Archive of Our Own

“I fucking hate this motherfucking song!”

Uraraka was not surprised by his choice of words, but she could appreciate the irony of the situation, nonetheless.

Taking a sip from her beer, she observed the very much drunk and very much angry Bakugou Katsuki sending death glares to Jirou’s speakers. He was still wearing the silly party hat Mina had forced on his head, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, there was a red stain on his knee ripped jeans and he was missing one Converse. Altogether, that was the most disheveled she had ever saw her ex classmate/colleague/hero partner/friend/crush.

It was Bakugou’s 25th birthday and, long story short, Kirishima was throwing a party for his best friend on the apartment he shared with Kaminari and Jirou, and birthday boy had been tricked to attend. He also had been tricked to consume large amounts of alcohol, hence his current predicament.

The information everyone invited to the party had – basically, everyone from the old classes A and B, plus some of their hero coworkers – and Bakugou didn’t, was that everything in the party had been spiked: from the sodas to the appetizers, the jar of water in the kitchen counter and even a protein shake Kaminari had left in the refrigerator as a bait: everything.

Halfway gone to the land of next morning regrets, Bakugou had crashed on an ugly mustard armchair, a suspicious green drink on his hand, and ignoring everyone and everything around him in favor of glaring at the speakers. Chuckling, Uraraka sat on the coffee table beside him.

“And how has this cheesy 80’s song personally offended you, Bakugou?”

He turned his head around so fast she would be surprised if he hadn’t given himself a whiplash. He stared at her, red eyes huge in surprise, as if he had never seeing something like her before.

“Ya’re so… round…” he slurred, in a reverent tone she had never heard before.

Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” She responded, rolling her eyes. It was not like he hadn’t spent the last ten years calling her ‘round face’ or variations of that. “That doesn’t answer my question though.”

He frowned.

“Question?” he leaned to the right, still frowning, and staring at her face. “Can I squish your cheeks?”

“What? No!” Uraraka exclaimed, feeling said cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I asked why you hate this song.”

She enunciated every word very slowly, trying to make him focus on her voice and not at her face. Somehow, it worked.

“Song?” he turned back to the speakers, as if only now he had realized there was music playing in the party. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he frowned even more. “It’s cheesy bullshit.”

“How come…”

“Can I squish your cheeks?” he asked again, unceremoniously dropping his drink on the floor, hands already reaching for her face.

“No, Bakugou!” she squealed, grabbing his wrists.

He didn’t seem to mind, though, and pulled her hands to his face like that was his intention from the beginning. He nuzzled against her palms, talking deep breaths, eyes closed and caressing her finger pads with the tip of his nose.

Face burning with embarrassment, all alerts in Uraraka’s mind went off like crazy, alerting her against her impending doom.

HOLLY HELL BAKUGOU IS A TOUCHY, AFFECTIONATE DRUNK. ABORT, ABORT, ABORT…

“Hahaha, this is sooo fucking weird…” he laughed, the pad of her middle finger resting in the tip of his nose, his lips brushing against her skin. And then his eyes lightened like a Christmas tree, and a crooked smile spread on his face. “Can I bite those?”

“NO, BAKUGOU!” she screamed, freeing her hands from his grasp and jumping backwards, putting an amount of respectable space between then. There was no part of her skin that wasn’t shinning red with embarrassment, and a million of thoughts, not all of them appropriated, were passing through her head.

Six months ago, she would have just punched him on the face, sending him to a not peaceful sleep, and stopping his drunk attacks against her. However, there was that night in the hero bar, piña coladas and texting, and Gods helped her, she had spent the last six months thinking about the pros and cons of giving Bakugou Katsuki a chance, without realizing the mess that did to her head, to her feelings.

Uraraka Ochako was a sensible, reasonable woman. She was not driven by her hormones or wishes, but fuck, it was just unfair how attractive he was.

Enters Ashido Mina.

“Our BakuLord is given you a hard time, ‘Chako-chan?” Mina practically fell in the couch in front of them, not entirely disproved of grace. “Or is he not giving you hard enough?”

“MINA!”

“Ya’re pink.”

