Chapter Text
“So, are you going to apologize?”
The walk up the stairs to her apartment is quiet aside from the sound of their work boots clunking against the degrading cement. Windowless, passing by the three landings before her floor, Uraraka breaks the silence between them as she pushes the door to her hall open.
Bakugou’s clunks stop.
“Why would I?”
Uraraka pivots to find him still on the landing, no longer following her.
“Because I’m mad at you?”
Because you told Deku.
Because you used to love me.
Because this is the Third Act Breakup.
“I’m not sorry. I’d do it again.” Bakugou shifts again, crowding past her and leading the way to her apartment door. He pivots, checking to see that she’s following him. She is, only a few steps behind, as she watches him reach for her keys in her hand. “I don’t want you to stay mad at me, I want to fix this, but I don’t have anything to apologize for – I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She loses her chance to speak, as he kisses her in the hallway. Their teeth collide under the pressure of the building frustration, but neither of them reacts accordingly. Skipping a line, sneaking a peek at the end. Bakugou kisses her zealously – greedy, worried – as if trying to take over her mouth, and Uraraka lets him. Like their rising action accelerated suddenly and the climax was within their reach, neither wanted to be reminded that this is the Third and Final Act.
Uraraka’s head spins, tumbling into her own home as Bakugou jiggles the lock and the door swings open. She’s mad at him, rightfully so. But for a moment, she can’t tell where Bakugou’s hands and lips are, it only matters that their closeness peaks and his hands and lips land everywhere.
He pushes her against the closed door and she’s vaguely aware of how Bakugou’s hands press her tighter, how his kisses move to her cheek. Then with the same fervour, his lips crawl up to her ear and temple and pass to her forehead, forcing her to bury her face in his neck and lean into him, which she blissfully does. He kisses her hair and without releasing her, puts his chin on the top of her head, hugging her tightly, as if supporting her back with his palms, and inhales deeply.
Uraraka locks the front door with her face still buried and he chuckles at how her hands feel around blindly until she finds the handle. Content, she goes to lace her hand into his hair but pauses halfway. Her phone vibrates in her back pocket as a new message rolls in.
He mutters under his breath, into her hair, as she wiggles out of his grip to check it.
Her eyebrows rocket upwards. She didn’t expect Shindo to text her so quickly. Nakagame must be truly bored at the stakeout for her to set them up right away.
Bakugou snatches the phone from her hands and it only takes two seconds before he hands it back to her with a huff. Uraraka sways backwards into her apartment – stuck between being frustrated and horny and maybe a bit nervous.
“You’re gonna’ go out with him, or what?”
“He wants to get drinks.” Uraraka shrugs. She toes off her boots at the door and skips about until she finds her slippers, her eyes peeled as she rereads the message over and over. “I don’t have a reason to say no.”
Bakugou crosses his arms across his chest, and she swears he stomps his foot. Mud, from the bottom of his boots, leave a light outline on her tile. “But do you want to go out with him?”
“Does it matter? I’m not going out with anyone else currently and I’ve earned a bit of fun.”
His eyes, downcast, scan the space between their feet and she’s fairly certain he’s holding his breath. She watches with a tinge of guilt as his fists clench and then relax, and then clench again.
Fun is an understatement. This is the most fun she’s had since entering a fictional world freely. She’s definitely frustrated, and horny, and she’s unable to read how he’s feeling – which seems to be an excellent way to summarize their ongoing relationship. But she can’t discount the fact that she’s having fun.
Bakugou’s shoulder knocks against hers as he fully enters her house and makes a bee-line towards her kitchen without taking off his boots. A layer of mud leads her to the junk drawer next to her fridge. It’s full of, as the name indicates, junk. A handful of paperclips, a measuring tape, some electronic instruction manuals, a screwdriver, some permanent markers, a partially used notebook, some elastic bands, and half a dozen bookmarks that she didn’t have the heart to throw out.
He flips through the drawer until he finds what he’s looking for: a black permanent marker. He lays it on the counter and beckons to her.
