Work Text:
“Oi! What did I fucking tell you about your stance?” Hard, crimson eyes stared down into caramel pools, her bottom lip quivering as she swallowed hard. She hadn't thought that he would catch her body slouching that much, but he was Bakugou Katsuki, and apparently he didn't miss a single thing. Defeated, she released a frustrated sigh before bringing a single hand to her face, running the back of it over her forehead as she wiped away the beads of sweat from her brow.
“Right! It won't happen again—”
Tch. The look in his eyes didn't change as he began to walk himself towards her, smoldering eyes staring right into hers as he loomed just over the top of her. Nothing but their exhausted, hard exhales filled the space around them, his eyes glancing from her left orb, to the right, and repeating over and over again. “Get some damn water. I can tell you're overworking yourself.”
It took her by surprise with the way he talked to her, her lips parting as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. This had been almost an everyday thing for the two of them ever since the sport’s festival; even after that event, they found themselves growing closer —acquaintances, as Bakugou called it. The moment he finally stopped at their bags that resided off to the side, he cast his gaze towards her, blonde brows furrowing more than what they already were and she found her legs carrying her towards him.
Her cheeks didn't flush, her fingers didn't tremble, and her eyes didn't look away from his burning gaze. Instead, she offered a soft and gentle smile before arriving at her own bottle of water, her body slowly falling to her knees as she drank.
“You know—” she says after a large gulp. “I have something of yours at my place. I can bring it tomorrow!” She finally releases a content sigh before throwing her closed bottle back on the ground by her bag before she falls down to her bottom, her tired arms catching her weight as they extend out behind her. Bakugou’s blonde eyebrows straighten out before one is raising in question at her, his own bottle at his lips as he takes a drink. Once he finishes, he uses the back of his arm to wipe away the excess water before narrowing his eyes.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Uraraka asks almost immediately, that same smile playing on her lips as Bakugou rolls his eyes and falls to sit on the ground next to her.
“Stupid girl,” he mutters, but Uraraka can clearly hear the frustration riding on his tone. “What do you have of mine?”
She takes into account how close he's sitting next to her, and how a light shade of red dusts the tips of his ears, his eyes looking anywhere but at her as he awaits her answer. The smile never leaves her lips before she dips her head back to look at the unnatural lighting that glows overhead.
“It's that shirt you let me borrow! You know, when I kind of ruined mine and—”
“Right.” He answers almost immediately and Ochako is taken aback by how quick he is the answer, almost like he had been waiting for her to give that shirt back to him. A grunt falls from her lips before she brings her gaze back to him, catching the way his eyes are looking at her, narrowed and lips pressed into a firm line.
“I can bring it tomorrow?” She offers, but he's already standing up from the ground, his hand extending out towards her before he shakes his head.
“Na. I'll walk you home and get it.”
And it leaves her dumbfounded, because never has Katsuki offered that. Normally it was just the two of them sparring after class, hidden away from the eyes of others as he helps her with her form, training both her and her quirk, and the psychical abilities that she's capable of. Uraraka is quick to remind herself that it's nothing special, that he's only doing it to grab his shirt from her house and that's that. Her small hand fits into his almost perfectly, the calloused skin of his palm rubbing against her soft palm, and it doesn't take more than a tug to have her up and off the ground.
“Let’s go.”
Before she could even lean over to gather her belongings in her arms, his strides had already taken him a couple steps away and she felt herself falling behind. A soft squeak fell from her lips before she caught up to him, her lips pursing as she glanced up at his stoic expression, his crimson eyes glancing down to find her before he smirked — it was the cocky smirk that made her heart clap in her chest, while her eyes widened at him before falling in step alongside him.
Ochako’s thoughts kept her quiet as Bakugou wandered alongside her, her body reacting to the city’s layout, and she knew where exactly to go, even on autopilot. The engines of cars, nor the wandering, chatting people pulled her from her thoughts, not when all she could do was reflect on their training together, and how he had corrected her stance so many times that day; as frustrating as it was, she felt herself improving and growing stronger — a soft sigh fell through thin, parted lips before her brows furrowed, her head turning to find Bakugou. They stood at a crosswalk, the light on the other side of the road blinking red, and she couldn’t help but mutter the question that was hanging onto her mind.