The two girls turned to the drunk hero, who was now leaning forward, the frown back to his face, while he focused his entire attention to the newcomer. He looked at her face, her perfect make up still perfect, and they followed his gaze as his eyes descend to her body. Mina was wearing a high collar sleeveless black top and high waist jeans shorts. She had loose her boots a long time ago, and since she was lying in the couch, her long toned legs were very much exposed.

Uraraka feel a pang of jealously on her stomach, knowing he was checking their friend without even trying to hide it, but Mina didn’t seem to mind, probably because a) she was Kirishima’s fiancée and b) the only emotion on Bakugou’s face was outrage.

“How the fuck are ya pink??”

Mina, who was also a sensible, reasonable woman and was dead ass drunk, completely lost it: she twisted on the couch, laughing so much that tears began to form on her eyes, leaving to Ochako the task of explaining the unexplainable.

“Bakugou, you do know that Mina has always been pink, right?” Ochako said, very gently, and he immediately turned his attention back to her; his expression softened, like a puppy watching its owner arriving home. “Pink is her skin color.”

“Oh my god Bakugou, you can’t ask people why they are pink!” Kaminari screamed, rising from behind Mina’s couch, where, apparently, he had been taking a nap until now.

Seemingly out of nowhere – what was not uncommon on her case – Hagakure arrived, summoned by the power of someone quoting her favorite movie.

“Pink is for Wednesdays! At Wednesdays, we wear pink!” she giggled, carrying a colorful drink on each hand, her puffy purple dress floating around her as she arrived practically jumping with excitement. “What are we talking about?”

“Are ya dead?” Bakugou bluntly asked, eyes fixed on the floating dress. A new wave of euphoria dominated Mina, who fell out of the couch laughing so hard she was breathless. Ochako facepalmed and Kaminari stared at Hagakure, mouth opened in complete disbelief.

"Hagakure, are you a ghost?”

“She is, she is dead.” Bakugou deadpanned, and Kaminari turned around to look at his friend, with the devotion of someone who had all the doors of the universe opened to him.

“And you two idiots need to drink more.” Hagakure huffed, and Ochako knew her friend long enough to know the hint of promised revenge hidden in her voice. “Here, have this.”

She offered her drinks, which the boys promptly accepted. Ochako considered stopping Bakugou from drinking more, but honestly, how much worse could he get?

Way, waaay worse, as she would soon find out.

But for now, Hagakure helped Mina to get up from the floor and carried her to the large balcony, where most of the party guests where hanging out. Kaminari followed them, still staring at the floating dress in disbelief, and once more Uraraka was left alone with Bakugou.

Or as alone as they could be, considering the group of former class B boys chatting around the kitchen island a few feet behind them, the crying Shizoaki on the floor hugging a fake potted plant, Shinsou taking a nap on the ottoman and the strangest group hanging around on a dark corner of the room: Amakiji (turned to the wall), Tokoyami, Kuroiro and Komori.

“This bullshit again.” Bakugou mumbled, glaring at his green drink with hate. Of course, there was only one way to win a battle against a drink, so he chugged the whole thing.

“You should slow down, Bakugou.” Uraraka sighed, and once more she observed how his body lost all his tense energy, his expression softened, and he stared at her with such simple adoration she fell her heart accelerating.

“…so round…” he mumbled, and this time his hands found her cheeks before she could protest.

His palms were warm and a little sweaty against her skin, and now she could smell his burned sugar essence. He squeezed her cheeks, his eyes fixed on the movement under his fingers, which she considered a blessing, since she was so nervous that she couldn’t look into his eyes.

“It’s really round.” He repeated, fascinated. Feeling self-conscious, Uraraka looked down, questioning if her pink crop top and high waist black skirt had been a good choice. She was even wearing her favorite tights, black with small pink hearts and the ankle boots Mina always said made her ass look great.

“Are you saying I’m fat, Bakugou?”

He pulled out his hands fast, as if she had electrocuted him. The hero shook his head, and suddenly he was very serious.

“No. It’s round.”

“What does that even mean?” She asked, tired.

“This. You. All of you.” He gestured her with his hand, to emphasize his point. He looked at her from head to toes, the same way he had done with Mina earlier, but this time she observed his neck and ears becoming red. “It’s… round. Good round. Hot round.”

