally just opened up."

"Please Bakugou-kun!" Uraraka chimes in, from his peripheral vision he sees her bouncing towards him. "If we give our bodies a rest we'll be even stronger tomorrow."

"When did I agree to train with you tomorrow?"

"You didn't. But I totally get it if you're tired." There's a challenging edge to her tone.

Bakugou huffs, rising to the bait. "I'm never too tired to kick your ass."

Uraraka doesn't miss a beat. "Which means that you can come to tonight's movie!"

Bakugou pauses—her argument makes no fucking sense. Ten different ways to reject her run through his mind. Hell no. I ain't got time for that shit. The only time we need to interact is on the battlefield.

But his words keep on betraying his brain. Against all logic and better judgment, what comes out of his mouth is a quietly mumbled, "Fine…whatever."

At Kirishima and Uraraka's joyous cheers, he has a feeling he's going to regret his decision.

x-x-x-x-x-x

He regrets his decision.

Why is he even here? This story is taking a turn for the cliché and he shouldn't be in these scenes. There's other random people here—Deku, four eyes president, frog-girl, and pink alien— the latter three look vaguely familiar, probably in his class or something. They're laughing with an ignorant sort of bliss, their giggles cutting through the empty space of the theater lobby. He trails behind the rest of the group, his footsteps touching the edge of their shadows.

"Bakugou-kun wait up!"

He shifts his gaze from boring holes into the movie theater's carpet to her. His eyes move on their own accord and rake in her outfit, she's way too dressed up for this shit. She's in a snug strapless dress—the black and white bodice cinching her narrow waistline, the red flare of her skirt swishing as she walks, the heeled boots accentuating the taut muscles of her legs.

This is a stupid group movie event, it ain't no fuckin' date—oh. He follows her line of sight and ends up watching the fucking nerd's back.

Right. Anyone with a pair of eyes and a brain function that's at or above Kirishima's level knows those two have a thing for each other. It's not like he gives a shit about Uraraka's poor taste, she can do whatever the fuck she wants.

(For a very brief microsecond, he feels a sharp twang in his chest, like someone took a nibble out of his heart. It's gone as quickly as it came, and Bakugou knows he must have imagined it.)

"Bakugou-kun! Are you listening?" Uraraka pokes him out of his thoughts.

"No," he answers bluntly.

"Hmph."

She folds her arms under her chest and he absolutely does not notice that her breasts push up. (He doesn't mean to, he can't help that he's tall and towers over her. Simply looking at her means he has to glimpse at the milky skin she's exposing.) Instead of that sharp twang he definitely-must-have-imagined earlier, it feels like a warm liquid has encased his heart, squeezing on his blood vessels and thudding it against his rib cage.

The strangest, most confounding, and worst part is…the feeling is not entirely unpleasant.

"You're spacing out on me again! Is something wrong Bakugou-kun?"

"None of your business," he brushes off. Though this time, his cheeks warm and he hates that he's acting...unlike himself.

She sighs, "Bakugou-kun, it's okay to feel uncomfortable," Uraraka's voice floats gently. His eyes snap towards her and he frowns, he hates being told what to do.

From the corner of his eye, he sees her lift her arm up and he instinctively tenses up. The movement doesn't escape her; she drops her hand. She's not looking at him as she says, "If you want to leave, you can…" A small smile spreads across her lips. "It's already good enough that you came in the first place."

Is she fucking pitying him? He scrutinizes her, but his gaze unconsciously hones in on her lips. They're shining with pink gloss, plump and moist, and she's doing that thing again where she pulls in her bottom lip and bites on it. Bakugou growls, enough with these unnecessary observations. "I don't need your permission for anything. I'll stay and leave whenever I damn want to." He stalks away from her before he can see her expression.

Somehow, Bakugou winds up at the end of the line of 'people-he-vaguely-recognizes-as-his-classmates' before they enter the dark movie theater. As he's following the train down the row, Kirishima, who had meandered his way in front of him, abruptly stops.

"The fuck? Move your ass, hair-for-brains," Bakugou scowls.

"Hmm…let's switch spots! I like being closer to the aisle."

Before Bakugou can object, Kirishima squeezes himself behind Bakugou, thrusting the blond forward in his wake. Bakugou flops into the seat, curses flying out from under his breath.

There's a familiar laughter next to him, he doesn't need to turn around to recognize who is in the seat beside him. She's kicking her feet back and forth as she chatters with the person on her right, Bakugou raises his head to see who's so fully captured her attention. When he recognizes the messy mop of green hair, Bakugou rolls his eyes. For fucks sake, he doesn't want to be next to the two lovebirds and their pathetic excuses for flirting.

He glares icy daggers at Kirishima for throwing him under the bus, to which the red-head seems oddly oblivious to.

"Ohh Bakugou-kun! You really didn't go home yet. So unexpected," Uraraka pipes up.

Bakugou jerks his head towards her. "What the hell do you mean unexpected?! Do you want me to leave after forcing me to come?"

Unfazed, Uraraka giggles. "No, actually. I don't know why, but I'm happy you stayed."

He says nothing, but a tiny, annoying part of his mind is relieved that the theater has darkened enough to hide his blush. However, the rational part of him knows she's just saying stupid impulsive shit—it takes Uraraka about 3.5 seconds of silence to deem that their conversation is over and turn back to Deku.

It doesn't take long for the movie trailers to start rolling, and the low hum of audience murmurs tapers off. The trailers are whatever—predictable and uninteresting— but Bakugou pitches his attention onto the generic comedy lines and obvious horror plotlines.

Anything's better than the hushed whispers between Uraraka and the fuckin' nerd.

