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Katsuki didn’t normally pay attention to gossip. He, in fact, had zero time for gossip.
Who kissed who.
Who hated who.
Who was dating who.
Who had a crush on who.
All of that was a waste of mental space- space that could be filled with knowledge, strengths, and skills needed to get him to number one. And second year was important- they were honing their skills and their identities as heroes. And apparently UA thought THIS year was the best year to try their hand at international relations, which meant students from some hero school in the US were with them on campus for three weeks.
As if he didn’t already have enough extras to contend with, now UA had to throw some shitty Americans into the mix.
So no, Shitty Hair, he didn’t care who punched who in the cafeteria today. But of course, that didn’t stop the showman that was Kirishima from regaling class 2-A with the epic story of the lunchroom brawl that went down an hour ago as though he were performing every night to sell-out crowds.
And he was telling the story very loudly.
Too loud for Katsuki’s liking as he slumped into his desk.
“Nah, man, I don’t believe you," said Pikachu, leaning forward in his desk and shaking his head at Kiri.
“Yeah, I’m with Denki,” said Tape Face. “You must have heard wrong.”
“Duude,” said Kirishima. “I didn’t hear it. I SAW IT!” He pointed at his own two eyes for emphasis and then clapped his hands with glee. “I mean, I knew Uraraka had been concentrating on combat lately, but I didn’t know she was such a damn savage!”
Okay, so he didn’t normally care about who punched who in the lunchroom- but..well…come on! Fucking Pink Cheeks? That was certainly enough to pique his curiosity. He angled his body a bit toward the group. Pinky looked skeptical, along with Bird Face, and he wasn't entirely buying it himself.
...Not that she COULD fight someone. He easily bought that. She had fought tooth and nail to finally be taken seriously as a badass- it had only been recently that the guys in their class had stopped pulling their punches when fighting her, because she sure as fuck wasn’t pulling hers- but people were actually starting to see her.
But still, generally, if you weren’t her sparring partner or a villain, Round Face had no reason to bite, and his mind raced with explanations for why she may get into a fight.
And who she had fought with.
“Who was it?” asked Earphone Girl- always ready to come through with the good questions.
“Don’t know his name,” said Kirishima, whose shit-eating grin was only growing by the second. “But get this it was one of those American kids- a fourth year, the one with the diamond quirk!”
“Whaaat?” squawked Mina, slamming her fists onto her desk and standing abruptly. “She got in a fight with a behemoth whose body literally turns into diamonds?”
“Well,” offered Tape Face. “Technically, just his feet and hands.”
“Oh, much better,” scoffed Mina, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Indestructible fists!”
Katsuki had seen the guy- he was bulky even without his quirk- not the most strategic pick on Cheeks’ part, but he wouldn’t fault her for going big.
“And it was freaking glorious,” beamed Kirishima, placing his hands over his heart- so goddamn extra. “She leaped across the table like a freakin’ cheetah and tackled that asshole to the ground like she was cutting down a tree.” He sighed wistfully. “So manly.”
“Why is he an asshole?” asked Bird Face, a question that Kirishima brushed off, as though it were obvious.
“I’m just assuming he is,” he said. “Why else would Uraraka deck him? I’m sure he deserved it.”
Dumb, loyal asshole.
Though he wasn’t wrong.
“Midoriya!”
Kirishima jumped off his desk to greet the fucking nerd and his weird boyfriend at the door.
“Is it true?” asked Pinky, rushing them. “Did Ochako beat up one of the Americans?”
“What did he say?”
“What did he do?”
“Where is she now?”
“Is she in trouble?”
Deku’s gaze jumped from person to person frantically- clearly overwhelmed with the concentrated attention. Future symbol of peace, Katsuki’s tight ass.
“Uh, well…” Deku looked around sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You see…”
“Yes,” said Icy Hot, in that annoying way that cut straight through the bullshit, the way that Katsuki secretly appreciated in certain contexts, though he would never say it out loud.
“Shoto,” scolded Deku, with a nervous laugh.
