Work Text:
Uraraka Ochako never was a morning person.
After powering through far too many early training sessions during her time at U.A. — and the ensuing debilitating sleep deprivation — anything that had her wake up before sunrise sounded like torture and certainly not something in which she would willingly engage.
Yet, there she was, of her own free will, at 6:30 in the morning, walking the deserted halls of Haneda airport, eyes still encrusted with sleep as she made her way to the check-in counter. The small suitcase rolling behind her contained only the essentials for a two-week break in a tropical paradise, namely a few summer dresses and that scandalous red bikini that Mina had given her two years prior and never had been put to good use.
Two weeks! Ochako did not try to hide the goofy smile that stretched her lips at the thought. To think she had been positively terrified of approaching Miruko with the subject. Villains never took a break, so why should she? But after three years at the agency, steadily climbing the ladder from rookie to trusted sidekick, Ochako was starting to feel the strain. Burnout — or so the doctor had said. It had taken her forever to accept that, maybe, possibly, she was, hypothetically speaking, of course, burning herself out, and forever and a half more to broach the subject with her employer.
“Well, of course, Uravity,” had been Miruko's beaming reply when Ochako finally had gathered the courage to knock on her door three weeks prior, asking for some time off. “But at one condition,” Miruko had continued, immediately putting a damper on Ochako's soaring mood. “Make it at least two weeks. After all, I need you well and truly refreshed if you’re going to give your best in the field.”
So two weeks it was. Miruko had made sure to clear Ochako's schedule and helped her select the destination, even going as far as putting a word to an old acquaintance so that Ochako could benefit from a mind-boggling discount at the local resort. She really was the best boss, in addition to a fantastic hero.
Ochako distractedly gave her passport to the employee at the check-in counter. The man took an annoyingly long time staring back and forth between the smiling, rosy-cheeked Ochako from her passport picture and her present, puffy-eyed, bird-nest-haired self. Well, it’s not like she had to dress up to take a flight as a private citizen. She was barely out of the depths of the hero charts, so it was unlikely that anyone would recognize her as a pro-hero. They’d have to look past her oversized hoodie, nondescript yoga pants, and the pink beanie she liked to keep pulled low over her forehead. From Ochako’s experience, no one ever looked twice. No one ever identified her as Uravity unless she was in full hero costume, and even then, she’d had to spell her hero name to the media more times than she was comfortable admitting.
The man at the counter finally gave her her passport back with a strained smile, and Ochako started strolling toward the gate, eyeing the window displays with envy. Flying was still a new enough experience that she wanted to enjoy every part of it.
But, first of all, she needed coffee.
While the barista brewed her drink, Ochako allowed herself a remorseful thought about Bakugo. She hadn't really given him any explanation for her sudden disappearance. The truth was she still felt ashamed — despite Miruko's assurances. Still felt like her need for a break was a sign of weakness. And it was common knowledge that Bakugo despised weakness. Her partner at the agency for the last year, the aptly-named Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had been surprisingly easy to work with. And he brewed her delicious coffee every morning, despite not drinking it himself. Which was the only reason, certainly, for him to be in her mind at that exact moment, Ochako thought as she started sipping the overpriced dishwater that passed for coffee in such places.
Well, here’s to the experience of flying. Ochako frowned her nose as she took another gulp of the insipidly bitter beverage.
"This is the final boarding call for passenger Uraraka Ochako booked on flight NH89 to Ishigaki. Please proceed to gate 38 immediately."
Shit shit shit.
A quick glance at her surroundings informed Ochako that she was still a good five-minute walk away from her boarding gate. She hurriedly swallowed a last, scalding-hot mouthful of coffee, disposed of her half-empty cup into the nearest bin, and proceeded to run.