When the theater dims completely and the movie begins, the two of them finally shut up. He gets about 10 minutes of peace watching fight scenes and explosions, before there's another fucking problem.

It's not any talking—neither of them has made a single peep. It's not the elbow space—Uraraka's tiny, and keeps her arms respectfully by her side. It's not a weird odor— the vanilla scent wafting around him is actually kind of nice, though he'd never say sappy shit like that out loud.

No, the fucking problem is that Uraraka won't stop fidgeting. Legs crossed, uncrossed. Hands rubbing at her bare arms. The back of her hand wiping her nose. The soft sniffling sounds as she inhales mucus.

Bakugou throws Deku a terrifying side glare. For someone supposedly smart, how can this nerd be so fucking stupid? She's clearly fucking cold, aren't you her pseudo-boyfriend? Give her your jacket or something so I can focus on the goddamn movie.

Bakugou drops his gaze to Uraraka's bare arms, goose bumps running like brail across her skin. There was no reason for her to wear such a fancy dress, hell, he's still in his school uniform, and she deserves what she gets for using no logic.

It's at this moment that Uraraka notices Bakugou's open stare. She turns towards him inquisitively. He immediately snaps back to the movie. Whether she's cold or not ain't his problem.

Five minutes later, however, something heavy drops into Uraraka's lap. She straightens up from the weight, but when she looks down she recognizes the forest green jacket.

"Bakugou-kun…?"

"Shut up," he mutters.

x-x-x-x-x-x

He steps out of the movie theater with a deep inhale, the night air running cleanly through his nostrils. His breath puffs out in a cloud of condensation, swirling in front of him as the wind picks up. Bakugou looks to the left, where he has to head towards to ride the train, and immediately sours at the sight of Deku. Ugh, he has to take the same train as the damn nerd.

"Hey Bakugou-kun! Your jacket smells surprisingly decent!" Uraraka exclaims.

Bakugou whirls around, a scowl ready on his face. "Why is everything such a damn surprise to you? Did you expect me to smell like cat piss?"

Her lips quirk into a smile and she snuggles into the high collar of his jacket. She made herself quite comfortable bundling into his jacket, she's completely swathed in it, the hem reaching past her mid-thigh. He's reminded of how small she really is. (Yet somehow, and he's certain the part of his brain that came up with this shit is broken, he thinks his clothing on her looks…right.)

"Yeah, kinda actually," her smile grows wider as his eyes narrow, "I mean you're always sweaty right? So it's logical to think that the dried sweat in here could happen to smell like cat urine."

"For fucks sake I know how to shower. I'm violent, not disgusting."

There's amusement dancing in her eyes, but she doesn't say anything. Does she not fucking believe him? He rolls his eyes and turns around— he's feeling uncharacteristically too tired to blow up. It's not training, fighting, or bleeding that wears him down, it's being within the same proximity as other people for more than 10 minutes that does.

He stiffens at the gentle poke on his shoulder.

"Thank you Bakugou-kun," Uraraka says.

He cranes his neck to see her shrugging out of his jacket and folding it into a neat square. With a slight blush tingeing her cheeks, she extends it towards him. His eyes flit from his jacket to her eyes—they're lit up honey-brown under the fluorescent lights, twinkling with this weird happiness that no one ever looks at him with and he suddenly feels sweaty without wanting to explode something and what is going on.

His mouth isn't cooperating with his mind and he doesn't snark back, or even move to snatch back his clothing. When the silence between them approaches the level of uncomfortable, Uraraka steps forward and tries to deposit the jacket into his hands. On its own accord, his body moves back and he pushes the jacket towards her.

"I don't need it," he blurts out, his eyebrows furrow as he's wondering what exactly it is he doesn't need.

Uraraka tilts her head. "Why not? Aren't you cold, Bakugou-kun?"

"No," he shrugs. And he really isn't, at least not compared to Uraraka in her dumbass red dress and stupid bare shoulders. He soundlessly raises his arm and hovers it by her bicep, a mere centimeter from her skin. He hears her breath hitch, caught off guard by this gentle, almost intimate, movement. Goosebumps have already perked up on her arms, and if he curls his hand just a little he could run his fingers across them.

But he doesn't. He lowers his arm, leaving her untouched. Both of them stop and stare at each other, bewilderment mirrored in their eyes.

Bakugou is the first to break, resuming the conversation. "Weren't you the one going off about the smell? Before you give it back show some courtesy and wash it," he grumbles.

"S-Sure," she stutters, blinking rapidly as she processes his words. "I can do laundry this weekend and bring it back Monday, is that alright?"

"Whatever roundface," Bakugou remarks, cramming his hands into his pocket and turning heel.

"Good night Bakugou-kun!" She calls back.

He doesn't stop and doesn't acknowledge her. Without his jacket, he feels the full-brunt of the wind nipping his face and blowing through the thin fabric of his pants. But he's not cold, no, in fact, he can't remember when he had ever felt warmer.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Come Monday morning, Uraraka doesn't bring him back his jacket.

Bakugou is perturbed, but not unsurprised, that this doesn't bother him. He tries not to dwell on why.

x-x-x-x-x-x

They have fallen into a sort of routine, and he hates himself for not hating it more.

He leans back against the hard plane of the wall, tilting his head backwards so his eyes are to the ceiling. The door to his right is wide open. If he pokes his head in and makes eye contact, however, she'll misunderstand and think he's waiting for her. Hell no. Bakugou Katsuki doesn't wait for people; it's just casual coincidence that they bump into each other and slide into training once in a while. Or everyday after school. And maybe some weekends too.

