Chapter Text
By the time Ochako walked past the ticketing office toward the dark, ominous hole-in-the-wall club, filled with flashing lights and the pounding sound of too-loud dance music, she decided that she had made a mistake.
“I can’t do this after all! Let’s go back--”
“Not so fast!” Kirishima reached out to grab her arm as she turned to make a run for it. “We already paid for the tickets. We’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna have fun.”
While he had a point about the tickets, Ochako still found herself rooted to the spot. “I don’t need to have fun. Fun’s over rated. I should study anyway!”
Lately, Ochako had been working herself into the ground to try and stay afloat in her schoolwork. If she lost her scholarship to UA, then there was no way she would be able to continue attending the school, and good grades had never come naturally to her.
Then, a few days prior, Ochako had overdosed on caffeine in her attempt to pull an all-nighter to finish a paper, which resulted in her confusing Deku with Iida’s mother, biting into a tomato like an apple, and accidentally leaving a footnote on her paper which read “time for tacos. its tacco time”, due to the fact that she had been longingly pondering the dinner that she had put off for about six hours.
After that, her friends had declared that she needed to take a break and loosen up a little. They held an intervention and forced her to choose a fun activity to do.
Maybe she really had gone crazy, because somehow she came to the decision that she wanted to try clubbing. One of her favorite movies featured it prominently, and the flashing lights and dancing honestly looked really cool. In her stress-induced delirium, she got her mind totally set on the idea--she chose a club and a time and everything.
Then there was the question of who she would go with, because no way was she going to try it alone. Somehow, she couldn’t see Deku or Iida tearing it up on the dance floor. Her first choice would have been Mina, but she was studying abroad in Scotland that semester. She had hoped that Tsuyu might be interested, but unfortunately she was too busy working hard and studying . Kind of like Ochako should be doing.
Which left pretty much her only other friend who she could imagine in a club: Kirishima. She wasn’t even that close to him, but when she extended the invitation, he jumped on it with extreme enthusiasm.
Now, here they were, and she was definitely regretting it.
“Hey, look at me.” Kirishima planted a hand firmly on her shoulder and steered her around until she was staring him in the face. The intensity of his gaze made her cheeks heat up. “You, Uraraka Ochako, are going to get shitfaced tonight, and it’s going to be awesome. I’ll be here to look out for you the whole time, so don’t worry.”
Ochako forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. She did trust Kirishima to have her back when she needed it, especially in a place like this. That was part of the reason she’d convinced herself it was a good idea to take him.
“Okay.”
“And you’ll definitely be able to find me at all times,” said Kirishima solemnly. “Because I wore my light-up sneakers.”
At that, Ochako burst into giggles. “I still can’t believe you’d wear those clubbing!”
“They’re cool ,” he insisted. “So are you in or what?”
Ochako clenched her fists. It was now or never. She may be a lot of things, but she decided a quitter wasn’t one of them. “Let’s do it!”
“That’s the spirit!” Kirishima punched a fist in the air. “Lets gooo!”
With that, Kirishima led the way into the club, and Ochako hardly had time to think before she found herself enveloped in the heady atmosphere of sweaty dancers and thumping beats.
They made a beeline for the bar area, where Kirishima ordered them both drinks.
While they waited, Ochako used the opportunity to take a look around.
Above them, there was a constant array of flashing lights and lasers, with a layer of smoke hanging in the air to make the laser show visible. Onstage, the DJ danced between several glowing, electronic instruments, which were apparently used to make different beats and sounds. Ochako hadn’t realized that there would be a live DJ there, and she found herself fascinated by the way he worked, switching between each instrument, banging out the loud, intense tunes that filled the club to the brim. Whatever he was playing was actually quite catchy, and exciting enough to make Ochako’s heart rate increase. Maybe this wasn’t so bad afterall.
“Alright, first round of drinks!” Kirishima yelled over the music, shoving a glass into Ochako’s hand. “You checking out the DJ? He’s hot, right?!”
She hadn’t really thought about it, since the place was too shadowy for her to really see the DJ’s face, but from what she could tell his arms were pretty muscular.
“Yeah!” she shouted back, accepting the drink gingerly. Throughout her college career, Ochako had only been drunk once, and it was safe at her dorm with friends. This was going to be… interesting.
“Time to chug!” Kirishima announced, and knocked back his drink.
Well, here goes nothing. Ochako followed his example.
