something that i want

Everybody’s sick of Midoriya and Shouto dancing around each other—Bakugo included.
Actually, Bakugo especially, ‘cause he’s the one stuck between the two idiots. When he brings it up to his only other best friend who isn’t a total and complete sap, word spreads like wildfire and somehow the whole class gets involved.
... Including Midoriya’s other best friend, Ochako.

Notes:

here is my kacchako big bang entry!!!!!... i def bit off waaaay more than i could chew.
Huge shout-outs to:
@kerakeriza for the beautiful illustration 🥹💖 Check out her twitter for more amazing art 🤩
@sunflaire for being my beta 😭💖 LITERALLY ADDRESSED ALL MY INSECURITIES LOL
Thank you both so much for your patience and hard work!!! I am so grateful 🥹💖

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: right when u think u know what to say

Chapter Text

Bakugo is sick of this.

“Th-that was amazing, Todoroki!” Midoriya simpers while Bakugo snaps handcuffs over the criminal they’ve just overpowered.

“Thank you, Midoriya. You can just call me Shouto.”

“O-oh! Well, y-you can call me Izuku, you know?”

“Thank you.”

“Th-there’s no need to thank me! We’re b… best f- friends, after all!”

Sick of it.

“QUIT FLIRTING AND GET BACK TO WORK!”

“F-flirting?!”

“Our shift is over, Bakugo.”

“WELL THEN SHUT YOUR TRAPS! AND YOU—” Bakugo swings a gloved finger straight at Midoriya, bouncing an imaginary bullet right between the ingénue’s grossly large and gleaming eyes. “—QUIT BEING SO RED! YOU’RE A WALKING TARGET!”

And it looks awful against all that green. Awful.

“K-K-K-K-Kacchan!”

Midoriya buries his cherry red face in his hands, innocent freckles bracketed by menacing scars accumulated from training a quirk that isn’t his and then fighting an entire war with that same quirk.

Bakugo’s top lip curls. He picks up his pace to put some distance between himself and the other two, but it’s not enough. Todoroki’s voice carries over his shoulder on the summer breeze.

“Bakugo seems particularly irritable today.”

Midoriya giggles. Giggles. Bakugo tries not to vomit into the nearby bush.

“It’s probably because you stole the show!”

Bakugo can’t walk fast enough. It’s a good mile back to campus and Endeavor had told them that morning that his chauffeur was booked the entire holiday for reasons unnamed, which is all fine and well because Bakugo’s not about to lock himself in a confined space with these two shitheads if he doesn’t have to—not when they’re spouting niceties at each other like lovesick monkeys.

“Did you improvise that move, Shouto? It caught me completely by surprise!”

Even from all the way in front, Bakugo can hear the excited quiver in Midoriya’s voice when he says Todoroki’s given name. He grinds his teeth.

“I did,” Todoroki murmurs. “Perhaps we should work on refining it together?”

“I—I’d love that!”

That’s it. Bakugo gags to himself, which means that anybody within a mile radius hears it.

“Are you alright?” Todoroki slips up beside him, hands in his pockets. His voice is smooth as ever, like he hasn’t just been spouting gooey, disgusting things to the other boy in their trio.

Bakugo squints at him suspiciously. Is Half n’ Half playing dumb? Does he seriously not see what’s going on here? For the past year, Midoriya has splattered the nastiest, most sycophantic, pathetic, imbecilic shit across Todoroki. He’s bought him lunch. He’s brought him lunch! He’s picked the middle seat in Endeavor’s car EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR. He picks the Icy Hot Bastard first for group projects. He adamantly takes the seat by him during lunch. And the compliments? God, the freaking! Compliments!

Most importantly, though: if Bakugo has been made to endure being a third wheel for the past year by sheer accident, he will blow up the entire Endeavor agency. He’ll do it. Don’t threaten him with a good time.

“You can tell us anything. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

The noise that tears from Bakugo’s throat is absolutely animal. “You’re a goddamn sap!” He blusters, then throws a palm back and lets rip a monster of a blast. It sends him careening through the city until he’s well past the skyscrapers and glass buildings that have turned orange in the sunset. Once his shoes meet cement, he slows back down to a walk, finally alone.

Since the war, Midoriya has been entirely transparent about his affection for Todoroki (Bakugo heaves at this thought) and Todoroki has been as opaque as ever. And while balancing school and life with taking down an entire villain regime has grown Bakugo’s patience, he finds that with each instance of flustering and fumbling on Midoriya’s part, his already minuscule fount of fortitude runs dryer and dryer.

The worst part is that Bakugo knows Shouto reciprocates. Why else would he hover so annoyingly at Midoriya’s side during danger? Or always tell him to be careful? Or take Midoriya’s lunch tray to the disposal for him?! Nobody’s taking Bakugo’s tray for him, and he’s the one who deserves it most!

It’s as obvious as the sky is blue and grass is green, but apparently not to the only person who needs to see it. All of it is enough to make Bakugo foam at the mouth.

Basically: this shit has to end. Now.

“Shitty Hair!” Bakugo barks when he storms into the lobby of Heights Alliance with no clue of whether Kirishima is even staying at school for the summer.

Denki’s head pops up from behind the couch. “Eijirou’s in his room. You need somethin’?”

“None of your business,” Bakugo growls, slamming his finger against the elevator button over and over, even as the number above the doors ticks down.

“Sure, cool.” Denki bobs his head. “Just be sure to knock, alright?”

Bakugo shoots him an enraged look at being told what to do, but at Kirishima’s door, he knocks anyway, expecting the door to swing open immediately. When he’s left standing outside for one minute, then two, then three, Bakugo knocks again, grabs the handle, and twists.

It’s locked. Kirishima’s’s door is never locked.

Bakugo tries again, this time shaking the door against the frame. “I’m coming!” Kirishima’s frazzled voice exclaims, and Bakugo huffs.

“The hell is taking you so long!”

“I was”—Kirishima appears with his hair askew and chest heaving, cheeks matching his hair like he’s just run from one arctic pole to the other—“busy!”

“Doing what?”

“J-just stuff! It’s not important!” Kirishima wraps a hand around the door frame, leaning into it and taking up the entire entrance. “What’d you need?”

Bakugo tries to duck past Kirishima’s extended hand, but the latter adjusts his position and blocks the former. Bakugo glares at him incredulously, but Kirishima plays it off like he’s just making himself more comfortable. When Bakugo tries again, Kirishima does it again.

“What the hell, Shitty Hair?!”

“Oh, do you wanna come in?” Kirishima chirps, laying the innocence on thick. “You shoulda just said that, man! But I can’t let you in, room’s a mess”—

Bakugo busts through Kirishima’s stronghold anyways, squinting at the neat and orderly space he steps into. It’s so tidy that there’s no way it isn’t deliberate. He spins his narrowed gaze around and pins a jittery Kirishima down with it.

The weirdo clears his throat, then walks robotically towards his bed. “You wanted to talk about somethin’?”

“Icy Hot and Shitty Nerd.”

Kirishima blinks mutely, then asks, “Midoriya and Todoroki? What about ‘em?”

“Somebody has to stop them!”

“Stop them…?”

“They’re disgusting!” When Kirishima’s stare grows no more understanding, Bakugo releases an outraged snarl and pops out a few firecrackers in his palms. “The flirting and shit!”

“Oh!” The redhead’s eyes are wide enough to swallow a planet. Then he begins to howl with laughter. “Dude! You can’t just rip them apart. They’re, like, attached at the hip. And plus, it’d be cruel!”

“I don’t wanna rip them apart! We need to get them together! One of them has to confess. We have to make them, ‘cause they sure as hell aren’t gonna do it themselves.”

The humor on Kirishima’s face falls away, and he purses his lips to the side in puckered consideration. “Stuff like that isn’t easy, and I don’t know Todoroki or Midoriya as well as you do. Like, we’re close, but not close the way you are with them.” He shrugs. “I dunno if I’d really be any help.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes and stands, making his way to the door. “That’s not gonna work on me.”

“Fine,” Bakugo spits. “I’ll do it on my own! Not like I need your help anyway.” Scowling, he picks himself up off the bed and shoves his hands into his pockets petulantly as he follows Kirishima to the door. Bakugo gives him one last quarrelsome look and then steps out.

Before he can stomp very far down the hallway, though, Kirishima calls out to him. Bakugo stops and spins on his heel to glower stonily at his unhelpful burden of a friend.

“Y’know who might be able to help you?” Bakugo’s answering squint is enough of a response for Kirishima, whose grin manages to become toothier than it already is. “Uraraka! She’s probably the only person as close to Todoroki and Midoriya as you are.”

Bakugo’s brows furrow. Kirishima isn’t wrong, but Bakugo’s not about to say that out loud, especially because that means admitting he can’t do something entirely on his own. Instead, he says, “Your shirts on backwards, idiot.”

Then he turns sharply back around to his room and mulls this new tidbit over.