"Ochakooo, you're busy again?!" He hears someone screech from the classroom.

Uraraka chuckles weakly, he can imagine her holding up her stubby fingers to try to placate her friend.

"Please Ochako! Come with us to the new cat café! You know you love all that cute stuff."

"Ah…I will this weekend, it's a promise!"

Bakugou cranes his neck towards the classroom; just enough to see the pink alien pout and Uraraka give her a reassuring smile.

"If she wants to train, then don't bother her, ribbit. It's paying off," frog-girl states.

"Really?!" Uraraka beams so brightly that Bakugou takes a step back, angling his face away.

Frog-girl curtly nods. "Yes. Your boyfriend is waiting for you in the hallway, by the way."

Bakugou freezes. He lets the sweat trickle down his temple for a second before he snaps out of it. What the fuck, he knows that frog-girl's assumption is dead-ass wrong, so why should he care?

Uraraka places her thumb and index finger on her chin. "Boyfriend?"

Pink alien slams both her palms onto the table, the impact rattles the other desks and echoes throughout the empty classroom. "WHAT?! Did Midoriya finally get the balls to ask you out?"

"Eh?" She blushes, averting the pink alien's heated gaze. "Ah no, we're just good friends."

There's a note of sadness in Uraraka's reply. It comes again, that sharp twang in his chest that he felt before the movie. It doesn't leave quickly like the first time, and Bakugou hates that he can't write it off as a coincidence.

"No, no," frog-girl waves off, "I was referring to Bakugou-san."

"Bakugou is?!" Both girls chime simultaneously.

"What! He didn't tell me he was gonna do that again. Oh no, he hates waiting for people," Uraraka frets to herself as she shoves papers and pencils into her backpack.

"Ochakoooo," pink-alien whines, "you didn't tell me you were dating Bakugou of all people. I mean now that I think about it, it kinda makes sense. You two have been spending a lot of time together and his anger's gone from a level 10 to like, a level 8. What do you see in him anyways? Okay, I'll give you that he's got a hot bod, but that crap personality of his really drags it down."

"Text me when you wanna check out the cats this weekend, see ya!" Uraraka completely ignores.

"Hey! You completely ignored me," she calls after as Uraraka bustles out the door.

Before Bakugou can make it look like he just happened to show up, casually and by accident of course, Uraraka's in front of him, huffing and puffing.

"Tsuyu-chan was right," she mutters to herself. Rubbing the back of her head, she straightens up. "Sorry Bakugou-kun! Did I keep you waiting long?"

"Never mind that," Bakugou bites back. He really does not want this to evolve into a discussion. "Are you ready or not, roundface?"

"Yup!"

"Then let's go," he announces, turning around and walking ahead of her. Almost immediately, he hears her footsteps catch up and he doesn't need to turn to know she's besides him. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, gripping the fabric with sweaty fingers.

She may have completely ignored her friend's stupid implication.

But she also never denied it.

x-x-x-x-x-x

A few days later, Bakugou notes that there are two problems.

1. His socks are fuckin' drenched. His feet are frozen icicles as they soak in the cold, dirty water that saturate the fabric.

2. Uraraka is upset.

He doesn't even know why #2 is considered a problem, or when and how he gained this useless ability to gauge her emotions. All he knows is that he can read her mood like a 3D pop-up book.

Her movements are slow and inefficient; Bakugou easily dodges her uppercut and slams his elbow into her unguarded stomach. A strangled cough erupts from her mouth and she spits up blood— but instead of falling on her ass like she would have before, she slides to her knees. Bakugou sighs, cracking his neck from side to side. She's regressing by coming at him with this sloppy desperation.

"Focus, Uraraka," he chides, "all your movements are so god damn inefficient today."

She doesn't answer him, but he sees her fist curl into the ground, dirt collecting under her fingernails. Their training session has been uncharacteristically quiet; both of them have been content to let the rain fill the space with white noise.

He squints at her, but it's hard to see through the rain that's pouring down in sheets of grey. The droplets madly ricochet off his skin like pinpricks, mixing with his sweat and snaking into every available surface on his body.

They usually don't train outside when it rains, because 1. Training in rain is fuckin' shitty, 2. Rain dilutes his sweat and weakens his quirk, 3. Who the fuck wants to freeze? But Uraraka was persistent today, and Bakugou never backs down from a fight.

"Can you stand?" Bakugou finally asks, she hasn't moved from her knees.

"Yeah," she replies, her voice a raspy breath. With wobbling legs, she pulls herself up.

Other people may have called for a break. Wrap Uraraka in a warm blanket by the fireplace and coax her until she spilled her feelings and shit. But seeing Uraraka now— hauling her tired ass in the rain, blood dripping down her chin, and hair a tangled mess, Bakugou can't disrespect her tenacity.

If it's a fight she wants, it's a fight she gets.

She rushes at him, sprinting towards him at full throttle. Bakugou frowns. Again? How many times does she want to try the same trick? He braces himself, waiting for Uraraka to come closer until he can redirect her momentum and make her fall flat on her face.

Five…four…three…he counts the seconds in his head before his counterattack. Two…On—

Water blurs his vision and he coughs, gasping for breath. He looks up just in time to see another body of water hovering above him, he groans as it plummets and douses him from head to toe.

"What…" he huffs, shaking his head like a wet dog, "the fuck?!"

Before he can unleash a tirade of curses, yet another bubble of water collapses on top of him. The cold rain trickles like a waterfall down his back, every inch of his body is soaked.

"Oi! Urarak—!" He cuts himself off… when the fuck was he floating?

