Archive of Our Own

It's around seven thirty, and the smell of tamagoyaki is wafting pleasantly through the air between them. Katsuki had truly outdone himself this morning. After a long two hours in the gym, Ochako’s stomach had been positively howling by the time they began to make their way back to the dorms. 

Katsuki, ever the observationist, had made the executive decision to sit her down on the couch and get to work at the stove as soon as they’d made their way to the kitchen. She had made some off-handed joke at him, calling him a ‘mother hen’, which landed her a wooden spoon to the head and a string of profanities.

Now here they were, bumping knees as they both sat on the same cushion of the couch, and Ochako could do nothing to hide the satisfied smile on her lips as they ate in silence. Katsuki didn't fare much differently, obliviously proud of his handy work as he hummed in approval every few bites. 

Things with Katsuki had grown… weird, since the start of third year. 

Within her first two years at UA, Ochako was well aware of who her close friends were. Of course, everyone in class A was her friend, that was a given, but Ochako had always been the type of girl to have a small circle of really important people, people who she could trust with any of her issues, life developments, and woes. Up until this year, her circle was very clearly made up of Izuku, Ashido, Tsuyu, Shoto, and Tenya. That was that. She could come to any of them, at any time, to talk about anything and it was perfect. Expected. Their friendships made sense. Up until recently, her circle made sense. 

She wasn't entirely sure when Katsuki had weaselled his name onto the roster.

Of course, she had her ideas. Maybe it had been when he picked her , out of everyone in 3-A, to be his partner for their end of first semester project. That had led to a lot of quality time. 

Maybe it was when she started going to the gym in the mornings, and he had demanded she start sparring with him as ‘a warm up’, eventually leading to them lining up the routines and training together. 

Maybe it had been when he started inviting her to the infamous “Bakusquad” hang out sessions. 

Either way, no matter what had been the thing to initiate it, Katsuki had become one of Ochako’s closest, most important friends.

And maybe a little extra.

Now, Ochako’s never been, like, a genius in the aspects of her love life. Ask a blubbering Izuku what had happened at the end of their first year, and he’d be wildly uncomfortable as he explained just how awkward her confession had been. 

She’s never been good at picking up hints, nor has she been good at laying them down, but in this particular situation, she doesn't think she needs any extra intelligence to read the room. 

As her friendship with Katsuki blossomed, something else accompanied it. Something careful, and small, and warm and beautiful. Before long, spending time with Katsuki in the gym turned into almost tripping over her shoelaces on the treadmill while she stared longingly at his arms. 

Katsuki pinning Ochako on the sparring mat had turned into a furious and honestly, really funny, blush corrupting his otherwise schooled expression.

Their classmates had picked up on the change in their relationship, obviously, and the teasing was absolutely merciless. When Katsuki had first invited Ochako into his dorm to watch a movie with him, she was partially thrilled, and partially concerned. What they had was wonderful. It was unspoken, but (hopefully) mutual, and she was more than happy to spend her extra hours in his company. 

But what if someone saw them? 

She’d argued this to Katsuki, tried to decline because of it, but he was persistent. He promised that he’d get her in and out of his room stealthier than ‘Invisi-bitch’ herself.

And that he did. 

So late night movies became a thing.

Laying on his bed together became a thing.

The occasional cuddle became a thing. 

Yes. Super totally platonic best bud activity. Right.

Now he and Ochako were here, stuck in this creepily domestic limbo that was less of a ‘Will they won't they’ and more of a ‘God damn when will they’.

A part of her thinks he hasn't asked her out yet due entirely to his massive ego and pride. He probably had some perception of ‘Ball’s in her court now’ that is entirely delusional and useless. Call her a traditionalist, but after what happened at the end of first year, Ochako will not be asking any more boys out.

Another part of her wonders if he’s never done this before. If maybe, this whole romance scene is as new to him as it is to her. Could he be scared? Ashamed of his inexperience? The thought didn't seem entirely unlikely. When Ochako had asked Izuku about Katsuki’s past love life, the boy had no answers for her. His goals have always been apparent, and romance was never involved in them. 

Not until now.

So now they're eating their tamagoyaki in comfortable silence, but a few questions are dancing on Ochako’s tongue as she watches him eat like he's been starved for years. 

“Hey,” His eyes snap up at her from the fork that was now frozen halfway towards his open mouth. “Have you ever been on a date?”

The question is a little random considering the context of their situation right now. What had once been a calm, peaceful silence, was now a staring match between Ochako’s pensive expression and Katsuki’s confused scowl.

Shovelling the food into his mouth lazily, Katsuki kicks his legs up on the coffee table in front of them and stretches back against the couch cushions lazily. 

She feels his fingers start to cart through through hair.

“A date?” He ponders, looking up at the ceiling for a second like he has to think about it. 

She really hopes he doesn't have to think about it.

Eventually he clicks his tongue and returns his gaze to her, shaking his head decidedly. “Hell no. I don't have time for that crap.”

“Oh,”

No time? That crap?

Maybe he hasn't asked her out yet because he didn't plan on doing it at all?

She feels his fingers still against her scalp for a moment, cursing herself for already missing the small circles he was rubbing into her head.

