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Bakugo wasn’t sure, as he drove the winding mountain roads, why he had accepted the invitation to play at a dumb tiny festival in a countryside town that nobody had fucking heard of. He was mid touring, dates lined up right through to the next year, working almost every night and so dog tired that he barely had time to eat, piss, and sleep, but something about the short invitation, with a picture attached of the single marquee stage called to him. Maybe it was because it reminded him of his childhood, summers spent in a cosy village like the one he was driving through, attending fairs and eating strawberries with sugar whilst a folk singer played somewhere nearby. Maybe it was that he needed a break from stadiums full of thousands of extras screaming his name, throwing themselves at him as he walked onto the stage without a single thought in their shitty brains.
Whatever the reason, he was there, for one day between tour locations, to play an acoustic set where half of the village probably wouldn’t know who he was, and the other half wouldn’t care, with almost no crew, and an acoustic guitar on his back seat
Behind him, Uraraka drove carefully, keeping her eyes firmly on the back of his car, the car he insisted on driving himself even though it was far less safe than being in the armoured transport that she drove. It’s just a small gig he had told her. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Cheeks. You don’t even have to come with me. But her job was his safety and that meant having eyes on him 24 hours a day, whether he liked it or not.
Because he had no idea the number of times she had been there to stop something stupid happening, protected his reputation and his life, when he had told her that she didn’t need to be there. The number of attempts to ruin him that she had discovered, thwarted and reported whilst he was on stage was frankly terrifying. His fans were insane and she protected him from the worst of it. From the sasaeng who would have rather seen him dead than speaking to anyone other than them. From the failed idols who were jealous to a point of wishing him harm . And from himself, because nobody was better at nearly ruining his reputation, than Katsuki Bakugo and his foul mouth.
His manager had hired her because she was the best, because she didn’t care if he swore at her or called her cute nicknames. She wasn’t scared of him. She wasn’t scared of anyone. Bakugo had seemed like an interesting challenge, and the money was ridiculous compared to other gigs. She put that down to his temper as well. It didn’t hurt that we was muscular beyond belief, with a shock of blonde hair, a dangerous smile, and carmine eyes that made her never want to look away.
***
The village really was ridiculously fucking small. The kind of place where the summer fete is the event of the year and everyone is looking forward to it. Bakugo pulled up to the pub where he had been told he would meet the organiser, and smiled despite himself as he walked inside. It was not just the pub, according to the sign inside the door, but also the village shop, and the post office, and the only place with rooms for lodging in the entire local area. It was just like home.
Behind him he heard the heavy steps of his muscular guard, and his smile dropped a little. He wished she would have just listened to him and left him the hell alone for a night, she could have had the first day off in over a year, and left him to work out why he was there without breathing down his neck with every turn. But he had accepted her being hired on his behalf because she was single minded, and would do what was needed, not what he wanted. Everyone else said yes to him too often, sycophants and extras pandering to him because he had a good voice and a better fucking body. Not Uraraka, and he loved the fight just a little too much.
“Sir,” she said, remaining behind him, bowing slightly as he turned to face her. “I must secure this building. Please, I would request that you wait in my vehicle whilst I ensure your safety.”
Tch come on Cheeks, you know that ‘ain't gonna happen. Look at this place, you think one of these grandfathers is gonna come at me with a knife when I sit down?“ He laughed, enjoying the flush on her cheeks as she tapped her foot at him.
“If you won’t return to a secured location whilst I check this building then I will have to force you to accompany me, Sir.”
“You really think you have the strength to make me do something that I don’t want to do? Cheeks? Look at you. Half my size.”
Uraraka smiled, just a little, before wiping her face of emotion again. He was all muscle for show, hers was honed and tight, hidden beneath wide eyes and unassuming clothes that made her so much more dangerous than her charge liked to believe. She would just love to wipe the smirk off his face.
“Would you like to test that theory?”