“What?”

“But your guts too!” he exclaimed, pointing his finger at her face, as if she had questioned his entire logic. “Your… Roundness. And guts. Yeah. It’s… acceptable.”

“Acceptable?”

“What do ya wanna me to say?” He growled, running his hand through his face.

“Something that makes sense, for starters.”

He rested his arms on his tights, body slightly leaned forward, a deadly serious look on his face.

“Ya got roundness. Ya got guts. I bet you could fucking crush me.” His eyes fell to her thighs. “Wouldn’t mind ya crushing me.”

There was no mistake about the nature of the tremor she felt on her body, or the way her legs brushed against each other. Bakugou’s eyes were burning with determination and hunger, and Uraraka knew she would have to choose her next words very carefully.

“Bakugou, I…”

“ATTENTION, EVERYONE!” Kaminari’s voice overcame everyone’s else, making Uraraka and Bakugou jump in surprise.

His scream waked Shinsou, and the people who were hanging out outside came back to the living room to know what was going on. The Stun Gun hero had climbed over one of the couches next to his huge TV, and Uraraka noticed he was using a microphone. “Now it’s time for the main event of the night! Bakugou! Are you drunk enough to let us sing ‘happy birthday to you’ and blow some candles?”

“Fucking no!”

“Ok then, plan B! We are going to keep getting birthday boy drunk, but until that, we will have our karaoke tournament!”

The news was received with different levels of enthusiasm: from Shinsou’s literal “Fuck this shit, I’m going home”, to many unhappy mumbles, Todoroki’s absolute indifference, to a mildly excited Iida, until a very crazy Kirishima. After seeing a distressed Deku being pulled by Ashido to the karaoke equipment, though, Bakugou entered in full competition mode and jumped from the armchair, claiming he would be the very best singer.

With a tired sigh, Ochako decided that now was a good time to go to the bathroom.

A bad decision.

“Mina, how did this happen?”

“Relax, ‘Chako.”

“I was gone for only half an hour…”

“What took you so long, anyway?"

“Tsu had filled the bathtub and was sleeping there; I had to dry her, convince her to put on her clothes, and carry her to Kyoka’s room. Oh, she’s sleeping there, by the way.”

“It’s fine, let her sleep. Denki will probably pass out on the floor anyway. I’m just glad you found her before Mineta.”

“Where is that little perv anyway?”

“Right there on the corner, making out with that fake plant Shiozaki was hugging earlier. I convinced Shinsou to brainwash him before he left.”

“How?”

“He was drunk, and I told him I wouldn’t open the door for him to leave if he didn’t.”

“You are a genius, Kyoka. Is that… Is Todoroki filming him?”

“He sure is.”

“Momo, your boyfriend is savage.”

“Orararara… Todoroki is a perfect gentleman."

“...Is it just me or Momo just laughed like a himedere?”

“A what?”

“Also, that plant’s got more action than me tonight.”

“Toru!”

“Girls! Can we all focus on the main problem here?”

“Which is…?"

“Bakugou is half naked!”

“I’m seeing a lot of things; a problem is not one of them.”

“TORU!”

As it turned out, a lot of things can happen in half an hour. While Uraraka was busy convincing her best friend that she shouldn’t sleep naked on someone else’s bathtub, and Jirou tricked a very drunk Shinsou to use his quirk in an apparently inoffensive prank, Hagakure put her revenge plan against Bakugou and Kaminari in motion.

It was not really a plan; it was more like a wish and an action with purpose. She just kept serving them really spiked drinks until they got to this exact point: no pants and shirtless (but using each other’s shirts as makeshift headbands), Bakugou and Kaminari had took control over the Karaoke system and were basically competing for nothing, since they hadn’t realized yet it was cooperative mode and that they were basically failing every song.

“I never imagined Bakugou was such a bad singer. It’s kind of sad to watch it.” Mina’s laugh contradicted her words. The girls from former class A (sans Tsu) had occupied the kitchen’s island. Momo, Kyoka and Toru were sitting on the bar stools, while Mina and Ochako were standing behind them. “Does he hurt your artistic taste, Kyoka?”

“Everything that happened in this apartment in the last six hours hurts my artistic taste.”