“Have I gotten any better?”
A moment of silenced passed, the light across the street finally blinking green and while the other pedestrians around them began to walk, the two of them remained still at the sidewalk. She could see both confusion and answers swirling in the scarlet of his eyes, and as his nose began to crinkle and his brows furrowed, he finally clicked his tongue, a soft tch sounding before he took the first step off the sidewalk. Uraraka’s mouth dropped open before she followed after him, soft protests sounding as they quickly crossed the road.
“Bakugou!” she called out behind him, and the moment they reached the other side of the street, he glanced back at her.
“What a stupid question to ask,” he retorted, but Uraraka frowned into the back of his head as he continued to walk. Of course it was going to be like this; the rest of their walk consisted of silence, minus the sounds of their shoes tapping against the concrete of the sidewalk and by the time they arrived at Uraraka’s apartment complex, he was allowing her to lead the rest of the way.
Her feet carried her up the stairwell, Bakugou’s presence right behind her until she arrived in front of her door and began to fish around in her bag for her keys. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, the silence between the two of them gnawing away at the empty space in her chest, but once the pads of her fingers hit the familiar metal of keys, the jingle of her keychain filled her ears as she pulled them out.
“You’re improving,” he muttered softly, her head turning and her eyes catching the sight of his body leaning against the railing as his hands filled the pockets of his sweater. He wasn’t looking at her, and he missed the way her eyes lit up and the smile that decorated her face; her cheeks reddened with color before she inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Uraraka already knew that the apartment was empty, her parents still hard at work and it only made worry swell in her chest.
He didn’t follow her inside, and while she stood in the doorway she finally glanced back at him. “You can come in?” She offered with a reassuring voice, and he did. Of course the awkward silence from earlier beat down on her once more as Katsuki stood next to her, taking in the sight of the small apartment that she lived in with her family — but it was home to her, and she was comfortable here. Once she kicked her shoes off, it was a straight shot to her bedroom, and with a soft murmur, she was walking away from him once more and pushing the door to her bedroom open.
His shirt resided on the top of her dresser, neatly folded into a tight little square and after she grabbed it, she turned on her heel, walking back towards her door but only to find Bakugou standing right at her doorway; his eyes were wide, a look she had never seen masking his face as he stared blankly at her wall.
“Why do you still have that?” He questioned with a hard voice, raspy and low and it sent shivers down her spine as she looked to the item that she had hanging from her wall.
It was her jacket from the sport’s festival — the item she used to distract him before he sent a blast from his palm, shoving the material in the ground with his explosive quirk, destroying her track jacket. Uraraka’s words got caught in her throat, her finger digging into the fabric of the shirt in her hands as she pursed her lips. Of course she kept her jacket, it was a symbol and it reminded her day after day that she would get better; she wasn’t weak, she was strong, and by having that reminder hung up on her wall, it gave her motivation and determination day after day.
She shook her head before smiling and walking towards it, her fingers running over the burnt and destroyed material, memories filling her mind. “I keep it as a reminder that I have room to improve.” Her voice came out softly, caramel colored eyes running over the jacket before she glanced back at Bakugou. “You made me realize that after our fight, so I kept it.”
The look on his face didn’t change, only realization glazed over his eyes before he finally looked away from the jacket that he destroyed. A cocky smirk painted his features and while Uraraka began to walk towards him, she extended the shirt out to him, her eyes hardening into a determined look. His hand came to grab at the material, but she didn’t let go, not until his eyes met hers and she could feel the hairs rise on her neck.
“I’m going to win next time, Bakugou,” although her voice shook slightly, the look in her eyes never faltered. The smirk on his face never left, but she could see the fire ignite in his eyes, embers burning in vivid colors from within his crimson orbs.
“Keep dreaming, Angelface.”