Uraraka's on the ground below him, her chest heaving up and down as she plants her hands atop her knees. "Finally…now I can be on your level." Slowly, she lifts her head until their eyes lock. Her brown eyes glint with a dangerous fire.

With anyone else, he would have been revolted with the comparison. With Uraraka, however, anticipation pounds in his chest. A menacing grin consumes his face. The real fight starts now.

"So all those times I sent you flying you were buying time to gather water above me? I'll give you some credit for being creative. You took a risk banking on the water to stun me. However," he leers down at her, pooling his power into his hands, "don't forget who you're up against."

A huge explosion releases from his hands, he watches the rain blow away and Uraraka tumble across the ground. She somersaults backwards a few times before landing face down, limbs sprawled in an awkward mess. Smoke curls up from his fists; he inhales the familiar scent of nitroglycerin.

He looks down; his feet are drifting closer to the ground. Much to his disappointment, it seems like it had taken all of Uraraka's strength to set up the attack.

When he touchdowns, he walks over and squats besides her. "Is that all you got roundface?"

She rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with her forearm; the only sound between them is her ragged breaths. Bakugou waits, he's surprisingly patient when he wants to be.

When she speaks, it's barely above a whisper. Bakugou leans in to hear her.

"This is no good," she says quietly. Hopelessly. "He's still so far away…"

Bakugou bristles. He knows exactly who Uraraka is referring to. Anger rolls through him like a slap across the face. What is no good? This battle? These training sessions? Him? Bakugou stops himself—it's pointless. He already knows the answers to his own questions.

For fucks sake, that fuckin' nerd has to wriggle himself into every part of his life. Does she think that Deku is stronger than him? So what if Deku has had a couple of achievements? Bakugou is still number 1 until the title is pried out of his cold, dead hands.

He realizes now, the danger of accepting the feeling that isn't entirely unpleasant. It means allowing the other side, the feelings that are terribly unpleasant, to exist. He hates this. Hates that her opinion can affect him. Hates that these stupid feelings are giving someone else…power over him.

Frustration grates his nerves as he stands up, his shoes sloshing in the puddle as he stumbles a step back. He stares hard at Uraraka before clicking his tongue and stomping away.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Two hours later, the soft cotton of dry socks feels warm around his feet. He stares at the rain still pounding outside, no doubt ready to soak his school uniform as well. He glances to his right—his drenched gym clothes are stuffed in his bag, he made sure to throw them in a plastic bag so they wouldn't drip onto his homework. What? He isn't third in the class from being a slacker.

Bakugou tells himself that he is not waiting for Uraraka, he's just waiting for the rain to let up. It's not like he feels guilty or anythin' about abandoning her. She's a strong fighter, he's certain she pulled herself up after he left.

Though, the damn girl sure is taking her sweet time. It feels like a century before he hears her footsteps coming down the vacant hall. She stops next to him, taking one look outside before sighing.

"Oi," he says.

Uraraka jolts, turning towards him in surprise. "You didn't leave yet?"

"Does it look like I did?" He replies dryly.

"Hm," she hums.

Uraraka is still upset, even more so than before. Damnit, why does he have this useless ability. Bakugou stands up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and unwrapping the Velcro around his red umbrella. "Well, come on. Let's go."

"Eh?" Uraraka furrows her brow.

Bakugou points to her empty hands, then to his umbrella. "Let's go," he repeats, "unless you want to freeze your ass off in the rain."

"Oh," a few seconds passes before she realizes it's an invitation, "Oh!" Uraraka exclaims again. A light blush fans her cheeks as she waves her hands dismissively in front of herself. "No, no it's okay. I'll be fine by myself."

Her rejection is expected— her pride rivals his own. Still, she didn't have to say no like it was second nature. Bakugou looks out the glass doors. Other than the occasional streetlamp sporadically flickering shafts of light, darkness cloaks the streets. He imagines a sullen, bloodied, and bruised Uraraka walking through deserted alleys— needless to say it doesn't sit well.

"Just come," Bakugou reiterates, "Your house is on the way to mine." Exasperation spills into his request, he's feeling especially grouchy.

Uraraka says nothing, biting her lip.

Huffing, Bakugou presses a button on the shaft of his umbrella and it bursts open. Right as he's stepping out the door, Uraraka calls his name.

"Hey! Wait," she cries. In the next second, she pops up underneath his umbrella and flanks his side.

He casts a sidelong glance at her, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Don't look at me like that!" Uraraka pouts. "I'd still be fine by myself!"

"If you say so, roundface."

"Hmph."

Bakugou observes that there's a safe three inches of space between them; good, there's definitely no chance of accidental arm brushes or any of that romantic bullshit. Though with his keen eyesight, he can see that rain flecks Uraraka's shoulders, dampening her uniform to a darker shade of grey. Bakugou says nothing, but imperceptibly angles the umbrella closer to her.

Halfway to her house, Uraraka breaks the silence that had settled onto them. "Bakugou-kun…were you angry with me?" Her question comes out hesitant; she's paying an inordinate amount of attention on their footsteps.

"I'm always angry," he responds instantly.

Soft laughter rings through the air. It doesn't annoy him the way happiness usually does.

"When I said 'this is no good…'" Bakugou tenses. Uraraka continues, "I wasn't referring to you. How would that make sense anyways? You're number 1 in the class! You blow everyone out of the water in every competition."

Bakugou turns towards her—maybe looking at her will explain why his heart is thudding against his chest. It doesn't work. If anything, his heart pounds faster. He jerks his head away.

"Not every time," he concedes quietly. Silent understanding passes through them.

"You were still first, Deku-kun was tied with Todoroki-kun for second," she reminds.