Bakugo held his hands up, a glint in his eye matching hers.
“Fine, if it means so much to you I will walk at your side and take a look around whilst you check the perimeter or whatever.”
“Good,” Uraraka said, “Try not to get too much in my way.”
Uraraka dutifully checked the bar as best she could. It wasn’t an easy task with Bakugo rocking on his heels every moment as she noted points of entry and exit, structural weaknesses, approximate number of patrons and the safest place for him to be. He was nothing if not distracting, and she knew that he was doing it deliberately.
“I have assessed that this place is nothing but risk and that the best course of action for your safety would be to locate your room and remain in it until the performance tomorrow, whereafter we can enter the armoured transport and return to the bus.”
“No fucking way, Cheeks.”
“I really must-”
“What you must do is protect me, right? That’s what your contract says. You keep me safe, when I’m doing what I need to. Well I’ve booked a gig here and I need to know what kind of stuffy old assholes I’m playing for tomorrow so I can adjust my sound and rock their tweed wearing asses. So I’m going to sit at that bar and listen to the locals and maybe have a beer because this is a break for me,” he grinned a devilish grin at her, “and anyway, Cheeks, with you at my side how could I possibly be in any kind of danger?”
They spent the rest of the evening as Bakugo had said they would, sitting at the bar, watching everyone that came or went, him talking to people as though he was just any other normal patron. It was strange to Uraraka, being in a town where nobody knew him. She was used to people launching themselves across rooms to speak with him begging him for autographs and pictures that he hated posing for but did anyway. These folks couldn't have cared less that he was some bigshot musician from the city. He could have been anyone.
In the back corner of the bar, though, someone had caught her attention. A man with a shock of green hair and eyes that looked familiar. So familiar. She would have to check her notes when they got back to the room, but the way that he was looking over at Bakugo unsettled her.
“Sir,” she said as Bakugo rose to return to his room. “I fear that there is some danger here for you. I have observed behaviour from at least one that concerns me. I am therefore going to station myself in your room this evening as I have confirmed that the windows cannot be locked.”
“Whatever makes you feel better, Cheeks,” Bakugo sighed, voice thick with sleep. “But I’m taking the bed.”
“Wasn’t even a question, Sir.”
As she followed him to the room she felt eyes on her, though she could see no sign of the green haired man.
Once they were in the room and she had checked it again to be sure that nobody had snuck anything in there whilst they had been at the bar, Uraraka turned to face the door so that Bakugo could change.
“You know, Cheeks, I would understand if you wanted to sneak a look.”
She heard the tug of his shirt coming over his head, the slow zip of his jeans and felt her face heating up.
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” she said, desperately trying to keep her voice even. It was a very small room and she was sure that she could feel the heat that always radiated from him. The heady scent of cinnamon and cedar that reminded her of being deep in the woods on warm summer evenings swimming around her.
“Your loss,” he quipped, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.
Finally she heard the moving of sheets, and turned back to see him settled though sitting up in the best, much of his chest exposed, a small pair of glasses on his nose and a notepad in his hand. He looked suddenly deep in thought, his lips moving gently as he wrote down whatever new melody or lyrics had come to his mind.
She watched him for a moment before catching herself and looking to the window feeling the burn on her face. Get yourself together, Uraraka, she thought, certain that she could feel his eyes on her, resisting the urge to check.
“Well,” he said, breaking her awkward internal monologue. “Lights out for me Cheeks, try not to pass out stood up, yeah?”
Uraraka baulked, looking at him with obvious surprise in her face. For a second there he had always sounded concerned, and as he flicked off the light she was sure that she saw a ping tinge at the tips of his ears.
“I assure you that I won’t fall and wake you. Sleep well, Sir.”
“Yeah,” his voice was thick, “you too, Cheeks.”