“What?” he asked, confused. “They’ll know when they see her! If she wanted to keep it a secret, perhaps she should have picked a more discreet place than the cafeteria at lunchtime.”
“Is she okay?" asked Mina, grasping Deku’s hand.
“She’s fine,” said Icy Hot. “She kicked his ass before he activated his quirk. Then she broke a finger, but before then, she had the…”
“Shoto!”
Half and Half fell silent at Deku’s insistence.
“Do you know why she did it?” asked Bird Brain.
Icy Hot opened his mouth to speak, but Deku hurried to intercept whatever very honest answer his boyfriend was about to share with the class.
“That’s- uh-“ his face was turning bright red. “That’s Uraraka’s business. If she wants to share with…” he stuttered over his words, unsure what to say, afraid he will stumble into more truth than he had leave for- dumb nerd was never good at lying. “Anyone,” he choked out, not letting his eyes fall on any one person in the class. “I’m sure she’ll tell you.”
He grabbed Icy Hot’s arm, and the two walked toward their seats, like fucking celebrities running from the paparazzi.
So dramatic.
Soon the class settled as Aizawa came in, his presence an immediate small talk killer- thank god. About five minutes in, Frog girl enter and held the door open for someone else. A few seconds later, Pink Cheeks came slinking in behind her, holding herself at a weird angle, as though she were in some pain. Her breath was a little pained, and her head tipped down, so her bangs fell in front of her face.
Though that wasn’t enough to hide her split lip and the bright bruise blooming at her temple and along her hairline.
Those were on display for the whole damn class to see. And they were all looking, buzzing with attention. She crossed her arms and sunk into her seat, waiting for Aizawa’s stern warning to bring the eyes back forward.
###
After class, she was out the door as fast as whatever pain in her side would let her go, apparently unwilling to share the details of her adventure, much to the disappointment of her classmates.
He wondered as he made his own way across campus to the gym, what possibly could have been said to get her into an honest-to-god fight.
Deku seemed a little worried, but Icy Hot was positively amused by the whole thing, so he supposed it must not be that serious, but it didn’t do anything to curb his curiosity or his annoyance throughout the whole of his workout. An annoyance that was only heightened by the fact that with five minutes left in his workout, the doors to the gym opened.
He groaned inwardly.
This was why he hated visitors. He had a carefully carved out time where he knew that half of the students were at dinner and the other half doing homework. He had to share, and deal with others all day- this was his time. He decided to end five minutes early and hit the showers in the locker rooms before heading back to the dorm.
He was distracted anyway.
And, of course, it was just his luck that with a few minutes left in his shower, he heard voices on the other side of the curtain- unfamiliar, American voices. God, he was ready for them to go home. He hurriedly finished his shower, toweled off, and then pulled on his clothes. He ignored the small group gathered at the other end of the bench and went straight to his locker to retrieve his school bag. He was too busy shoving his dirty clothes into his gym bag to look at who he was sharing the locker room with. He was about to slam the locker shut when he caught sight of Diamond Dipshit glaring at him as though Katsuki had been the one to give him that swollen, black eye, his left side similarly bruised along his shoulder and ribcage.
What could this douche have possibly said for her to wail on him like that?
That mochi wasn’t a food group?
Had he taken her last bite of crappy, cafeteria cake off her tray? (He had seen many a UA student learn the hard way about that one).
Had he made fun of Deku’s stupid hair- his stupid freckles- or his stupid boyfriend?
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
Katsuki was shaken from his own reverie and lazily lifted his gaze upward to look at the kids mangled face. Katsuki sneered and slammed the locker shut. “Tch…was gonna tell you to get fucked but…” he gestured vaguely at his own face. “…someone already did that for you.”
“Hey,” snapped the boy, stepping toward him, but two of his friends grabbed hold of him. Good, thought Katsuki. He wasn’t in the mood to get in trouble on account of someone so pathetic, but he sure wouldn’t stand there and deny this asshole his second ass-whooping of the day if he felt like provoking Katsuki.