***
Katsuki would have liked to relax in his seat, watching the limitless blue sky from his window as the plane took him away from the hellhole that is Tokyo. But the empty seat beside him prevented that. Not that he wanted a companion or anything for this flight — thank you fucking much. But he knew that if that goddamn late passenger didn’t show up, they’d have to get their luggage out of the plane, which would take minutes — precious minutes he’d rather spend flying up high toward the destination of the first vacation of his young career. So, uncharacteristically, Katsuki still hoped that the passenger would show up — and damn quick.
He still wasn’t sure how Miruko had talked him into taking two weeks off. The long-eared witch had almost made it sound like it was all part of a special training regimen — work hard, play hard, that kind of bullshit. Well, no use thinking about that now. He was off for two weeks to some white-sanded, sun-bleached shithole, so he might as well enjoy it. Uraraka was out to God knows which covert operation Miruko wouldn’t talk about, and the Rabbit Hero had been clear that Katsuki wouldn’t be let out on the field by himself without his partner. Like he needed Uraraka to keep him on a leash or something. Whatever. Anyway, better be on the move than stay back to fill out paperwork for the next two weeks. He’d heard that Ishigaki-jima was a fantastic spot for kitesurfing, and he couldn’t wait to try that out.
The irritation at the thought that Uraraka didn’t even tell him about her mission still lingered in Katsuki’s chest. She only broached the subject the day before, mumbling something cryptic about “going off-grid,” and when Katsuki prodded, she clammed up and gave him some bullshit excuse about needing to get her hero costume to maintenance. If Miruko hadn’t told him herself about Uraraka’s leave, Katsuki would probably have grilled her. But he knew she probably wasn't supposed to talk about it, and he didn’t want to give her more excuses to avoid him.
He’d miss her enough as it is.
The thought that passed through Katsuki's brain could as well have been that of a stranger. He was not a people person. He didn’t like people, and people generally returned him the favor. If you asked him, Katsuki would admit to some begrudging respect for the girl that almost beat his ass during the first U.A. sports festival and never hesitated to call him out on his bullshit when he deserved it. Sometimes Katsuki thought that he wouldn't have minded her company, back then, except for the fact she always was in the nerd’s orbit, and that was a hard no. Just the way she would always make those beaten, pick-me-up, puppy eyes when she was anywhere near Deku made him want to gag. Or to punch a wall. So, really, staying away was better for everyone involved. But since he joined Miruko’s agency and they’d been partnered up, he had gotten to know her without Deku’s shadow getting in the way. He had seen firsthand how much she had grown as a hero and what a total badass she was. She was a terror in the field, and back at her desk, she was whip-smart, witty, and never to shy away from a snarky comeback at him. So yeah, maybe her presence was something he had come to secretly enjoy over the past year, not that he would admit to it — even under Kirishima's most relentless teasing.
Yet, he did not expect to miss her. He was going on vacation, for fuck’s sake. Time to stop thinking about work!
Katsuki reviewed his travel itinerary once more. Landing was expected at Ishigaki airport around 11:00; then, he'd take a taxi to that resort that Miruko had suggested. It proposed a wide range of activities — windsurfing, scuba diving, hiking, you name it — that Katsuki was itching to try.
A motion at the aft of the plane caught his attention, but he could not make out the small figure walking up the aisle except for an oversized pink beanie.
“I’m so sorry for having kept you waiting. No excuse can justify my actions; please accept my apologies.”
That kind of words (or, really, all the bullshit that extras spewed out of their mouth on a daily basis) usually went right through Katsuki’s brain without even firing a single neuroreceptor. But the voice — her voice — made him raise his eyes from his phone to look at a very out-of-breath, extremely pink-cheeked Uraraka Ochako. The airhead wasn’t even looking at him, dropping on her seat with an exaggerated huff under Katsuki's incredulous gaze.
Fuck Miruko. He was gonna kill this hare-brained bitch when he got back. Was this her idea of a good prank? Sending him and Uraraka on vacation together? Now he got it, that self-satisfied smile when she all but ordered him to take the two weeks off. He'll stuff her own fluffy ears down her throat, and they'd see whether she'd still be smiling after that.