Bakugou grunts. He's thought about it more than he should have, he hates, hates, hates, to admit that Deku's growth has been exponential. How can the overdog enjoy the underdog story?

"Oh don't be like that Bakugou-kun, you should be proud. You're amazing! It's a huge achievement to be first for the physical assessment tests!" There's unmistakable pride in her compliment.

"Whatever," he swats away her praise, leaning away from her so she can't see his blush.

"Me, on the other hand," she squeezes her fists by her side. "…I didn't even make the top 10 this time." She heaves her shoulders and sighs out all the air in her lungs. Her eyes are glued to her shoes as she speaks.

"I don't want to be an easy target, the one that's small and weak. Training, sparring…I'm taking the action to live up to my goal, aren't I? How can my hard work not show any results? It's so frustrating!" Her voice cracks and she stops walking. Bakugou wonders if she's talking to him, or herself.

"I'm trying my best, but how come it's so far from enough? But Deku-kun…he started from having no control of his quirk to second place in the class. How does he do it? I'm so…so jealous! He's sprinting away and I can barely stay afloat."

"Holy shit." Bakugou has had enough. He swivels on his heel and leans over her, red eyes piercing brown. "Deku this, Deku that. Does your entire character revolve around him?"

"N-No?" She stammers back, taken aback by his searing anger.

"It sure as fuck sounds like it does. You're fucking obsessed with catching up to him, but that thoughtless simple-minded plan is keeping you in his fuckin' shadow. Why the fuck do you want to be a hero anyways?"

"Wow, I know you curse a lot normally but that was, wow."

"Answer the question," Bakugou demands.

"Well…" her gaze strays to the side and she squirms. "Honestly, I decided to be a hero 'cause I wanted to make money for my family. I want to give them an easy life."

"That's a pretty lame reason," he says bluntly.

"Hey!"

"But at least it's your own."

She nods, but doesn't say much else. His newfound, useless ability tells him that Uraraka is still upset, and that pisses him off even more. Never in this life did Bakugou think he'd be enlisted for anything in the realm of "comforting."

"One month ago, you would have been out cold from that attack."

Uraraka blinks up at him. "Huh?"

"The hit that you took today," Bakugou elaborates, and nods upon seeing the recognition flash through her eyes.

"Look, improvement doesn't happen fuckin' overnight. Especially since your quirk gets stronger based on enhancing control. Improvement means increasing your weight limit from floating 3 tons to 3.1 tons, it means holding in your vomit for 10 seconds longer to buy time for the finishing blow, it means staying on your feet through one more explosion. How can a school physical test measure that? So stop bitching. It's fucking pathetic that my rival is like this."

A pause, a few ticks of silence, then Uraraka tentatively asks, "Wait…can you say that again?"

"Are you fucking shitting me?! I'm not repeating that!"

"No just the last part! Never mind, I heard you I just…did you say rival?" She repeats incredulously.

"If you already heard then why the hell are you asking?!"

"But my rank…"

"Means horse shit," he finishes for her. "The only thing I care about is someone who's fighting till they collapse, someone who has the intent to win every single fucking time."

Uraraka stares at him, gaping open-mouthed and rather unattractive. Suddenly, she straightens up, both of her hands pumped into fists and eyes shimmering with a glossy sheen.

"Katsuki…"

Bakugou startles at his first name, taking a step back and letting the cold rain shower his back.

"Thank you," Uraraka ends simply, eyes crinkling happily.

"S-Shut up…" Bakugou mutters back.

For the rest of the walk home, Uraraka's her obnoxious bubbly self again. She chatters on about random subjects, to which Bakugou grunts in reply or makes the occasional snarky comment. None of it fazes her, however, she seems content with just…him.

After they reach her house, Bakugou waits for her to fumble for her keys and clumsily enter her house. She waves goodbye and thanks him again, both of which he pointedly ignores. Soon, he's alone with nothing but the steady staccato of raindrops against pavement. He scans the surroundings for any prying eyes, and then proceeds to walk home in the opposite direction.

x-x-x-x-x-x

The worst part about being a hero ain't the villains. It ain't even the annoying paparazzi or clingy fans.

It's the fucking civilians.

Why don't any of them have the common sense to get the fuck out of the way? A villain attack is the time to scram, not the time to snap pictures on their phones.

"Get the fuck out of here before I smash all of your phones!" Bakugou roars from atop a hill of rubble. He glares at the group of low-priority civilians as they grapple with the phones in their hands before scurrying away.

The class was on a group outing when out of fuckin' nowhere, giant robots appeared out of portals and began terrorizing the city. Luckily for him, he's happy for the opportunity to blow up shit; there have been certain emotions on his mind that have been screaming for attention, he needs the distraction.

The only problem is that he can't find where the spineless villain is hiding. He scans the perimeters for the piece-of-shit, but gets distracted when something else catches his eye.

From his vantage point, he can see that Uraraka is positioned right in the epicenter of the battle. Though she's the only hero in the vicinity, there's a shit-ton of civilians crawling around her. Bakugou grits his teeth, there's no doubt in his mind that she brought this upon herself and threw herself in there, she has that weird righteous streak to help people. To earn money for her parents my ass.

As if on autopilot, Bakugou moves towards her. He barely takes two steps before a shadow engulfs him; he looks up to see a hunk of metal crap careening towards him. As methodically as breathing, Bakugou jumps and splits the debris vertically in half, the scent of burning metal like home to his nose.

"Too easy," he grouses. The rest of his complaint catches in his throat, however, as he realizes where the debris came flying from.