Katsuki passed by him without a word, heading to the door.
“Hey,” snapped Diamond Douche, despite the small protests from his friends trying to reign him in. “Tell your bitch of a girlfriend to keep her hands to herself. I won’t go so easy on her next time.”
Those words did stop Katsuki. He let the door shut without stepping through it and turned slowly to face him.
“The hell did you say to me?”
The boy's face screwed into a snarl. “Bitch with the brown hair and the fat cheeks...” he spat angrily.
“Oh right…right….right…” said Katsuki hurriedly, eyes narrowing in a silent warning, little sparks threatening to pop off in his palm. “You could have just said the bitch who kicked your ass, and I would have known who you were talking about right away.”
“Whatever,” he spat. “She got a few lucky shots in before I quirked up.”
“Riiiight,” drawled Katsuki, looking him up and down with a smirk. “Because you were totally helpless without your quirk, right?”
The punk sneered, his hands clenching into huge, tight fists, but he didn’t say anything. Katsuki held his heated gaze for a moment, a gaze filled with resentment and embarrassment and deep hate- one that all but screamed the sort of small-dick energy that jumped out of insecure dudes when they think their manhood was threatened. If Katsuki was feeling generous, if he was a good host, he would tell the idiot there was absolutely no shame in being beat by Uraraka, that he had seen many future heroes far more impressive than this toad walk away black and blue from her. But Katsuki wasn’t a good host- and this guy could kiss his ass. He turned to leave the Bedazzled Bitch, but he stopped suddenly, something about the flash of hatred in the idiot's eyes stalling his exit.
Katsuki looked down into his palm, thoughtfully, before he looked over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around fully to face them.
“Also," he said, voice low and lethal, palms up and pooling with sweat. "I gave you two passes."
"Passes?"
Their collective gazes were fixed on his heating palm.
“You called her a bitch... twice,” he growled. “I wouldn’t test your luck with a third.”
It wasn’t a Uraraka thing (well, not entirely). It was a UA thing. And some extra from across the world calling UA’s sweetheart a bitch? Nah. Sure, Katsuki had called her that a few times in sparring, but she had a few equally choice words for him (UA’s sweetheart, his ass). But that was neither here nor there!
What was here was the fact that “bitch” was far less concerning than the other thing he had called Uraraka.
His fucking girlfriend?
That made no sense. He could see someone making that mistake with her and Deku, or her and Icy Hot, or her and Frog Girl, or even her and Shitty Hair. She was affectionate; she hugged and linked arms and tugged at clothes with her stupid catspaws. She was like that with pretty much everyone except him (Mineta didn’t count, there was no universe in which he and grape boy were on the same level)- not that he was upset about that. He had gone above and beyond to establish the fact that he didn’t like to be touched or crowded or pawed on. So why the hell would that prick think that Cheeks and he were a thing?
He had plans to go to his dorm and do homework after his workout. He had a rigid schedule, and one he kept in order to not get distracted- in order to stay focused, to not waste brainpower making plans. But now, somehow, he had become a part of the gossip, for some reason, his name was mixed up in all this- and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get anything done until he knew why the hell that douchenozzle thought he and Cheeks were together.
So, instead of going to his room, he found himself at her door, knocking loudly.
“It’s unlocked,” she called from the other side, her voice, slightly muffled behind frustrated breathes, and he is sure he heard muttered obscenities from somewhere in there.
He opened the door and stepped inside to see Ochako standing in her room, arranging the pillows on her bed, clad in tiny pajama shorts, and her sports bra- and, well, that was it.
"Thank God," she said, still not looking in his direction. "I'm glad you got my text because these are killing me..." she turned, making merry conversation like her body wasn't one giant bruise, and then she saw him standing, frozen and awkward, in her doorway. "Bakugo!”
She grabbed a pillow to cover herself, and he felt his face go bright red as he angled his gaze up, averting his eyes.
“You said to come in!” He shouted defensively.