Katsuki took deep breaths in as he tried to quell the bubbling rage inside his chest. It would have come as a surprise to those who knew him in high school, but even he was aware that Miruko's trick on him wasn't worth blowing the plane. He didn't like to be played, but honestly? It pained him to say so, but it could have been worse. At least, it was only Uraraka. Or was it? Katsuki scanned the rest of the plane, dreading to find one of the other extras from the agency. But no, it wasn't some grand scheme to have some agency bonding time — courtesy of Miruko; it was just Uraraka and him on a plane bound to one of the most remote islands of the Okinawa prefecture. It was — manageable. As opposed to what would've happened if he had ended up with, say, that weird lobster guy from the office next to theirs, or that other dimwit with the silly-putty quirk.
Uraraka, maybe alerted by his awkward shifting in his seat, flashed a sheepish smile at him, her eyes not really seeing him. “What the fuck, Cheeks?”, Katsuki said, words tumbling out of his mouth unwillingly, pushed out of his throat by the hand that just seemed to plunge into his guts to squeeze and twist in a way that left him strangely lightheaded.
Uraraka’s head snapped up, her eyes roaming all over Katsuki with a sort of panic, taking in his signature black hoodie, sliding past the unshaven stubble on his cheeks, to settle on the baseball cap covering his too-recognizable blonde spikes. Feeling strangely self-conscious, Katsuki quickly grabbed the head covering he had bought that same morning and took it off.
(Katsuki wasn’t that famous — he just entered the top 50 chart, for fuck’s sake — but apparently, there was always the random overzealous fan to spot him wherever he went. So after the third encounter that morning — and he thought that if anybody asked him another selfie, he might very literally start fuming — he snatched the first headgear he could lay his hand upon in the only open shop of the whole damn terminal. Which, ironically, happened to be Red Riot merchandise. Whatever. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.)
Uraraka had been staring at him — mouth gaping and all — long enough for Katsuki to start doubting his own sight. Maybe that girl next to him wasn’t Uraraka, and in that case, either she was a doppelganger with a more than uncanny resemblance, or it was high time that Katsuki left the Agency if he started hallucinating colleagues wherever he went.
“Bakugo!” The smile that split Uraraka’s face when she recognized him saved Katsuki from a close examination of his own mental health but only added to that weird lurch in his stomach.
Katsuki looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “What’re you doing here?” His tone sounded defensive and borderline hostile, even to his own ears, and the look of hurt on Uraraka’s face was unmistakable, even with his deliberate efforts not to look her in the eye. She opened her mouth, and Katsuki didn’t know if it was to yell at him — he clearly deserved it — or just to answer his question. And he would never know because at this moment, the captain announced their imminent take-off, and the subsequent flow of announcements over the PA system offered a far too convenient excuse for him to stop interacting with Uraraka.
Fucking coward that he was.
***
If her calculations were correct, Ochako had spent over two thousand hours in the company of Bakugo Katsuki since they became partners. Really, how terrible could three more hours be?
Quite terrible, actually. For one, her heart wouldn’t stop hammering in her chest, long after she'd had time to recover from her sprint to the gate. Second, even if Bakugo didn’t look like he was watching her — in fact, he seemed bent on pointedly ignoring her — his mere presence made her self-conscious. Ochako was suddenly questioning her life choices, like wearing those very-comfortable but also very form-fitting tights. She was sure her thighs were at least twice the size they had when she last checked. Third, there was no way she could read the manga she’d brought for the trip with Bakugo beside her. If he ever noticed the kind of embarrassing josei she liked to read, she would never hear the end of it. Which left her with a scarce selection of movies from the onboard entertainment system. Ochako idly fiddled with the commands before settling on an action movie she vaguely remembered from discussions at the agency.