—

prettyinpink has created this chat

prettyinpink has renamed the chat matchmakers & masterminds

prettyinpink has changed the chat icon to bakugonuraraka.jpg

prettyinpink: I HEREBY FORMALLY DECLARE THE FIRST OFFICIAL MEETING OF THE MATCHMAKERS AND MASTERMINDS

nowyouseeme: oooooh what’s going on

auxinauxout: you forgot to add bakugo, ochako, izuku, and todoroki

prettyinpink: NO DON’T

auxinauxout: oh ok nvm then

meninred: crap

meninred: mina don’t

prettyinpink: “mina don’t” what? mina don’t do the best thing that i’m ever about to do to anybody? mina don’t turn the entire world upside down in the best way possible? mina don’t tell everybody what i just heard when i was trapped in your closet?

creati: That’s quite the build-up!

class_1a_president: Girls should not be in the boys’ rooms for extended periods of time! Especially not in their closets!

lightninstrikezz: SPILL

prettyinpink: so you know midoriya and todoroki

seroscotch: that’s old news

prettyinpink: I WASN’T FINISHED!!

seroscotch: my b, continueeee

prettyinpink: and you know how it’s midoriya, todoroki, and BAKUGO

prettyinpink: well bakugo came rampaging to eijirou demanding help to get the two together

nightindarkenedarmor: What does that have to do with any of us?

prettyinpink: I’m not dOOOONNEE omg u guys PLEASE.

prettyinpink: eijirou TURNS BAKUGO DOWN

prettyinpink: AND SUGGESTS

prettyinpink: URARAKA.

isparkle: ~le gasp!~

prettyinpink: I KNOW

prettyinpink: THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

lightninstrikezz: wait bakugo likes uraraka?

meninred: no

prettyinpink: not yet ;)

meninred: mina

prettyinpink: trust me on this!!!

nowyouseeme: i’m in!

auxinauxout: sure, why not?

seroscotch: this could be really chaotic

auxinauxout: aaaand…?

seroscotch: good point. I’M IN!

foreverholdurpeace: third years been kinda boring, i’ll join.

lightninstrikezz: hitoshi my maaaaann!

ichibi: I guess I’ll play along!

allhandsondeck: If Ojiro’s in, I’m in.

sugarush: if Shoji’s in, I’m in!

sugarush: koda said he’ll watch

class_1a_president: I do not condone this in the slightest.

creati: I suppose I shouldn’t…

prettyinpink: aaw, you know you want to momo ;)

keroppi: This is questionable.

prettyinpink: What’s the worst that could happen!

foreverholdurpeace: famous last words

nightindarkenedarmor: You would know.

foreverholdurpeace: touché.

nightindarkenedarmor: I suppose I’ll join. I’ve got nothing better to do.

prettyinpink: yay! That leaves iida and momo. C’mon you two, pleaaasseee?

creati: Ooooh, you know I can’t resist a bit of matchmaking… Alright!

prettyinpink: YESSSSSS!!!! C’MON PREZ!!! THE WATER’S WARM!!!

class_1a_president: If this is what it comes down to, I will supervise from the sidelines. Again, I do not condone such scheming!

prettyinpink: AND THAT’S OUR STAMP OF APPROVAL, FOLKS! WE’LL MEET IN THE LOBBY AFTER CLASS TOMORROW!

—

It’s five to nine when Bakugo’s head hits his pillow, angry red gaze glued to his ceiling as he breathes spearmint and sleeps.

He doesn’t need help getting the two suckers together—how hard could it be, making two people tell the god damn truth—but having one handler per individual is definitely less annoying. And having one of those handlers be an expert on both parties is especially not-annoying. But does the not-annoying-ness cancel out if the handler herself is annoying?

His lids, trained just as perfectly as every other part of him, drop shut on the hour, leaving his decision up to his dreams and whatever night deities there may be.

When the sun rises, it’s decided: he’ll ask Uraraka. As keen as he isn’t when it comes to collaborating, it’ll probably speed up the whole process. He’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it. Isn’t that called “courage” or something, anyways? Whatever the hell it is people call enduring shitty circumstances.

At 7:47am, he’s the first to class. Peace and quiet sit comfortably on either side of him as he flips idly through his math textbook, bouncing the eraser of a pencil against the shiny wood veneer of his desk. His plan is to snag Uraraka when she comes in, march her right back out of the room, give her the lowdown on the situation, then come up with an easy ploy to force Midoriya and Todoroki to admit their feelings.

The whole thing should be over before it even starts.

Except Uraraka doesn’t come in at 7:50. She doesn’t even come in at 7:52. 8am rolls around and she’s still nowhere to be found. By 8:02, Bakugo could grind diamond to powder between his teeth.

“Uraraka gets to class five minutes before the bell,” Midoriya offers, unprompted.

“Nobody asked!” Bakugo shouts back.

His victim doesn’t flinch in the slightest, though he does eye Bakugo reproachfully. “You’ve been staring at her desk since I walked in. I just figured I’d help you out.”

Bakugo glares at him beadily, daring him to say any more. With a sigh, Midoriya turns away to survey the seating, eyes finding rest on one particular seat. Rolling his own eyes, Bakugo chooses to stare out the window instead.

Uraraka’s laughter enters the room before she does, stepping syllable after syllable through the door. Toru clings to one side of Uraraka, holding an arm hostage between both her invisible ones while Mina leads the way, skipping backwards into the classroom as she gesticulates excitedly.

They tail her all the way to her desk, then chatter over it when even Uraraka has taken a seat. Bakugo decides to give it some time because his patience has increased—fighting a war will do that—but his newfound patience lasts all of two minutes before he rockets out of his seat with enough force to send his chair squealing back into Midoriya’s desk.

Every one of his classmates stops what they’re doing to stare, though that’s never done anything to slow Bakugo’s roll. He slams his chair into his desk and stomps towards Uraraka, who briefly looks around herself despite that Bakugo is glowering right at her.

Just as Bakugo slaps a palm down on her desk, the bell rings. Uraraka blinks up at him. There’s not a lick of fear or confusion in her round gaze, even as she leans away from her seat like she suspects an explosion is in the works.

“If everybody will please take their seat,” Aizawa says, tired voice slinking up from behind the podium. Snatching his now smoking hand away, Bakugo scans over his classmates to find that he’s the only one not in his seat. Gritting his teeth, he makes his way back to his desk loudly and without consideration for the flooring.

It’s fine. He’ll just corner her before lunch.

—

“Dude, what are you looking at?” Kirishima turns to look over his shoulder. When he spins back around, Bakugo is pointedly glaring a hole into his katsu. He stabs it with a vengeance. “Denki just asked if you wanna hang out when class is over.”

“No.”

“You said you would yesterday!”

“Then why’d you ask again?!”

“‘Cause you always do this!”

“Then don’t ask again!” Spit showers out of Bakugo’s mouth, and Kirishima rolls his eyes. “Why would I hang out with you all anyways?!”

“‘Cause Denki’s got that new game!” Sero answers, face twisting in exasperation. His dark eyes flit past Kirishima’s shoulder, observing deeply before his expression grows overly ecstatic. “Were you staring at Uraraka?”

“No!”

Kirishima stops in the middle of delivering food to his mouth to look back again, mouth still hanging open. Then he whips back around. “Is this about the Midoriya thing?”

“Mind your own business!”

Bakugo ignores Kirishima’s critical look, but his cold shouldering doesn’t stop the latter from commenting. “Maybe you should just leave it alone…”

If he leaves it alone, he’ll never have peace. Shows what little Kirishima knows—good thing he rejected Bakugo’s offer to work together. Hopefully Uraraka will show more promise, if he could only catch her on her own. With that thought, he sees her pick herself up from her table, so he shoots out of his own seat to tail her out of the cafeteria, mind brewing all the while.

She’s about to round a corner when he gets her in his sight. He sprints forward, reaching out. “Oi, Round Face—”

Just as his fingers circle her arm, she skips forward to gleefully greet someone he can’t see. Momentum stalled, Uraraka trips backwards and bumps into Bakugo. Yaoyorozu appears from the intersecting hallway, a stack of papers in her arms.

“Bakugo!” Uraraka exclaims, surprise clearing. She offers him a friendly smile, though it’s not quite as far-reaching as what she’d given to Yaoyorozu just now. “What’s up?”

Bakugo’s gaze slides to their accidental third-party. As much as Bakugo spits in the face of tact, he knows that if he’s too loud about this, the entire class will stick their nasty noses into his business. He’s not trying to drag this out or play any games, which seems to be Mina’s entire wheelhouse, at least where romance is concerned. Reaching out to Uraraka is okay because Uraraka’s not a pot stirrer. An airhead, sure, but not that troublesome when she isn’t lifting buildings or throwing baseballs into orbit.

Yaoyorozu, however, has proven to be more prone to Mina’s manipulations. So Bakugo releases Uraraka and clenches a fist. “Don’t run in the hallways!”

His target blinks at him with more thought than his statement requires, then laughs. “You’re one to talk! You just ran for me like I was next in a relay!”

Bakugo bristles, pointed retort poisoning the tip of his tongue, but Uraraka isn’t paying attention anymore. She slips half of Yaoyorozu’s stack into her arms and then faces Bakugo, peeking out from behind the tower.

“I’ll be sure not to run in the hallways anymore, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Thanks for looking out for the people.” She smiles at him like they share some kind of secret before she spins on her heel and skitters off to follow her friend.

Bakugo’s eye twitches.

When the final bell of the day chimes in to hallow the official start of summer break, he still hasn’t gotten ahold of the space cadet, and Mina is entirely to blame. She’d crowded Uraraka’s space and attention for the rest of the day in an oddly convenient way. At one point Bakugo had trailed Uraraka to the bathroom, planning to grab her as she was exiting, only to find the pink menace—who he could’ve sworn had been sitting in class as he’d left—walking out with her.

Frustrated at being thwarted by somebody in the bottom five of the class, Bakugo makes his way to Ground Beta to blow off steam. Now he has to wait until tomorrow to fix this Midoriya-Todoroki bullshit, and since he has no idea what Uraraka’s doing for the summer, he may very well be enduring disgusting romantic overtures for the rest of the holiday.

He’s so gripped by the internal diatribe he’s chewing out that he just barely flinches back in time when a hunk of concrete nearly shears off his nose. The rush of adrenaline glues him to the ground, numbing his brain until a tinny bellow that has to be at least three blocks away alerts him to a recognizable presence.

Blood still buzzing, Bakugo manages a furious shout. “Watch where you’re throwing your shit!” One of the buildings in the distance stops rising to slither beneath the horizon line. The ground shakes a few seconds later.

With a few quick blasts, Bakugo covers the length between them.

“Up here, Hall Monitor!” Uraraka calls. Bakugo peers skywards to find her sitting over the ledge of one of the skyscrapers donning her full hero costume. Kicking her feet, she waves at him the way she’d waved at Yaoyorozu, though her smile is composed.

He ignores her jab and makes his way up, settling down beside her with his legs crossed. His school-issued slacks don’t offer the same give as his costume, though, so he resorts to letting his legs hang off the edge the way hers are. “What’re you doing here?” He demands.

“Training!” She answers with a disbelieving laugh, like his question is ridiculous.

He frowns at her. “Is that what you’re gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Over the summer!”