“I thought you were Tsu,” she said, her voice high and strained. “I texted her and told her to come by after she was done working on her project because I needed her help!” It was more explanation than she would typically bother to give, but he supposed the situation felt like it required a little bit more. Her inviting him into her room- her wearing that when she invited him in.
Sure, she had sparred with him once or twice in similar enough outfits- but he supposed context and control made a big difference with something like this.
“Well I’m not,” he all but barked, turning away from her quickly, his elbow colliding painfully with the door as he did. “Fuck!”
“Careful,” she said, her voice returning to its normal pitch with the help of a small giggle.
He wanted to turn to glare at her but he remembered the reason for all the awkward to begin with and turned away abruptly. She let out another laugh.
“It’s fine, Bakugo,” she sighed. “What did you need?”
“I can come back later…” he grumbled.
“No you’re here now,” she said. “It’s not a big deal, you just surprised me is all.”
A minuscule amount of tension left his shoulders as he turned to face her, only for it to jump right back as he remembered why he was here, not to mention getting a fuller, more expansive view of his injuries.
“Jesus, Uraraka…”
She rolled her eyes and looked down at where his eyes had gone, to the splotching dark spots and sliced skin along her ribs. The damage seemed to travel around her side and disappeared behind her back.
He supposed it made sense- diamonds were hard and sharp.
She held out her arms and looked down, puffing out her cheeks.
“Yyyeah,” she said, with a sheepish shrug. She looked up at him. “I was ready for a good quirkless beat down…” He snorted. He was used to her tough talk, such as it was. She was tough, but her smack talk could use some work, and even if she ever managed to get it, the face, the cheeks, and the voice would always undermine it. But she didn’t really need it. Everything else stood on its own when she faced off with an opponent. “But I suppose we didn’t establish any rules so…”
“Recovery girl didn’t…”
She let out a laugh and shook her head. “She gave me a balm so the cuts don’t get irritated,” she said, holding up a small jar. “And bandages.” She held up the box. “And what she said was a cautionary tale about losing my temper on visiting guests.”
“Tch…you’re a first-time offender,” he said, snatching up the balm to look at the label. It was familiar enough, just a basic salve to keep away irritation and infections. Did shit for actual pain. “Think the old bat would give you some pain meds at least.”
“Guess she wanted to nip the bad behavior in the bud,” she said with a strained laugh. “So yeah, I texted Tsu because I needed help getting…” she turned, offering her back to him and looked over her shoulder as she tried to fruitlessly reach an area in the middle of her back. “There!”
“Fuck!”
The right side of her lower back had an angry, red mark, that started just above the waistband of her shorts and up to just below her shoulder blade, disappearing under her sports bra. The margins of it were purple and grey but in the center, what looked a lot like a big ass footprint, there were tiny angry cuts and slices. They were small but there were a lot of them.
“Yeah…” she said, drawing out the word before she laughed awkwardly and turned back to face him. “Did you…uh…did you need something?” she asked, her voice dropping in a way that made him think that she had some idea why he was there.
He rolled his eyes and looked down at the salve in his hand, and, in a moment that he would relive later with a beseeching “WHYYYY?!” He sat on her bed and motioned for her to sit beside him.
She looked confused and hesitant, but she dropped herself onto the edge of the bed.
“Turn,” he demanded.
She did, angling her body away from him. It wasn’t that unusual to tend to each other’s injuries- it was pretty normal for their class. Once he had been training with her- or beside her- when she had been working on a new control strategy in her quirk and pushed herself too far. Vomit was a regular- and disgusting- downside to her quirk, but he preferred that to the way her face had turned so pale that her cheeks weren’t pink anymore or the way her right ear started bleeding. He knew a thing or two about ear injuries, that was the only reason he had helped her then.
But it had been in a gym.
Not in a room.
Not on her bed.
Not with her shirt off.
Not that it was sexual- but it certainly felt intimate.
He dipped his finger into the salve and dabbed it lightly on the angry red slashes. He wasn’t sure if it was easier because her back was to him or harder because he was touching her.