Three robots are hovering in the air, scant yards from terrified civilians. Uraraka is on one knee, sweat pouring down her face. There's no way she's staying under her three ton limit.

"Run…hurry," she orders them. Some are able to quiver to their feet and hightail it out of there. But of course, some remain stone-cold petrified on their asses. She stretches the tips of her fingers over a fallen streetlamp, turning it weightless. Gripping it with one hand, Uraraka slams the robots towards an unpopulated grove of trees.

"Skill release!" She shouts; the soaring objects drop like flies to the ground. Uraraka collapses to her knees, hands flying to her mouth as the nausea comes full force.

Bakugou frowns, the dumb girl is leaving herself wide open for anything. He's about to move towards her again when he hears another voice screech her name.

"Uraraka-san!"

Tch. Of course he's here, ready to be at her side.

"Uraraka-san! Are you okay?" He crouches besides her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Deku-kun…yeah I'm fine," she claims even as she moans, clutching onto her stomach too.

This is about to turn into some sappy shit. Bakugou turns away, that sharp twang returns yet again. Except instead of nibble, it feels like something is clawing at his heart, demanding to be acknowledged.

It's then that he hears it. Hears the telltale rumble of a building crumbling and falling apart. Bakugou whips around, his eyes back on her. She must be a beacon for bad luck because the wall is fracturing, peeling off from the side of the building in front of her. The wall's shadow looms over Uraraka, Deku, and an even more massive gathering of civilians that had come to assist the first batch.

A yelp rips through the air as Deku is roughly shoved to the side, safe outside the shadow's border. Uraraka stands, holding up both her palms as she waits for the wall's descent.

Bakugou wastes no time. He gets a running start before using his blasters to propel him forward. The dumbass civilians finally catch on that they're going to die if they don't move their asses and snap out of their stupor, climbing to their feet.

He knows her plan like it was written in the sky, she plans to hold off the wall long enough for them to all escape even if it fucking crushes her to bits. Why is she so infuriatingly stupid?! The wall reaches her hands and she presses on it with all ten pads of her fingers, she manages to hover it an inch above her. But for how long?

Come on, Katsuki hurry the fuck up. In about three seconds he'll be in range, but that's three seconds too long.

Uraraka falters. Her hands tremble like shattering glass. In the longest three seconds of his life, the wall plunges its weight on her. An agonizing scream tears through the battle and he doesn't want to imagine the pop and snap of cracking bones.

The explosion is out of his hands before he remembers creating it. Rubble and shrapnel blow everywhere as the wall blasts into smithereens, the explosion booms throughout the entire city. Smoke clouds his entire field of vision and he coughs as it invades his nostrils. He refrains from closing his eyes even as dust swarms in front of him, he needs to see her.

"Uraraka-san! Hold on, I'm getting help," Deku's desperate voice shouts, he's by her side, cradling her against his chest. He turns over her wrist and presses two fingers to her pulse. After a long moment (How long does it take to check a fuckin' pulse?! Fuck, Deku sucks at everything.), the boy breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness…"

Bakugou releases the breath he didn't know he was holding. For once in his life, Deku finally said something important.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"I'm okay," she insists, cracking a smile, as if a simple upturn of the lips can compensate for the two broken legs, fractured wrist, and dislocated shoulder.

"Recovery girl already treated me, so now all I have to do is wait for my body's own healing to kick in," she reassures, brightening her smile to make it reach her eyes.

She raises her left arm, the only one of her limbs to not sustain critical damage, and flexes her bicep. "Don't worry about me guys, I'm strong," she emphasizes, her grin growing cheeky.

The class president with glasses and dumbass rules considers this. Four eyes is silent for a moment, waffling between two sides, to berate or not to berate? Eventually, he settles on nodding his head in agreement and says, "On behalf of our entire class, we're extraordinarily relieved that you're alright."

Bullshit. Four eyes better get a new pair of glasses.

To his utter confusion, the rest of the class soon chimes in with their useless, empty opinions.

"Ochako! You were so cool out there! But you also really scared us," pink alien-girl exclaims, pushing onto her tiptoes to loom over Uraraka. Damnit, you're hogging up all her oxygen, the thought blips through his mind.

"We were afraid you were going to be down for the count," the freak with a tail unhelpfully supplements.

"Good job, but be more careful," frog-girl warns, to which Uraraka nods in concurrence. It's all meaningless, because knowing her she'd repeat the same dangerous shit the second she's able to move again.

"Protecting those people against the wall was awesome! Though, another second and you would have been roasted. Good thing Midoriya was there to save the day, right?" Remarks the electricity guy, who's already a dumbass even if he doesn't short-circuit himself.

His body goes rigid—something carnal bubbling in his chest and rising to his throat. He feels a growl threatening to escape, but in an intense display of self-control, shoves it back down. It's better for those fuckmunches to think it was Deku. He doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea that he cares about people or some shit like that.

"E-Eh?" Deku holds up his hands and shakes his head. "It um, it wasn't me. I didn't save Uraraka." Of course he has to ruin it. That goody-two-shoes always has to tell the truth.

"What? Then who could have it been?" Invisible girl asks.

"Midoriya, objectively speaking you were the only one with the speed and distance to reach her in time," the girl with the huge ponytail comments.

"It has to be you! There was a big cloud of smoke and when it cleared it was just you and Uraraka," the annoying midget cries.

"Ah…no that's not quite right," Deku rubs the back of his neck. "There was someone else also with us…"

He can feel the fucking nerd trying to catch his gaze; he resolutely looks down at the floor and scuffs his shoes.

"Bakugou-kun."

A deep scowl etches onto his face.

