If you’d only heard Bakugo, his voice as brash and thunderous as ever, you would’ve assumed that he had everything under control–that he wasn’t actually about to get ripped to shreds by two goons from Watchdog’s gang.
Your first mistake had been letting the agency split the two of you up in the first place. Sure, you were of more help in rescue situations and he was better at making the baddies go boom, but you and Ground Zero were still a team; You had each other’s backs–you fed off each other’s energy. So yeah, you should’ve said “hell no” when they’d put you on patrol in different wards. Maybe then he would’ve been able to focus on obliterating the six-foot-tall man-mutt hybrids instead of alternating between offense and rescue. Thank God you’d at least had your phone on, or else you might’ve seen the news alert a few minutes too late.
“Hey! Over here, you overgrown poodles!
Both villains turn and face you, although one still keeps a clawed hand curled around Bakugo’s neck, pressing him further into the pile of rubble beneath him. Your partner writhes despite the thick trail of blood seeping down the side of his forehead. You’d expected him to use your distraction as an opportunity to get a shot in–to free himself. He doesn’t; There are no explosions, only shouted curses and a low, ominous, rumbling sound.
His palms had probably run dry.
Well, shit.
As two pairs of predatory eyes begin to bore through you, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you should have thought this through a little bit more. It wasn’t like you could breathe fire or punch them into oblivion with super strength. Your quirk was barrier for fuck’s sake; What were you gonna do, shield them to death? The best you could hope to do was buy time for Bakugo to get some juice back and blast these guys into oblivion.
As the larger of the two mutts hunches over onto all fours–growling and poised to strike–you decide to do what you do best: Talk shit.
You force yourself to smile, to fake arrogance despite the cold sweat clinging to the back of your neck. Bakugo always said that if you really wanted someone to make a mistake, you had to piss them off first.
“I can’t understand you. Sorry, but I don’t speak bitch.”
It pounces, and you roll to your left, avoiding the impact by a few inches. You’re better prepared the second time it lunges, throwing up a barrier at the last possible moment. It hits the wall hard–the air echoes with a distinctive crunch that you can only hope meant it’d managed to smash in its snout. As the villain clutches at its face–a mess of blood and drool–you concentrate and form a cube around it, trapping it in an invisible prison. It snarls, bashing at the enclosure in a frenzy. The tightness in your gut tells you that you’ll be able to hold him for fifteen–no, ten minutes tops. Hopefully, that’s all I’ll need, you pray, turning your attention to the beast’s buddy.
“Yo, Lassie!”
It keeps an eye on Bakugo, but bares a set of very sharp teeth in your direction. Your partner is still putting up a fight–kicking, biting, cursing–but his captor still has sheer size working to its advantage.
“Fucking leave already!”
You disregard Bakugo’s insane demand; Frankly, you couldn’t care less if your rescue shattered his ego. Even if it did actually came from a place of caring for you–not wanting you to get straight-up murdered–couldn’t he see that you were trying to save him? God, sometimes it felt like his head was full of rocks. Short-tempered, loud-mouthed, insanely-attractive rocks.
Right–not the time.
“If you’re gonna kill him, then you’d better kill me first. Otherwise, I’m gonna kill you.”
When the creature finally shifts its gaze away from Bakugo, you don’t miss the way the blonde’s eyes go feral. His struggling intensifies, and you know that you’ll have to work extra hard to keep your foe’s attention.
“Wouldn’t you rather run home and hump your big boss’s leg? I’m sure you’d enjoy that much more than sticking around here and getting your ass kicked.”
The next few seconds happen so fast that they seem like a blur–a memory playing out in real time. The villain turns to face you. Bakugo is lifted high in the air. You sprint towards him and, on impulse, your arms shoot out in front of you. You would create another barrier, throw the beast off-balance–after all, that was all you could do.
Before you can, there’s an explosion. The force of the blast sends you flying backward, landing unceremoniously on your ass. As you sit there trying to catch your breath, the hot air feels like it’s scorching your insides. Coupled with the smoke, it makes for a positively painful experience–complete with watery eyes and a whole lot of wheezing. Still, none of that mattered right now; Ground Zero was back up and running, baby.
You can’t be sure how long it takes for the street to reemerge from beneath the blanket of smoke. All that you know is that once it finally does, Bakugo’s standing right there, his stern voice contradicting his battered appearance.
“There were at least three times you should’ve died back there.”
“Only three?” You reply, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I hope that number includes you nearly barbecuing me with that last little blast.”
“Laugh all you want, but that last ‘little blast’ is the only reason you’re not actually dead.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” He extends a hand out towards you, and you take it. “You shouldn’t underestimate what a person is capable of doing to protect the person they care about.”
***
Thankfully, Bakugo at least has the patience to wait twenty minutes–after you’ve finished filling in the officers and reporters–to chew you out.
“Next time, be more obvious with the fucking signal.”
Okay, you understood that he was speaking perfect English, but it might as well have been gibberish, because you had no idea what he was talking about.
“Signal? What signal?”
“The signal dammit.” He growls, doing a god-awful job of using his words, as always. He holds his hands out in front of him like he’s going to set off two explosions from his palms, presumably mimicking your “signal.” He stares expectantly, growing noticeably more irritated when your confused expression doesn’t fade.
“That thing you did with your hands that told me to go apeshit! It almost looked like you were trying to use your quirk.”
You blink, mirroring his position, finally beginning to understand. The source of the misunderstanding: He thought that you were smarter than you actually were. It was an odd problem to have, but then again, everything about your dynamic with Bakugo was odd.
“That’s because I was trying to use my quirk. Bold of you to assume I had an actual plan.”
The look of sheer disbelief that passes over his face is more amusing than it should be, given the fact that you’ve basically shattered any faith that he has in your competence. Still, when he begins to walk away from you, you follow hot on his heels.
“What? Not gonna yell at me for doing something so reckless?” You ask, prodding. He sighs, but doesn’t respond. It’s not enough of a reaction for you. “Come on, this is the perfect opportunity to call me an idiot.”
"You already know you’re an idiot.”
You pretend to pout, and he rolls his eyes and peers back over his shoulder. When he sees that the news crews are out of earshot, he runs a hand down his face, grumbling through his palm.
“But you’re also my idiot, and I like you better when you’re in one piece. So don’t pull stupid shit like that without a plan.”
He’d obviously meant to scold you. You should’ve nodded your head and promised that it wouldn’t happen again–should’ve vowed that you’d stop relying on dumb luck and just run when he said “run.” But let’s be serious, you couldn’t promise those things; Hero work was unpredictable, and you weren’t the sort to just sit by and watch things happen from the sidelines. Plus, his little speech gave you something far juicier to cling to.
“Awww, you like me Katsuki?”
The edges of his cheeks flush to a faint shade of pink. “Drop it.”
“You’re the one that said it first; I’m being perfectly reasonable in asking.”
“You really wanna die? Keep talking and see what happens.”
“So what ‘piece’ of me do you like the best?”
He clenches his jaw tight. “Oi, you’ve got a lot of nerve today, don’t you?”
You link your arm with his and grin wide. He shoots you a dangerous look, those fiery eyes issuing an unspoken warning. Unfazed, you lean into his arm, not caring when his sweat dampens the outer layer of your sleeve, nor when the distinctive click of camera flashes starts up from somewhere behind you.
“What can I say, Katsuki? You make me feel invincible.“