“Why?” He asks, feigning disinterest. “You… going somewhere?”

She frowns. Going somewhere?

Her eyes shift from where she’d dropped them, returning to his face in lieu of answers. The way he's looking at her is familiar. It's one of his many scowls, his upper-lip curled towards his nose in a disgusted and somewhat angry manner. She sees it most typically when he’s watching Izuku on the field or when he ranks anything but first in their quirk trainings. This look usually means he's either A.) plotting someone's physical demise, or B.) searing with jealousy.

It dawns on her that he's asking her if she’s got a date. And that he wants her to say no.

Her gut flips pleasantly at that. 

“No.” She says, and she tries not to think too hard about the way his fingers return to their massaging. 

He clicks his tongue juts his lower lip out.

“So why are you asking?” He grumbles. She almost laughs at the way he pouts.

She wiggles her butt on the couch to get closer to him, and his hand leaves her hair to curl around her shoulder comfortably.

“Was just wondering.” She hums, leaning her head on his bicep. “Do you think you'll ever date in the future?

“I dunno. Maybe.” His voice rumbles through his body under her ear, and she can feel his breath fan across her hair as he leans over to her and says, “Why are you asking me this, Ochako? Pinky put you up to this?”

She frowns. “No! Just- just wanting to get to know you better.”

“You know everything about me.”

Her face warms at this.

“Huh? No I don't.”

She's a bad liar, and he knows it too. But she's already dug this embarrassing hole, and she's not going to wait around for him to pull her out. 

He pulls back from her just a bit to give a sardonic look.

“Yeah, you do.”

She shakes her head.

“Nuh uh!”

He raises a brow at her, and she hates that he's so convinced he's right.

Shifting so he's now across from her, Katsuki retracts the arm that previously hugged her against him and crosses it over his chest alongside his other one. She mirrors his position.

“What's my favourite colour?”

“Orange, duh. Everyone knows that.”

“Shoe size?” He fires back.

“Ten and a half. But that's only because you made me replace your shoes after I threw up on them!”

That had been a particularly awkward development when they first started training together. That day had been full of screaming, gagging, kicking, and apologising. 

Except she did all of the apologising.

His lips twist into a sinful smile, recalling how pissy she had been about replacing the pair. 

“Fair is fair, Ochako.” He teases, repeating the words he had said to her that day. She flips him the bird and he laughs heartily. 

Maybe Tenya was right, Katsuki was rubbing off on her. 

Clicking his teeth, the boy sinks further into the couch, now throwing his legs into Ochako’s lap and smirking. She frowns back, but allows the contact. 

“What was my first and only pet’s name?”

She remembers this, but the information hadn't exactly come willingly from Katsuki. Or from him at all, for that matter.

“Her name was Princess and she was a cat. Izuku told me that, though, so it doesn't count.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but doesn't fight her on it. Izuku’s Katsuki knowledge had become free game for anyone in Class A at this point. He was basically a trivia topic amongst the teens.

“Go to Karaoke song?” 

“Life Is A Highway. You like Cars. You told me when we watched it, like, a month ago.” 

He’d also sung it at Kirishima’s birthday party last year. It was the one and only time anyone in Class A had ever heard the explosion hero’s singing voice before, and it had been annoyingly soulful. Leave it to him tk be good at literally everything.

It took a lot of convincing to get him in front of the mic, but when Kirishima had batted his eyes at Katsuki and used his singular birthday wish on his request, the boy was obligated to participate.

“I know I do.” Katsuki grins, and Ochako curses herself for answering all of his questions so honestly. Playing dumb bad never been her thing, but she feels like most of these details are common knowledge. On the other hand, a part of her also wants them to be common knowledge only for her.

Stupid feelings.

“What are my allergies?”

“Coconut and soy.”

“Dream vehicle?”

“Motorcycle.”

“What's my greatest fear?”

“Snakes.”

“What’s the colour of my moms phone case?”

“Red.”

Ochako’s eyes widen at the ease of which that sorituckar answer left her mouth. “Whoa. I actually don't know why I know that.” She gapes, trying to think back on the last time she’d seen Mitsuki.

Katsuki only smiles at her viciously. “Cause you know everything about me, Ochako. So why are you snooping around asking about my love life?” Arms still crossed, he leans close into her space, legs still sprawled out in her lap.“You curious?”

His expression is- well- it's smug as hell. For obvious reasons. Not only had he proved her dead wrong (he just loved to do that), he had also caught her red handed trying to get him to offer up details about any romantic past he might have. 

Implying that she wanted to know. Because she likes him. A lot. 

Smug asshole.

He's close enough for his breath to tickle her skin, just barely, and Ochako knows her face is an annoying pink. She refuses to acknowledge this, though, shoving his feet out of her lap and scooting away from him. 

“Definitely not.”

He laughs again, and she loves the noise. 

“We’ll see about that, Cheeks.” He teases, chasing after her on the couch until he's got his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, head pressed against her chest. She rolls her eyes at the way her hands immediately return the embrace. 

So it was an annoying pride-ego-game thing. How stupid. 

His hair tickles her chin as his breathing evens out, and it's about five minutes before he's sleeping peacefully in her arms. Class doesn't start for another hour, and she knows he's never been a morning person, so she lets him sleep. After all, he had made her a pretty killer breakfast.