"Thank you, Bakugou-kun," she says his name again.

Silence blankets the hospital room. Like a cascade of falling dominos, their eyes turn onto him, one after another. He wants to slug each and every one of their slack-jawed faces.

Bakugou peels his eyes off the floor and leers at her. She's staring right back at him, unfazed. It doesn't piss him off as much as it should.

"It wasn't me roundface."

Uraraka doesn't respond right away, twisting her lips as she contemplates his answer. "Okay," she finally says.

"Exactly. Don't go around spreading false shit like that," Bakugou snaps, huffing as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Unaffected, Uraraka tilts her head to the side and makes a low humming noise. A beat of silence, and then she acquiesces again, "Okay."

It's what he wants to hear, but his eyes sharpen into slits. He knows she doesn't believe him; her "okay" is nothing more than an empty word, thrown out there to dismiss him like he was a bratty kid.

"The hell you do!" He doesn't let her close the door on him. "What kind of shitty plans do you have in your head? Be as useless as possible by flinging yourself into death?"

Uraraka frowns, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't you get that you're too weak to take on an army of huge bots? One bot is already reaching your limit, let alone floating three. Don't even get me started on the wall. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oi, c'mon Bakugou calm dow—"

Bakugou shuts Kirishima up with a fierce glare before snapping back to Uraraka, "For fucks sake. Everyone's sayin' shit about how you're still alive, but you're only alive due to fuckin' luck. Know the battles you ain't cut out for. Know when you're supposed to withdraw."

"Withdraw?" She draws the word out, voice eerily calm. Her face is stone; the normally warm, chocolate brown eyes now steely, brimming with flecks of gold. "There were innocent people that needed saving. I don't have the option to withdraw."

"Fuck that."

Something shifts in her expression, her eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. "I'm not the fragile weak little girl everyone thinks I am."

"I fuckin' know that."

Her anger screeches to an abrupt halt, her eyebrows lift, mouth parting open as the argument stalls in her throat.

All of the sudden his face feels hot, not in the normal way—red and ready to fight— and he has to steer away from this sappy feeling.

"But that doesn't mean you ain't a dumbass," he growls, getting back on track. "Are you a hero? Or another dead corpse getting in everyone's way? If you're not cut out for this than get the hell out."

Hurt flashes across her face, he feels his stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot, but her expression quickly sets into quiet fury.

"Hey, hey…Kacchan. Let's take it easy, neh? Uraraka's dealing with a lot right now and she doesn't need more stress," Deku placates, waving his hands like he's trying to soothe a wild animal.

It makes Bakugou bare his teeth even wider.

"Bakugou," she calls his name and he turns to her. Her good hand is clenching the hospital sheets, knuckles white. She scoffs in disbelief; the coarse sound is all wrong coming out of her mouth. "I may be crazy for fighting battles I know I'm going to lose, but you know what's even crazier?" She answers before he can get a word out, "That I thought we were sorta-kinda-maybe friends. You're right, I am incredibly stupid." Uraraka shakes her head and then meets his eyes, a wry smile plastered on her lips as she punctuates, "Screw. You."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Tendrils of smoke rise from his fingertips, curling up in ominous swirls. Sweat coats his hands—it's everywhere, pooling in the dip of his palms and seeping in the creases between his fingers. The pungent musk of nitroglycerin hangs heavily in the air.

Bakugou's a lit dynamite stick ready to incinerate, the smallest whiff of gasoline is all it would take. God help the poor soul that dare cross his path right now—

"Kacchan!"

An explosion shoots into the floor, the shrill bang reverberating off the walls. Fire burns in his palms.

"Deku, leave me the fuck alone or I will fucking kill you I ain't kidding," Batsuki snarls, eyes blazing like glass shards ready to slit skin.

Midoriya skids to a stop, but plants his feet firmly on the ground, matching Bakugou's glare with determination.

Rage flares in his chest, the anger spreading like wildfire through his veins as his muscles flex in preparation. The fuck? That piece of shit Deku has the nerveto stand up to him. What is with everyone today and thinking they can take him. Him, Bakugou Katsuki, King of Explodo Kills? An artery bulges in his neck as he rears his right fist back, the thought of consequences a far speck in the distance.

"Uraraka will forgive you!"

Katsuki stumbles, his momentum teetering him off balance as he slams his fist into the floor.

"The fuck do I care?!" Katsuki snaps back, pulling himself upright and wringing his wrist. Grains of concrete speckle his knuckles; he brushes them off, paying no heed to the blood trickling onto his fingers.

The fucking nerd hasn't moved, as if he knew that his stupid words would have thrown him off and deflected his punch. Fuck that. Fuck him. Fuckin' Deku always thinks that he's one step ahead of him. (What pisses him off even more is that it had worked.) The nerd came to defend her honor or some shit like that, ugh he should have known.

"I didn't come here to fight," Deku says evenly, "I came to see if you had an explanation."

Katsuki releases a bark of laughter. He knows what this is. "I don't gotta explain shit to you. You lookin' for an apology? Hell no. Everything I said was the truth, now get the fuck out."

Deku doesn't budge; the thin wire that is Bakugou's patience frays. "The hell is wrong with all of you, encouraging and cheering roundface on for her stupid shitty reckless 'heroism.' Are you all blind? She's obviously not fucking okay."

The cogs turn in Deku's head. Slowly, his resolute, "I'm-going-to-get-answers-out-of-Kacchan" determination melts, and is replaced by a bewildered look that's even more annoying.

"What?" Bakugou grates out.

"N-Nothing!" Deku squeaks.

"Don't say that useless shit to me, tell me what it is," Bakugou commands.