“Why the hell did you fight a guy that size, Cheeks?”
She looked over her shoulder, an angry twitch in the corner of her lip, drawing his attention to the cut that sliced through her bottom lip. “Hey,” she said. “I won!”
“Tch...did you?” He wasn’t saying she didn’t but it was hard to tell, given the fact that she had wanted to get her hands on him for punching and not for floating- and even if she got more shots in- one of his did a lot of damage. Not that he would scold her for picking fights with someone bigger than her- wasn’t his job.
Her glare hardened.
“You should see his face!”
“I did,” he answered. Her eyes widened in a momentary panic, and her mouth opened as if to say something before she just let out a sound of frustration and turned back around. He continued in silence, dipping his fingers into the salve and then dabbing against her cool skin. Finally, before he could chicken out, the question came out of him.
“Why did he think you were my girlfriend?” he asked, tone neutral and casual.
She made a sputtering sound like she was choking on her own spit and he could see the blush on the back of her neck.
“I don’t know,” she said, almost defensive. “I have no idea! I didn’t say anything like that! Nothing!” She let out a growl and slumped forward, wincing at the movement and then straightening, keeping her weight off of her bruising ribs. “Shoulda floated his ass to the top of the cafeteria and left him there!”
He snorted and started applying the bandages over the cuts to let the salve soak in.
“Why did you hit him?” he asked, finally.
“Because,” she snapped, holding her arms close to her, staring resolutely at the wall, but he could hear the frustration in her voice. “He deserved it.”
“Sure,” he said. “I assumed. But still… why?”
“He wouldn’t stop running his mouth,” she said, the frustration in her voice being hedged out by another emotion- she sounded almost sad, which made him angry. Making her angry was one thing, but if the asshole had made her sad… that made him feel something else altogether- something that made him want to turn around and march back to the gym and be a little less mature.
“You’re not answering the question,” he said, carefully pressing the bandage against her skin. When he was done, he remained seated, and she kept her back to him.
“I did,” she said, her voice choking in her throat. “He was running his mouth, saying stupid shit. I told him to stop. He didn’t. So I punched him. Simple as that.”
“You didn’t punch him, Cheeks. You attacked him.” But there wasn’t a reprimand in his voice. “What did he say to you?” He smirked. “Did he accuse you of being my girlfriend?” he said as a joke. “Gotta say I’d be insulted if you thought that warranted a public beat down.”
She laughed softly and ducked her head lower, her hair falling around her face to hide it, but he saw her lift her hand and wipe carefully at her face.
She was crying.
Why was she crying?!
“You in pain, Cheeks?” he asked, trying to sound disinterested. He wasn’t. “I have some pretty strong meds I use when the gauntlets wreck my shoulders if you need me to…”
“You’re a good person, Bakugo,” she said. Soft and simple, an observation that was so casual, but all the same it set his skin on fire and made him rear back like she had punched him in the stomach.
“The fuck are you talking about, dummy?”
She laughed, a small breathy sound. She sounded tired. “What I said,” she answered. “You’re a good person.”
“I…I…did Recovery Girl check your head,” he asked.
“Is that uncomfortable for you to hear?” she queried looking over her shoulder at him, something almost like a teasing smile on her lips, more convincing if her eyes didn’t look sad.
“Tch…no,” he grumbled, torn between a desire to run and his curiosity about what the actual fuck was going on here. “I know I’m a good hero…”
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, still peering awkwardly over her shoulder. “I said you’re a good person,” she said. “I didn’t say you were a good hero. Anyone with eyes and a lick of sense knows you’re a good hero.”
He suddenly felt very warm under words and just half of her gaze. Why were they talking about this? What was happening right now?
Why was she saying stupid things like this?
He wasn’t a good person.
Well, maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. He hadn’t really thought about it. He was going to be the best hero, nothing else mattered.