But as for this game he's playing… No way she's letting him win this one. 

࿐ྀྀུུ ♡

Katsuki is very determined to win this game.

The game, Ochako has deduced, is a question of ‘Who asks who first?’. The question in question (cue funny drum set noise), being asking the other person out on a date. Leave it to her and Katsuki to turn something as simple as starting a relationship into some twisted competition.

She's informed Izuku of their makeshift game a little while after the couch debacle, to which Izuku said ‘I can't with this right now. I'm so tired of you two.’ And slammed his bedroom door in her face.

Ochako likes to think he's joking.

It's a Saturday night in the dorms now, and Ochako is squished between Kirishima and Shoto for game night. Monopoly is on the coffee table, and a few other of her classmates surround it while the rest of them chat idly in other areas of the commons. 

Kaminari is pleading to Momo with tears in his eyes to ‘spot him a couple mili’s’, Ashido is on the arm of the couch next to Kirishima whispering in his ear what to do next with his finances, and Shoto is studying his tiny metal dog game piece with a passive expression (he’s winning). 

It's Ochako’s turn, and she rolls doubles. Landing on yet another one of Momo’s many properties, she cringes and hands over the money, then rolls again. 

They hit the board and she frowns. 

Doubles a second time. 

Kirishima whistles lowly, and Ochako moves her top hat six spaces forward. The chatter amongst the monopoly gang has died down, and all eyes are on her as she shakes the dice in between her eight fingers. 

The room is silent as they watch the dice hit the board again.

Doubles a third time.

Claps and laughter immediately break out, Momo smiling behind a hand and Shoto clicking his tongue. Kirishima pats her back sullenly as Ashido cackles. 

“Ha! That's jail!” Kaminari snickers at her. 

Across the room on the loveseat, Jiro scoffs. “Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Your debt goes deeper than my granny’s grave.” 

He turns around to say something to her, but Katsuki sticks his head into the common room before he can say anything.

“Oi, Ochako.” He barks, everyone's eyes on him. He takes a quick sweep around the room with his eyes before returning his gaze back to where she sits on the couch. “C’mere.” He juts his finger towards the hallway in between the kitchen and the common room.

There's a cacophony of teasing as soon as she begins to stand, Ashido sending her a wink as she steps over Shoto’s feet to cross the distance between her and Bakugo. Kaminari yells something like 'use protection!’, which earns him a middle finger with a sparkling fingertip from a certain blond hero. 

Katsuki had been over the moon when he’d come up with that little trick, calling it ‘the sparkler’. Apparently, it took a lot more focus than one might think. Concentrating any and all explosions right on the top of one particular finger, Katsuki had to be consciously aware of just what part of his skin he wanted to activate his quirk on. Aizawa was not taken kindly to Katsuki’s new ‘training’ exercise.

Katsuki claims it adds just a little gravitas to his typical bird, and he’d debuted it last year at the Christmas party when Kirishima had dangled mistletoe over his and Katsuki’s head. Kirishima sank to the floor and sobbed that day, overcome with face splitting laughter while Katsuki continued to flick him off, though he was smiling too.

Now Ochako was walking up to Katsuki and pinching the tiny explosion until it fizzled out of existence, stealing the boy’s attention as he gazed down at where her fingertips wrapped around his own. 

“What's up?” She smiles, blinking up at him. His gaze is soft, red eyes searching her own for a moment, and her chest aches at the expression.

He stares for just a second longer before moving his other arm, one that she hadn't been paying attention to, and suddenly there's a spoon in front of her mouth with some kind of soup in it.

He prods her bottom lip with it. 

“Open.”

She blinks at the spoon, then at him. 

“Huh?” He wants her to try it?

He quirks a brow at her in silent confirmation, so she obliges, opening her mouth so he can (literally) spoon feed her. 

He lets her smack her lips a couple of times before he questions her.

“How is it?” 

She swallows, wiping at her mouth. “S’good.”

He nods to himself, and she's more than positive he'll return to the commons in approximately ten minutes with a bowl just for her.

She expects him to retreat back into the kitchen like usual, but he stays studying her. There’s a deliberate cough behind them, and she turns to see everyone's eyes still on their interaction. Kirishima gives them a thumbs up, and Shoto has a small shit-eating smile. Her cheeks warm. 

She turns back to him. “Is… that all?”

He blinks once, almost like he's waking himself up, and he quickly glances over her shoulder and scowls before turning his gaze back on her. “Yeah.” He grunts, pushing off the wall and ready to head back. He pauses before then, though, taking one last look at her before stopping. 

He smirks. “Oh, careful.” He begins, leaning far past her personal space bubble to closely examine something awfully close to her lips. “You've got something. Right-” He raises a hand, then pauses, catching her wide eyed gaze. “-Here.”

Gently, sinfully, he drops his gaze back down to her mouth and swipes his thumb over her bottom lip. 

She tries to hide the full body shiver she's experiencing, but she knows it won't work when he's towering over her but somehow still looking up at her from under golden lashes. For a second, her breath catches, and she's high on the feeling of his breath mingling with her own. For a second, she thinks maybe he'll kiss her. 