Her mouth puckers to the side in thought. “I guess so. I’m not going home, so I might as well, right?” She leans to the side to grin at him with her whole body, likely expecting him to agree.

Normally he would, but she’s just told him exactly what he needs to know: she’s going to be here the whole summer and she doesn’t have anything planned.

“You’re helping me with Shitty Nerd and Icy Hot.”

If Uraraka told him right now that the space behind her eyes was entirely empty, he would have believed her. It takes her another second to gather herself, but she finally says, “Uh, what?”

His jaw clicks when he answers. “Izuku! Todoroki! They’re driving me nuts. You know them. I know them. We’re working together!”

“Oh!” It’s like he can see the puzzle pieces clicking together in her brain. Even the light in her eyes seems to change. “You should’ve just said that!”

“I did!”

Laughing again (does she ever stop? Bakugo fights the urge to roll his eyes), Uraraka shakes her head. “Wow, sure! I’d love to help you with that, Bakugo! Do you have anything in mind?”

It’s Bakugo’s turn to look vapid and blink. He’d been so caught up trying to flag her down that he hadn’t even considered a game plan. Uraraka’s mouth curls up the sides like she’s read his mind (which is an embarrassing thought, considering there’s currently nothing in there).

“That’s okay, we can brainstorm together.” A breeze blows by, and she leans into it, swinging her legs again. “Thanks for asking me for help.”

“You were the only option,” Bakugo snorts.

Chuckling, Uraraka shrugs. “Still, it’s exciting to be included by you! We barely ever get to work together, and you’re kind of a hot commodity.”

“It’s not a fight!”

“I know, that’s what makes it even more exciting! I’ll get to know what you’re like outside of battle, too!” She claps her hands together. “Kirishima must have so much fun with you.”

He can’t help the ugly way he stares. She’s being a weirdo and she should know it.

Uraraka pays him no heed. “So how about we both think of stuff and regroup tomorrow after dinner?”

“Fine,” Bakugo concedes, then gives her the evil eye. “You need to pay more attention! I was trying to get to you all day!”

“You’ve never needed me before, so I don’t keep an eye on you,” she grins, then gives him a mock salute. “But I’ll start now!”

Her admission takes him aback. “You’re annoying,” he says out of instinct, but inside, he’s struggling to piece together a reality where he pays attention to somebody who isn’t reciprocating. It nips at the self-important part of his ego.

“Is something bothering you?”

Bakugo feels his brow tic. “What do you mean, you don’t keep an eye out for me?” His bottom lip juts out.

Uraraka tilts her head. “I pay attention to how you work. I’d be stupid not to!” Bakugo’s psyche is soothed upon hearing this, even if he finds it concerning that she reads him so easily. “But I’m not watching you in general. You don’t need me to, and we’re not… like that, y’know?”

Not friends, she means, and he knows. “That’s not changing.”

She smiles. “I didn’t think so. So, where should we meet tomorrow?”

Bakugo’s already on his feet. He sticks one foot over the ledge, takes one look at her, and says, “Library,” before dropping down, palms lit.

Long after he’s left, it occurs to him that he’d never specified where in the library—but if she can’t figure out a detail like that, she’s not worth working with.

—

He wakes up at 5 the next morning and endures the snail’s pace that the hours tick by at. The only good thing about school—because school is just an obstacle in the way of his actual goal and purpose—is that it passes the time. Without it, the days seem to pass almost aimlessly.

Several times throughout his day, he has to breathe through the overwhelming urge to choke Midoriya, Todoroki, or both with one hand on each of their necks. Sometimes when he looks up and finds Uraraka standing between the two, he wonders how she can brave the ordeal, particularly because she’s so much shorter than them. They can stare at each other over her head, for god’s sake. He’d punch their teeth straight out if that were his case.

Dinner can’t come quick enough, but when it’s finally over, he’s pleasantly surprised to find Uraraka already in the library, seated at the table he usually hides away at. She’s even chosen the seat catty corner to the one he likes.

He drops into the chair at the head of the table and immediately props his cheek up on his hand, looking boredly at her. She scoots further in and opens her notebook. There are a few lines of text, neat enough that Bakugo can read them even from his sideways vantage. Each one is a suggestion, and he remembers for a second time since this all began that he’s supposed to be doing that. Thinking of ideas.

This is why he has to put an end to this! He can barely concentrate on anything else when they’re so busy making moony faces at each other! He’s never been so unprepared in his life!

Now freshly aggravated, Bakugo grabs the notebook and snatches her pen out of her hold. “Let’s hear your ideas first!” He clicks the pen a few times.

Nodding, Uraraka cracks her knuckles and then laces her fingers. She leans in conspiratorially. “I think we should trap them together in a room. A small one. The classroom storage closet should be okay!”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Bakugo says, crossing his arms.

Uraraka raises her eyebrows. “What were you thinking then?”

He doesn’t appreciate her accusing tone, but he knows she knows he’s got him cornered. “Fine,” he grumbles, circling the first bullet point she’d jotted down. “So?”

“I’ll tell Izuku to meet me in the storage closet by the entrance at 2:30 to do some classroom cleaning and you tell Todoroki the same thing. Then we’ll lead them into the closet and ditch them! It’s one of those doors that locks automatically when you shut it and it can only be opened from the outside, so we can just wait outside until they’re done.”

“That doesn’t even sound legal!”

“Oh, it’ll only be for an hour or something! Enough time for the tension to build and feelings to come out.”

That’s not the part he’s worried about—luring people into tiny rooms just seems wrong—but she’s clearly too far gone to be convinced otherwise. Biting his tongue, he shoves her pen and notebook back to her. “You better be there at 2:30.”

“I’ll be there for sure! You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. It was really perceptive of you to notice them.” She adds the last part of her blabbering like an afterthought, and Bakugo squints at her. “It’s really cool how much you’ve grown!”

“I’m not an idiot!”

She just laughs, and Bakugo’s face twists. Does that mean she took him for an idiot?!

“Tomorrow at 2:30,” she nods as she gets up. “See ya then!”

—

For the whole day, Uraraka shoots him excited little looks. They keep catching each other’s eyes like sparks and tinder. At one point when she’s talking to Midoriya, she even bites her lip and widens her eyes at Bakugo. She’s way too obvious and he lets her know it by glaring holes through her every time she wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Hey,” he slams his fist against Todoroki’s dorm door at 2:05pm. “Half n’ Half. I gotta show you something.”

The door slides open soundlessly. Todoroki watches him without any kind of expressional embellishment.

“Meet me in the class broom closet at 2:30.”

The already reticent bastard doesn’t even ask any questions! Just lets his door click shut once he nods. This is too easy. Bakugo might just jump and click his heels—after he locks Todoroki in the closet, of course.

—

prettyinpink has started a private conversation with todoroki_s

prettyinpink: shouto!!!! We’re doing game night tonight, you wanna come?

todoroki_s: Sure. When?

prettyinpink: we wanna start early today, since nobody has anything else to do anyways. Is 3 okay for you???

todoroki_s: Bakugo wanted to show me something. I’ll ask him if we’ll be done by 3.

prettyinpink is typing…

prettyinpink: i just asked him!! He said forget about it :)

todoroki_s: Oh. Three is fine then.

prettyinpink: YAY!

prettyinpink has started a private conversation with one_for_all

prettyinpink: ochako just asked me to let you know she doesn’t need to meet with you anymore!

one_for_all: Oh! Ok! Thanks so much, Ashido!

prettyinpink: omg IZUKU for the last time just call me mina!

—

At 2:26, Bakugo leaps out his bedroom window and rockets towards the agreed upon location. When he pulls the door open, Uraraka is already on the other side. She beams at him from beneath the single fluorescent lightbulb hanging on a chain.

“You ready?” She whispers giddily.

“As I’ll ever be,” he scoffs, not matching her low tone.

“Oh!” Uraraka reaches out for the door as it slips shut, but she misses it by a margin.

“What’s it matter? They’ll be here in a minute.”

“I know,” she says, still quiet. “Just in case, I guess.”

He pulls his phone out to check. It’s already 2:30, which means both Todoroki and Midoriya are running late. Of course. He clenches his jaw, then taps his browser app. When the page never loads, he glances at the corner of his screen and finds that there’s no signal or connection.

They’re stuck in a concrete jail until their targets arrive.

“I have Snake, if you wanna play that,” Uraraka jokes, flipping open her sad little phone. Bakugo looks at her distastefully but swipes the device out of her palm anyway. She gives a little chuckle.

One minute passes, then two, then five. The tail of his snake winds entirely over the screen when he runs into himself.

“That bastard never runs late,” Bakugo hisses. It’s unclear which bastard he means exactly, but it might as well be both. “Where the hell are they?!”

Even Uraraka is looking concerned. “Maybe something happened?” Her mouth thins. “Maybe they texted us and we just haven’t received it ‘cause of the signal here…”

Both of their eyes skew to the shut door. It’s one of those doors that locks automatically when you shut it and it can only be opened from the outside, she’d said. Bakugo’s heart begins to beat in double-time. If Midoriya and Todoroki really aren’t coming, that means he and Uraraka are in here without anybody waiting on the outside… his palms begin to sweat.

As if on cue, the light goes out. Bakugo feels Uraraka start beside him.

“It’s probably motion detecting,” she squeaks.

He feels her rustle around beside him, then lurches to the side when her warm skin skims the side of his face. This close, he can smell how clean she is. “Oi!”

“Sorry!” After a beat, she continues meekly, “Guess it’s not motion detecting…”

With a few choice swears, Bakugo pulls his phone out to turn on the flashlight. It lights Uraraka up from under, casting long shadows beneath her eyes. Her gaze is too wide to look tired even with the dark oblongs under them, but it’s impossible to dismiss the unease in the brown of her irises.

Swinging the shaft of light up to the ceiling, Bakugo hunts for a chain. There’s nothing. “What the hell?” He mumbles, casting the light to either side of the door.

There are no switches, either.

“Who designed this room?!” He berates.

“Cementoss,” Uraraka croaks. Bakugo tosses her a dirty look, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy frowning all around the room, following the same path Bakugo just made. He tsks. “He probably didn’t think anybody would be inside with the door shut.” She points to the doorstop on the shelf situated beside the door.