“Orararaa, don’t be like that, Kyoka-chan.” Momo laughed, covering her mouth in her typical gesture, but all the other girls could see she was just shitfaced drunk, didn’t matter how hard she tried to cover it with her lady impersonation.

“I’m just glad to know he’s bad at something, ya’ know.” Hagakure sighed, using her invisible face on her favor and shameless staring at the shirtless men in front of her. “Makes him look more human. Someone can’t possible be good at everything and be hot, it’s just not fair.”

“What about his shit personality?” Jirou questioned, frowning at every note the two idiots sang toneless.

“That’s Ochako’s problem.” The invisible girl shrugged, receiving agreement murmurs from the other girls.

“Hey!”

“Orarararara, Ochako-chan…”

“Momo, why are you laughing like that?” Kyoka stared at her best friend. “It’s as creepy as Monoma’s…”

“It’s a himedere’s laugh…” Hakagure mumbled.

“What the fuck is that?” asked Ashido.

“Girls! Please!” a very distressed Uraraka screamed, finally making her four friends turn around and look directly at her. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“The question is not what, the question is who.” Mina said solemnly, one hand on Ochako’s shoulder and the other over her heart, for dramatic purposes. “And the answer is Bakugou. Go do Bakugou.”

“Mina!”

“What do you want, Ochako?” Jirou asked, with a tired sigh.

After the gravity hero, she was she most sober between her friends. Tsu had passed out, Momo was shitfaced and impersonating an anime princess, Ashido was laughing at everything and Toru was a thirsty bastard.

“I just want him to… to tell me his real feelings.” Uraraka whispered, playing with her bangs and avoiding at any cost to look at the toned back just a few feet in front of her.

“You’re asking for too much.”

“Shut up, Toru! Ochako, you already know how he feels.” Jirou reminded her. “Everyone knows how he feels towards you since, like, senior year.”

“Second year for me, you are all blind.” Toru chuckled.

“Well, I’ve been shipping you guys since first year” Ashido pumped her fist in air, “That’s why I’m calling dibs on bridesmaid role.”

“You shipped everyone with everyone, that’s no argument.”

“Love goes toward love as school-boys from their books, but love form love, toward school with heavy looks.” Leave it to drunk Momo to perfectly quote Shakespeare.

“Guys! Focus!” Kyoka exclaimed once more. “You already know how he feels, Ochako, if someone is waiting for a confession here is him.”

“I know!” she exclaimed, blushing and covering her face with her hands. “But it’s… it’s hard!”

“Not as hard as that butt.”

“Toru, I swear to God…”

“Alright, alright!” her floating bracelets showed that the invisible girl was raising her arms, in defeat. “This is what you are going to do, Ochako: you are going to enjoy this party, you are going to spend time with mister perfect butt there, and if you ever feel comfortable enough, you will tell him about your feelings and see where you will go from there. How does that sound?”

There was silence for a minute, while the girls exchange questioning stares.

“That’s… a good advice, actually. Thank you, Toru.”

“Your welcome. Now, please, can we leave depressing island and go back to the party?”

“I think I’m going to announce that Bakugou “won” that karaoke crap, so we can put the music back on.” Jirou sighed.

“You do that, Kyoka, and I’m going to… wait.” Mina narrowed her eyes, as if she was trying to see better. “Is Todoroki filming Bakugou and Kaminari now?”

“He sure is.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t fear death, Momo.”

“Oraraaaraa… I can’t feel my legs.”

Two hours later, after Bakugou had blown up the candles, and covered half of the party members with cake, things had calmed down. Most of the guests left, leaving only half of the old class A in the apartment. Tsuyu was still asleep in Jirou and Kaminari’s room, and as Kyoka had predicted, Denki was passed out on the kitchen’s floor. Mineta, wrapped on Sero’s tape, was hanging from the ceiling, and Midoriya was taking a nap on the couch.

The last ones standing after all that madness weren’t much better. They were sitting on a circle around the fire pit in the balcony. Jirou had her headphones and was staring at the stars, peacefully dazing off; Yaoyorozu, who had created an electrical wheelchair at some point, was slowly rotating on the axis, and finding that hilarious for some reason. Todoroki, the last sober person on the house, was sitting on a stool and observing her with watchful eyes.