She sighed and looked forward again, dropping her head and rubbing the back of her exposed neck, rolling it side to side, the muscles in her shoulders and neck tensing beneath her skin. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he was having trouble making noises, or sounds, or actual words.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, practically sitting at the edge of the bed at this point. “I just wanted to know why some American was out there talking like we were together or something and suddenly you’re being all weird about…”
“He called you a villain,” she said, raising her voice slightly, loud enough to be heard over his uncomfortable shouting. Again, freezing him with just a few words; silencing him with the slight tremble in her voice.
“Eh?”
“He…” her voice stuttered slightly, thick with emotion that he didn’t understand. “I was at his table at lunch- well not his- I was with one of the American second years and I was showing her around, and he was there. And the guy was just talking normal rivalry crap, asked who he should fight if he didn’t completely want to waste his time while he was here.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned into them. Everything about her looked exhausted.
“I thought it was playful rivalry and told him if he really wanted to feel what a UA ass-beating felt like he should challenge you.” He held back the proud smirk, knowing that there was more to this story than just that. But still…damn straight. “And then he said something about the sport’s festival. And I-I told him to back the hell off. But he kept running his mouth about how he was surprised you were still here at all, that he would have thought you’d run off to join the league of villains by now because that was obviously where your skills would be put to good use and then I just…I got so damn mad at him because he…” her voice shook with unshed tears and rage. “He doesn’t know you,” she hissed. “He doesn’t see how hard you work. And how much you’ve grown. He doesn’t…” She let out a frustrated sigh and dropped her face again to her knees. “I just got mad.”
You’re a good person, Bakugo.
Oh…
That’s why she had said that. She was afraid he would take it to heart when she told him what the asshat had said. She had been worried about him. She had been…defending his honor? He was about two seconds away from laughing at her, calling her an idiot, and telling her it was not a bid deal.
As if he cared what some idiot on the other side of the world thought of him? Hell, he was more affected by the fact that she had thought of him (take that, fucking nerd) than he was by what the guy had said.
But when she turned again, there were shining tears in her eyes. She was sad. Genuinely upset. Because of what some extra had said about him. And it wasn’t even the worst thing someone had ever said- and, fuck, it wasn’t like what the guy had said was entirely out of left field.
He had matured a lot in the past year and a half- and while he didn’t regret digging deep in every last one of his fights, including his fight with her- and he didn’t think he was totally wrong for being upset about that weak-ass win- being chained and muzzled was…it was not a good look.
He liked to think that even if his intensity remained at an 11, that he had a firmer grasp on his temper, and some of the other more toxic elements of his explosive personality. But still, that had been his introduction to the world; chained and snarling to a podium, soon followed by the attempted recruitment to the League of Villains.
So…it wasn’t a huge stretch for someone who didn’t know him to think that about him- and again, it wasn’t like he cared. The people he actually respected (as short as the list was) knew who he was- bad and good. And he supposed, maybe- Uraraka was one of those.
And maybe something else.
Because he would be lying if he said knowing that she had gone bat-shit feral to protect his honor didn’t make him feel something warm in his chest. The fact that hearing him insulted was tantamount to being insulted herself made him feel all kinds of ways. So instead of telling her that he didn’t need her, or anyone else for that matter, defending him (like he should be), he felt something like affection when he looked at her.
She sat like that a while, her back to him, the only sound was her occasional sniffle.
“Cheeks,” he said…She remained seated, back resolutely to him. “Round face?” Nothing. He rolled his eyes. “Oi- Uraraka are you still crying?”
“Mmm mmm,” she denied.
He rolled his eyes and stood up, moving so that he was seated in front of her. She made a move to turn away from him, to pivot again, but he stilled her with both hands on her shoulders.
“Uraraka,” he said again, annoyed but also a little amused. She looked up at him slowly, and blinked her giant eyes at him, freeing some of the tears gathered at the edges. “Tch…don't cry, stupid.” But his hand went up as if acting on its own volition, to wipe it away with his thumb.
She was a badass sure.
But she was still a crybaby.
He supposed, maybe, they weren’t as mutually exclusive as he had once thought.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, with a shrug. “Not worth getting in a fight over and definitely not worth crying over.”
