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October had proven to be an unnaturally chilly season, sweeping sickness through the hero academy, UA High. The student body had dwindled down, leaving classes far emptier than usual, as well as the supplies in the nurse’s office. Not wanting to be caught without a cold compress or a stack of clean masks, Midoriya Izuku had taken it upon herself, as the nurse’s assistant, to restock and organize the office, keeping everyone as happy and healthy as they could be.
Unfortunately, this meant that she’d missed a portion of class and would need to catch up with borrowed notes, or risk losing out on vital information that might be relevant to their upcoming exams.
When she found her seat again amongst the chattering students, Midoriya looked in front of her for the person she always checked with first, Bakugou Katsuki. However, the tenacious blonde was nowhere to be found, both his seat empty and his presence completely void from the room.
She could wait for him. He had probably just stepped out for a moment.
… Or he could have been dragged out of the class for disrupting the peace by smacking Kaminari Denki for asking an off topic question.
… Or he might have shouted in Uraraka Ochako’s face for standing up for someone like Kaminari, who was a bit slow on the uptake and received daily groaning from quite a few classmates for his cockamamie schemes.
Bakugou always meant well, but he was sometimes a little too brash or stubborn in his opinions to the point that their homeroom teacher was more than happy to drag him out by the length of his heroic weapon: a capture scarf. Long and gray and nearly alive, Midoriya had seen it on more than one occasion wrap around the louder students, dragging them toward their teacher to be quieted down and mildly threatened.
Moderately threatened, in Bakugou’s case.
Midoriya stared at Bakugou's seat, crossing his fingers that his over active imagination was only a tragic nightmare.
Hopefully he’d only gone to the bathroom...
Midoriya didn’t want to bother any other groups of students who seemed to be enthralled, talking and waving pieces of paper around. They must have been given something new to read. She’d need the handout. That was a great place to start! By the time she was done reading it, Bakugou should be back and she could just get notes from him without troubling anyone else.
She worried her bottom lip while glancing around the front of the class to see if there was a stack of papers where she could snag her own copy. Beside her, she spied Sero Hanta with swathes of the white tape his body produced wrapped tightly around Kirishima Eijirou’s arm, hardened with his own body’s power, playing a game of tug-o-war. Their teacher rested at the front of their class, a head of shaggy black hair barely visible through a hole in a yellow sleeping bag that was half tucked behind his desk.
The papers, however, weren’t to be found.
There was little time to contemplate where the extras may have gone due to a pale face with a distinctive scar covering the skin around his left eye invading her view. Todoroki Shouto plopped down and sidled up to her desk with a chair of his own.
Catching her breath, Midoriya jumped in her seat, Todoroki’s impromptu entrance being unexpectedly close.
“Midoriya-chan. You’re perfect.” The boy spoke, unphased, his eyes scanning her face before holding her gaze, a small smile tugging at the end of his lips like he’d just discovered that she’d been in his class for the last few months.
Midoriya squeaked, an awkward laugh rolling between her lips as she smoothed her hands over her gray school jacket and green uniform skirt. She gripped the end of her seat, eyes flashing down to her desk as she tried to collect herself.
They were in the middle of class and Todoroki Shouto, top of Ashido Mina’s unofficial cutest boys in the hero course list that she rattled off nearly every lunch, had unabashedly flirted with her.
He was also near the top of the class in grades, a much more important standing in their heroics course (no matter how much Ashido insisted that it was secondary when it came to their heroic images).
Why wasn’t he doing his work?
Why was he leaning toward Midoriya and studying her face and smelling warm and fresh like he’d just stepped out of a shower when they’d been in class all day?
“Do you not agree? I think it’s pretty obvious.”
She laughed again, the cadence off beat as she felt her hands begin to slip against the edge of the chair.
“Oh, er, I don’t think anyone is perfect, Todoroki-kun.” She glanced up, Todoroki’s face somehow even closer than before. Todoroki was a marvel of mishmashed aesthetics that coalesced into what Midoriya was realizing, Ashido was not wrong about. His hair somehow fell perfectly in place, the red half barely brushing into the white half to frame his equally contrasting gray and blue heterochromatic eyes, startling in contrast against the scar that gave him a rough edge to match his stoic tone.
He reached out then, placing a hand on her cheek, thumb running over the freckles that dotted below her green eyes, as bright as the curls atop her head, “Oh, I think you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”
She thought that Todoroki Shouto was supposed to be modest and headstrong and respectful of the boundaries that a classroom entailed when it came to any kind of advancements.
This was all too sudden. Too public.
Stiffening in her seat, Midoriya shook her head, closing her eyes. “Uh, I’m not so sure here is the right place to be talking about any of this.”