---
It took about three drinks for the stimulation and energy of the club to stop feeling intimidating, and to start feeling fun. Ochako was a huge lightweight, so three was more than enough to get her stumbling around.
When Kirishima pulled her out onto the dance floor, Ochako found it almost impossible not to dance to the rhythms that were coursing through her. Normally, she’d be at least a little embarrassed, but surrounded by bodies and the dim, swirling lights of the club, Ochako felt lost in the anonymity in the crowd. With the added courage from the alcohol, it was easy to let loose and dance around without a care, crashing into the bodies surrounding her and laughing every time she stepped on Kirishima’s feet.
“Let’s get more drinks,” Kirishima said into her ear after another fifteen minutes, and Ochako agreed readily.
Oh man, she was going to get so wasted.
One more, then two, and Ochako felt pretty much ready to jump on the stage and go body-surfing. It was probably a good thing that she was too drunk to climb the stairs. Kirishima dragged her back out into the center of the dance floor, where people grinded on others without reserve and swayed together to the beat of the music, and Ochako found herself closing her eyes and just letting the music take her.
Everything was more intense that way, and she had the thought that whoever this DJ was, he was really good.
“Hey, less get closer to the DJ,” Kirishima shouted, flinging an arm drunkenly over her shoulders. “Wanna dance up close.”
“Okay!” Ochako agreed, thinking about how cool it had been to see him work.
They pushed themselves through the thickets of bodies until they reached the front, where the music was loudest and the view of the DJ was uninterrupted.
Wow, he really is smokin’ hot… Ochako thought happily, and snorted to herself as she started dancing once more, reveling in the sound of the music.
He had spiky blonde hair, and was even more muscular than she’d remembered. Even as she danced with Kirishima, holding onto his shoulders and occasionally going as far as to grind on him (because who even cared?!), she somehow felt like she was dancing for the DJ. She liked to imagine that she could feel his eyes on the two of them.
“Alright, one more song for the night. You all better make it a fucking showstopper!” The DJ bellowed into his microphone, and an ear-splitting cheer went up from the clubbers.
A low, heavy bass note filled the club, and people continued to holler and clap. Ochako could feel the anticipation rising in her veins.
Then, the DJ stepped up to the microphone and started to sing, and the beats of the song picked up their energy.
Ochako fell happily into the trance of the music and lights, dancing sloppily while holding onto Kirishima for dear life. Everything was whirring colors and sound and heat, and Ochako couldn’t get enough of it. This song was definitely the best yet--it resonated deep in Ochako’s chest and pulled her along into an amazing rollercoaster of rhythm and dynamics and notes. So this was the power of dance music. She would have to look this guy up when they got home.
The rest of the night passed in a drunken blur. In the atmosphere of the club, it was especially easy to lose track of the passage of time and completely forget where she was.
At some point, the DJ finished, and Kirishima and Ochako must have gotten home somehow.
That was pretty much all that Ochako registered before passing out in bed.
---
Ochako laid for a while with her eyes closed after waking. Before she even became fully conscious, she could feel the pounding beginning inside her skull, dull and painful . In addition to the headache, it didn’t take long to notice the uncomfortable nausea and general stickiness that clung to her. She’d gotten trashed the night before, and now she was paying the price.
Finally, she let out an unhappy groan and peeled her eyes open. Mercifully, the room was dimly lit, with curtains pulled over the windows to block the sunlight.
Wait… her dorm room didn’t have cloth curtains. Just the plastic ones.
Groggily, Ochako rubbed her eyes and looked closer, but nope. Those were definitely curtains.
Then, she looked to her right, and almost jumped when she saw Kirishima passed out in the bed next to her. Why was he here? Wait a second, no way…
With rising panic, Ochako looked down at herself, but… she was still fully clothed. And it didn’t take much observation to see that Kirishima still wore the polo he’d been wearing at the club the night before. It was very unlikely that anything had happened. Besides, Kirishima was a gentleman--he wouldn’t take advantage of an overly drunk girl, even if he was just as drunk. Right?
As Ochako began to calm down from her initial freak-out over possibly drunkenly sleeping with Kirishima, her senses quickly alerted her to an entirely different problem.
This was definitely not her dorm. She’d figured that much from the curtains. But on top of that, none of the furniture or decorations looked remotely familiar to her. She’d been in Kirishima’s apartment, and even seen the interior of his room a few times. It was definitely not this.