"Um…it's j-just that…now that I think about it, it sounds like you actually care about Uraraka, and um…yelling at her is your way of showing it."

"Tch, never mind, shut up. I should have known you were only going to say stupid shit."

Of course, Deku's favorite thing to do is to ignore him. "In fact…it almost sounds like you um…like—"

The wall next to them crumbles, Bakugou's fist still raised in the air as concrete rubble rains around him. His fist throbs in numbing pulses. Deku coughs as dust and powder whirl around them. "You're wrong. I'd have to be batshit crazy to like a stupid girl like her. You better not go around spreading false shit like that or I'll kill you."

With that, Bakugou turns on his heel and stalks away, growling obscenities under his breath.

Midoriya doesn't move to follow him, but he swears that the tips of Bakugou's ears are burning red. (He'd never say this to his face, but Bakugou Katsuki is definitely the most batshit crazy person Midoriya knows).

x-x-x-x-x-x

A week passes without Uraraka. He hasn't stepped foot in the infirmary even once. No one had pestered him to go visit, so he didn't. Why would he? They weren't even friends.

(Even if the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against his head, he'd still never ever admit it out loud—a small part of Bakugou can't help but think that his precious alone time has changed into quiet loneliness.)

x-x-x-x-x-x

Someone is following him. Whoever the hell it is, they aren't even trying to be discrete about it.

He recognizes the footsteps—light, uneven, and a little clunky—and takes more than an educated guess. He pinches the bridge of his nose before his next words roll off his lips, "Fuck off, Uraraka."

Silence returns him. He takes this as his cue to continue walking.

"Wait! Just listen for like two minutes!" Her voice calls after him, soon followed by her trotting footsteps.

He's not looking forward to this confrontation that knowing her, was inevitable. He sighs, and against his better judgment, twists his torso to glare at her.

"How'd you know it was me, Bakugou-kun?" Uraraka inquires curiously. He observes that the bandages are off her arms and legs, her bruises are also a lighter shade of purple. His traitorous heart can't help but feel relieved.

"Are you kidding? I can tell it's you even if I was asleep." The remark makes it sound like they're misleadingly close, so he adds, "'Cause you're so clumsy that there's no way you can properly sneak up on anyone."

Uraraka blows a tuft of stray hair from her face. "Hmph! So honest," she shakes her head, "but it's fine. I know you're especially grumpy when you're embarrassed."

"I ain't embarrassed about shit," Bakugou asserts too quickly.

Uraraka quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't comment further. "Anyways Bakugou-kun…here, this is yours. Sorry it took so long for me to bring it back."

He looks at what she has in her hand—a forest green jacket, folded into a neat square. What is this? It feels like a break-up scene for a relationship that never existed.

"I also…wanted to apologize."

He frowns; cold discomfort drips down his chest. She has no reason to apologize, damn it.

"I'm saying sorry 'cause I shouldn't have told you to screw off. I'm grateful that you trained with me and helped me get stronger. And, I'm lucky to be alive because you protected me. However…don't get me wrong," she takes a deep breath and maintains eye contact, "I'm not gonna quit, and I'm gonna work hard until everyone acknowledges me! I won't let anyone tell me otherwise, not even you."

Bakugou says nothing. Finally, with a heavy calmness, he states, "Uraraka."

In a few long strides he moves towards her, plucking the jacket from her grasp and unfolding it. Expressionless, Bakugou drapes it across her shoulders and watches as it consumes her petite figure.

"You have absolutely no sense of temperature. What is this, the third time now?" He points at her and reprimands, "You're a hero, so act like one and start making fuckin' smarter decisions."

"Hero…?" Uraraka echoes, letting the word taper off. He waits for the words to sink in, there's no way in hell he's repeating himself. But, he's feeling a little generous today and gives her another hint—the tips of his ears are warm as he softens his red eyes just a fraction and nods.

Luckily, Uraraka has become well versed in his communication style and understands, her face lights up like a warm hearth, smile bright from ear to ear. Happiness radiates all around her, and for some reason, this draws Bakugou to come closer.

Bakugou clears his throat before his thoughts turn into action, pulling at the top buttons of his collar. "Well come on, hurry up."

"Where are we going?" Uraraka knits her brow in confusion.

He goes against all logic and blurts out the first location on his mind. "The cat café. You were bandaged up all weekend so you never went."

"Eh? You're right but ah… I didn't know you liked cat cafés."

"No, why would I like those furry shits? But…" Bakugou looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice is nearly inaudible as he mumbles, "You don't have to say yes."

He simultaneously loves and hates that she stares up at him with a weird myriad of emotions, then blinks, as if she can't believe what she's seeing. There's a pregnant pause, then, her giggles chorus through his ears. "Bakugou-kun...you're going far for an apology, aren't you?"

"I take it back. I'm going home."

"No no, Katsuki!" Laughing, she latches onto his arm. He doesn't brush her off. "I say yes I say yes!"

That sharp twang returns to his chest, though this time it lingers, he feels deliriously light-headed. Oh, fuck it. Bakugou lets the feeling that isn't entirely unpleasant run wild and rampant; it nibbles, claws, ravages his heart. This isn't supposed to happen. He's not supposed to indulge in any other emotion besides anger and pride. However, one look to his right— Uraraka's hanging off his arm, and he's not cringing at the contact— and he knows it's a lost cause.

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A/N: Nearly 12,000 words and this story still only touches the iceberg of Katsuki x Ochako's potential. I've had this story completed for some time but have been on hiatus for so long it felt strange to be back. Read and review if you please, anything is always much appreciated!