“C’mere,” he requests, and she does. He reaches her for hand, the same one that had been sliced weeks ago, and slides the sleeve back until it notches at her elbow. He brushes his open mouth over her palm once before twisting it upwards so that his lips pepper lightly across her knuckles. “If you want to give this up, I don’t want to force you.”
Under his watchful eye, staring up at her from under his lashes, he twists her arm again and licks at her wrist, quickly finding her pulse. Uraraka gasps as he bites playfully before moving forwards and kissing up her forearm. Her eyes close and the sensation surpasses any need or want or whatever that she has.
The dizziness she felt before their kiss fades into lightheadedness from the force that is Bakugou Katsuki. She’s suddenly reminded of who he is and how far she’s come.
By the time her senses return, she sees what he’s done.
“Hey, don’t make a mess or I’ll-”
It’s smudged and it’s spotted but he’s written on her in the black permanent marker.
It’s an address.
“There. Now you can find me when he doesn’t live up to your expectations.”
She hasn’t been to Bakugou’s apartment before.
She had no idea where he lived. She never needed to know, never really wanted to know.
They’ve always ended up here, at home. Bakugou had always brought her home.
A part of her is completely curious – how does Bakugou live? The rest of her is furious.
These words only lead her back to Bakugou. He might as well add his signature.
Uraraka rubs her hand over her arm, biting the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood and nothing changes.
“Go to hell, Bakugou.”
“You gonna’ kiss him with that mouth too? It’s fucking dirty, I made sure of it.”
Uraraka rushes to the bathroom and slams the door close in his face as he taunts her, teases her, laughs at her.
The mirror over the sink reveals someone Uraraka doesn’t recognize. A sketch of a character that she had laid out in her mind, transforming words into a Picture and she can see. A fan-artist portrayal or casting for the movie remake, or when they release a new edition and add real people to the cover - they just don’t sit quite right with how she imagined them.
She doesn’t picture herself this way.
She’s just as dirty and determined as her Love Interest.
“Shut up!” Uraraka scrubs harder, furious two-fold, letting the water run and pumping enough soap to send bubbles flying. His address is impossible to hide on her forearm and she can’t believe she let him get so close. She can’t believe this is the end. “Fuck you! Why would you do this?”
“Because you don’t want to do this. I’m doing you a favour, Cheeks. Now when that prick takes you home, you can tell him that he’s got a lot to live up to and-”
Uraraka bangs her fist on the door, turning off the faucet and using the edge of her sweater to dab around her eyes.
“Don’t kiss me anymore.”
Bakugou's roaring laughter pauses. “Fuckin’ what?”
Uraraka straightens her back and stares at her forearm – the writing isn’t coming off.
It would take time. And Uraraka doesn’t have time.
“You heard me.”
“I can fuck you, but I can’t kiss you?”
She whips the door open. He’s not an idiot: her eyes are rimmed red and her skin is pale. Anyone can read her expression like this: she’s pissed.
“You heard me!” Uraraka repeats herself – she doesn’t scream, steady and strong. “You haven’t changed at all. I knew that I didn’t really like you. I needed someone and you were there. You, this, was easy."
“Fuck off. It’s always been about whatever you what, Uraraka. I’ve made sure of that!” Bakugou laughs obnoxiously, like he doesn’t believe this is really happening. “Come find me when he doesn’t live up to your standards.”
“You did not set my standard, Bakugou! Don’t act like you are a god in bed. I can't believe that I thought this would work! It always works in the books, there's always a happy ending. Why am I so stupid!"
“Your fictional boyfriends set the standard, I’m just the only guy you’ve been with that has met them.” Bakugou’s voice doesn’t get louder but it certainly grows with power. “I’m the one you want, you said so yourself. Don’t fucking forget that.”
“I thought you wanted to fix this!” Uraraka says before she can stop herself, mostly because she wants to fix this. Reading to escape is only half as fun as escaping alongside Bakugou. “Does this mean we’re –” breaking up? “– done?”
Bakugou crowds into the bathroom, closing in and extinguishing her fire, calming her panic. “I’m not done with you, I don’t think I’ll ever– shit, Uraraka? Is that what you thought this was? One little fight and we’d be done?”