Ochako tried to focus on the movie — a kind of dystopian action set in a universe where quirk didn’t exist — but her mind kept wandering back to her unexpected seatmate. Could his presence be a simple coincidence? It couldn’t. The odds were less than one in a million. But Bakugo seemed quite stunned himself, so — Miruko. It had to be Miruko. If Ochako knew anything about her boss, it was that she was reckless and unpredictable. So, getting the two of them to have a break in the same place without letting any of them know? It must have made sense for Miruko, but Ochako couldn’t see the logic in that.
Or– Or maybe, she could, if she was honest with herself. Bakugo was undoubtedly a handful, but his constant presence, his dry sense of humor, and his off-hand way of letting her know he trusted her, that was something she’d gotten used to. No — something she’d come to appreciate in a way that maybe wasn’t strictly professional. Not that she would ever do something unprofessional, she hadn’t considered the possibility until just now. But maybe, Miruko had. Ochako felt her stomach flutter at the thought.
She was probably reading too much into things, anyway.
The movie wasn’t that captivating that Ochako wouldn’t notice the way Bakugo fiddled with his own command with increasing frustration until he called a flight attendant.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but the flight is full today. I am unable to find another seat for you at the moment,“ the flight attendant replied to Bakugo’s barely polite question of whether there was “a single fucking functional screen in that wreck of a plane”. From the corner of her eyes, Ochako could see all the tell-tale signs of an impending implosion in her coworker-turned-seatmate.
“You can take my seat,” she said quickly before the situation could escalate. Bakugo blinked, once, and the flight attendant beamed at her like the hand of God had just parted the clouds to avert an impending cataclysm. “I’ve already seen this movie anyway,” Ochako continued, unable to sustain Bakugo's smoldering gaze while she uttered her lame excuse.
There. Disaster averted. Civilians rescued, no casualties. The typhoon named Bakugo Katsuki is expected to lose force as the flight progresses; meanwhile, stay clear of the crisis area.
With still two hours to go until the destination, Ochako was very much in need of a distraction. She acutely regretted never upgrading her old phone to a full-fledged smartphone. Well. Too late for that now. Bakugo was already deep into another action movie, his attention apparently entirely focused on the screen. Maybe she could pull out her manga now, and he would never be the wiser.
“Wanna watch the movie, Cheeks?”
Ochako felt the blood rush right to her face as she realized she had leaned well into Bakugo’s space to stare at his screen.
“I– Uh– wouldn’t be able to hear.” Ochako wanted to slap herself. Why was everything she said this morning so lame? But Bakugo seemed unperturbed and just unplugged one of his earpods from his ear and handed it to her.
Ochako stayed motionless, unsure whether Bakugo really intended her to take it for them to watch the movie together. It was fine. Perfectly fine. They had been doing it countless times in the U.A’s common room, and the fact that there were only the two of them here in that plane — and not the whole 3-A class — it didn’t change a thing.
As Ochako still did not move to take the earpod, Katsuki started to lean forward, his face coming closer to Ochako’s in a way that was slightly uncomfortable, his hand brushing her hair from the side of her face to– to–
To plug the pod in her ear. That’s what. Of course. What else?
Bakugo reset the movie to the beginning, a thoughtful move that was totally lost on Ochako. Her brain stubbornly refused to acknowledge what was on the screen before her, and there was a ringing sound in her ears, which seemed to increase with each pulse of her rapid heartbeat.
Maybe, if she closed her eyes for just a second, she’d be able to forget the fact that Bakugo was so close that she almost could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Maybe.
***
Of course, Uraraka would be the type to fall asleep wherever. Namely, while watching a movie. Or on a plane. Or while watching a movie on a plane. (Even when said plane made Katsuki feel like he had been stuck inside a hairdryer for the last two hours.)
Or on his shoulder. While watching a movie. On a plane.
Whatever.