“Great,” Bakugo growls under his breath. He stands and makes his way to the door, setting a palm over it.

“What are you—no, stop!”

Uraraka tugs him back with so much force, he nearly concusses himself against the shelving behind them. The firecrackers in his hand sputter out and he wrenches his arm out of her hold with a roar, pinning her with a murderous look.

“You can’t damage school property!” She scolds, hugging her hands to her chest. “You’d get put on probation!” Again.

“This was your stupid plan!” Bakugo spits, rearing a leg back to kick at one of the shelves. At the last second he sees the way they still rock slightly from his and Uraraka’s tussle just now, so he stops himself before his foot reaches his intended point of contact.

Uraraka glowers at him. “You didn’t even have a plan!”

“Yeah, and you know what no plan means?” When Uraraka looks at him oddly, he snarls. “No getting trapped anywhere!”

She folds her arms, pouting. “I was the one who tried to get the door before it shut! I tried to prepare for it! You didn’t let me! You can’t blame this on me!”

“It’s not my fault!”

Uraraka lets out a little growl, then stomps into another corner, presumably for some time alone. Unfortunately, she’s still only about a meter from him. Bakugo can even hear her quick, angry little breaths.

“Fine,” she finally says, voice clipped. “It’s my fault. It doesn’t matter; we just have to get out.”

She begins to bang on the door. After a few seconds of that, she starts to yell.

Bakugo curses. “Quit that! You’re screaming straight into my ear!”

“I don’t see you trying!”

“I’m not gonna scream in a five by five room!”

“You scream all the time. The size of the room has never stopped you.”

“I don’t scream!”

“You do! You’re always like ‘die!’ And ‘I’ll kill you!’ ”

That’s not screaming, that’s shouting! In fact, it’s not even shouting, it’s projecting. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Yeah, just like that! C’mon, Bakugo! Apply yourself!”

He wants to throttle her, but strangely enough, all her irritation has evaporated. In the dim glow of his phone flashlight (which he’d set against a toolbox), he can see her shaking from withheld laughter. Her eyes glow a little wetly, and he wonders if it’s because she’d been that upset or because she’s trying so hard not to burst into laughter.

“Aw, is that all you’ve got?” Uraraka needles, and Bakugo suddenly remembers the situation he’s in. His temper prickles.

“Shut up!”

“So quiet,” Uraraka purses her lips to the side. “Are you losing your voice? Are you losing to a door, Bakugo?”

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

The door rattles in its frame from the enthusiasm of his punch. It’s a surprisingly solid door, and he feels the contact in his bones. Livid as he is at Uraraka’s egging, she must see some amount of pain in his expression, because her face falls a bit and she pulls him away gently.

“That’s good enough. If nobody heard that, then there’s no use trying. I think Hound Dog makes a round at 5 anyways.” His phone says it’s 3.

Without asking, she takes the hand that just landed the blow, drawing his knuckles to her eye level. Her touch is soft, the squish of her finger pads foreign. Bakugo grunts in protest, tugging out of her grasp. “m’Fine.”

“It looked like it hurt,” Uraraka says, frowning.

“I’m fine.”

A second passes, then she sighs and sits against the back shelf. “Can I watch you play Snake?”

“Are you serious,” he deadpans.

“Dead serious,” she replies with an impressively straight face.

“You’re annoying,” Bakugo bites, even as he joins her on the floor. Her austere stare cracks into a grin.

She watches over his shoulder, and he swears he can feel every single one of her breaths against his cheek. Every so often he tries to edge away, but she only draws in closer. Once his tail sprawls across half the screen, he forgets about her entirely.

His brain is quiet and empty, focused entirely on this singular task—which is why when he runs into himself, he very nearly socks Uraraka in the face when she gasps.

“Dammit!” He yells, startled.

“Aw man!” Uraraka coos right into his ear, mistaking his shock for disappointment. The two syllables send lightning straight up his spine. “You were so close! Wanna try again?”

“No!” Bakugo retorts, chucking her phone at her as he moves away covertly and tries to breathe through the energy choking him out. She catches his throw deftly.

“What should we do now?” She ponders out loud.

For some reason, he can’t look at her. His entire body feels hot, and the thought of looking her in the eye just weirds him out. Words refuse to come to him. This is why his personal bubble is so huge, he thinks. He hates people! They breathe and talk and exist and dammit, he especially hates her right now and how stupidly clean she smells.

Screw Uraraka and her stupid cheeks for getting them into his mess!

She’s completely oblivious to the petulant waves radiating off Bakugo. “I had an idea for what we could try next, if… if you still want to try?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about that. Jeez, he’s never playing Snake again if he can help it. “What,” he demands.

“Well, Todoroki’s great at English, right? And Midoriya’s just alright. He’s always talking about how he wants to raise his English grade, so what if we have a class study group? We can pair people off who need it!” She waits patiently for his response, but when he offers none, she smiles and tacks on, “There won’t be any tiny rooms that lock from the outside.”

Bakugo snorts at her joke, but shrugs. It’s a good plan. “Sounds good.”

The ensuing silence is too silent and too immediate. He looks at her for an explanation, only to find her gaping at him. Her awe makes him grimace. “What?!”

“You just complimented me!”

“I said it was a good plan!”

“Yeah, that I came up with!”

“Whatever!”

Stifling giggles, Uraraka shoves her phone into her pocket and crosses her legs, folding her hands into the diamond of space. “I can’t wait to tell everybody.”

“You’re annoying,” he says, this time with actual brass.

“You think every one is annoying.”

“Yeah, and I’m right about it!”

Giggles launch into guffaws. Once she composes herself, she asks, voice rasping from leftover mirth, “Who annoys you the least?”

“Asui and Jiro,” Bakugo answers without missing a beat. “And you, up until yesterday.”

She snickers. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Right now? Izuku and Shouto.”

“Okay, but besides right now. Like, if Izuku and Todoroki weren’t in love with each other. Who?”

“Izuku and Shouto.”

“Bakugo!”

“Quit yelling in my ear!”

Her laughter rolls like waves, and he’s a cliff side. He pushes her away from him, feeling that odd heat from earlier rising through him. Just as he’s about to tell her to stop, the glow of his phone blinks off.

It goes quiet with the loss of light. Uraraka breaks it first, whispering again. “Your phone died.”

“Great work, Sherlock,” Bakugo snaps back, his voice formless in the absolute black. This kind of dark sucks. It’s the kind of dark that makes nonsense of up, down, left, and right. The ground feels like it could fall out from under him and he wouldn’t even know. He can’t find his phone in this dark. He hates the dark. It reminds him of warp-holes and blindfolds and—

“Bakugo?” Somebody far away speaks. A weight settles on his shoulder and squeezes. A moment later, a tiny square of light floats between the two of them. It’s so pathetic, he can’t even call it a light—it’s more like an aura—but relief immediately floods every one of his nerve endings. His muscles loosen.

“My mom used to sing me this song when I couldn’t sleep. Wanna hear it?” Her voice is peppy and breezy, like she hasn’t just witnessed the onslaught of a panic attack in the class berserker.

Bakugo doesn’t bother with an answer, which Uraraka takes as permission to regale him with her untrained vocal savvy. She’s able to stay on key, but she’s absolutely no Jiro. Still, the silly song about things being glued to the ground slows his system down enough for him to possibly even feel kind of sleepy.

“Better?”

For a second, Bakugo has no idea what she could be referring to. Then it hits him with the force of an avalanche, and he doesn’t have time to think of an answer that doesn’t imply so much. “Yeah.”

He makes out the glow of her grin by the cast of her phone screen. “If you could teach a class about anything, what would it be? Don’t say yourself.”

Damn. Thwarted. “All Might.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her voice becomes warm. “I guess I should’ve known that. It’s obvious, now that I think about it.” That’s news to him. He was pretty sure he’d always been low key about it. “Besides All Might and yourself, then.”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “Whatever they want me to teach. I’ll be good at it.”

“Do you want to be a teacher?” She asks, again like she had no idea.

“Sure, after I’m at Number One for a decade or two.” He is, of course, completely serious.

“That’ll be easy!” She chirps. “You and Izuku might switch off for that decade or two, but it’ll definitely happen. You’ll make a great teacher!”

Bakugo blinks. One part of him wants to fight her for insinuating that Izuku could so much as touch him—old habits—but another part has no idea how to feel. It’s weird for someone as close to Izuku as she is to express such a sincere belief in him, the rival of her best friend. He feels that annoying fire lick at him again.

“What about you?” He asks grouchily as a distraction.

There’s a beat, then Uraraka’s knee presses against his. He flinches back like she’s just pressed the tip of her nose to his instead. Maybe he should move away, but would that be too conspicuous? Ultimately, he keeps his knee where it is, though the rest of him has gone stiff. The abrupt need to monitor his own breathing rises to the surface.

He can feel how close she is, as if what she’s about to say is meant for his ears only. When he swallows, it sounds like an explosion.

“I think I’d teach a gardening class.”

A tension he hadn’t known he’d been feeling blows out. He feels irritated, though he can’t place why.

“Tch,” he huffs. “What?”

She’s snickering again. “It sounds nice!”

“You can’t grow shit.”

“How would you know?”

“I just know. Have you grown shit?”

“... No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But I could!”

“You definitely couldn’t, Cheeks.”

Bakugo blinks and when his eyes open, Uraraka has thrust a thumb into his face. It’s backlit by her cellphone screen. “This?” She presses it even more into his space. “This is definitely a green thumb.”

“Looks flesh-colored to me.”

“You’re colorblind!” Uraraka sniffs. “1 in 12 men are, you don’t have to feel bad.”

He grabs her wrist and begins to shake her. “I’m not colorblind!”

“I said you don’t have to feel bad!”

“I’M NOT COLORBLIND!”

“What do you have against colorblind people, Bakugo? Huh?”

“I SEE COLOR PERFECTLY, YOU LITTLE”—

They both squint into the white square that yawns open besides them. When the blinding brightness clears, Aizawa is standing outside the door, looking as unemotional as ever.