Which meant that she had absolutely no idea where she was.
A hotel maybe? Ochako gingerly slid out of bed so that she could take a closer look at everything around her.
No… it didn’t look like a hotel. The place was fairly neat and clean, but there were nicknacks and action figures sitting on the dresser, and posters of various bands lined the walls. Wherever she was, it had to be someone’s house. None of the posters reminded her of things any of her friends would be interested in, so where the heck had they crashed?
“Kirishima?” Ochako walked around the bed to where he was sleeping and gently nudged him. “Hey, Kirishima? Where are we?”
Kirishima just groaned and rolled over, sinking himself deeper into his pillow.
Ochako grimaced. He was not a morning person, and she doubted the hangover would help with that.
Just as she was debating trying further measures to wake him up, the door to the room suddenly banged open, and Ochako jumped about a mile, headache spiking unpleasantly.
“Oh good, you’re up, finally .” A man stood in the doorway. He was tall, with spiky, messy blonde hair, a muscular build, and a firm scowl on his face. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him as anyone she knew. Was he someone she’d met at the club the night before? She hadn’t drunkenly slept with him , had she? “Get in the kitchen and help with the food, since apparently I’m running a fucking bed and breakfast now. And you don’t get to complain about being hungover because you brought that on your own damn self.”
“Um, right!” Ochako squeaked, hurrying after him as he turned and stomped his way out into the hallway. How drunk had she been last night? She couldn’t remember anything about this place.
“Finish turning the bacon while I get the plates,” he commanded as soon as Ochako stepped into the kitchen.
Too afraid to admit she had no idea what was going on, Ochako didn’t know what to do except obey his instructions. She scurried over to the stove and picked up the spatula that he’d left laying on the side of it. The smell of the bacon wafted up into her nose, and it made her stomach grumble loudly.
For a minute or two, Ochako moved the bacon around in the pan while the mystery man bustled around, pulling plates and cups out of cabinets and setting everything on the table. She never thought she’d witness someone setting the table aggressively, but somehow he achieved it. He seemed particularly grumpy that morning--had Ochako and Kirishima seriously overstayed their welcome? But if that were the case, why was this guy bothering to make breakfast for them?
“Alright, move over.” A voice spoke from directly behind Ochako, and she jumped again, before hurrying out of his way. “You’re way less chatty when you’re sober,” he added. Ochako wasn’t sure how to react to that without giving away her descending terror, so she just kept her mouth shut.
He put a pan onto a burner and haphazardly poured oil on it, before reaching into a carton of eggs next to the stove and grabbing one. With an expert motion, he cracked the egg into the pan using only one hand, then tossed the shell into the trash can (it landed perfectly, even though the trash can was a few feet away). After adding three more, he snatched another spatula from a drawer and began carefully organizing the eggs into their own neat circles. The way he fluidly managed the cooking reminded Ochako of something, but she wasn’t sure what.
After watching for a couple more minutes, her brain began to slowly stir up images from the night before. When he reached over and started managing the bacon along with the eggs, multitasking like it was nothing, it finally clicked in her head.
Operating multiple instruments like it was natural as breathing, acting with surprisingly graceful motions, every movement calculated.
“Oh, you’re the DJ from last night!” Ochako cried out triumphantly. Of course!
At that, the guy dropped the spatula and turned on her. For a second, she registered surprise on his face, before the expression melted back into a scowl. “Holy fuck. You don’t remember a goddamn thing from yesterday, do you?”
“Oh, umm…” Oops. The jig was up.
“Fucking figures.” He returned to angrily prodding at the eggs.
“So…” Now that he knew she’d blacked out, she might as well try and get a grip on her situation. “Where am I?”
“You two morons were throwing yourselves all over me, and then shitty hair apparently lost his phone and neither of you could remember your own addresses, so I ended up just taking you to my place. You’re welcome,” he spat.
Ack, they totally had overstayed their welcome! No wonder this guy was upset. “I’M SORRY!” Ochako said loudly, and bowed low toward him, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the side of the counter.
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just eat your stupid breakfast while I go kick Kirishima’s ass out of bed,” he griped as he grabbed a plate from the cabinet and smoothly slid the finished eggs onto it, followed by the bacon. When that was done, he turned on his heel and marched back toward the room that Kirishima was still sleeping in.