But he doesn't. He just stays there, lingering just over her mouth while he teases her like an ass. 

“See something you like?” He whispers, and it's corny, and if she heard that in a movie, she’d laugh. But she's not laughing right now. 

She’s actually pretty sure this is witchcraft, the way her veins light on fire and her eyes begin to drift closed. His scent is sweet and his breath is annoyingly pleasant, and she wants to kiss him. She wants to lose. To press herself to him in every way, fo feel his lips, to taste his tongue-

But he pulls away before she can, and with one last evil look, she's left gaping in the hallway all alone. 

Kaminari whistles, clapping his hands at the spectacle. “Jesus Christ , Uraraka. You're stronger than I am. I definitely would've folded by now.” 

There are plenty of murmurs in agreement, a few gagging noises, and a whole lot of snickers.

Ochako scowls. 

What a dumb game to play.

࿐ྀྀུུ ♡

A few days later Ochako knocks on Katsuki’s window three and a half times before he answers her.

When he finally hears the low rapping, he crosses the room to unlock the window with a small click. Ochako smiles as soon as he whisks it open, a little breathless from the chilly March air as she starts to climb in.

“Hey.” He greets, hands stuffed in his pockets. He's got a small smile, and she knows he's been waiting for her with the way he's got the TV on and the pillows made. Her heart warms at that, though she can't help but think he's amused at her as she finally fumbles to a stand in front of him.

She greets back anyway.

“Hey! I have the snacks. I got your text, by the way. Strawberry Pocky, just for you.” She offers her small grey bag to him and he grins, shoving his hand inside like a toddler and rummaging around until he finds his snack. 

“Perfect.” He smiles, satisfied. Ochako hums in response. 

He takes the box with him as he crosses over to his bed, kicking his feet up on a couple of pillows and getting comfortable. Ochako puts her bag down on a nearby desk, looking through the many snacks she had also bought for herself as she fishes out the two movie choices of the night. 

She speaks with her back to him. 

“You know I was a little surprised when you asked for them. Really doesn't seem like your kind of snack. I almost got the chilli-powder ones- you know the new ones? But I didn't want you acting all pissy so-” She clutches the two DVD’s and turns back to him with a grin. “I got those ones.”

She’d turned just in time to see him nibbling on one of the sticks. She has to bite back a laugh while he does it, reminded vaguely of the hillbillies back in Kansai who used to chew on straw. 

“Gooth choife, Chako.” She scowls playfully at him for speaking with his mouth full, but doesn't comment on it. He swallows, then sits up a bit, tossing the box to the side and glancing down at her hands. “What’s it tonight?”

She holds both DVD’s on either side of her shoulders, and he eyes them sceptically. 

“Spider-Man 2 or How To Train Your Dragon.”

“Where's Spider-Man 1?”

She shrugs. 

“I lost it.” 

Ochako had an extensive collection of old movie DVD’s. Since they were always piled up in clearance bins in grocery stores or convenience centres, throughout her life she oftentimes found herself rummaging through the baskets and boxes and bins until she found something to pop in the DVD player back home. When you're a teenage girl without Barbie dolls, video games, or the money to shop at a mall, forty cent movies are about as good as you could get. This process has led to a grand total of sixty eight different movies for present day Ochako and Katsuki to choose from. On movie nights like these, Ochako always brought two choices, and Katsuki was allowed to pick between them. They called it a 50/50 equal exchange on input, and yet somehow he always managed to surprise her with what he chose. 

Scrutinising the two, he eventually clicks his tongue and nods towards DVD number one. 

“Spider-Man 2. He’s got a cool quirk.”

Ochako huffs out a laugh at that, setting How To Train Your Dragon down on his desk and crossing over to the DVD player. “He's just a glorified Sero.” 

“Exactly. Sero would have a cool quirk if he had the charm and wit of Spider-Man.”

“So it's not about the quirk, it's your man crush on Peter Parker.”

She hears him scoff as she flicks the DVD player on and slides the disk in, standing to her feet and turning around just in time to catch his sassy expression. 

“I don't get man crushes, Cheeks.” He replies caustically. His lip is curled like he's offended, but they both know that he's feigning it for humour.

Ochako giggles at his defensiveness. “But you get lady crushes?” 

His eyes are glued to her as she kicks her slippers off on the side of his bed. “I don't get crushes, dummy.” She’d believe him if he didn't scoot over to make room for her on the bed, or if he didn't wrap his arm around her as soon as she sunk into the space next to him.

She snakes her arm underneath the material of his UA sweatshirt, and smiles at the warmth of his back. He rubs circles into her arm.

“Mm, I don't think I believe that.” She snarks.

“Shut up, loser. The movie’s starting.”

His lips are in her hair as he whispers.

What a sap.

Ochako doesn't even bother to watch the movie, instead opting to close her eyes and cherish the warmth of his embrace. 

“No crushes my ass.”

They don't delve into their typical cheesy movie commentary tonight. Ochako’s far too tuckered out from a long day of school, interning, and studying, and she can tell Katsuki can sense it. They don't always cuddle while watching movies, she's not entirely sure when they started, but she knows when he holds her, he's doing it because he wants to give her care. To show affection. To provide something, to be something for her. He's a hero in every way, always willing to save her or support her when she needs backup. Even if backup can take form in the power of a back message or a night in watching movies. 