“Rare to see you two together,” he comments dryly.

His bloodshot gaze flickers to their point of connection and Bakugo drops Uraraka’s hand like it’s a weapon he’s been caught at a crime scene with. He shoots to his feet and Uraraka follows, though much more mindfully.

“It was an accident,” Uraraka explains.

Aizawa hm s uncaringly, then turns away. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“We won’t,” Bakugo says testily, giving Uraraka a dirty look.

“It was kind of fun though!” She beams at him.

Heat blooms over his face. He scoffs as he starts walking, not bothering to wait for her.

—

The next day after lunch, Uraraka stops by his bedroom door and knocks. When he opens it, she waves at him, phone in her hand.

“I’m about to put in the group chat that we’re going to do a study group tonight. Could you say something that lets everybody know you’ll be there?”

Every muscle in his face contorts. “Why?!”

Uraraka cocks her head. Isn’t it obvious? “Because everybody wants to be in a study group with you.”

That seems to concern Bakugo. Uraraka bites both her lips into her mouth to stop from laughing. “What?”

His disbelief gives her exactly the opening she’d been hoping for. “You’re smart and good at teaching. Everybody likes studying with you, even if you’re kind of violent.”

Ego properly stoked—just as she’d planned—Bakugo grabs her phone and punches out a message. He mumbles as he works, something something bunch of freeloaders. It takes forever, but he finally flings the screen into her face. Bakugo will be there!!!!!!!!!!!

She pouts. “I do not use that many exclamation points.”

“You do,” he grins maliciously at her, and the look sends an unexpected heat straight to her head. She swipes her phone back.

“It won’t work, you have to do it from your own phone. Please?”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Bakugo backs away and slams his door in her face. It’s not much in the way of an answer, but she has a feeling he’ll do it.

Sure enough, on her way back to her own room, her phone pings. When she flips it open, the message that greets her says, If any of you aren’t there, I’ll throw you out a window.

Smiling, she shuts her phone and rides on the excitement the past two days have given her.

—

nowyouseeme: study group means pairing up :))))

prettyinpink: we’ll meet to pick partners before ochako and bakugo get there, ok? meet like 10 min earlier everybody

—

Their—well, hers, really—oversight becomes very clear the moment Todoroki cracks open their English textbook.

Conjugating? Uraraka squints at the word. Infinitives? That… that seems easy enough… right? But what are gerunds? She breaks into a cold sweat. Todoroki switches off with Momo and Iida at the head of the class while Uraraka steeps in her horror. What has she done?

The back of Bakugo’s confident blond head rests inattentively on his fist at the front of the room. She wishes she could be smart the way Bakugo is. Then she remembers that he’s a genius, but also one that works hard for everything he does. So maybe it’s never easy. She sighs quietly to herself.

“That’s the material,” Iida chops his arm through the air a half hour later. “We’ll pair up now to do the exercises.”

It wasn’t in the plan for her to ask for help, even though English is easily her worst subject. Before she knows it, everybody who needs it is paired up, so it’s too late for her. She’ll have to tough this out alone. On the bright side, Todoroki is making his way to Midoriya.

Except his and Uraraka’s eyes meet, and he must see the anguish across her features because he takes a detour towards her.

Crap! Uraraka panics. Crap crap crap! Seeking aid, her gaze lands instinctively on Bakugo, who happens to be looking straight at her. His stare is so narrow and sharp, she wonders if he’s been watching her, and if so… how long?

The message she’s sending through their mental airwaves is successfully communicated—she knows because Bakugo scowls as he leaves his seat. The expression he wears on his way over would disintegrate her if she didn’t have the gumption she did.

Before Todoroki can take the empty seat next to Uraraka, Bakugo grabs him by the arm and catapults him out. “Midoriya looks like he needs help,” he barks. His words are stilted and perfunctory, like he’s reading from a script. Bakugo would not make a good actor in another life. Uraraka tamps down her smile.

“You forgot you sucked ass at English, too, huh?” Bakugo quips, sitting back against his seat. He crosses his arms and looks down his nose at her.

Before Uraraka can make a snappy comeback, he leans forward and rests his temple against his knuckles, peering down at her textbook. “I remembered last night but I thought I’d let it play out instead of asking you about it,” he snorts.

Surprise, then warmth, spreads through her chest, sprouting across her face in a smile. She must be quiet for too long, because Bakugo eyes her curiously. Perplexion curls into disgust when he sees the look she’s wearing.

“You thought about me?” Uraraka teases. At night? She wants to add, but decides not to test the warmonger.

“Don’t be gross!” Bakugo snaps, scooting his chair away from hers. “You want my help or not?!”

“I do!” She insists, closing the space between them again.

Bakugo grabs something out of the bag he’s brought with him, then rolls it up. Uraraka watches in interest.

“What’s that for?”

“To whack you with if you get an answer wrong,” Bakugo replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Uraraka’s jaw drops. “What!”

“It works.” He raises his eyebrows at her. “Ask Hair-for-Brains.”

“You’re not hitting me when I get an answer wrong. That’s… that’s barbaric!”

Bakugo narrows his eyes at her. The muscles in his arm flex as he tightens his grip around the rolled book, and Uraraka imagines a prehistoric Bakugo. Her mind supplies the leopard print loincloth and the wooden club all by itself. He’d probably be the meanest caveman around. He’d probably call her names. He’d probably be really nice to look at while he shouts obscenities.

Fire licks over her, and she quickly shakes the vision out of her brain. What was that? Sheesh!

“That’s the price you pay for being an idiot,” he says, then jabs a finger against the open page. “Infinitives. Go.”

The intensity of his bloodred gaze bores into her, and nervousness washes over her. Infinitives aren’t even that hard, but being scrutinized like this makes her squirm—which is weird because she’s never felt judged by Bakugo before. After all, if somebody thinks everybody is beneath them, their opinion is moot.

“Infinitives are easy,” Uraraka says, keeping her eyes glued to the paper. “It’s just ‘to’ plus the verb.”

“Great,” Bakugo says, sarcasm all over the syllable. “Gerunds next.” He flips the page and taps his weapon against the edge of the table.

Uraraka eyes his club warily before coming back to the material. The explanation jumbles together and makes no sense. Verbs as nouns? How? A verb can’t be a noun, and a noun can’t be a verb, or why would they be separate things? A vern is a nerb and a noub is a nern!

Dang nabbit. Grimacing, Uraraka looks to Bakugo.

He makes an irascible noise and lays his rolled book down, leaning into her space and grabbing her pen. Uraraka breathes slowly and deliberately as he scribbles over the ruled page, feeling self-conscious of how little space there is between them.

But it’d be strange for her to back away, wouldn’t it? Because then it’d mean Bakugo being close bothers her, which it doesn’t. She wouldn’t back away if it were Mina. Or Iida. Her heart sounds very loud, for some inexplicable reason. The hair on the crown of his head looks surprisingly downy, and the soft scent of soap envelopes her.

Finally, his head comes up.

From this close, Uraraka can make out each of his eyelashes. They’re a shade darker than his hair, which she’d never noticed before. Bakugo also seems to notice their lack of space, because he goes bright red and shuffles back, seat legs scraping awkwardly against the carpet. Uraraka begins to breathe again, unsure of when she’d stopped.

His eyes dart back down and he bounces the end of the pencil against what he’s just written. I like to eat. I like eating.

Cooking is my favorite hobby. To cook is my favorite hobby. I like cooking.

“Circle the verbs,” he instructs roughly, then makes a weird face and clears his throat. The tips of his ears turn red. Without a word, Uraraka does as she’s told, taking the pencil from him and drawing circles around everything she recognizes as a verb.

A minute passes, then she sets the writing utensil down. Bakugo looks over her work, and suddenly she feels compelled to explain herself. “I was kind of confused. There are a lot of verbs, but they look different, but two verbs in a row looks weird, so I wasn’t sure what to do… And that last sentence looks like it’s supposed to have an object, but how can it be a verb?”

Bakugo straightens and blinks at her, brows creased. “That’s the point. You have your active verb”—he taps at 'like and 'is'—“and your verbs that have turned into nouns, which lets them be the subject. Adding an -ing makes it a noun. A gerund is just a verb that’s turned into a noun. An infinitive can also be a subject. But a verb can’t be a subject without changing it into an infinitive or gerund first.”

“So infinitives and gerunds are just different ways to do the same thing?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “Basically.”

“Got it.” Her eyes flicker to the magazine now laying flat on the table.

Bakugo squints at her. “Really?” He rolls up the magazine and pats it against his open palm.

“Yes!” Uraraka laughs. A sideways smile creeps up Bakugo’s face. It’s odd—pleased and smug without carrying any of his usual rabidness. “You’re a good teacher,” she adds, matching his grin.

“I know that,” he retorts, though the satisfaction never leaves. His ears burn red at the edges again, and the sight of it makes Uraraka giggle because it’s cute. She’d never thought she’d think of Bakugo that way, but it’s the truth. He’s cute, in a funny way.

“They’re not gonna let you whack the students,” she teases. “When they ask you to teach at U.A., I mean. After your two decades as Number One.”

“I’ll make them let me.”

“You can’t force everything,” she snickers.

“I’ll be like Aizawa and not pass anybody who doesn’t make the intelligence cut. One whack and they’re out.”

“So I made the cut?”

“If you have to ask, no.” Bakugo harrumphs. Uraraka chuckles.

“That’s not fair anyway, though,” she says. “Mina and Denki are great heroes! They just aren’t good at studying.”

They both look over to the huddle that’s formed at the table in the corner of the room. Denki is scratching his head, wearing a look of utter confusion while Mina has her face flat against her textbook. Kirishima is trying to speak over her theatrical sobbing. Iida is trying to communicate on top of Kirishima. Yaoyorozu is rubbing Mina’s back. Todoroki hovers over Denki, face drawn in his subtle version of bewilderment.

“For the sake of humanity’s safety, you’re going to have to pass some of the academically challenged,” Uraraka jokes, beaming at the posse.

“Where the hell is Midoriya?” Bakugo says abruptly. Uraraka shrugs and motions in one general area.