The bathroom, with bubbles in the air and masking his handwriting, and water splashed up the sides of her sweater and along the mirror, is not a place where Uraraka feels out of character. Uraraka opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to respond and his harsh laugh dulls into a comforting sound that all but vibrates through her soul. Standing in Bakugou’s space is a place where her character develops.
“Is this just sex to you?” Uraraka, for all of her kindness and bravery, meets his gaze. “Because I’m not sure what this is to me anymore.”
“We argue all the time. We did as kids and we do know, so I doubt that this is the end of whatever the hell we are, of whatever the hell this is.” Uraraka and Bakugou walk straight through the Third Act Breakup, not unscathed but not broken. “Even if you fall head over fucking heels for someone else, we won’t be done. I don’t think we’ll ever be done.”
The following evening, Uraraka forgets about Bakugou.
Dressed in a coffee-coloured long-sleeve blouse and a denim skirt, she forgets that the marker message is only just hidden underneath; she forgets that she was as confused and crushed as him.
Shindo does an excellent job keeping her occupied.
He’s good with words, too. He hasn’t changed.
His words don’t match his eyes, but Uraraka doesn’t mind. Fanciful anecdotes keep her occupied and her drink keeps her thoughts at bay.
Until the following morning, when Uraraka tries to remember Bakugou.
Like trying to remember the plot of a book, one that was good but not great.
One that she recommends to a friend but never picks up again. One that sits on her shelf and the sun shines on it for too long – the pages yellowing and the air too humid and dust creeping into its crevices. But she can’t get rid of it. She can’t forget the feeling of reading the book, even if she can’t remember why she enjoyed it in the first place. So it waits for her to return to it, to give it a second chance.
The first time she read it, it was good but not great. If she picks it up again, how will her opinion change?
“You’re an early riser.”
She isn’t, not usually. Actually, it’s quite the opposite.
In normal circumstances, Uraraka sleeps late into the day. Deep, dreamless.
Exhausted from work, sore from fucking.
Her head snaps up at the sound of his voice, his face blurry but she can sense his amusement. A stranger, or — no, not a stranger. They’ve met.
Briefly…in passing, in memories, in another universe.
Oh, shit.
Grand. Shindo. Nakagame’s ex boyfriend. What the hell is his real name?
Shit, Bakugou’s going to kill her.
Uraraka racks her brain for his first name, it’s on the tip of her tongue.
“And this was a mistake.”
It was supposed to be drinks. Just drinks. How she ended up in Nakagame’s spare bedroom with Nakgame’s ex-boyfriend, equally dressed in nothing, is beyond her. She recalls the way he told her stories, how his words erased Bakugou’s name from her vocabulary, and how she wanted to have some fun.
She’s got the day off, but she wasn’t going to waste it here with a hangover.
Dried contacts, knotted hair, a string of drool attached to her chin. Naked.
He’s huge, casting a shadow from the doorway. Overpowering.
She’s quick to snatch her skirt from underneath the pillow she had been hugging.
There’s no sign of her shirt, or underwear, however, so she pulls the comforter up close to her chest and squeezes her eyes closed.
Bakugou’s message is still, unfortunately, scrawled on her skin.
The marker is fainter but still legible.
His writing is still all she can think about.
She keeps her eyes tightly closed, wishing the floor to open up and swallow her whole and for him to disappear. With the sound of soft footsteps, though, he crosses the bedroom and has the audacity to lean in for a kiss, a good morning kiss, which she actively dodges by rolling off the bed – pulling the comforter along with her as a shawl of sorts.
Bakugou never tried to kiss her the morning after. Bakugou was never there the morning after.
“Morning breath,” she murmurs and immediately begins zeroing in on the piles of clothes. She drapes the comforter around her shoulders and slides out of the bed, using the makeshift cape to keep her decent. She gingerly toes at the nearest pile, only to discover dirty gym clothes, and the pile on top of the desk chair is nothing but folded boxers – clean, she decides, but oddly folded.
No wonder Nakagame broke up with him. He’s a weirdo.