Man, he even remembered Kirishima’s name? Did he remember Ochako’s too? Ochako was starting to feel really bad; she had no idea what the DJ’s name could be.
A few moments later, Ochako heard him yell “GET UP, DICKWAD, FOOD’S READY.” This was followed by a loud groan that had to have come from Kirishima. Then, there was an ominous thumping sound, and a strangled yelp.
Ochako decided to grab one of the eggs and a piece of bacon, instead of going to investigate. Even though it sounded like the DJ had definitely knocked Kirishima out of bed.
As soon as she sat down at the table, the two men entered the room, with the DJ still looking pissed, and Kirishima looking like he’d recently risen from the dead.
“Nng, food,” Kirishima mumbled upon the sight of the bacon and eggs, and the DJ shoved a plate and a fork into his hands.
Ochako swallowed her bite of food as Kirishima slowly sank into the seat next to her. “Morning, Kiri.”
“Mmm,” he responded.
The DJ then slammed a plate down onto the table across from them, and this time it was Kiri who almost jumped out of his seat.
“Urhgh, my head,” Kirishima commented, setting a new record for number of words he had managed to string together that morning.
“Quit complaining. I could’ve left you two to sleep on the pavement, you know.” The stranger started loading his own plate with food.
“Euuughghhh,” Kirishima responded, rubbing his temples.
“So, not to be rude but…” Ochako was getting tired of not knowing who on earth this person was. “What’s your name again?”
“It’s Bakugou, nitwit. You make a habit of staying at complete strangers’ houses? What if I was an axe murderer?” The guy--Bakugou--said with his mouth full of eggs.
“Well… thank you for not murdering us?” Ochako said tentatively. She finished her last couple bites of food, and then pulled out her phone, figuring it would be less awkward to stare at it than to try and make conversation with Bakugou as he continued to stuff his face. Thankfully, it was still tucked safely in her pocket.
Then, she promptly discovered that it was dead. Naturally.
“So, where should I put my plate?” she asked. Might as well try and be a good house guest.
“Sink,” said Bakugou curtly.
As Ochako rushed to comply, she heard Kirishima swallow some bacon and then let out a loud burp. “Mff, that’s a bit better.”
“Gross,” Bakugou commented idly.
Ochako returned to the table and awkwardly reclaimed her seat. She privately hoped that they could go soon. Then this whole ordeal would be nothing but a funny story to tell her friends later. While she was living in it, it was nothing but mortifying.
“Man, this cooking’s really good,” Kirishima said between bites of bacon. Apparently, he was unaffected by shame. “Urgh, my head’s really killing me… how are you holdin’ up Uraraka?” It seemed that, slowly but surely, Kirishima was returning to his cheerful self.
“I’ve definitely felt better,” said Ochako drily. “But, um. Breakfast was really nice.”
“I know. That’s ‘cause I’m a damn good chef,” said Bakugou. “So are you all done or what? I’ve got places to be, you know.”
“Right! Of course!” Ochako jumped up from her seat. “We’ve probably overstayed our welcome…”
Bakugou snorted at that. “Didn’t seem to care much when you were drunk off your asses.”
“Haha, right… sorry.” Ochako laughed nervously. “We’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Kiri.”
“Huh? Oh, alright.” Kirishima scooted out from the table and brought his plate to the sink, before turning to face Bakugou again. “Chill meeting you, man. Thanks for letting us crash.”
“Whatever. Hopefully you both remember your own addresses now,” said Bakugou sourly.
“Yep! But um… my phone is dead and Kiri lost his, so we might need you to call us an Uber…” Ochako said anxiously, fidgeting with her shirt.
“Oh goddammit.”
---
For the most part, Ochako and Kirishima were quiet on the car ride home, both too hungover to be particularly in the mood for talking.
Right as the driver was about to pull up to Ochako’s dorm, however, Kirishima turned and nudged her. “Hey, Uraraka, check this out.”
He held out a somewhat crumpled piece of paper. Curious, she took it from him and unfolded it, carefully smoothing it out on her knee.
Inside, someone had written a phone number in big, sharp handwriting.
“What is this…?”
“My memory’s a little hazy, but… I think it’s Bakugou’s number,” said Kirishima, and when she looked up at him, he was beaming at her in excitement.
It took a second for the reality to hit, and then her stomach did a flip.
Apparently, in all his drunken charisma, Kirishima had managed to score the hot DJ’s digits.