She pouted, her damaged bottom lip sticking out further. “I can get in a fight over anything I want, Bakugo.”
He snorted. His palm on her cheek still, his thumb resting under her eye, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the mottled bruise at her temple. “Clearly,” he said. “But if you’re going to fight everyone who has shit to say about me, Cheeks, you’re going to have to fight clear your fuckin schedule for the next year.” He said it teasing and dismissive, but her mouth formed a tight, resolute line, and her brow furrowed in determination. It wasn’t always adorable- in fact, it often proceeded a near ass-whooping, but something about this moment made it cuter than anything else (though he kept that to himself because of said ass-whoopings, usually welcomed but he had just showered and she was in a state).
“I’ll fight ‘em all,” she said, with a determined nod. And again, he feels that strange tightness in his chest, the cresting wave of fondness as he looked down at her resolute face. Like she would go to war for him if he asked her too. But it didn’t make him feel weak or babied, because she was looking at him as if she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would go to war for her too if she needed.
They must have been sitting like that for a while because the crease in her brow softened, her mouth opened slightly, an expression of confusion and maybe a little bit of hope and disbelief in her eyes. His thumb traced absently across her torn lip, careful of the tender skin there.
He doesn’t quite know what this means, but he’s not a complete idiot and he’s sure it means something. It’s not just that she beat the shit out of someone for him (he’s sure if anyone else in their class were being dragged by some cocky visitor she would have done the same) but still…she’s looking at him like she wants something from him.
And dammit he wants to give it to her.
But her lip is bleeding right now, so maybe now wasn’t the time. So instead, the hand on her shoulder tugged her into him a little rougher than he intended but she didn’t seem bothered by it. The angle is awkward and uncomfortable as her cheek pressed against his sternum, one of his hands in her hair, the other one easily spanning the width of her shoulders, barring her against him.
It wasn’t a kiss (he wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to kiss her, but maybe…it wasn’t so crazy?), but somehow it felt just as intimate for what it was saying- what he hoped it was saying to her as she sighed, a sweet soft sound that tickled the base of his throat, as her hand dug into his shirt, as she sunk into him as far as she could go.
They sat like that for a few seconds, he would have been content with a few more hours, when they heard the cracked door slam and someone barreling in. He jumped away first- or she did and let out a sharp intake of breath, grabbing at her side at the sudden movement.
“Shit,” he said, steadying her. “You good?”
She nodded and looked over her shoulder at a wide-eyed confused Frog Girl.
“I’m sorry, Ochako,” she said. “I just saw your text and ran over here as soon as I could!”
Katsuki reluctantly loosened his grip on her forearm and stood up. The Frog girl looked from him to Cheeks and back again.
“What are you doing here, Bakugo?”
“He was helping me,” said Uraraka, hurriedly, but Froggy, despite being a little awkward, was always observant, and there was no doubt that she was painting her own little picture in her head, based off of where they were sitting, how they were sitting, and Uraraka’s full-body blush. “With- uh- my bandages,” her voice went up an octave as though she were lying, even though she wasn’t. “Yeah,” she nodded. “My bandages! See.” She pointed at her back as though it were exonerating evidence.
But he wasn’t offended. He’s pretty sure she wasn’t embarrassed of him.
And he was pretty sure, based on the slow smile creeping onto her wide lips, that Frog Girl knew why Uraraka had lost her shit.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m out.” But as he passed her on the bed, he couldn’t quite keep his hands to himself and ruffled her hair. “Try not to challenge any more indestructible giants to a fistfight, eh Cheeks? And if you do give me a heads up?”
She just made a small squeak of noise in return. Before the door closed he could hear Frog Girl’s surprised voice.
“Ochako! What was that?!”
And then, as the door slid shut behind him, he heard the beginning of Ochako’s loud, girlish squeal, muffled into a pillow, and he was reminded that she was both a badass hero and a teenage girl; and he kinda liked that he could bring out both sides of her.