Uraraka was sitting by Bakugou’s right side. The explosive hero was engrossed on some heavy conversation with Kirishima, Kaminari’s shirt still firmly wrapped around his head, but he had putted on his pants back, at least. Mina was lying on the floor, her head resting on her fiancée’s lap; she was giggling and probably don’t really understanding what was going on around them.

Ochako, tipsy, only wished she had the same luck.

“No, ya not understanding!” Bakugou was slurring, eyes half lid, and staring at Kirishima, who were inclined to his friend and seemed also very serious. “She could crush ya, and me, and both.”

“I know, bro.”

“No, no ya don’t!” he grabbed Ochako’s hand once more, and pointed to her finger pads. “This… this round little shits… They are dangerous shit.”

“Very dangerous.” Kirishima agreed, nodding.

“She has guts ya know?” Bakugou grinned “And roundness.”

“Roundness?”

“Roundness.”

“That’s manly.”

“No, manly is…” Bakugou furrowed, making a lot of effort to think “…bench-press. Bet she could bench-press me.”

“Well, I certainly could.” Ochako mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Her voice made him turn around again, as if he had just now realized she was by his side, and a wide smile spread in his lips.

“Ya could??”

“I can make you weightless, dumb.” She deadpanned.

His eyes became huge, looking at her with complete reverence.

“Holy shit. So cool.” He whispered.

“That’s very manly Uraraka.” Kirishima slurred. Ashido was now poking his face randomly and giggling, but he didn’t seem to mind, or realize for that matter.

Bakugou once more turned around to his best friend, his face surprising soft.

“Uraraka is… she is just so Uraraka, ya know? Strong, very strong. No one else can fucking match her. She is very, very, very cool.”

“I know, man.” Kirishima nodded, making Bakugou frown.

“You… you are kind cool too.”

“Bro.” Eijirou whispered, amazed.

“Not as cool as Uraraka, though.”

“Uraraka is the manliest.” Kirishima roared, pointing his finger at Bakugou’s face.

“She fucking sure is.” He roared back, mimicking his friend’s gesture.

Ochako took on deep, slow breath.

“Bakugou, please...”

“And I kinda like your hair.” Bakugou blurted, staring at his friend makeshift horns. Kirishima looked like a man whose all dreams had come true.

“…bro...”

“BakuLord!” Ashido giggled. “Don’t make Eiji cry!”

“Oh, Gods.” Uraraka mumbled, but at this point she should already have learned that every time she opened her mouth, Katsuki’s attention went completely back to her.

“You.” He narrowed his eyes, this time with an exasperated sigh. “Why the fuck you… You could kill me, ya know?”

Was he really saying she was stronger than him? There was no bigger compliment, coming from him.

“Bakugou, I…”

“With your thighs.”

“BAKUGOU!”

A crooked grin appeared on his face, and she briefly considered slapping some sense into him.

“Bakugou, you should hug Ochako.” Hagakure’s voice came from behind, making them jump. However, there was no floating clothes there this time. Was she naked?

“Fuck off, ghost.”

“WHAT… TORU??” Ochako exclaimed, indignant. She didn’t want to think about what a drunk sneaking Toru could be doing.

“She is suuuuper soft.” The invisible hero whispered once more.

Before Ochako, could complain, Bakugou’s arms embraced her, pulling her against his chest. He rested his head on her hair, and took a deep breath, hands firmly anchored on her waist.

“God. Fucking. Damn. Disembodied voice is right, you’re so soft.” He nuzzled her hair, sighing in contentment. “I’m never letting ya go, like ever. Ya’ re the cutest. So, so, so soft.”

If embarrassment could kill, Uraraka would be lying in the ground right now. Bakugou’s grip around her was firm, but she could easily free herself if she wanted. If she wanted.

“Hahaha Toru is naked.” Mina laughed, wiping Kirishima’s emotional tears that were still running. “Hahaha, look, Momo, Toru is… Who are you filming now, Todoroki?”

For her eternal despair, Uraraka finally realized that Todoroki’s phone was aimed at her and Bakugou.

The betrayal.

“Todoroki!”

“I’m making fond memories with my friends.”

