"So will you do it?"

"No."

It's in Bakugo's second year at UA academy that he's faced with the question. It started with training, and then a reasonable enough request for a spar. And then Uraraka, sweating profusely and red faced, her ass handed to her in minutes, pushed herself off the crash mat and narrowed him down with her stare.

He didn't think she had the nerve.

"Why not?"

"Cause you're weak."

And because it's a waste. He needed to focus his energy on the singular goal that's been kneading him forward all this time. He hasn't been working this hard just to throw it all away on a whim. Especially because she's shown up out of the blue, determination reflecting in her eyes of the kind that pisses him off and reminds him of that moss hair idiot, to ask him to do what exactly?

Something about him training her? Like hell he would.

"But-" She protests.

Her persistence annoys the hell out of him, and frankly, if he hadn't just arrived at the gym for his evening workout, he would've walked right there.

"Get out of my way, short stack." He snorts. He's done with this dumb conversation. Why the hell is she even talking with him anyway? Class 2-A have been through a lot in their time at the academy, but that didn't mean he was suddenly chummy with everyone. He can count the number of times the two of them have interacted before on one hand.

The veins in his temples pulse with irritation when she grabs his arm as if that's meant to prevent him leaving. "But that's why I'm asking you!" He can see her body visibly shaking, like she's afraid of him. "Just hear me out."

Her round ass eyes remind him of the look she gave him at the sports festival.

His sigh is nothing short of exacerbated. "Why don't you just spar with Deku?" He scowls, waiting for her to take the hint.

"I can't," her whine irks him. "He's with Gran Torino continuing his hero apprenticeship."

For all the wide disgusting doe eyes she threw the loser's way, she really knew nothing.

That was just a cover for Deku and All Might to visit those science nerds, the annoying blonde girl and David he-couldn't-give-a-fuck-to-remember-his-last-name, in the States and train One for All. It didn't make sense why moss for brains even told him before he left, spouting some shit about him feeling like he owed it to Katsuki.

It wasn't like the prick was his friend.

"Train with turbo shins, or one of those other extras, then." He's convinced that that's the conversation over, and pulls his wrist out of her grasp.

"I would. But, uh, well..." He finds himself distracted, though, by how odd it is that her cheeks tinge pink at that comment of all things. Confusion knits his eyebrows together and her eyes dart in every direction but his. He glances where she looks, and spots Shitty Hair, his normal sparring partner, grinning as he parried attacks with the pink-skinned extra.

Uraraka hides her round face in her hands as he picks up on a reoccurring theme. Everywhere he looks, it seems the usual sparring partners have switched. Kirishima and pink skin. Earphone lobes and bolt bastard. That weird creation girl with the half n half bastard.

Then it clicks, and the temperature rises.

"ARE YOU TRYING TO PAIR OFF WITH ME CAUSE SHITTY DEKU'S NOT HERE, ROUND-ASS?!"

Uraraka, stunned, fumbles with her words and makes a mess out of flailing hands. "I-It's not like that! I'd never even consider you for anything like that-"

"Huh? You saying something, cheeks?!" Explosive embers crackle off his fingertips.

"Why are you so angry?!" She huffs, and stamps her foot like a toddler. "I just asked to train with you. What's the big deal? I see you training with people other than Kirishima all the time!"

The deal's simple. Uraraka was the golden girl for Deku-squad. If he started sparring with her regularly, she might get some absurd idea in her head that that made them friends and that notion risked more interaction with the green haired loser.

"I already had a fight with you!" He points out.

"So what's wrong with a couple more, then?" She tilts her head, and grins like she's won. "And there's no one else free here to train with anyway!"

She's relentless.

But it doesn't sit right with Bakugo to spar with her when all the other sparring partners in the gym are coupling off.

"There are other things to do than just spar, cheeks." He exhales and tries to release the tension in his shoulders.

"So you're too scared to beat me."

A vein in his head pops. "Like hell I am!"

It's like so that the blonde hothead plays puppet to the puppeteer's string for an evening. Each time he expresses that he's sufficiently beaten her, she goads him on and he falls right back into her trap, bruised ego in tow.

Two hours later and every other pair, not fighting as serious as they had, has made scarce. The two of them pant on the crash mats, side by side, caked in sweat. Uraraka, the fucking embodiment of kindness, offers him her water bottle and he angrily accepts because he's finished his.

It's hard not to acknowledge that she picked up things from Gunhead since their fight.

He had fun.

"Same time tomorrow?" She stupidly grins and catches her breath.

"No fucking way." He flat out denies.

"I'll see you then, Bakugo." She deflects, and gives him a stupid wave as she leaves the gym.

She's way too bright. All shits, giggles and rainbows.

What the fuck has he got himself in for?