“He’s over there—” Alone.

Uraraka gapes at the boy on the other side of the room. Her head swings to Todoroki, who is talking slowly to Denki. Then she looks back to Midoriya. He’s talking jubilantly to Tokoyami. Her jaw hangs lower and lower.

“You’re shit at this, Cheeks,” Bakugo says flatly.

“You’re the one who was tutoring me! You were distracting me!” She blushes immediately at the insinuation. Bakugo, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice.

“It was your plan!”

“Shush!” She slaps her palm over his mouth, which only serves to further enrage Bakugo. “We’ll talk about this after! Toru is coming over.”

Edging away from Bakugo, Uraraka puts on her least flustered smile and waves at Toru, who leans over their table and plants her hands down. “I think we’re finished up here! You good to go, Ochako?”

“Yup! Thanks to Bakugo.” She nudges him. He avoids it adroitly. She smiles at his antics and he looks at her like she’s a particularly grotesque bug.

“Are you coming to dinner with us tomorrow?” Toru asks. “You, too, Bakugo!”

“Sure!” Uraraka chimes, then looks sideways at Bakugo.

He shrugs, glancing at Uraraka from the corner of his eye. “Sure.”

“Great!” Toru bounces on the balls of her feet, then bounces away. “See ya then!”

Once she disappears out the door, Uraraka turns towards Bakugo. “You’re gonna go?”

“That’s what I just said, ain’t it?” He looks at her critically.

“You just… never go to those things.”

Uraraka peeks at him carefully, but he doesn’t meet her eye. Instead, he pouts, bottom lip stiffening as he glares out the window. “I changed my mind!”

Definitely not a topic to push. Sliding out from the table, Uraraka gathers her belongings into her arms. It’s just the two of them left in the room. “We should talk about what to do next.”

“Here?” He eyes her skeptically.

“We can go to my room,” she offers. She’s sure he wouldn’t want her in his room—Kirishima might be the only person who knows what the inside of Bakugo’s dorm looks like.

But her suggestion seems to stump him because he pauses. Unease flickers at his brow before he eventually gets up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Fine.”

Her breaths are measured as they make their way to the elevator. She’s never had a boy in her room, but it’s Bakugo. There’s no way he’d think this is weird—she’s not even sure Bakugo sees gender.

They’re quiet the entire journey up, Uraraka staring first at the numbers above the elevator door on the outside, then the numbers above the elevator door on the inside, then at the carpet pattern on the way to her door. By the time they arrive, she reckons she would make a good interior designer.

“It’s not a lot,” she says, feeling the need to justify the sparse furnishing. She doesn’t know why. Bakugo pays her explanation no mind, making himself comfortable by collecting her pillows and stacking them against the wall so he can prop himself up against them. When he looks at her from her bed, her insides do a strange, wiggling dance.

“You need to pay more attention,” he critiques out of the blue.

“What”—

“The plan fell through because you weren’t paying attention.”

Uraraka’s eyes double in size. “You weren’t paying attention, either!”

“It was your plan. You should be monitoring your own plans!”

His criticism combined with his posture makes him look far too much like a condescending king. Uraraka bristles. “But we’re in this together.”

“I can’t read your mind,” Bakugo snips. “If you’re not gonna direct me, then you have to pay attention.”

Uraraka frowns and steps up to him, fixing her fists on her hips and chewing the inside of her cheek before blurting out, “You’re so annoying!”

This immediately infuriates Bakugo. “What?!”

“You haven’t come up with a single plan, but you have so much to say about mine. If I’m so incompetent, why don’t you think of something?”

Bakugo regards her tightly and folds his arms. “I initiated all this. If I hadn’t come to you, what would you be doing right now?” Uraraka’s mouth thins, and he scoffs. “Sitting on your ass and letting those idiots go nowhere. You’re just pulling your weight right now.”

“Fine! I’ll take responsibility again. You’re such a baby!”

Bakugo rockets off her mattress, grabbing her by her shirt to get in her face and shake her furiously. “I dare you to say that again!”

They’re practically nose-to-nose at this point. Bakugo doesn’t seem to notice, but Uraraka sure does. Warmth flushes across her face. “You’re annoying,” she repeats quietly, firmly. “And you’re being a baby.” She cranes away from him, eyes flitting to the wall behind him and praying he can’t hear how quickly her heart is beating. She’s never been afraid of Bakugo, so she can’t explain its rapidfire pace.

Now Bakugo seems to notice. Uraraka sees how his jaw sets with tension. Whatever he’d planned to do to make good on his dare falls away as he lets go of her and sits back down, bad temper and another alien emotion clouding his facade.

“I had one more plan,” Uraraka mumbles, still standing with her study material in her hands.

“Then spit it out.” The expression on his face is absolutely foul.

“We slip notes under their doors telling them to go to a certain place at a certain time. We can set up something nice there for them.”

“Sounds stu”—he stutters to a halt at Uraraka’s narrow look—“Fine. What do we have to lose, anyways?”

Uraraka fights the urge to roll her eyes. Always the critic. “Let’s do it the day after tomorrow, since we’re doing dinner tomorrow night.”

“Sounds great,” Bakugo says, all acid.

“Good night, Bakugo,” Uraraka says flatly, watching as he makes his way to her door.

“Whatever,” he snaps.

—

Without classes to parse out the day, time feels like a vacuum. Anything Uraraka tries to fill her day with seems to deconstruct reality. Tasks she could swear took three hours take only 30 minutes.

A quiet part of her suspects her restlessness may have something to do with her recent conversation with Bakugo, but she doesn’t know why. Everything that had happened had been entirely in character for him. Why would it get to her?

She chalks it up to it just being one of those days.

What makes it worse is that she doesn’t run into Bakugo all day. Towards the beginning of the day, she’d held stubbornly onto the fact that she wasn’t at fault, he’s the one who should be apologizing! But as the day had worn on, the antsy feeling of just wanting things to go back to normal had eaten its way up her psyche.

By the time dinner comes around, she’s not even sure Bakugo will show up anymore. The entire class save for one familiar face gathers in the common area, waits five minutes, and then heads out.

Uraraka falls into step beside Tsu, feeling more taciturn than usual. Her best friend chatters thoughtfully with Tokoyami, and Uraraka’s attention weaves in and out of the conversation.

She wishes she hadn’t wasted time being stubborn and had just knocked on Bakugo’s door. In her frustration, she kicks a pebble, watching it skid out in front of her.

A second later, a larger piece of gravel comes skipping past her. It hops forward with too much momentum to be an accident. She blinks at it, then looks behind her.

Bakugo slouches up to her, hands in his pockets, face bored and unconcerned.

“You came!” Uraraka says, then feels her face grow warm at her exclamation. When she notices how her heart is pumping heavier than usual, the heat licking at her face becomes a forest fire. Not like she’d been waiting for him, or something.

“I said I would!”

“Right,” Uraraka scratches the back of her head. “I just…” Bakugo’s eyes narrow, and she drops her hand. “Nothing, nevermind!”

He makes a disdainful noise that marks the end of their exchange. Normalcy returns in a wash, and Uraraka feels her heart slip back into its rightful space.

Several more minutes into their journey, though, the chatter around them makes Uraraka acutely aware of how little they’re saying. And while Uraraka is fine with silence, she’s also curious by nature—and this is Bakugo. His companionship is a rare thing she should probably take advantage of before he decides she’s no longer of use to him.

To anybody else, Bakugo’s cutthroat attitude might be offputting. Thankfully, Uraraka doesn’t take herself too seriously, and so, smiling, she asks, “How was your day?”

He eyes her as if to say, really? And she has to try not to laugh at Bakugo’s absolute aversion to small talk. “Fine,” he answers, tone clipped. Then he seems to hesitate for a second, gaze sliding to hers before he frowns and adds, “Boring.” His eyes slit. “Noisy.”

If Bakugo really hates how boisterous Class A is, surely he can just go home every holiday? Uraraka opens her mouth to voice that thought, but either her face is alarmingly transparent or Bakugo can read minds, because he snaps, “My mom’s worse than our entire class combined.”

“So we’re the lesser evil,” she teases.

“Not by much,” he replies on a growl. “My life is hell.”

“I’m sure it’s very hard,” Uraraka says patronizingly. She grins when Bakugo throws her a belligerent look. “Think of it this way.” She lifts a finger. “Nobody can have everything, right? In exchange for all your skill and talent”—and good looks, her mind tacks on, and Uraraka falters for a second before shaking off the invasive thought—“you have to pay some kind of price.”

Bakugo scoffs. “So god surrounded me with noisy idiots.”

“I guess so!”

“God can go off himself.”

Uraraka’s eyes bulge out of her head. “Bakugo! You can’t say that!”

“What, you’re religious now?!”

“No, but if he hears you, he might make it worse.”

He snorts. “Like it could be worse.”

“Oh, it could definitely be worse. He might glue you to an idiot for the rest of your life. You won’t be able to shake ‘em!”

“Don’t just put it out into the world like that!” Bakugo glares at her.

“Who’s religious now?” Uraraka lilts, the corner of her mouth curling in amusement.

Bakugo huffs and punts another pebble in retaliation. Chuckling, Uraraka follows suit, putting force behind the kick in the hopes that her rock will land further out than his. He catches on right away, and the look he fixes on her makes volcanoes look like candles. He kicks another rock and dares her with his eyes to try again.

“Does everything have to be a competition for you?” Uraraka snickers, taking him up on his challenge.

“Yes,” he snarls. “Hey! You can’t take a running start, that’s cheating!”

“We’re kicking rocks, Bakugo, there are no rules—”

“Hey, you two!”

Both their heads snap up. Their entire class is loitering by the building doors, watching them. They’re far enough away that they’re shockingly small.

“Hurry up! We’re trying to eat here!” Kaminari admonishes. Mina is rocking on her heels wearing an expression that’s far too ecstatic for somebody who’s just watching two people kick rocks.

Uraraka scrambles ahead to join the group, entire body hot like she’s being burned at the stake. She doesn’t check behind her as she squeezes through the crowd of bodies, rushing towards the cafeteria and away from her heartbeat.