When Uraraka's eyes had become glassy, barely past the ten minutes mark in the movie, Katsuki had not been surprised. She wasn't a morning person to begin with, and, at the Agency, she generally needed a few cups worth of caffeine before getting to a fully functional level. (Two months into their collaboration, and for reasons he chose not to examine too closely, Katsuki had taken upon himself to brew her coffee every morning. For his own comfort, obviously — so that she wouldn't bring that stinky cinnamon-laced shit from the coffee shop nearby.)
Twice, Katsuki observed from the corner of his eyes Uraraka nodding off, her head falling forward and jerking back up again as the motion woke her up. The third time, he felt something land on his shoulder. Something soft. And warm.
Turning his head, Katsuki tried to get a view of Uraraka's face. Her hair tickled his neck as he leaned forward. She looked deeply asleep, a slight snoring sound getting out of her parted mouth. There were deep bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were nowhere as round and rosy as he remembered them. Katsuki knew that Uraraka was tired these past few weeks, but he had not realized until now how stretched thin she was. Katsuki started grinding his teeth. What a sorry excuse of a colleague he made if he couldn't even correctly assess his partner's condition. And Uraraka— the idiot had no self-preservation, always giving everything she had, and then some more, until there wasn’t anything left for herself.
Uraraka moved in her sleep, and Katsuki willed himself to relax, letting controlled breaths in and out until Uraraka found another comfortable position on his shoulder with a contented sigh. Kirishima would have a field day if he knew. But the shitty-haired idiot wasn't here, and if Katsuki let himself enjoy the warm weight of her body against him, no one would ever have to know.
A sigh escaped Katsuki's lips. What the fuck was this sick little game that Miruko tried to play by dragging him along and into Uraraka’s well-deserved rest? It was not like Uraraka needed a chaperone, and it was certainly not for the quality of the company that Katsuki could provide — or the incident last month with that ketchup-squirting villain really left Miruko with more brain damage than anybody could have guessed. Fuck this whole shitfest. It was probably some kind of sick joke, but there was no way he was going to let Miruko get away with it. He’d have to think about it later.
Trying to set his attention back to the movie, Katsuki sighed one more time. It was no use. Just the scent from that shampoo or body lotion, or whatever else she was using, something fresh and flowery, was enough to make his stomach churn uncomfortably. He’d never understood why her smell alone was so damn intoxicating, but it wasn’t something new, and not something he could — or would — do anything about, anyway.
Looking at Uraraka again, Katsuki's eyes trailed down, to where the zipper of her hoodie had come down, revealing a few inches of soft roundness that Katsuki had done a very good job not noticing until now.
Okay, that was a fucking lie.
Of course, he had noticed. He was a pro-hero, not a fucking monk. It was one of the things that you weren't supposed to have eyes for, when you were on a mission. Like the way her hair would form a halo around her face each time she used her quirk without a helmet. Or how she kept licking her lips when she was anxious or upset, as if she could taste something there. Or the way the pink of her cheeks seemed brighter than usual when they talked about that new combo move they had been trying lately.
Katsuki wasn't the type to notice things about people. But Uraraka wasn't people — never had been ever since day one. So, let them who never had their eyes wander along the lines of a colleague's body just cast him the first stone — and he'd throw it back twice as hard right into the fucking liar's face. He’d have to be seriously visually impaired to not notice that Uraraka’s body was just the perfect blend of roundness and of her personal brand of strength and gut. That, surely, didn’t make him a creep.
No, it just made him a goddamn coward for enjoying the company of Uraraka every day in the last year, and still acting like she didn’t matter . It wasn’t like they were friends, or anything, but they were partners, hung out together for lunch, sparred together regularly. He had spent more time with her that past year, than with any of the dumbasses that called themselves the squad, shitty haired idiots included.
“Would you like a refreshment, sir?” The voice of the flight attendant with her tray of drinks and snacks startled Katsuki out of his musings.
“Hojicha, please,” he answered, keeping his voice low so as not to wake up Uraraka.