“I couldn’t care less what your breath smells like in the morning, I’m more interested in stealing your breath away.” He, who had been standing in the doorway to watch her wake up before coming over to try to kiss her, simply laughs at his own ridiculous pickup line. “You can borrow a toothbrush if you want.”
Uraraka pauses. Startled, a little disturbed. She can not remember his real name but she won’t ever be able to forget his smile. Perfect teeth, pristine, and she has to rip her gaze away before making it unbearable.
But he doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling and waiting for her response.
It mocks Bakugou’s cocky grin.
“I should go,” Uraraka says, more so to herself than him.
“Do you like coffee?” The stranger asks, now joining her in her aimless search, poking through the stack of clothes near his open closet. Halfheartedly, though, maybe even amusedly.
It’s a normal enough question, but she feels dumbfounded for a moment longer than she would ever admit before replying. “I’ve got coffee at home.”
Shindo pouts, and Uraraka swears she’s going to kill Nakagame for setting them up.
“How about video games? Do you like video games?”
“No. They give me headaches,” she lies (though she doesn't know why): she actually finds them very therapeutic.
This is getting tricky. She grips the comforter closer to her chest and swallows hard. She can’t exactly walk out of this apartment in just a skirt and a blanket. The media would have a field day. Hawks would have a meltdown. And Bakuogu would have…well, who knows what Bakugou would have.
“Do you like to read?” He gives up his teasing much sooner than she expects though, and offers her a sweatshirt. She recognizes it: Nakagame has a similar one, repping her old high school.
“What is this, twenty questions?” she asks blankly, fully aware of who she sounds like – fully aware that between some overstuffed bookshelves in the romance aisle a few weeks ago, she had been asked the exact same question.
With a gulp, she snatches the sweatshirt from his hands and turns her back to him to dress. The whole outfit is not quite her choice – a too-short skit, a too-big sweater, and completely bare underneath.
“I’m trying to get to know you. Is that a crime?” His dark curly hair is distracting. He’s tall and his shoulders are ridiculously broad and fuck, she wishes she had been present last night. She can’t remember anything from their night together other than touching and tasting and wasting time, which is a shame, because in this light, he’s gorgeous. He asks again, “So, do you like to read?”
He looks like Deku. That's why Nakagame meddled.
He doesn’t feel like Bakugou, though. That's why it isn't easy.
It feels like forever before she answers. He’s trying, which feels somewhat unnerving, considering how Bakugou barely has to lift a finger before he bends her backwards. It takes even longer, an eternity, for her to feel sure in herself.
“I do, yeah. I like to read. For fun. Easy stuff, stuff that I can digest. I don’t own many books, though.”
“Me neither and I left most of them at home, since I’m just visiting…but…” He holds out his hands, begging her to stay still as he swivels and flips through the stack of books on the bedside table. He’s truly made himself at home in Nakagame’s apartment during his stay.
She fidgets, uneasily, tugging at her top – his top – to cover her butt a little bit more. He shoves his suitcase to the side and bends down to shift through the mess, before squatting onto his heels with a pile of books in his hands and turns to face her.
“These are some of my favourites.”
“I’m…I’m not going to stay here and read your books and drink your coffee. I had fun last night, and I’ll tell Nakagame-chan that we had a good time, but I’ve got to head out. I’ve got…I’ve got plans this morning.”
She’s got to take a walk past Bakugou’s address. There’s a book she wants to borrow.
She wants to read his favourite.
“I want you to borrow one, or maybe two.” He hesitates, thumbing his way through the first few pages of the top few books stacked. “You can borrow all of them.”
“What? They’re your favourites, though.”
“It’s the best way to get to know someone!” Shindo supplies and Uraraka hates that she agrees with him. “Take one with you, if you won’t stay. I want you to have one.”
“You’ll be leaving soon,” she replies, easy and breezy and not at all stressed – no, not at all stressed. “And I don’t know if I’ll be coming back before you’re gone.”
“So, you’ll have to come back to return it before I go. Maybe even borrow another one or two more.”