“Well, we have to decide today. We can’t wait another second.”
She reached up and grabbed his arm, eyes bursting open.
It was a full blown confession.
In the middle of class.
Why on earth was everyone completely ignoring what was happening?
“This is not like you, Todoroki-kun. You’re not thinking clearly!”
“Ah, that’s right, I should probably check… have you kissed anyone, Midoriya-chan?”
Midoriya frantically looked around the room to spy her friend Uraraka on the opposite side, animatedly talking to a couple of the other girls, oblivious to what was occurring.
Did nobody see that Todoroki Shouto was practically begging her to be his girlfriend?
She’d never even had a boyfriend! That sort of luxury was reserved for those that weren’t spending their days and nights training to be a hero and house a quirk that, by all rights, probably shouldn’t have been able to be contained in their body. Midoriya barely registered any of the boys in the hero course, save when Uraraka would point out how everyone was surprised the brash Bakugou Katsuki, who appeared to dislike people for nothing more than breathing in his direction, was capable of walking Midoriya home every day without fail.
But they weren’t dating.
They’d just known each other for practically their whole lives.
Boys you dated should smell like the baths in the middle of the day.
Bakugou smelled like the smoldering embers of a campfire and an adventure through the woods to catch bugs in the summer.
And he was wrenching Todoroki Shouto’s hand from where it had been reaching for Midoriya once more, pining it to the table, looming from the opposite side of the desk, looking like he’d just seen his classmate wounding a defenseless animal, “Hands to yourself, Half-and-Half!” He leaned over Midoriya’s desk, oozing bravado and fuming from every pour, “Why are you over here anyway? Get back to your own fucking seat.”
Not one to be deterred, and certainly one to disregard Bakugou’s anger like it was a fly buzzing around the room, Todoroki leaned in. Midoriya watched as, in front of her eyes, Todoroki’s hand lifted and slid into Bakugou’s thick blonde hair, deft fingers assessing its quality, “I’m on a mission, and I think you would be the ideal other half for what we need.”
“We?!” Midoriya squeaked.
Was Todoroki trying to suggest that they were an item and Bakugou was being invited in as some sort of third party to round out a three way date?! Ashido had mentioned something about group dates, but Midoriya had always thought those were a cadre of boys and a gaggle of girls going out to eat food and sing karaoke, not one girl being bombarded by multiple suitors.
Red rushed up Midoriya’s neck, turning her into a rouged mess, stuck between two boys, when she’d never been subject to being cornered by even one.
“That would be a third, dumbass.” Bakugou shook his head, smacking Todoroki’s hand away. His other hand popped with small explosions at the end of Midoriya’s desk. “And I ain’t interested in whatever you’re offering.” He growled, hand lifting to gesture to Midoriya, “Neither is she.”
Small sparks left Bakugou’s hand, dropping onto Midoriya’s skirt. She hopped up, smacking them away, smelling the singeing of threads, a tell tale sign a hole would burn right through her pleats. I'm the chaos, she managed to smack Todoroki’s face with her flailing limb. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” Midoriya reached round and tried to hold his shoulder to assess the damage, instead grabbing his tie and pulling him close.
“What the hell, Deku?” Bakugou hopped back in surprise, before noticing his quirk had unwittingly fallen onto Midoriya’s clothes, “Oh shit!” He reached out to pat her skirt, but her quick movements toward Todoroki had turned her round, causing Bakugou to instead smack her behind.
Midoriya’s eyes grew wide, gasping as she held onto her backside, looking over at Bakugou who was turning a similar shade of red that was already gracing Midoriya’s features. Todoroki, meanwhile, a victim of momentum, fell into Midoriya. One hand braced himself on the desk, the other found her hip, and his face smashed against her cheek.
It was possible all the blood had left Midoriya’s heart, turning her skin candy apple red.
Todoroki’s lips left her cheek. Then, in her ear, Midoriya heard his voice as his nose nudged the short curls trailing along her hairline, “Your skin is remarkably soft. Should make kissing a non-issue.”
Everything was too real.
Too immediate.
Too much of something she realized she didn’t want from Todoroki.
He was nice.
He was charming.
He was clean and fresh and all the things she should have liked…
But it all felt very wrong the second he’d slammed into her, and not only because they were in the middle of class and he was exceedingly forward with no restraints.
He just didn’t feel right.
Was that possible?
Midoriya’s skin lit up with green streaks as she placed a hand on his chest and shoved back, her quirk activating as her very soul attempted to remove her from the situation.