“And for your girlfriend?”
The fuck? Couldn’t they see that she was passed out on his shoulder? And definitely not his girlfriend, which he shouldn’t have to specify, if those extras just acted professionally instead of just assuming. “Just water is fine,” he replied tersely, glaring at the woman. “Wait, no. Coffee, with double cream and double sugar.”
Though their destination was still 45 minutes away, they were about to start going down, so it was time he’d wake Uraraka up anyway. He’d let her sleep ten minutes more, maybe, then he’d have to find something to stir her up. Maybe the steaming coffee would help.
***
Ochako tried to hold on to the last remnants of her dream, the details blurring and becoming fuzzy as her mind emerged from her deep sleep state. She couldn't remember what it was, but it felt good. She felt good, with that warm pillow under her cheek and that familiar, sweet and smoky scent—
Wait. Pillow?
Ochako brutally flung herself up, the top of her head making contact with something hard.
“Oi! Watcha doing, Cheeks!”, Bakugo said, slurring his words as he massaged his jaw.
Had she fallen asleep on Bakugo and then headbutted him? Please, someone kill her.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Ochako responded, a little too loudly, her cheeks flushed and her heart beating wildly. Bakugo let out an irritated grunt, his eyes refusing to meet hers.
“Whatever. We’re landing in thirty minutes, so you’d better get ready”, he grumbled. With those words, Bakugo plugged his earpods back into place, staring at his phone like it was about to explode, or worse.
His earpods— Ochako’s hand reflexively raised to her ear, unnecessarily confirming that the earpod Bakugo had lent her was gone. She felt a flush — an ugly, embarrassing whole face and neck flush — creep up at the thought of Bakugo brushing her hair back, and plugging the pod out of her ear while she slept.
Get a hold, girl, Ochako berated herself. Even if Miruko had plotted to send them both at the same place — and she had, obviously, which meant they were probably staying in the same resort — it didn’t mean that Bakugo would actually spend time with her. He’d probably do his thing by himself, and her, well, she’d do what she came here to do. Which was nothing, but a good nothing. Sleeping, swimming, and drinking cocktails by the pool.
Ochako was not sure why the perspective was not that appealing anymore.
As an only child, Ochako had always been used to entertaining herself. She enjoyed having company, but she didn't need it. She would surely make a couple of friends at the resort, anyway.
Looking around, Ochako noticed a still warm cup of coffee in her cup holder. That was… actually nice. Thoughtful. She’d have to thank Bakugo for that. Ochako cast a sidelong glance at Bakugo as she took a mouthful of the hot beverage, but he still was focused on his screen, and not acknowledging her in any way. Well, she had probably exhausted all of his thin patience with how she’d acted during this flight.
The island of Ishigaki was now clearly visible through the window. And what a sight! Turquoise water and white sanded beaches delineated the gently sloped island, covered in green hues, from the tropical rainforest to the softer tones of the cultivated fields and rice paddies. It looked like a tropical paradise, and Ochako felt her excitement mounting at the thought of her upcoming vacation.
The landing gear bumped on the runway upon landing, pushing a startled cry out of Ochako's throat. Immediately, Bakugo's eyes zeroed on her, the intensity of his gaze making her shift awkwardly in her seat. She let out a small, silly-sounding, embarrassed laugh, the kind of which always made her want to slap herself. Why was she acting like a fool beside Bakugo today? It wasn't like her at all.
Waiting for the first row to disembark just took an eternity, and Ochako uselessly fidgeted throughout it, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. She could practically feel Bakugo's eyes burning into the back of her head, although anytime she glanced at him, he was either checking his phone, or staring impatiently at the people already standing in the aisle.
When it came to their row, Ochako didn't follow Bakugo as fast as she could, instead letting a few passengers get between them. It was kind of giving him an easy out, not that Bakugo would even hesitate to ditch her if it was his plan, but Ochako wasn't sure, in this strange limbo born of burn-out, sleep deprivation and jet-lag, that she could manage a direct rejection.