She lets him take care of her like this, because she knows he wouldn't hesitate to let her do the same. Though he's grown exponentially since their first year, help still didn't come easy to him. She’d fought him tooth and nail for the right to be his support, to see him when he's down, and now she’d found it's a lot easier to catch him being vulnerable around her. 

She likes it. 

She likes him. 

Just a little while later, it doesn't feel like it's been two hours. The whole time Ochako’s mind has been shifting in and out of sleep, but when she gently stirs awake, the room is a whole lot quieter than she remembers when Katsuki’s warm breath fans over her ear.

“Tired?” He murmurs. Her spine tingles under the blanket of his voice. It's deep, sleepy, and soothing, like tea.

She hums in acknowledgement and he hums back. She lets her eyes close again, and he doesn't ask her to return to her room because of curfew.

For a few minutes they just lay there. She's fully tucked into his left side now, cold toes shoved under his sweats and arms up his shirt, and he's wrapped around her as best as he can be, chin placed carefully on the crown of her hair. Their breathing is synced, and she's so convinced that she could die happy in his arms.

She's so ready to fall asleep like this when the vibrations of his voice nudge her awake. 

“We should try that thing.” He grunts, shifting her lightly. 

She frowns, eyes still closed. “What thing?”

There's a pause.

“You know. The thing.” She can hear the annoying smile in his voice, and she wants to roll her eyes at him. Frowning harder, Ochako pinches his belly button and he squirms, giggling like a child. He's always been ticklish.

“The upside down kiss thing.” He laughs, the sound gravelly like tires on a worn out road. She wants to listen to it every moment.

“Mm, I don’t kiss random dudes.” Ochako teases, shifting just a bit before she blinks her eyes open. 

Since the movie began, it had only gotten darker outside, and now the only light in the room is Katsuki’s warm bedside lamp. It paints him in brilliant shades of gold and yellow, and his blond hair looks a lot like the sun to her from where she's tucked into his side. Beams of light surround his soft expression like a halo, and she's so convinced that any other person on the planet wouldn't recognize him when he looks at her. He's so different from the angry boy they all know. He's so much more than whatever villain they want him to be. He's her man, her hero. 

He's frowning down at her, but it's not real. Not when his eyes dance with amusement and fondness that she knows like the back of her hand. 

“I'm not random dudes.” He argues. 

Feeling cheeky, this time she’s the one to lean into his space, retracting her arm from his sweater to reach up and cradle his jaw. She's not crazy- his breath does stutter, and she can't fight the smile on her lips as she cranes her neck up to bump noses with him. 

“But you're not my boyfriend.” She whispers, so quiet she can't be sure he hears it. She's convinced he wants to kiss her, with the way his breathing stalls and his eyes flick, conflicted between her lips and her eyes. 

For a moment she thinks she's won, with the way he shifts to prop himself up on his elbows, but right after he moves he freezes, like he's just now remembering the game. She drops her hand and grins. 

Her shit-eating smile kills the mood thoroughly. Rolling his eyes, Katsuki forcefully shoves her off of him and she tumbles with the action, cackling as she flails off the bed before activating her quirk on herself just before she can hit the floor. 

“Get out of my room, loser.” He pouts. He then throws the cover over his shoulder, facing the other wall all jumbled and moody like some toddler who was just stuck in time out.

Ochako releases her quirk and giggles, crawling back onto the bed so she can kneel behind him. The mattress dips under her weight, and his whole body tilts just a little towards her. 

“Boo! Thought I had you.” She titters. 

His head snaps towards her over his shoulder like an owl, and she laughs harder at that than she probably would if she was more awake. “In your dreams.” He spits. 

She rears back to smack his butt. “Damn straight!”

“Out!”

࿐ྀྀུུ ♡

The following week, Ochako sits quietly at her desk while Aizawa drones on about the importance of flexibility in hero work. He's saying something about a gymnastics program he's set up for the class, and the collective groans and uncomfortable glances gauge the mood pretty accurately. Ochako doesn't mind, though. She's actually very naturally flexible. When she was a child she wanted to be a dancer or a gymnast, but never had the means to professionally train herself. If she's given that opportunity now, she won't be complaining.

She's still listening intently when a small paper ball lands on her desk. She blinks at it, confused for a moment. Turning in her chair she scans her classmates faces and it doesn't take long to realise who sent it over. Katsuki catches her gaze out of the corner of his eye and nods slightly towards the ball. She frowns and opens it. 

Written in annoyingly neat, perfectly punctuated handwriting, is a note. 

‘ Kiko’s later?’ 

She narrows her eyes. Is he seriously arranging dinner plans with her via note? In the middle of class no less? 

‘Sure. And stop throwing notes at me, you're going to get us in trouble, Katsuki.’

Doing her best to duck further behind Tenya, Ochako scribbles her reply and rolls it back to Katsuki on the floor. A few of their classmates send her questioning looks, but she ignores them, turning back to Aizawa like nothing happened. 

The ball returns to her desk, and she unfurls it with a frown.