Todoroki flew across the room, desks stacking up with him, skidding into the opposite wall with a sheet of ice erupting from his hand to stop his quick departure, cradling him in a cocoon with the desks behind him. Shock and awe erupted in the classroom as people ran to Todoroki and others to Midoriya, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Maybe you should be the knight instead, Midoriya-chan.” Todoroki was just as much surprised by the small girl’s power, holding a hand to his chest where he’d been shoved.
“Mido-chan! What happened?!” Uraraka appeared in front of Midoriya’s face, her brown bob swaying from side to side as she took her friend’s hand and stuck her face close as if she’d be able to sense the entire conversation that had just occurred by pulling it from the other’s eyes. That wasn’t her quirk, but Midoriya really wished it was right then, because she didn’t know how to even begin to form her frustration at not a single person in class having stopped Todoroki when he’d begun his advances.
“Wait!” Bakugou stomped a foot in the ground, pointing at the boy who’d been flung across the classroom, “What do you mean knight? What the hell kind of sicko roleplay you trying to pull on her, asshole?”
Summoned from the depths of his desk, their teacher rose, hair floating above his head, eyes flashing on the entire group, stopping their quirks in their tracks. Bakugou’s agitated explosions ceased, Todoroki’s misty cold breath halted, and the green on Midoriya’s skin faded to only leave her peachy complexion that had faded from the brightest of blushes. His voice groaned, disturbed and restless, as his bloodshot eyes surveyed the room, “I thought I told you all to make decisions quietly.”
“Sorry, Sensei!” Iida Tenya ran up to the front of class, leaving Todoroki behind after he’d rushed to his side to assist him in getting upright, “It doesn’t seem like Bakugou or Midoriya want to take on the roles for the festival play that Todoroki was offering.”
“Play?” Both Bakugou and Midoriya answered in confused unison.
“Oh, that’s right! You were in the nurse’s office!” Uraraka tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes rolling to the ceiling, “Todoroki wasn’t catching you up to speed?”
“More like he was trying to catch her skirt in his goddamn hand!” Bakugou snapped.
“Todoroki-kun!” Iida turned back to his friend, mouth agape, “You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t what?” Entrenched in just as much confusion as Bakugou and Midoriya, Todoroki looked from Iida, over to the embarrassed girl and the fierce boy over her shoulder.
“Don’t play dumb!” Bakugou shouted, “You were all over her,” He huffed, “and me!”
Midoriya covered her face with her hands, holding in her flustered screech as the blonde behind her drew more attention their way.
Aizawa focused on the boy beside the stack of disheveled desks, “What’s the meaning of this Todoroki-kun?”
Dusting off the remnants of ice that had clung to his jacket, Todoroki stepped forward as he spoke, “I was doing the job assigned to me. Casting.” He shook his head, a few sparkling pieces of his partially melting quirk casting an effervescent glow over him, “I thought I’d start with our leads. The warrior princess and her faithful knight.”
Bakugou once again reared up, fist clenched at his sides, “Who you callin’ a princess?”
“I…” Midoriya gulped, hands falling from her face, “I think that’s me?”
“Precisely.” Todoroki nodded, gesturing to Midoriya as he spoke to Aizawa, “She’s undoubtedly the cutest girl in class, and she can throw a pretty dangerous punch.”
The hands returned halfway up Midoriya’s face as she looked out at the class who were muttering in agreement.
“And Bakugou-kun,” The boy continued, “Is dangerous enough to be anyone’s guard.”
She glanced up at Bakugou who had stepped forward a moment before. His mouth grimaced in something that looked both annoyed and prideful.
“Right… so, you were—”
“And,” Todoroki interrupted their teacher for his final point of order, looking over at his choice actor and actress for their class’s cultural festival entertainment, “Most people in the class seemed a little nervous when we talked about it in the script, but they’re close enough that I think they wouldn’t be bothered by sharing a kiss.”
Bakugou’s face fell, and Midoriya’s heart with it.
A kiss?
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Midoriya had never been so happy for class to end!
… Or more nervous to walk home.
She’d tried to take off quickly, leaving before Uraraka could hound her about the incident in class or ask her why she’d accepted the role when she’d been in such a tizzy that she’d tripped twice while exiting the classroom, nearly spilled her entire bag after pulling on her shoes in haste. Half formed sentences and pleas from Uraraka to slow down and relax had gotten nowhere, and were silenced with a yell from the person that Midoriya had been trying to escape the most: Bakugou.
They lived a couple blocks away from one another.
They walked to and from school together all the time.
They just had never done so with the looming knowledge over their heads that they were paired off and coupled by the entire class.