***
Bakugo slept deeply, better than he had in months on the road. The tour bus was fine for a short while but there was nothing that could compare to a good soft bed, and though he would never have admitted it to her, there was something comforting about Uraraka’s solid presence at the door. She was like a fortress, reliable as the sunrise and just as bright. He never felt unsafe, trusting his own abilities to protect him far more than he did others, but for reasons that he couldn’t articulate, he liked having her around.
In his dreams the bars of an old song rang through his head, a song that he had started writing the day he had first seen her and never found the words to finish.
The morning dawned bright and early through the thin curtains, and he woke to see Uraraka sitting against the door, head back, deep in sleep though he had no idea how. He smiled, swinging his legs out of the bed and padding over to her as quietly as he could. They had a few hours before he had to set up for the fete, and as much as she needed the sleep he needed time unobserved. Gently he draped the blanket over her, watching her face scrunch at something unseen, then relax as he ran his hand lightly through her hair.
She mumbled something unintelligible and he smiled again. She was so solid when she was working, but whilst she slept she was soft and warm. Cute. Her lips moved again, a whisper crossing them that made his chest leap. Katsuki.
He knew how to finish his song.
***
Uraraka woke up stiff and confused, a blanket over her lap and a hot cup of tea at her side. Bakugo was walking away from her, a mug in his own hands. He was only wearing boxers, a pencil in his mouth humming as he paced around the room. Had he made her tea?
She hurried to her feet, picking up the mug and the blanket feeling unusually warm. She wanted to shower, needed to change, but leaving him alone for more than a moment seemed like a terrible idea. Her eyes flicked to the door of the ensuite, she was at the very least going to have to use the bathroom at some point.
“Just do it, Cheeks,” Bakugo said, not looking up from his notepad. “Not going to die just because you need to shower for 10 minutes.”
“How did you-” it didn’t matter, there was no way… “I can’t just leave you with no protection.”
“You forget who I was before I found the stage, Cheeks,” Bakugo smirked, flicking his eyes up to her and seeing her gaze on him. “You think I got this body by doing pilates?”
“I know very well that you were an established prize fighter, Sir,” she said, trying not to stare at his rippling abs, “but that was in your youth and it has been some years since you were in the cage. I would not see myself responsible for your injury.”
“If you’re so worried,” he said, eyes returning to the notepad, the shit eating grin still on his face, “then you can leave the door open and I will cry out like the ‘damsel in distress’ you need me to be the second I see a shadow.”
“You should stay in view of the door at all times, just to be safe.”
“If you’re that worried I could always join you in the shower. You can keep a real close eye on me that way-”
Bakugo flushed, hand stilling on the page as he realised the words that had just come out of his mouth. Uraraka had squeaked, her face and neck beet red, unable to meet his eyes. His heart was thudding so hard he was sure that she could hear it as she turned and scurried to the ensuite door.
“Just make sure you shout if you need anything,” she said, her voice high, almost panicked. “I won’t be long.”
Urarka showered as fast as she could, rubbing shampoo and conditioner together in the palm of her hand and throwing them both onto her hair at the same time, knowing she would regret it later but not wanting to leave her post unmanned for even a single second more than was necessary.
Her mind was still reeling from his very overt suggestion. It was no secret that men and women alike threw themselves at him wherever he went, but he never ever said yes to any of the propositions made to him. He had never, in her several years of working with him, given any sign that he was even interested in taking partners, and there he was offering to join her in the shower. Where he would be naked…and soapy…and close enough that she would be able to run her hands down his-
Stop it Ochako!
She shook herself, turning the water from warm to ice cold in an attempt to shock the heat that was pooling in her core out of her system. There were bigger things at hand than whatever Bakugo had in his boxers, and she had to focus.
With a shiver she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel and poking her head out of the door to check that Bakugo was still there.
He was. He sat at the desk with a smile, eyes moving over whatever he had been working on, seemingly finished. She was half way through a sigh of relief when she saw the piece of paper stuck to the inside of the window.