Uraraka struts past the Pro Hero from the spare bedroom into an apartment she knows well. Nakagame isn’t home, or if she is, she’s still sleeping – so Uraraka tip toes through to the front door and finds one shoe underneath the couch and another in a potted plant by the window. Shindo matches each of her steps as she collects her things, thankfully finding her wallet and phone in the bowl next to the door that Nakagame always leaves empty for guests.
“I…have to go. I have to...well, there’s a book club meeting this morning.”
Shindo accepts her – whether he believes it or not is an entirely different question. The stack of books in his hands slips slightly. She refuses to help him.
“A book club? You really do like to read.” Shindo tilts his head in understanding, pleased with her plans. “What genre does your book club focus on?”
“Porn, mostly. The nastier the smut the better. We sometimes like to reenact scenes together.” Yaoyorozu would ring her alive she heard Uraraka use their real book club as a cover story, but Uraraka is banking on Yaoyorozu never hearing. Shindo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem all that fazed by her explanation. “Officially though, it’s just romance.”
Uraraka checks her arm once more, the address burned into her memory, and starts the long walk to her book club meeting.
“Have a good day, Grand-san! Thank you for the stories last night!”
“You’re late.”
“You’re lucky I came at all.”
There’s a missed joke, just dangling in front of him – but did you cum? – that he ignores. Instead, he pulls the door and she sees a side of him that has gone uncovered for years.
“Yeah, I suppose am.” Considering the fact that they had left things on quite a cliffhanger.
His apartment is larger than hers, and more open. While Uraraka enjoys the coziness of her corner, Bakugou’s apartment layout allowed him to see his whole space at once. Nothing could hide from him here – except his bedroom and maybe a guest room.
Or at least the door that she suspects leads to his bedroom. It’s closed. And the door beside it is just as mysterious. Now really isn’t the time to explore though, not with what she needs to say.
Bakugou freezes halfway, hunched over as he debates his desire to kiss her hello.
It’s always been easy. Saying hello and avoiding goodbye. Starting a book is easier than finishing one.
“I’m still pissed at you, Bakugou,” she says, taking the initiative to pull him down and nipping at his neck. “But right now I just want you. I want to be with you. I want to get over our bullshit and just screw your brains out. I want you to kiss me.”
That is the only direction he needs.
His hand envelopes her throat, pressuring folding in around her windpipe as he tears her lips away from his jaw and crashes them against his.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve wanted this? How fucking badly I want you?”
Bakugou encourages her to wrap her legs around his narrow hips, tapping the bottom of her thighs. His hand shifts to her ass and his groan confirms his awareness. No panties, which is a problem – but one that they will discuss later.
She needs his pants off so as he steps back from the wall and approaches the couch at the centre of the room, she locks her legs tighter around his waist and uses one hand to work at his sweatpants. He raises his hold to her ribs, intending to drop her back to her feet, but she doesn’t want to let go. He tries to kiss her and undress her at the same time and together they manage to land in a heap on the floor – a soft rug that probably cost a month’s rent – with her skirt hiked up and his pants slung around his ankles.
Uraraka straddles him, rubbing her core against his hardening cock.
“Fuck, Cheeks, you’re perfect, but I swear to god, take off that god-awful sweatshirt.” Bakugou grovels and slips his hands up her sides to assist her, breaking their kiss regretfully. “It’s ugly as shit and I want to suck on your tits.”
“My god, Bakugou,” Uraraka sings and it’s easy to lose herself in this. Bakugou’s mouth drifts down to Uraraka’s bare chest, tongue laving over a nipple to make her squirm.
A flash of teeth or a happy sigh leaving Bakugou’s throat is enough to lull Uraraka into a moaning mess. “That’s right, good girl – you taste so fucking good.”
Uraraka groans, holding Bakugou’s hair tighter. She rolls her hips forward, leaning over him so that he can comfortably switch sides and use his fingers to pinch and roll her nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure down her spine. Her cunt pulses and she knows she’s practically leaking on him - his thigh damp from her slick and crying dick - from how turned on she is, almost shouting when Bakugou flips their position and slinks low to appraise her.