When Ochako finally emerged from the plane into the terminal, Bakugo was nowhere to be seen. Ochako took some pride in quelling the burst of disappointment she felt tightening her chest. That was for the best, really. They already spent all their working time together, so taking a break during vacations was only sensible.
Ochako followed the flow of passengers to the baggage claim, trying to find her small pink suitcase among the few remaining pieces on the conveyor belt. It was not here. Oh, crap. Her case wasn’t here on the belt, and now the delivery was over, and there she was without spare clothes, or a toothbrush, or even her phone charger—just her frigging luck.
Stay calm — no big deal. Just breathe, Ochako.
“You coming, Cheeks?”
The words, uttered without their usual edge, startled Ochako with a sudden jolt running through her spine. Her eyes homed on the source almost instinctively. Bakugo stood a few meters from her, his bag thrown over his shoulder, and negligently holding the handle of her pink suitcase. The ghost of a smile on his lips, almost taunting, let her know that he was perfectly aware of the effect of his small prank on her. Grinning thoughtlessly, Ochako started to run toward him, crashing right into his chest (his loss for leaving it unguarded) as she activated her quirk on him.
The look on Bakugo’s face as he started to flip upside down, only anchored to the ground by his hold on her suitcase, was priceless.
“Oi, you let me go down that second, you crazy gravity freak!”
Ochako couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Bakugo upside down, his handsome face contorted in anger, and his eyes sparkling with something — frustration maybe at the impossibility to use his quirk in that place without causing a massive incident. He was at Ochako's mercy, and he knew it.
“What’s in for me?”, she asked, still grinning widely.
Bakugo rolled his eyes. “How about I don’t blast you and that suitcase of yours to cinders?”, he said, while trying to use his bag to prop himself back on the floor again. His fruitless effort only made his weightless body bump into Ochako's shoulder. She grabbed him to stop his spinning motion so she could look him in the eye.
“How about you made amends for playing me right now?”, she said in a jokingly menacing tone, tugging the strings of his hoodie to keep him at eye level.
Bakugo's eyes wouldn't meet hers when he replied. “Fine, I’ll buy you a meal.”
Ochako narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Since when did Bakugo admit guilt? Though that wasn't an apology-apology, but coming from him, that was almost unheard of.
“Tonight," Ochako said, tugging at his hoodie once more.
“Okay, tonight," Bakugo grumbled, still not sparing her a single glance.
This was suspicious as hell, but Bakugo had complied to her demand, so she deactivated her quirk, letting him land less than gracefully on his hands and knees.
Dusting his pants and arms, Bakugo gave Ochako a killing stare she tried her best to ignore. His face was redder than she ever saw it. She would have thought him more accustomed to the changes of gravity caused by her quirk by now.
"Let's go find a taxi," Ochako said. Her hands were still clammy from the adrenaline rush of teasing the dragon that is Bakugo Katsuki — and getting away with it.
Outside, Ochako blinked a few times under the morning sun before following Bakugo to to the head of the taxi lane.
"We're going to Kabira Beach resort," Bakugo told the driver, who nodded curtly in acknowledgement before putting their bags into the trunk.
Just the name of their hotel put Ochako in a state of pleasant anticipation. In the last three weeks, she had spent considerable time daydreaming about her stay there, her first true experience of luxury. It was a true 5 stars resort with top-level amenities and–
“Hey, Bakugo, wait," Ochako said, a thought creeping at the back of her mind suddenly coming to a realization, "isn’t the resort all-inclusive?”
Bakugo's self-satisfied smirk was all she needed to know. That little piece of shit never intended to buy her a meal. But, even so, Ochako couldn't stop smiling as they entered the taxi. These were not the vacations she envisioned until a few hours ago, but it didn’t matter.
Those were even better.