‘You're such a priss. Aizawa’s geezer eyes probably couldn't even read this if he had a magnifying glass.’

Her eyes widen a bit at Katsuki’s confidence, not taken aback, but definitely not expecting him to be so forward. Everyone knows Mr. Aizawa had killer observational skills. It's what made him a great hero, what had saved their lives countless times. If he didn't eventually catch them now, he’d find out later one way or another.

Ochako writes her response, then crumples the paper a third time, passing it behind her back. 

'You're going to eat your words.’

Not even a full ten seconds pass before she feels it hit her in the knee. Bending over then opening it again, Ochako’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

‘Make me.’

Looking over her shoulder, she quirks a brow. He's looking back with his cheek resting on his fist and his signature asshole smirk. 

Well, isn't someone cocky?

Turning back to Mr. Aizawa, Ochako smiles to herself, then swats the paper off her desk. It falls to the ground next to Tsuyu’s foot, and she looks at Ochako quizzically. Ochako only hums. 

“Oops.”

She says it just loud enough for Aizawa to take notice. Pausing his writing on the chalkboard, his leaden gaze is now on her over his shoulder.

“Uraraka, is there something wrong? Or are you disrupting my class for no reason?”

Ochako can feel Katsuki’s eyes drilling holes into the back of her head, and she smiles even wider at the prospect of him squirming in his chairs 

“No sir, nothings wrong.” She smiles, but she makes a big show of picking up the note that's on the floor. It’d be impossible to miss, and at this point, if Aizawa didn't see, the rest of their class sure did with the way they’d all turned to watch Ochako.

She picks it up between two fingers and pretends to discreetly place it in her blazer pocket, but Aizawa isn't having it.

Sighing loudly, the tired man shuffles towards her desk near the front of the room and pauses just in front of Tenya, who was also staring at her with horror. 

He looks like even he doesn't want to do this, but everyone knows about Aizawa’s note passing policy. It was thoroughly established in first year when Ashido had tried to pass Kirishima a note demanding test answers. Both of them had ended up in after school supplementary hours, though everyone agreed Kirishima's punishment was unjust.

“Give me the note.” He lazily outstretches his hand out to her, and Ochako couldn't be happier to drop the paper in his palm. Aizawa’s scarred fingers curl over it as he slowly retreats back to the front of the class, and Ochako sneaks a glance back at Katsuki. If looks could kill, she’d be incinerated.

Huffing out a dramatic sigh, Aizawa turns back to the students, ignoring Ashido’s overjoyed smile and Izuku’s nervous expression.

“Since Uraraka seems to think wasting class time communicating via paper with her classmates is a smart decision, I'll go ahead and read aloud what's so important that it must be tended to over her education.” The class breaks out into fits of giggles and whooping noises, Kirishima and Kaminari nudging Katsuki playfully as he struggles not to blow a fuse, and Izuku and Tsu shooting Ochako questioning looks. She doesn't let this affect her, though, instead training her eyes on Aizawa’s lackadaisical expression and smiling pleasantly. 

He reads the entire interaction in a monotone, emotionless voice.

“‘ Kiko’s later? Sure. And stop throwing notes at me, you're going to get us in trouble, Katsuki. You're such a priss. Aizawa’s geezer eyes probably couldn't even read this if he had a magnifying glass.’” He pauses here, looking over the small paper towards Katsuki. The boy in question has sunk so far down in his seat, he may as well be on the floor. Kirishima is sobbing into his hands. Kaminari is beaming. “ 'You're going to eat your words. Make me.’” 

Aizawa blinks tiredly at the note a couple of times before folding it up and returning his gaze to the boy who caused this in the first place.  Red eyes glowing and narrowed, Aizawa tips his chin a little further over his scarf and crosses his arms. “Bakugo.” Ochako beams, turning around to stare innocently at the boy. 

Aizawa continues. “Maybe my geezer eyes didn't catch this interaction, but I can clearly see that you are out of dress code.” Katsuki’s eyes widen and Ochako looks down at his completely put together uniform. Well, completely put together sans his tie. 

Her head whips back to Aizawa who most definitely is enjoying this smug interaction. His eyes are dancing with mischief, but his lips don't betray him. They stay pressed in a firm frown. 

Turning away from the class, Aizawa takes a few seconds to scribble something on a pink sheet of paper before turning back around. He strides effortlessly over to Katsuki and drops the slip on his desk. 

“Please go down to the principal Nezu’s office so he can put your referral into the database and return to my classroom immediately.” There's a pause, Katsuki with his fist clenched angrily and Aizawa with a pensive expression. Then, the older man cracks a minuscule smile. “ With a tie.” 

The class erupts into a fit of hoots, hollers and laughter. Kaminari pats Katsuki’s back as he stands, and Kirishima wipes at his tears. As he walks down the aisle, Katsuki makes sure to kick Ochako’s chair leg with his shoe. 

“I hate you.”

His voice is barely a grumble over the chaos of their class, but she hears it just fine. Music to her ears.