“Such a pretty shade of pink,” he murmurs, and she’s not sure if he’s talking about her blush or her pussy – based on how he can’t keep his eyes away from her centre. “Shit, you’re already this wet for me, hey?”
Words escape her – you win some, you cum some.
“I need to hear you before I fuck you, Ochako. Speak up.”
“If you don’t touch me right now, I’ll touch myself, Bakugou.”
It’s the best threat she can come up with on the spot, and based on the glint in his hungry gaze, she knows he’s filed it away for future use. Her words would come back to bite her in the ass later.
He listens, though, and slides one hand between her thighs, long fingers slipping between her folds without hesitation. She’s wet already, slick on his skin, and she whimpers as he pushes into her cunt. He cups her in his palm, two fingers pumping in her. The tight grip of her body around even just his digits makes him groan under his breath. Hand still busy in her, he leans back onto his heels and fishes around behind him for his discarded sweatpants; he finds a lone condom there.
“Did you…? Did you have one on you – what? – just in case? That’s so…” Uraraka laughs, out of breath and unfocused. That’s so hot. He’s planned for this. “Everything’s gotta’ be perfect for you.”
“I wasn’t sure if I would last all the way to the bedroom.” Bakugou kisses her lightly and curls his fingers, capturing her sharp exhale. Uraraka hurriedly unwraps the condom and slides it over his cock. “I had to be prepared for anything, even losing.”
And then his thumb circles over her clit – something between mechanical and intimate, the touch so matter of fact. There’s no exploring necessary, they’ve done this a dozen times. He had already made his mind up, and Uraraka has a sudden, stomach-dropping worry that he’s thinking but his fingers inside of her flick forward and Uraraka lays flat against the rug beneath them.
Bakugou inserts himself fully, not slowly, and rests his body above hers as they adjust. Her core contracts, full and satisfied but immaturely impatient.
A moment passes without him moving an inch. Uraraka tries to lift her hips, seeking friction amongst the maddening stillness, but he pins her down further. She watches as he wets his bottom lip and a thousand thoughts cross his eyes.
“Bakugou, what’s wro-?”
“Did you fuck him?”
Uraraka threads her hands through the rug and yanks.
“Oh, come on, Bakugou!” she whines, distressed. Now? Really? “I’m with you now, isn’t that good enough?”
“Are you gonna’ fuck him again?”
She purses her lips at the idea. The thousand thoughts that run amuck in his mind must be all pointing to one possible truth.
“I want to fuck you, so would you please stop doubting this and do it.”
“But you did last night, then?” He ponders this realization, then scowls. He had known losing was a possibility but this wasn’t even a game Uraraka had known she was participating in. Another moment passes. “How many times?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, it fucking doesn’t.”
But he finally picks up his pace. The drag of him is nothing short of overwhelming, making sure she feels every fraction of every movement.
“Give me more, I need more,” Uraraka sighs, holding on to every unintelligible syllable Bakugou grunts. “You make me feel so good, Bakugou, so much better than–.”
“Katsuki,” he whispers in her ear, his sweat mixing with hers – ink spilling across their souls, “I want you to call me Katsuki. I need you to call me by my name. I need to hear you say it.”
In a rally worthy of an award, Uraraka negates Bakugou’s gravity and flips him onto his back. Hawks would be proud of her.
“I want this, Bakugou. But I need you to get out of your head.”
Bakugou’s chest rises and falls and Uraraka rises and falls onto him. She shifts forwards, relishing how his forehead wrinkles under her movements, and tests the motion once – twice – before rolling her hips to defeat his original hurried timing. His gravity-less body levitates under her secure pin. She uses one hand to hold onto the table and the other to grasp at the fabric of her skirt.
“Well, I need you to get your head out of the clouds.”
“Well, I need you to touch me.”
Bakugou doesn’t need to be told twice.
His fingers fumble to find her clit again, and he arches his wrist to rub torturous circles to match her rhythm. His free hand reaches for her forearm – the one he had written on – and shock rattles her bones as he licks a long strip from her palm to her elbow.
Touch, taste, time.