“Sir,” she said, feeling her adrenaline start to rise. “Have you put something in the window?”
“What?” he didn’t look up, “no why would I do that.”
“I see.”
Still wrapped in her towel she padded to her bag, slipping into a pair of pants and her weapons belt, zipping a sports bra closed as she walked slowly towards the paper, hand on her gun.
“And you didn’t hear anything?” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Only you showering, and brushing your teeth for longer than is reasonable, Cheeks.”
“Dental hygiene is important,” she muttered, grabbing the paper and turning away from the window in a single movement.
It was a photograph, printed poorly in black and white on what looked like home printer paper. The mage made her stomach drop. Bakugo, asleep with a small smile on his face in the room she stood in. In the background she was leaned against the door, eyes closed, mouth just slightly open.
Whoever had left the image had put a large red line through Bakugo’s neck.
Someone was making a very clear threat, and she didn’t have much time to work it out.
***
Bakugo felt like a child again as he walked through the stands at the fete, looking at the little stalls selling everything from candied apples to jewellery to handmade cakes and pies. Each tiny stand had something different to offer, and at the far end just like he hoped he would be there was a series of stalls that had games on them. They had always been his favourite. He had been a competitive child, and he was always the one walking out of the fetes and fairs with the biggest prize under his arm for winning the most. He wanted to try them all.
He bought popcorn and tried on hats and laughed with sellers as though he had been there all his life, not one of them asking him if they could have a picture with him, bothering him for autographs or a song. Those who did know that he was the entertainment for the afternoon simply wished him good luck and expressed a desire to listen to his set. It was as though he had never risen to fame and it made him feel somehow whole.
A few steps behind him, Uraraka watched the crowds. There were a lot of people for a small village fete, and every one of them was a risk. She was fairly certain that she knew who had taken the picture, who had left it there for her to find. It was too much his MO, too familiar. She had pulled up her notes as soon as she had tucked the image away, checking the past known stalkers, and Midoriya was at the top of the list. The pictures, the veiled messages, it was exactly his pattern, and she didn’t have the kind of backup to be able to smoke him out. She just hoped that Bakugo wouldn't end up getting into a scuffle himself. They only had one day between this show and the next and it would be awful for his reputation (and for hers) for him to appear on stage injured.
“Uraraka!” He span around, eyes bright and smiling. “You have to try this one. I know that I could smoke it but you’re always telling me how good a shot you are. Time to prove it Cheeks.”
“Bakugo I’m trying to.”
“Oh come on, you can’t just come to something like this and not have any fun at all. It’s just one game. If you win I’ll promise to do something that you want me to do for my safety without even arguing a little bit…” he hesitated for a moment. “As long as it doesn’t involve leaving here early because I am having such a good fucking time.”
He had used her name, beaming at her as though this was the best thing that could have happened, pointing at the stall that appeared to have real guns on it for shooting tin cans and not the little pop guns that she was used to.
“That doesn’t look especially safe…”
“They pile sandbags up with some hay bales behind. Nothing ever gets through, they’re just little .22s. Please Uraraka?
“You’ll do any one thing for your safety if I ask you?”
“If you’ll agree to do this game I’ll do any one thing you ask me, full stop Cheeks.” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Anything.”
Uraraka rolled her eyes. Having blushed like a teenager before she had checked herself and decided that any of his playful flirting would just be taken as that, playful, not serious, and once she had convinced herself of that it was much easier to ignore.
“Fine,” she said. “But you’re going to have to stay really close to me because I can’t pay attention to two things at once.”
“Done.”
Bakugo bounced up to the stall, rocking on the balls of his feet as he paid the small fee to take part.
“Letting the little lady have a turn,” the stall holder grinned at her. “Need you to walk you through how to hold one of these honey?”
Uraraka smiled.
“I think I’ve got it, thanks.”