࿐ྀྀུུ ♡

Ochako sits across from Katsuki at Kiko’s. Even though he’d been pretty peeved at her for what she pulled in class today, he’s still banged on her door around eight nonetheless. Now they were here, bathed in the warm light of the three star restaurant (two whole stars more than the restaurants Ochako was used to) and surrounded by cheesy jazz music and elderly couples. There's not a lot of sound outside of idle chattering and the sibilance of silverware, but the atmosphere is elegant. Katsuki sits across from her in a sleek button down and slacks, and she mirrors his dress code in her good skirt and fancy sweater. 

This isn't the first time they’d come here together. About once or twice a month, Katsuki will convince Ochako to join him at an actual dine-in restaurant one on one. She's not sure why this started initially, but now she knows exactly why she sits across from him. The answer is simple enough. 

It's because he wants her to. 

A place like this isn't somewhere Ochako would typically find herself on her own accord, but as her relationship with Katsuki developed, she found herself in many positions she wouldn't typically seek out. Finer dining was only just one of them. 

Cutting into his steak like there's no tomorrow, Katsuki glares at her grumpily, still stuck on her shenanigans from earlier. 

“You're such a loser for that, Chako.” He mumbles, shoving the piece of meat into his mouth.

She only hums in response, twirling her pasta around her fork. 

“Mm, it's what you get.”

He kicks her under the table and her water sloshes in her cup. “That's my third referral this semester.” He emphasises ‘third’ like it's her fault he blew up those urinals. 

“Two more and you're out.” 

“Exactly! You gonna expel me right before graduation? That's low .”

Ochako laughs at that, reaching over to stab some of his steak with her fork. He bats her away with his knife, but it's obvious he isn't trying too hard to protect the food with the way she eventually pokes his thumb causing him to surrender. She snatches a piece and chews it happily. 

“It wouldn't be your third one this semester if you'd just behave.” She snarks. 

He rolls his eyes at this, but doesn't say anything to argue. She knows he knows she's right.

“Eat your food, woman.”

The rest of the night is spent over delicious food and enthralling conversation. Ochako cries laughing a grand total of three times over the hour and a half they spend there, and Katsuki spends the whole night watching her like she's a sky full of fireworks. She wonders if he thinks she can't see him when he stares.

When the waiter comes by to ask for the check, Ochako knows better than to reach for her purse. The first time Katsuki had taken her out to a restaurant like this, she’d attempted to split the bill. After about twenty minutes of arguing, a very nervous and honestly victimized waitress, Ochako’s wallet had been singed that night, and he’d warned her to ‘fucking try that shit again, Pink Cheeks. I dare you.’

Now Ochako’s standing from her chair as he pulls it out for her, smoothing out the wrinkles in her 'totally not a date with Katsuki’ skirt. She looks over her shoulder to toss him a small smile, and her chest swells when he returns the favour. It's not his insane, viscous battle smile, or an arrogant smirk. It’s a small, genuine, adoring smile. The usual furrow in his brow is relaxed, his hand is hovering gently over the small of her back, and he's bathed in the orange glow of the fake candles adorned on the walls around them. If she wasn't careful, she'd call him an angel.

Eventually they make it out of the restaurant and begin their walk back to UA. It's dark out, so harsh street lights are really the only light source they have, but even under fluorescents she's drawn to his carmine eyes like a moth to a flame. They walk side by side, and the elbow of her sweater grazes his forearm. Their knuckles repeatedly brush against each other, and Ochako does everything she can to ensure it keeps happening. 

The silence between them is comfortable, like a blanket or a good winter coat, and she studies him out of the corner of her eye for a long while. The only sound between them for a while is crickets, the wind, and his boots scuffing against the sidewalk.

A question bobs in her throat, so she indulges herself. 

“So why’d you take me here?”

She sees him steal a glance at her from under his lashes, but he ducks further into his coat as he answers, “Do I need a reason to take you out?”

Her face warms and she knows he's grinning like a wolf behind his collar. “It's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything.” 

He barks out a laugh at that. “Ain't that a shame,” he smiles, ducking forward a bit to send her a very pointed and sarcastic look. It reads something along the lines of ‘you could be my girlfriend very easily.’ 

She shoves his shoulder and rolls her eyes, giggling as she says, “I'm not asking you, Katsuki.”

He shoves her back, but grips her elbow before she can stumble too far.

“And I ain't losing, Pink Cheeks.”

“So dating me is losing.” 

“That's not what I- Fuck you.” Katsuki scowls at her, dropping her elbow to flick her forehead. Ochako tries to ram her face into his palm like a cat, but he reads it back before she can actually accomplish anything. She laughs at his prickly movements, sticking her tongue out like a kid. From here, she can see UA’s gates from across the street. She feels her smile fade as they inch closer with every step. Why does every perfect night have to end?

They walk in silence for a few more paces, and Ochako’s pinky brushes Katsuki's thumb. She doesn't think much of it directly after the brief contact, but her breath catches when her hand is suddenly encompassed in the warm, calloused feel of his palm. 

Eyes wide, Ochako stares down at their interlocked hands before whipping her head back up to him. His eyes are still straight ahead, but she knows he sees her gape at him. 

“What are you doing?” She blurts. 

His answer is simple. 

“Holding your hand.”

