Chapter Text
It’s not that Katsuki thinks partnering up with his classmates outside of class exercises or sparring is stupid or pointless...
It’s just that he thinks it’s the dumbest shit of all time period and there was no point in doing it.
He makes that thoroughly clear to Eijirou, who has been a dog with a bone on this topic all year. But if there’s one thing Bakugou knows—and begrudgingly likes—about Kirishima, it’s that he doesn’t know when to fucking quit.
He just doesn’t like it right this moment, since that means getting a verbal powerpoint presentation on the pros and cons from his golden retriever of a friend after a full-body workout.
“C’mon man! Duo work is great! It really takes your quirk to the next level. Not to be dramatic, but it’s almost like finding your soulmate. A quirkmate? Sure! Let’s call it that,” Kirishima remarks after inhaling about a gallon of water like a dying fish.
“Tch. I am the next level, dumbass.", Bakugou retorts. "I don’t need to ride anyone’s fucking coattails to get to the top and they sure as hell ain’t riding mine!” He kicks the locker room door open for emphasis just in case it wasn’t obvious the conversation was so beyond over.
Eijirou sighs and gives him that look, like he’s a kid who should know better, and Katsuki wants to start sparring all over again. But his arms are throbbing something mean so he defaults to his usual bad attitude.
“What? Want to duo up that badly with me, Rocks-for-Brains? Your quirk is plenty strong, don’t tell me you’re on that self-doubt shit again or I'll drag you back to the mat and beat some sense into you.”
Kiri laughs a bit.
“Actually, I wasn’t even thinking about me. There’s someone I’ve partnered with a few times now for training and I’m telling you man, it’s unreal. I feel like a freaking force of nature when we team up. I think you two would kick major ass. Also, what’s with that nickname? Dude, what is this, first year? Just give it a shot—bet you’ll get addicted to the high. Literally.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Bakugou swallows a laugh. This idiot.
He sighs and rolls a shoulder. “All Might kicked plenty of ass on his own as number one, and that’s exactly what I plan to do! I’m not teaming up with some rando who probably has shit form, shit skill, and shittier follow-through.”
“Ok well first of all, she’s not a rando, we’re literally in the same class,” Kirishima balks. “And secondly, All Might had a support team so that’s bull. Oh! And third, I think you’re not proud of the fact that you are still learning how to work on a team with other people, so you’re avoiding it altogether.”
Ouch. But Eijirou wasn’t wrong. And that was the worst part.
“Katsu...I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t think it was worth your time. Gimme some credit, bro.” Smiling, the hard-headed hero that he called friend passes him a Crimson Riot flash drive like the fanboy he is.
“I record my duo training sessions when I can remember. I’ll shut up about it if you just watch some and tell me what you think—especially the last three. Speaking of duo training, I gotta run!” With a clap on his back, Eijirou heads out.
--
Katsuki watches them all.
Just as he’s leaning back in his chair, almost livid at the seed his friend has planted, he gets a text from the Red Idiot himself.
Told you.
“Oh fuck you very much.”
Another text pings his phone and he sees a single number, along with:
Just message her, dude. You’ve sparred with her before. This is basically that but you kick other people’s asses together, instead of each other’s.
Another ‘ping!’ noise, another message. “Gods above Ei, just put it all in one text.”
You can yell at me if you want, but it’s too late to deny that you think Uraraka is badass—you've said it to my face. Out of most of 2-A, you know she pulls her own weight and then some. You also know you’re too curious to pass it up now so...you’re welcome bro. ;)
Katsuki's face isn’t totally red at all or any dumb shit like that.
And if he messages Uraraka the next day, well, whatever.
--
The message led to a sparring session.
When Uraraka flips him on his back, grinning like a cat, eyes on fire, the air is knocked out of him twice over.
The sparring session led to a workout session.
And when his eyes trace the sharp angle of her muscular arms when she bench presses like a pro, well, it’s simply in surprise.
That workout session finally led to him accepting her "unspoken request" to duo up. Since she insists.
“With the great Lord Explosion Murder? I’m honored,” Uraraka laughed when he finally, finally gave in and signed them up for some training time at TDL.
“Oi!”
“Ah, sorry, sorry—was it Duke Explosion Murder?”
“I said OI!”
Uraraka did that a lot. The laughing. And the look that he saw on Deku...on Eiji’s face sometimes too—he caught her sending those same eyes his way as well. Like she knew something he didn’t. It pissed him off. But he couldn’t get enough torture apparently. Uraraka also kicked ass a lot too—but he’d never admit that. At least not yet.
When she’d slide those pads of hers over his arm and gravity lost hold on him, he felt so powerless that his instincts told him to never allow it again. At first.
Kind of like how it felt to talk to Uraraka in general. He didn’t act right and it made no fucking sense. He allowed shit that he’d never let slide. Went out to grab mochi, which he didn’t even fucking like, just so she’d make that dopey face and maybe want to keep this crazy duo shit going. Cooked for her sometimes, for them to eat after a long weekend session.
Every time he met with Eijirou after, there was that smug fucking look and he really couldn’t say anything because the big idiot was right. So he just flipped him the bird.
--
Being duo’d up with Uraraka made him feel like a god. Katsuki always ran hot but sometimes he felt like he was going to catch fire because she was so...so... there.
He’d start calculating a new move and she was right behind him, already lining up trajectories and doing math in her head.
He’d get a bright idea in the middle of a maneuver and it was like she could read his mind, already gripping his hand and swinging him higher still.
He’d be stuck on a combination and then suddenly she was spiraling up above him, flipping in zero G and raining down concrete like a force of nature unleashed. His blood ran hot and he never wanted it to end.
He was so, so fucked.