She picked up the small firearm in a single hand, checked it was loaded, took off the safety and fired 5 rounds so quickly the man had to take a step back. She had cleared the magazine and put it back down on the bench before she let out the half breath. Every single tin was down.
“Happy?” she said, turning to Bakugo and smiling a little wider at his wide open mouth.
“Shit, Cheeks. Where did you learn to do that?”
“That would be an official secret. You won’t like who comes for you if I tell you.”
“Uh,” the stall keeper cleared his throat and looked at her, a sheepish smile on his face. “I think I owe you a prize, missy. That was damned impressive.”
“I don’t need a-”
“Tch, of course you need a prize.” Bakugo cut in. “The whole point of doing this is for the prize. What does she win?”
“I win you listening to instructions for once.” But Bakugo was pressing the life sized teddy bear into her hands, laughing as she looked at him, incredulous.
“Bakugo, I have to work and this-”
“It suits you, cheeks. Cute and fluffy.”
She scowled at him, scouring the crowd until she found a little girl who looked just like she had once. Wide brown eyes, slightly tatty clothes, cotton candy all over her face. She glanced over at Bakugo.
“Heel.”
“Oh you did not just.”
“I really did, Sir .”
She walked over to the girl, feeling Bakugo behind her, and knelt down low.
“Hey kiddo,” she said. “I won this big big bear and he whispered to me that he needs to have a really good friend to take care of him. You think you can be his friend for me?”
“Me?”
Uraraka nodded, handing over the bear that was far larger than the girl, watching her eyes well up.
“Thank you nice lady!”
The girl ran off and Uraraka let herself smile, hardening her face before she turned back to Bakugo and the job at hand.
“Tch, told you.”
“You told me, what , Bakugo.”
“That you’re soft, and when did it become protocol to stop calling me Sir, Cheeks?”
Uraraka flushed, she hadn’t realised that she had slipped.
“Well as you don’t seem to be able to use my name.”
“Touché.”
They walked a little way further, Uraraka scouring the crowd to no avail until Bakugo stopped so suddenly that she nearly walked into the back of him.
“A little warning-”
He turned, smiling with a small plate in his hand that he was presenting to her.
“Knew there had to be some around. Consider this the prize for being so gentle with that kid.”
She looked at the plate, and lost all ability to argue with him. It was a pair of folded crepes filled with strawberries and bananas and fresh cream and chocolate. All of her weaknesses in one place. With a small smile she took the place, looking at his crepes which seemed to be dark chocolate and chilli and pulling a face.
“Isn’t that really bitter?” she asked, taking a bite and groaning a little at how good it tasted.
“Got all the sweetness I need, Cheeks.”
Their eyes met for a moment and Uraraka felt her heart thump. The tips of his ears had that pale red blush again, his breath hitching in his chest. She leaned forward, not sure what her body was doing, eyes flickering closed…
A flash of green hair passed Bakugo’s shoulder and Uraraka snapped her eyes open, stepping around Bakugo on full alert.
She had seen him. For just a second she had seen him, and in her distraction she had lost him again.
Shit .
Bakugo stood rooted to the spot, crepes forgotten in his hand. She had nearly made the move that he had been trying to for weeks. That he had been too scared to make. But the risk that she was always so worried about had called her away, and now she had her hand on her holster, the other carefully holding the crepes that he knew damn well she would make sure she could eat, looking for who he didn’t know.
She was so beautiful. So strong .
The song rang in his mind again as he watched the tension in her back ease a little. She had nearly kissed him, so it was time.
Uraraka swept the surroundings over and over again, looking for any sign of the green hair and eyes that she felt in her bones were nearby. Bakugo was looking puzzled at her, the flush still on his ears, and she forced herself to not look at him. The hammering in her heart a mix of adrenaline and…something else. Something deeper in her chest that she was trying to repress as her crepes went cold in her hand.
An alarm on her watch caught her attention. It was almost time to make it to the stage. The danger was there, she knew it was there, but she didn’t think there was a single thing that she could do to stop Bakugo from walking up those steps with his guitar.