He’s got control, even now.
Even with the universe against him and Uraraka on top of him, Bakugou Katsuki truly has control over his own narrative.
She cums like that, riding him – and then his face, and then his thigh, and then his hand, until she lets him fuck her again. The orgasms are a slow burn and she chases them high into the sky until they’re both spent.
He manages to unfurl himself and leaves her only for a minute to start running the bathtub, before returning to lead her. In a tired haze, Bakugou carries her to the bathroom and peels off her skirt before settling her into the warm, soapy water.
Whether he’s cleaning her for his own sake or hers, she doesn’t mind.
The permanent marker further fades, but she’s memorized it. His touches – slow, deep, and gentle – replaces the marks she had picked up the night before. She sits crossed-legged, with her back turned to him as he rubs soap over her skin and rinses her hair.
Whatever she had come in with, he washed away.
Uraraka glances around the small space and takes note of his tidiness.
Shindo had folded his boxers. It was decidedly weird.
Bakugou has a hamper and white towels and his shampoo smells like sandalwood.
“Do you have plans for today?” she asks, as she sinks lower into the tub and he rinses the strands of hair he’s holding. Bakugou doesn’t stay after, he isn’t there when she wakes up – but Uraraka has no plans of sleeping just yet.
He makes a conflicting sound, like he did have plans but they weren’t important.
Uraraka’s heart flutters like pages being swept up in a breeze.
“Did you hear about the mission last night?” Bakugou asks, pulling her clean hair back into a loose braid – let it drip onto the towel beside the tub. “Hawks emailed everyone at like 4 A.M.”
Uraraka shakes her head, after all, her head has been a bit busy the past twenty-four hours. Why on Earth Bakugou had been awake at the time is something that bothers her, but she’s reminded that he does not sleep.
“Team B intercepted the drop-off. We’re off the hook. The mission is complete.”
Uraraka splashes abruptly as she spins to face him. To his credit, Bakugou only spares a single glance at her breasts on display before focusing on her shit-eating grin.
“A success? That’s great news! Hawks must be so happy.”
“Yeah, he is, he invited everyone out to the club tomorrow night to celebrate and we all agreed to go.” Uraraka’s expression falls and Bakugou bursts into a hearty laugh. “But we’re all actually coming here.”
She flounders, gripping his knee. “Wait, what? Your apartment? Everyone? Here? Why?”
“Mm, everyone but Hawks.” Bakugou picks up her hand and studies the palm – caressing the light lines left over from his address on her forearm – the one she had hurt weeks ago. It’s completely healed, not even a hint left over to suggest she had ever been hurt to begin with. “He has no clue where I live, so everyone will be safest here.”
Uraraka grins again. “That’s mean, Bakugou-kun.”
“I’m being nice. I’m even cooking dinner," he puffs out his chest proudly.
Uraraka pouts, biting her cheek to hold back her giggle. “And Hawks is gonna’ have to boogy down all by himself at the club. I feel bad for him.”
“You can go with him then, if you want,” Bakugou suggests, sarcastic and smiling.
“Okay, no, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Uraraka scoffs and begins to stand, careful to not slip – though she’s positive Bakugou would catch her. “I don’t feel that bad for him.”
He walks her home later that morning - in her skirt and his own sweatshirt.
He stays with her.
They order food and they put a movie on but neither watch it as they read and talk and sleep. He stays with her each time she drifts off and wakes up and he stays with her while he rests next to her. They don’t fuck. Instead, they drink coffee and play video games and read. Yaoyorozu pops by to complain about one of her courses and her parents and she dismisses how Bakugou has Uraraka’s head in his lap as they both read quietly when she first bursts in.
Not once do they push or pull or probe for more. There are questions that have to be answered, but not yet.
He stays with her until he has to go.
“Now that you know how to get to my place..." He kisses her – slowly, gently, deeply – as he says goodbye. Not truly though, it’s never put into words. “I expect you to be on time tonight for dinner.”
Uraraka can read between the lines, she knows their story isn’t over yet.
“You’ll be lucky if I come at all."
"Yeah, I am lucky."