It’s not until she finds her way to her usual group that the ferocious tempo of her heart slows to normal. Tsu watches her carefully, and Uraraka smiles as naturally as she can.

From the corner of her eye, she can see Bakugo, and he looks as he always does. She’s relieved to know that whatever weirdness she’s feeling is entirely her—but there’s an odd sensation that niggles away at her insides, too, almost like she kind of wants Bakugo to be looking at her.

“You okay?” Momo lays a cool hand on Uraraka’s forearm, brows drawn in concern. “You haven’t touched your food.”

Uraraka immediately pierces her chopsticks through a piece of sweet potato tempura and shoves it in her mouth. “I’m fine!” She says after chewing and swallowing, making it a point to meet each one of her friends’ eyes. They stare right back. “Sorry, I zoned out.” Uraraka catches the sparkle in Mina’s eyes and feels her hackles raise. “What were you talking about?”

“Just the beach,” Mina chides in a tone that makes it sounds like she’d been talking about anything but the beach. “Don’t you think we should go before our break is over?”

“Ooh, that sounds nice,” Uraraka nods, chewing another piece of tempura mechanically. She can see Bakugo pointing accusingly at somebody in her periphery and wonders what’s going on at the other end of the table.

“Then it’s settled!” Mina cracks her knuckles, a gesture that reminds Uraraka overwhelmingly of Kirishima. “We’ll go to the beach next week!”

That information is passed down the table. When it reaches Bakugo, Uraraka sees him frown, one eye cringing as his upper lip curls in irritation. He doesn’t protest though, and her insides give a squeeze. Just as the pressure in her chest lets up, Bakugo’s gaze flits to hers.

Uraraka looks away quickly, hoping she wasn’t caught and feeling lightheaded.

On the way back to Heights Alliance, her mouth moves along to the conversation but her mind occupies an entirely different space. Once they’re indoors, she excuses herself from the group, claiming exhaustion.

But after she climbs beneath her covers, she stares up at her ceiling, feeling wide awake.

Why does she feel so embarrassed? It’s not like hanging out with a friend by herself is weird. She walks with just Tsu all the time! Heck, she and Izuku fall behind the group almost every time they’ve been out! So doing the same with Bakugo is no different!

But it is. With a whine, Uraraka claps a pillow over her face, as if self-asphyxiation might give her answers. When it doesn’t, she sits up and decides to pinpoint where it could have started.

Running through the recent series of events is like flipping through a rolodex of all the faces Bakugo makes. As she ruminates, the smile on her face grows. She’s in the middle of remembering just how close they’d been in the closet when she remembers why she’s retracing their steps to begin with.

With a groan, she stuffs her pillow back against her face. She has no idea what’s happening to her. All she knows is that she really likes being around Bakugo—and that despite all their years as classmates, she only now feels the pressure of disappointing him.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe she wants to impress Bakugo. Maybe she even wants him to like her, not just approve of her—because if Bakugo approves of someone, it means they’re really top notch, but for him to like someone? And while she’d never sell herself short, Bakugo’s favor would be an indubitable vote of confidence.

Even though he’d said that they weren’t friends and that that wouldn’t be changing, Uraraka can’t help but want it. Liked! By Bakugo! Her heart sends itself into a tailspin at the very thought. Twisting in her sheets, she presses her grinning face into her pillow, riding on the waves of giddiness crashing through her veins.

Her euphoria is interrupted as she breathes in. A foreign fragrance fills her head and she pulls away from the cushion in curiosity. That’s definitely not her shampoo.

Raising her pillow to her nose tentatively, she sniffs a few more times. Her brows crease as she tries to place the scent, and it’s only a minute before she recalls how Bakugo had sat against them.

Her face heats, but something about the situation is sobering. As she goes about setting each cushion back where it belongs so that she can finally lay herself to rest, a small voice nags at her.

It’s a familiar voice, but a ridiculous one, she thinks. It’s Bakugo. It wouldn’t be the same thing as Midoriya, and she’s never been a romantic. She holds no delusions of magically garnering the attention of somebody so misanthropic—this isn’t Beauty and the Beast.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulls her covers over her head and tries to fall asleep.

—

prettyinpink: did you figure out what it was that those two were slipping under their doors?

seroscotch: yah

seroscotch: anonymous notes telling them to meet at ground omega

seroscotch: took care of it :)

—

The next day, Bakugo whips up a spread that almost puts Lunch Rush to shame. Uraraka hovers over each dish, inhaling every food smell under the guise of “quality control.” She wishes she were the one about to go on a mysterious picnic date instead of Midoriya and Todoroki.

She’s still not done sniffing by the time Bakugo has whipped off his apron and thrown it over the back of a seat.

“Quit that!” Bakugo barks, yanking various bento boxes out of a cupboard and shoving them into her hands. Soon Uraraka is carrying a teetering pile of lunchboxes. “We’re here to work, not mess around!”

Sighing, she nods and carefully drops her collection onto the table. After she takes a minute to dig out an enormous picnic basket Momo had once created, they fall into place beside each other and package the goods.

“How’d you learn to cook?” Uraraka asks, the quiet unnerving her for no good reason.

“I got tired of eating my mom’s shit cooking,” Bakugo grumbles back, concentrating much too hard for a task so simple. “And they were busy.”

Uraraka laughs, then grins at him in jest. “They must’ve been super busy for you to turn out to be such a good cook, huh?”

He doesn’t return her levity, just shrugging instead as he pops a lid on one of the boxes and reaches for the next. “They decided to start their fashion line when I was five months old. They were doing alright, but it was a grind until I turned seven. Some hero that was big at the time randomly tweeted about them and shit blew up.”

Uraraka stares wide-eyed at Bakugo. She’s never heard him volunteer so much personal information at once. For a second, Bakugo also seems taken aback by his verbosity. The tips of his ears brighten and he glances at her from the side of his eye. Then his gaze slides back in place and narrows. The muscle in his jaw pulses, but he continues packing food.

“That—that’s really cool!” Uraraka flusters, trying to iron out the blip in their conversation. “You don’t remember the hero? ‘Cause that’d be pretty cool if you did. You could even send them a gift when you’re number one! Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“It was some 15 seconds of fame, nobody-hero in Europe,” Bakugo says dismissively.

“Well that’s even better!” She over-exclaims. “They’ll be so flattered when the number one hero reaches out to them!”

She knows she’s blathering, but she’s suddenly lost all control over her mouth. Her eyes are glued to his out of politeness, even as she fights the fever spreading over her face. Bakugo, thankfully, is not paying attention to her.

In fact, both of them are focusing so hard on whatever they’re occupied with that neither notices that not only are they both on their last box, but they’re both reaching towards the stack of lids. His hand folds over hers, and Uraraka’s mouth finally stops with a squeak.

Their heads snap up, eyes meeting, faces wearing matching expressions of shock, horror, and something else that they’re both too bewildered to parse.

“Sorry!” She squeaks, snatching her hand away and motioning for him to take the lid. Her fingers feel numb and tingly and her heart is beating so fast and loud she’s worried all her blood might burst out her face.

Bakugo splutters for a second, then shouts, “What’d I tell you about paying more attention?!”

“Sorry!” Uraraka repeats, grabbing the remaining lid and avoiding his eyes.

She’s the first to leave the kitchen, scampering out the dorm doors with the hefty basket in her arms. Bakugo’s footsteps ring out from behind her. Uraraka tries to pay him no mind, setting the basket down so that she can tap her fingers together and then touch the wicker. It floats just a bit but maintains a certain height above the ground instead of floating off eternally.

By the time she begins her journey to Ground Omega again, Bakugo has caught up.

“You look like an idiot,” he snorts when he sees her. “Hand it over.”

Uraraka looks at the hand he offers, then examines the basket hanging at her knees. It’s nearly a third her size, so she can only imagine how silly she must look. Hesitantly, she passes the handle to him, studiously avoiding his fingers and warding off new thoughts about how big his hands are and how warm he’d felt on her.

When they’d left the dorms, the sky had already been a wash of warm watercolor. With every step closer to Ground Omega, the darkness pours itself over and another star nips through the inky canvas. It’s cool, but nowhere near cold.

“Perfect weather for a picnic, huh?” Uraraka breaks the silence cheerfully, throwing a casual smile at her companion.

“Sure,” Bakugo says sarcastically. “If you like not being able to see your food.”

“Well, how would you have a picnic?”

“During the day. In the Spring. Under the cherry blossoms.”

Uraraka blinks at him, stunned. “Oh! Uh—wow. That’s really romantic of you, Bakugo.”

“It’s not romantic, it’s iconic!” He looks at her with outrage. “It’s how that shit is supposed to be done!”

It’s done that way because it’s romantic, Uraraka wants to say, but she bites her tongue and grins to herself. “Aah, gotcha,” she nods her head. Bakugo seems satisfied with her reaction, judging by how his features smooth.

“So what would you bring to a picnic?” She asks as they enter a forest, beginning their ascent up a hill.

“Everything that’s in this basket.” He looks at her like she only has one brain cell. “But spicy.”

“Ah, of course. I should’ve known.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo grumbles. “You should’ve.”

Uraraka stifles her laughter, but it escapes in several snorts. Bakugo lays a nasty look on her, but it only makes her defense crumble more. “I guess your date would have to like spicy food, too, huh?” She comments. The thought of Bakugo on a date brings on another onslaught of snickers.

Bakugo snorts, too, then asks, “You like spicy food?”

Uraraka’s stomach flips at his question, her mirth trailing away. She looks at him sideways and finds that he looks equally as confounded as she feels, if not outright bewildered. He must’ve asked automatically.

“Um”—she tries to shake off the funny, effervescent feeling inside her—“Sure! I don’t mind it. It’s kinda fun, right? Like a challenge!”

For some reason, her answer seems to throw him even further into mayhem. His eyes widen like she’s said something offensive, and she can make out the way the tendons of his jaw flex—he’s grinding his teeth. Turning to face back to the front, she allows Bakugo his privacy, feeling like she’s intruding on him.

“Yeah,” he eventually mumbles back from behind her. It grows quiet again, more so than before.