“Cheeks?”
She turned slowly, doing her best to smile.
“Sorry, false alarm. I thought I saw…it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re an awful liar. We good to go?”
“I am confident that I can sufficiently ensure your safety to return to the stage, Sir.” she took a bite of the sugary concoction of her plate. “And thank you for the crepes.”
“Yeah, anytime,” he frowned at her. “I’m going to go and set up then.”
Urarka nodded, falling into position two steps behind him, eyes on the space between Bakugo’s shoulder blades. His demeanour had changed, the bright bouncy Bakugo who had ran from stall to stall at the fair now walking with solemnity in his steps, his hand clenched at his side. She hadn’t told him about the paper, just that it was something from a fan and that he needn’t worry about it. But he was right, she was a terrible liar.
They just had to get through the set, and then she could persuade him to leave. She could tell him that he had to, her prize for proving that she was as good as a shot as she claimed to be. That was all she had to do, keep him safe through the set and try to forget the moment of pain she saw in his eyes when she had pulled away from him.
“Sir,” she said as they approached the stage. “Please let me go ahead to check everything is clear first.”
He nodded, no quips, no arguments, no smart comments about being able to watch her ass better if she was in front of him. It was as though someone had just reached in and switched off the Bakugo that she knew. She hated that the change was on her.
Her sweep of the stage was thorough, and Bakugo spent it all standing just in sight, running through the song over and over in his mind, he had to get it right, make sure that it was perfect. It was the only way he knew to tell her, to make her see…
She cleared the stage, then the side areas, and finally the lighting rigs and the top of the construction, and finally with only a few minutes to spare he was able to take his seat (once she had cleared it) and accept his old guitar from her hands.
There was no microphone, no sound equipment at all. Just him, and the strings, and the faces that passed by. With a glance he saw Uraraka in the wings, she gave him a thumbs up and a small smile that made his chest ache.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started to play.
***
Uraraka had never heard anything so beautiful as the sound of Bakugo acoustic. She had listened in to sound checks, stood at the side of concerts as the music blared out around him. Watched him dance and flex and put on a show for the myriad of people who had come to see him. Seeing him sitting there, with nothing but the guitar and his voice, she realised how false the rest all was.
This was Bakugo. This was the man who had left his life behind for music. The man who had changed everything for a second chance. There was warmth and passion and life in his song that she had never felt from him before. And when her eyes found the crowd she could see that they felt it too. The audience had grown from three to twelve to thirty before the end of the first song, and when he smiled gently before starting the next there was a hush of anticipation that had the hairs on Uraraka’s arms standing on end.
The sound washed over her, pulling at her, easing the pain and stress of the day from her mind. Her heart pounded but it wasn’t adrenaline, wasn’t the fear that someone was lurking in every corner waiting to hurt one or both of them. It was just him . Perfect, incredible, Katsuki.
But the calm didn’t last.
Above her the smallest sound caught her attention, and she looked up to see once again that flash of green, a small red blinking light in its place.
He was there.
He was on the stage.
Bakugo was in danger.
She couldn’t interrupt him, couldn’t ruin a set that looked as though it was bringing him so much peace, but she couldn’t do nothing either. She looked frantically around for a way to get up into the rig above the stage, seeing only ropes dangling from the scaffolds. She grit her teeth, cracking her knuckles and wrapping her fists around one of them, beginning to haul herself upwards.
As she climbed, sweat beading on her brow, muscles in her back and arms screaming at her, she kept her eyes fixed on Bakugo. The first time that anything moved near him she would know, would swing herself out to him. She knew every location that something might come from, every path to him. She could get there faster.
Up, up, up, she felt as though she was going to be climbing forever, biting her lip to stop herself grunting and altering Bakugo to the trouble. She would deal with the problem before he knew about it. That was what she did. What she had always done.