“Please tell me you are fucking with me.”

“I wish.”

“Fuck.”

It was 4 a.m., and Bakugou was sitting on the floor Kirishima’s bathroom. His elbows were propped in the toilet, his forehead resting in his hands. His eyes were closed, he was pale and every breath he took seemed to require calculated concentration.

In another words, he was wasted.

“And half n’ half recorded everything.” He mumbled, unmoving. He didn’t have enough strength to even get angry.

“Everything.”

“Fuck.”

Sitting on the cold floor beside him with her back against the wall, Uraraka was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and she wanted nothing but to sleep for the next two days, but she was feeling morally obliged to help Katsuki through that shitshow.

Just like he had done for her.

“What else?” he growled, eyes still closed.

“After the karaoke? You tried to fight Deku.” She observed the corner of his lips slightly going up.

“And I won, right?”

“…it was not really Deku, Bakugou, it was the fake plant. So, yeah, I guess you won.”

“Fuck. How did I get so drunk again?”

“Well, everything was spiked.” And that was why she was feeling so hungry, she hadn’t eaten anything. She expected to eat at least the cake, but Bakugou had exploded it.

“I fucking figured it would be, so that’s why I didn’t eat or drink anything besides a protein shake I found hiding in the refrigerator.”

Oh, that.

“…that was Kaminari’s special bomb for you.”

“…I’m so gonna murder him.” He growled, wiping cold sweat from his fore head with trembling hands.

“Well, he’s passed out on the kitchen floor if you think you can get there.” He gave her an annoyed side glare, and she grinned at him.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, cheeks.” He whispered, eyes half lid.

“And puking doesn’t suit you, Bakugou.” She shook her head, in fake mockery. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He deadpanned. “What else did I do?”

“You were… humm… really affectionate.” She observed his entire body tensing up, and he opened his eyes, sending her a panicked side glance. “Towards… towards me.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, closing his eyes again. He hided his face on his hands. “Did I… did I do anything that I shouldn’t…?”

You mean, besides making her go on a roller coaster of emotions and embarrassment?

“Oh, no, no… You just… Humm… talked. A lot. And hugged me.”

With a tired sigh, he pushed his body away from the toilet, resting his back on the wall besides Uraraka. His head was tilted back, only slightly inclined in her direction, but his eyes were sharp again, burning with reverence.

“I’m sorry if I said or did something that made you uncomfortable, Uraraka.” He apologized, very serious. She dismissed his worries, shaking her head and smiling.

“It’s ok, it was…” Intense. Heartwarming. Hot. “Some of the things you said were nice, actually.”

“What did I say to you?”

He had said she was strong and cool. Also, he had said that she was soft, that she was the cutest, that he wanted to embrace her and never let her go.

And that her thighs could crush him anytime.

She would have to agree with Jirou: his feelings were as clear as the day.

“Basically, you said that my guts and roundness were acceptable.” She chuckled, thinking that that would be the safest thing to say.

A delicate pink colored Bakugou’s face, and he stared at her, open mouth.

“Well it’s true but… Ah, fuck me.” His head rested against the wall, slump shoulders and eyes closed. “What else?”

Taking a leap of faith, she held one of his hands, her thumb gently caressing his skin. His sweat was cold, and he was shaking a little, but he didn’t pull out of her touch.
He kept his eyes closed and she didn’t raise her head either.

“There are a few things we probably should talk about… But not in Kirishima’s bathroom, at 4 a.m., while you are almost puking.” She whispered, giggling just a little.

He chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah… I agree.” He whispered back.

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, just holding hands and avoiding each other’s face, as if they were fifteen, and not adults and pro heroes, stupidly in love with each other.

“Hey, cheeks.” His faced had suddenly turned green.

“Hm?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” was all he was able to say before violently throwing his body to the toilet in front of him.

“OH my…”

She struggled to get up, and practically threw herself out of the bathroom while the unpleasant noises began, and a scent of death and regret began to permeate the air.

"Are you okay there?" she called from the hallway. For several minutes, there was no answer, until he asked, his voice hoarse and rough:

“What the fuck was that green shit everyone was giving me to the drink?”

“The rapture.”

“Fucking figured.”