They exit the forest and foliage a few minutes later and find themselves at a clearing on the cliff. Uraraka steps up to the edge and marvels at how it feels like she can see all of Ground Omega.

“Quit gawking and get to work!” Bakugo snaps.

Uraraka turns to chide back—something like you should stop and smell the roses sometimes, Bakugo—but she gets a faceful of gingham blanket instead. When the cloth drops down into her arms, it reveals Bakugo grinning vindictively at her.

Huffing, she takes a few steps away from the cliff side and begins the process of laying out the blanket. Once she’s done, she steps away to help Bakugo with setting chopsticks down, then stones to weigh the corners of the cloth down, just in case.

Straightening from the last corner, she sees Bakugo get up, too. At his feet is a single vase with a happy little daisy in it. Uraraka’s heart gives a happy little skip, and her gaze stutters up to Bakugo’s.

He shrugs. “It’s the nerd’s favorite flower.”

“That’s…” Really romantic of you, she wants to say, but she settles for a smile instead. “Really nice.”

“I’m not half-assing this shit,” Bakugo says flatly.

“Right,” Uraraka laughs, insides fluttering with uncommon shyness.

Bakugo begins stomping back towards the trees. “We’ll hide behind that one.”

He points at a thick trunk just a bit away. Uraraka clambers after him, keeping a safe distance between them as she makes herself comfortable in the brush.

Quiet comes again, this time made louder by the cricket choirs belting into the night. Uraraka swallows several times, crosses and uncrosses her legs. Curiosity finally gets the better of her, though—and something a little selfish that she bats away—so she asks, “Bakugo… do you have a crush on Izuku?”

“WHAT! No!”

His answer is loud enough to startle several flocks of starlings out of their slumber. The roar of their wings as they flush out of the canopy is thunderous. Uraraka winces. Hopefully Izuku and Todoroki aren’t already on their way.

“Okay! I was just curious, since you brought the daisy. It was really cute”—

“I told you! I’m not half-assing this shit! Not even for somebody else’s stupid date!”

“Alright, alright, I got it!” Uraraka waves her hands in front of her face as an act of surrender. “A girl can’t ask?!”

“No!”

Uraraka rolls her eyes, though she’s powerless to the happy curve of her mouth. “Gosh, alright then!”

Bakugo gives her the evil eye, then slumps back against the tree.

“What’s your favorite flower?” Uraraka chirps not a second later.

“What did I just say?!”

“C’mon, Bakugo!” Uraraka whines, scooting by him and jostling him with her shoulder. “We’ve got time to kill! It’ll go by so much faster if we talk.”

He doesn’t deign to respond, choosing instead to clock her with his own shoulder. Uraraka, however, dodges deftly, leaving Bakugo spluttering with his face in the dirt. “Oi!” He says when he sits back up, feathers beyond ruffled.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Uraraka hums, looking smug.

Which only serves to further infuriate Bakugo. Now livid, he tries again. This time when Uraraka dodges, his arm darts out to stop her from leaning too far forward. He grabs her shoulder and spins her, and suddenly they find themselves face-to-face in a full-on seated tussle.

Uraraka knocks his arm away with her own, ducking under it and blocking his other hand from grabbing the collar of her shirt. When he tries the same thing with his other arm, she grabs his arm with one hand, twisting it out and to the opposite side from her. His other hand reaches for her, too, and she does the same, leaving him glaring at her from across their crossed arms.

Bakugo tries to move her, though he’s swearing and unable to do much even with his Olympic flexibility and athleticism.

“Like I said,” Uraraka singsongs. “Stupid games, stup—ah!”

All she hears as she’s yanked forward is a crack, then suddenly she’s on her back, blinking in shock and unsure of what’s just happened. Her vision swims a bit, but when it clears, she’s staring straight into Bakugo’s gleefully feral face, eyes bright red and glimmering with satisfaction.

“You said somethin’ about stupid prizes?” He says snidely, teeth gleaming.

Heart hammering in her chest, Uraraka tries not to pay any attention to how close his nose is to hers. “That was really dangerous!” She reprimands, ignoring the way she can feel his heat bracketing her thighs. “I could’ve gotten a concussion!”

Bakugo delight swoops into a frown, a line forming between his brows. “I wasn’t gonna frikkin’ hurt you, Cheeks.”

Sure enough, she feels something slip out from behind the back of her head, which meets the ground gently. A new heat climbs to her cheeks. He lets go of her wrists, too—the ones he’d pinned above her head with just one of his hands—and folds his now free arms, eyeing her unhappily.

“Oh,” she whispers, massaging her wrists. “I… I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t, I was just…” Her mouth presses into a line. Just what? Scared? She hadn’t been scared, though. Sure, her heart had pounded all the same, and the prickle of adrenaline had been familiar, but she’d known even as it was happening that it’d been nothing like fear.

Lost in her thoughts, she sits up. Bakugo makes a startled noise, and when Uraraka is fully upright, she finds her face inches from his again.

She can make out the darker and brighter shades of red in his gaze. A scar she’s never known travels lopsided against his cheekbone, looking almost silver in the moonlight. His hair doesn’t look as tawny as she knows it to be, either.

Bakugo has a pretty mouth, too, she thinks as she traces the shape with her eyes. Her gaze flits up to meet that ruby hue again, finding an odd glint to them. The muscle in her chest riots. Uraraka reaches a hand to his chest, careful to keep her pinky up.

Suddenly, she finds herself cold. Bakugo is on his feet, somehow several feet ahead.

“Where are you going?” Uraraka calls out, scrambling to her feet. Her voice is hoarse—embarrassingly so. She clears it quietly, pulling a face.

Bakugo stops in his tracks, shoulders hunching. If he were a cat, she’s sure all his fur would be standing on end. “To check on the picnic!”

They can see their setup fine from behind the tree. Uraraka runs a hand through her hair, face on fire. Reaching into her pocket, she takes out her phone.

Her heart stops. It’s 10 minutes past the hour. Izuku is never late, and if he ever were, it would never be by this much. Uraraka, now scrolling through her texts to see if she’s somehow missed something, jogs up to Bakugo.

He snarls when she bumps into him and takes an unnecessarily large step away from her. Uraraka frowns but brushes it aside.

“They’re not coming.” Before Bakugo can question her, she thrusts her screen into his face. “He’d never be this late.”

His teeth click together, jaw tensing in irritation. “What the hell!”

“What did you write in your note?”

She’ll admit her tone is maybe a little too accusing. Bakugo’s eyes grow hostile. “What did you write?!”

“I wrote to please meet somebody who wants to make their feelings known at 10pm on the tallest cliff of Ground Omega and that there’ll be a picnic!” Uraraka says in exasperation.

“I wrote ‘Ground Omega. 10pm. Tallest Cliff’!”

Uraraka’s jaw drops. “Bakugo! That’s not a love note! That’s a ransom note!”

“To WHO?” Bakugo shouts. “It’s got all the necessary information! Time and location! What else did it need!”

“To everybody!” Uraraka groans.

“I didn’t get a note when I was ransomed!”

There’s nothing she can say to that. Her mouth moves as she tries to piece something together, but nothing comes out. Bakugo begins pacing, cracking his knuckles and glaring at the ground as he mutters under his breath. He comes to an abrupt stop, scowling narrowly at her.

“This is your fault.”

Uraraka gapes.

“You’re always distracted! You’re not giving this 100%”—

“What? I am! And you’re distracted, too”—

“Yeah, ‘cause of you!”

For a second, her heart stutters. But his eyes are hard, so she steels herself. “That’s not my fault”—

“It is!”

Uraraka has no idea what to say. Bakugo begins to pace again, hands now in his hair. His eyes rove frantically over the dirt, like he’s looking for answers.

He must find them, because he stops and glowers at her again. “You’re the freaking problem! You’re not giving it your all, and you’re distracted—to the point of distracting me!”

Uraraka opens her mouth to fight back—

“You’re literally dead weight!” Bakugo snaps, yanking the blanket off the ground and shoving it into the basket he’s looped over his arm. He’s already checked out of the conversation.

Which had been one-sided anyways, but Uraraka’s chest still tightens. “That’s not fair,” she says softly, picking up the vase that had stayed in place when Bakugo had snapped the blanket out from under it.

His glare is murderous, and Uraraka holds the daisy to her chest defensively. “You wanna talk about ‘fair?’” He seethes. “‘Fair’ is not having to carry the weight of three people. Tutoring your dumbass when I’m just trying to get these two nerds to spill their guts! You’re a freaking burden!”

Uraraka grits her teeth, feeling the sting behind her eyes, but swallowing over and over again to fight it back. “Fine,” she croaks. “Do it by yourself, Bakugo. Whatever.”

She steps off the ledge and doesn’t even feel satisfied when his expression falters into alarm as he lunges for her, forgetting that she doesn’t have to hit hard ground if she doesn’t want to.

—

auxinauxout: soooooooo

auxinauxout: just walked into the communal showers

auxinauxout: and heard ochako crying

prettyinpink: WHAT

prettyinpink: WHY?!?!

auxinauxout: idk but i’m pretty sure she just got back from that picnic thing

prettyinpink: oooooh my god. BAKUGO.

auxinauxout: yeah, that’s what I was thinking…

prettyinpink: let me ask eijirou

prettyinpink: hi babe have you seen bakugo

meninred: funny you ask

meninred: i think he’s trying to turn our rooms into a jack and jill lol

prettyinpink: huh

meninred: a jack and jill is two bedrooms that are connected by a hall

meninred: usually they’re connected by a bathroom

prettyinpink is typing…

meninred: bakugo is punching the wall.

prettyinpink: oh ok

meninred: you’ve never heard of a jack and jill?

prettyinpink: honestly babe it sounds like a sex thing

meninred: jesus mina

prettyinpink: i’m just saying!!

prettyinkpink: anyways

prettyinpink: it sounds like we should lay off for a day or two, huh?

meninred: a day or two?! I thought you’d be done!

prettyinpink: you’re so silly, i love you

prettyinpink: we’ll lay low for a day or two

auxinauxout: a day or two?!

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