Finally her hands met cool metal and she pulled herself up to crouch on the scaffold top. There was still no sign of the green haired fan, but she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, she wasn’t going to let her guard down. She crawled slowly forwards, finding the source of the flashing light. It wasn’t a camera at all, just an LED wired to a battery pack with a switch.
She’d been tricked.
Bile rose in her throat as she looked back down to where Bakugo still stroked the strings of his guitar, seemingly unaware of the situation that was playing out behind him. There, in the wings, something glinting and silver in his hands was a man with a mop of green hair and a terrible look in his eye. He was staring up at Uraraka, smiling wide. With a wink he started edging forwards, turning his gaze back to Bakugo.
Izuku Midoriya. The worst kind of fan. She had to get down to Bakugo, and she had to do it fast.
There was no time to think, her training took over and she leapt over the edge of the scaffolding, throwing herself straight at the green haired assailant. She broke her fall with his body, rolling and dragging him back to the side of the stage, and though a whisper rippled through the crowd at the sound it passed as Bakugo continued to play. Uraraka flicked her eyes to him, he was looking pointedly ahead, his fingers still moving, eyes open. He was keeping the crowd on him.
Thank goodness he had been through at least some training.
Midoriya was wriggling under her grip, thrashing with the knife and trying to bite the hand that she had clamped over his mouth. He snapped his head back, cracking it against her chin in a movement that she worried might have broken one of her teeth. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth but she wasn’t planning on letting go.
She hauled them backwards, rolling over her head to pin Midoriya on the ground under her, one thick muscled thigh pressing down onto his throat. With her eyes never leaving his she grabbed for the knife at his hand, taking it easily as his lids started to droop. She pressed a little harder, squeezing any resistance out of him.
“You’ll never lay a hand on him,” she spat, tucking the knife into her belt and pulling out a large set of handcuffs.
Thankfully there were a lot of places to secure a rabid fan on the small stage, scaffolding poles making up most of the structure. She tightened one cuff roughly around Midoriya’s wrist, dragging him over to a sturdy bar and hooking the cuffs around before securing the other. He lolled his head at her, a throaty chuckle passing his lips as he managed to meet her eyes.
“I’ll never give up. You can’t take him-”
Uraraka’s fist flew on its own, cracking the fan square across the nose and sending his eyes rolling back.
“He was never yours to claim.”
She knew that Midoirya didn’t hear her, his head slumping forwards against the pole. She stood up, brushing the dust off her legs and turned to see that Bakugo was glancing at her every chance he got. He was making it look casual but there was no mistaking the path of his eyes. With a smile she gave him a small thumbs up, everything was fine. With a tiny nod he looked back to the crowd, smiling, drawing them all back into him with the ease of a hypnotist.
***
As the song drew to a close Bakugo cleared his throat.
“This next one,” he said, heart racing, “is a song that I’ve been trying to write for years. It’s a song for someone who means a great deal to me,” he looked over at Uraraka. “Who has been my sturdy foundation since the moment I met her.”
Uraraka flushed, was he talking about her.
“So this is for you, Uraraka Ochako.”
He didn’t turn back to the crowd, his fingers flowing over the guitar, eyes locked on hers as poetry flowed from his lips. A song full of promise and wonder, of yearning and wishes that might never be fulfilled. It was heart wrenching, beautiful, and it was all for her. Uraraka felt the tears welling up in her eyes as he sang to her, and it was as though there was nobody else in the world but them.
The song ended too soon and he held a hand out to her, beckoning her to the stage. She walked out to hushed whispers, slipping her hand into his with a shy laugh.
“I didn’t know-” she said.
“Never said you weren't an idiot, Cheeks,” Bakugo smiled. “A perfect idiot.”
“Takes one to know one.”
He pulled her in, hand wrapping around her waist. With a sigh he pressed his lips gently to hers, smiling against her as the crowd cheered behind them.