But he's never held her hand before, so none of this is really all that simple. The game comes to mind, his lips fanning over hers, her fingers ghosting over his jaw. Every kiss she wishes they'd shared, every not-date they've been on. He drags her along towards the crosswalk. 

Ochako stumbles over her own shoes after him. He's holding her hand. He's holding her hand, in public, like a boyfriend would do with his girlfriend. Like how an official couple would. Like how she's wanted him to. 

She plants her feet and rears to a halt. His body jerks ahead of her, but he stops too, turning to her with a raised brow and bored expression. 

For a moment, she just makes faces at him like a fish. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, and the whole time he looks like he's trying not to laugh while simultaneously memorising the patterns in the pores of her skin. 

Finally, she speaks. 

“Why?” Her voice sounds dumb, and the question is dumber. He notices this, she knows, and he rolls his eyes at her typical aireheaded expression.

“Why not?” He grunts. 

She frowns, tugging on their hands. “Cause-”

He tugs back with an aggressive amount of force, and she collides with his chest like some k-drama protagonist. It really is cheesy, what he's done. Her hands are balled up against his chest, and he's swift to wrap his other arm around her waist, essentially trapping her body against his. Ochako’s blushing furiously, wearily eyeing the now incredibly nearby gates of UA before looking back over at the boy. 

He's got a painfully neutral expression on. Not painful for her, but it seems, for him. His brows quiver as they try not to break from their straight angles, and she sees the muscles in his cheeks twitching as he tries hard to frown. His eyes, though, say it all. Glittering like stolen ruby’s, they're too soft to burn. What’s usually molten lava trapped in a stare, is now a warm fire lighting her ablaze as the cool spring air nips at her nose. She watches, breathlessly, as his eyes travel from her hairline down to her chin. He reads her like a book, studies her like an equation, worships her like an angel. He does it all in his eyes.

His voice, low and quiet, leaves her mind fogged and clouded with emotion and hunger. 

“Date me.”

And then he's finally kissing her. 

Gently, slowly, softly, Katsuki's lips are finally on her. His mouth fits her own like a glove, and she finds it in herself to free her hands and wrap her arms around his neck. She wants him- no, needs him closer, so she constructs around him like a trap.She knows she's smiling against his lips, she can feel him laugh at her into her mouth, but she can't care about that right now because she's too preoccupied with bursting at the seams for him. His arm tightens around her, pulls her impossibly closer, and he cradles her head with his hand like if he doesn't, she'll fall away.

The kiss doesn't last forever, they need air, but pulling away is a chore for the both of them. Months of waiting and dancing around it can do that to someone. 

Chasing contact with her, Katsuki presses his forehead to her own. His bangs tickle her hairline. 

Catching her breath, Ochako’s convinced that her face will crack in half if she smiles any harder. Peaking at him through her lashes, she laughs breathlessly. “You don't just get to tell me to date you-”

He cuts her off with another small kiss, and she can definitely get used to these newfound rude interruptions. 

“I ain't asking.” He swoops in for another short one, pulling away again after just a few short moments. “Come on, compromise for me.” He whispers, smile wide and eyes stupidly cute. This time he kissed her nose. “You know I hate losing, baby.”

She could melt away in his arms right now, but instead she chooses to laugh. He looks like he wants to chase the sound as the wind carries it away.

She knew he would break first. 

“ Fine .” She sighs, and he clicks his tongue victoriously. “But just cause you didn't lose doesn’t mean I didn't win.” She clarifies. Compromise is compromise, and if anyone's a winner right now, it's definitely Ochako. 

Finally, he lets her go, but not without re-tangling their hands. He nods at her, smiling like he’d just won a gold medal in girlfriend-getting. “Deal.” He sighs. 

That night, Ochako sleeps in his dorm, in his arms. They watch cheesy movies, but don't get halfway through the first ten minutes without kissing the life out of one another. They date for the rest of the school year, their classmates all extremely relieved and simultaneously exasperated to see them walk into class with linked hands, and in no time, they're heroes of Japan together .

Life moves on, and so do they. Ochako is perfectly able to support her parents and gets a little apartment near her agency with Miruko, though Katsuki doesn't allow that for too long before he barks at her over dinner at his place, ‘Move in’.

She moves in.

For about two years after that, they work with separate pros here and there, until one night, Katsuki turns over in bed to grumble,‘Start an agency with me’.

Her parents draw up the plans, and soon enough, Ochako and Katsuki open up Dynavity And Co.

Barely even six months pass before he's on his knees at Kiko’s.

‘Marry me’ 

She does. 

She cries at the wedding, though he cries harder, and they spend their honeymoon in Europe.

She's got him pinned for the hundredth time on one of the training mats in the gym they own when he blurts,

‘Have my kid’ 

Two years later, she does.

It seems like Katsuki never got used to asking her for things, still living in a game of his own, but Ochako is more than ok with that. So far, his demands and stupid games have given her a beautiful family, a wildly successful hero career, and a loving piece of ass she can call babe. What more could a girl ask for?

Thankfully Ochako hadn't had to ask for any of it.

As she lays in bed, her baby boy tucked into her arms while her husband snores on her shoulder, the children's book in his hands long forgotten, Ochako thinks that in the long run, she won this one. 

Suck on that, Katsuki.