--
And that? That was a year ago. Now, Bakugou couldn’t imagine fighting without her. He did, sure. Solo work was thrilling all on its own. They were all soon-to-be pros and could dispatch a shitty villain any day of the week. He teamed up with Kirishima, with Deku, or Jiro sometimes. Even Todoroki was less of a pain in his ass during a group set. But Uraraka was something else.
Eiji wasn’t wrong about the high—in both ways. Bakugou just couldn’t get enough. And he started noticing things. Little things here and there. Dumb shit he had no business even thinking of but again, around her his mind got straight up stupid.
“Yo Cheeks, your eyes change color sometimes. You know that?” He mentions offhandedly while they eat one of their now-routine victory meals. Uraraka paused mid-slurp of her udon, eyes wide. Her mouth is full of food (no surprise there) so he answers the silent question.
“When you do a major haul with your quirk. Kinda get glowy and shit. Like your fingers.” Katsuki would rather die than look up at her right now. Which makes no sense—he always says exactly what is on his mind, but with her it’s like his tongue is a brick. A stupid brick that still moves sometimes and makes him make small talk like some kind of loser.
She swallows fast and is bouncing like a kid—cheeks rosy, clearly pleased. “I...I do?! Ah, that’s actually pretty cool! I wish I could get a picture!”
Same.
She chews thoughtfully. “Your eyes don’t change or anything, but sometimes smoke or steam comes from your mouth when you do combos back-to-back.”
Bakugou tilts his head. “Huh? That makes shit sense; I don’t sweat from my-”
She gulps, turning completely red. “Ah, you’re not wrong but well-! It’s more like, your l-lips. Sweat comes off of your lips and when you overextend your quick the smoke ah-um! Never mind!” She shovels more food into her mouth and looks at the ceiling like it’s brand new.
Cute, he thinks. What he says is:
“Fuck.”
Uraraka stops being adorable (not really) and becomes concerned. “A-Are you okay?”
No.
“Fine. You can continue watching my lip sweat, Cheeks, don’t worry.”
She yelps, and turns even redder before spitting out a loud laugh. He can’t help but laugh too, and think about other ways to make her make that face. His favorite by far is when she’s balls-to-the-wall fucking spent and reaches deep down inside to grab something raw and feral and grapples an enemy with the agility and power of a beast. Her eyes are piercing and lethal and he can’t look away.
Eijirou keeps sending him kissy face emojis and sharing trending pics of the two of them to the group chat and what the fuck does an eggplant have to do with-he’s going to murder all of them.
--
The next day, she pins her hair up, mumbling how she needs to cut it, and he fumbles a maneuver because he cannot stop staring at her neck- it’s just her neck why does a stupid ponytail even matter what the actual shitting FUCK!
One day, after training, she passes out on his shoulder and he carries her to her room. Touching her like this, is the nail in his coffin. She’s so soft and powerful and an idiot and also the smartest most capable hero he’s ever seen. She’s a hurricane and he just lets himself get swept away. He doesn’t even remember when he stopped caring. When his addiction became this bad.
He’s so fucking screwed it hurts .
She says he can call her Ochako. Starts calling him Katsuki and they don’t even have to be up in the clouds because he cannot fucking breathe around her let alone call her that.
“Because we’re friends, right? Eijirou said-” That fucker.
“-that you’re ok with it. But if not let me know! It’s fine, I just thought-”
“Oi, it’s fine. Don’t make it weird Cheeks.” Bakugou’s certain he’s done enough of that for both of them at this point.
--
Over time, they start taking their combos to another level—higher and higher into the sky. The impact is insane and Katsuki absolutely cannot get enough of the look on her face when it’s just them up there, waiting to unleash hell. His palms itch for her now. She clings to him, swinging them around in hypnotic circles. She’s the steering wheel and he’s the engine and before he realizes it, he starts looking to her for direction. In fighting, in friendship, in life.
He lives for their banter. She can dish it out as well as she takes it and it makes him feel drunk with stupidity. They push and pull at each other for a year and it’s like they’re building something and building up to something and Bakugou doesn’t know what to think anymore. All he knows is that when she’s all around him, breathing heavy, bruised and battered as she grabs his hand, everything is exactly right. Like a key turning in place, the sound of a door unlocking. A door he didn’t know he was banging on this entire time.
And when he dreams of her, of them, he wants to cry in shame because he was never supposed to have this—to feel like this.
He was supposed to just be the strongest. He would be #1 and surpass All Might and that’s it. So what if he never had friends or a support group or a partner. He’d win and win and win again and be the hero that everyone could believe in. The End. Alone at the top is the price you pay to be the best. And he was cool with it.
But now that dream is joined by her, and other things. Senseless fluffy bullshit he had no business wanting. Her laugh, her smile, her trust. Her comfort on the nights when horrors steal the air from his lungs.
Not all of it was fluffy bullshit though. He wanted her hands on him in other ways. Wanted her to watch his lips for other reasons. Wanted that pinkness in her cheeks to spread. Wanted to follow it wherever it went.
Every ounce of it was hormonal horeshit and it would for sure ruin his chances at being the best. And it couldn’t keep up like this. All it served to do was make him weak right? Vulnerable and easy to manipulate.
Even on his best day, he’d still lose to her. He’s powerless against her and it’s so unfair because she’s not even trying.
It’s too much. And it’s only going to get worse.
Then why do I feel stronger than ever?
Bakugou doesn’t answer that nagging question in his mind. Doesn’t trust it.
Instead, he does something else. After taking her to a new ramen shop after work, he sends a single text to Uraraka, to finally put this all to rest.
It’s been great, Ochako. You know I trust you with my life. But Tandem ends here. Going solo now. I have my goals and you have yours—we should focus on that.
She never texts back.