Bakugou grumbled the entire way, seemingly annoyed at his ‘obligation’, even though he was the one who had been insistent that Midoriya not walk home alone. He got this way sometimes: Wanting company but not wanting to admit it. She’d seen it out of him ever since they were young. The biggest difference this time was that Midoriya wasn’t filling the space with one-sided conversation. It was excruciatingly quiet between the exaggerated sighs and rock kicking and string of curses that Midoriya wanted to compliment on their creativity if not for the sea of tension swirling around them.
The train they took toward their neighborhood rattled along the tracks, giving a new soundscape to fill up the space between them. Sitting on the bench while Bakugou hovered over her, Midoriya took a deep breath, mustering up the strength to fix Bakugou’s mood and save their class a heap of trouble by trying to wrangle him as a star player in their production.
“Kacchan?”
He grunted at the childish moniker, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Midoriya.
“You… you don’t have to do it… if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I like standing.” Bakugou shrugged, looking over at the bar he was holding onto.
Midoriya sighed, shaking her head.
Of course he’d only see the immediate first. He was so reactionary. It made for quick thinking in their training to be heroes, but was a poor view of the world when you tried to talk to him about consequences beyond their current space. They weren’t in the classroom, so the question couldn’t be about class.
“I mean, the play.” Midoriya squeezed onto her bag a bit tighter when Bakugou let out a confused groan, lip curling up, looming closer, “Your part, at least. You could do something else. I’m sure Kirishima wouldn’t mind being the knight, or Todoroki could do it as a back-up…”
“No.” Bakugou bluntly answered, eyes trailing to the side.
“But you could just ask—”
“I said no!” He declared, red eyes flashing back to Midoriya, hand gripping the bar tighter.
Midoriya squeaked, the bag squashing even further against her until a book fell out. She desperately tried to grab it, but in the process tipped the top of the bag out of her arms.
Bakugous grabbed her shoulder, and the bag with it. Kneeling down, he captured the contents before they spilled.
“Than maybe you could—”
“No one else is going to kiss you, alright?” He muttered through clenched teeth, eyes downcast.
The train stopped.
Their exit chimed over the speaker.
Midoriya wasn’t sure she’d be able to move, until Bakugou grabbed her bag in one hand and her fingers in the other, pulling her out of the seat.
“Come on.” He insisted, sling her bag across his shoulder, “You’re clumsy as hell. I’m keeping this.” She barely had time to hum out an approving tone before Bakugou was dragging her off the train so they wouldn’t miss their stop.
He was going to play the knight.
He was going to run away with her from the castle and defend her from the evil queen…
And kiss her.
Because no one else could?
Bakugou was still holding onto her hand as they left the train station, gentle in its firmness despite the way his feet stomped along the ground. He had always held so much bravado with his stance, wide feet smashing their way around a doorway, declaring his existence in the weightyness of his movement and the deliberate snarls of judgement.
What no one else saw was this. What Midoriya always knew.
The Bakugou who wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
Who protected her even when she could hold her own.
Who didn’t want to see her uncomfortable in her awkwardness, whether it was from losing her bag, or from kissing someone for the first time in front of an audience of their peers.
Her face felt hot and hands tingled where Bakugou gripped her.
If it wasn’t uncomfortable with him.
Did that mean that she thought it would be comfortable?
He’d seemed so ill at ease when Todoroki implied anything about kissing though.
“Wait, Kacchan.” Bakugou continued on ahead, crossing a street, heading into the streets where they lived. “Kacchan!” Midoriya tugged back, holding her feet steady, locking her fingers into his to stop his march.
His arm straightened. He didn’t let go.
“What?”
“I… uh…” Midoriya stared at the back of Bakugou’s head, which was resolutely looking down the street before them, “No one has to kiss anyone. We’ll… maybe they can write it out?”
Bakugou's shoulders flexed underneath his coat, rolling back and down. He continued to look forward, holding Midoriya's hand as the sun began to sink toward the horizon, signaling the oncoming evening.
“Whatever, Deku. It’s just a kiss.”
She ripped her hand back from Bakugou's grasp, holding it close to her chest.
“You just said that I couldn't kiss anyone else.” Bakugou rounded on her, nostrils flaring, hands balling around the bag straps resting across his shoulder. She was glad he was upset. It made being frustrated at him that much easier, “But if kissing doesn't matter anymore, why does who I kiss make a difference?”
“Do you want to kiss the candy cane bastard?”
He looked livid.
Something behind Midoriya's ribs squeezed, strangled tight as Bakugou came closer.
“I didn't say I wanted to…” Her voice lost its edge momentarily while Bakugou's eyes frantically searched her own.
“Well, It’s not going to be my best fucking friend. That's just…”
There was a rising tension that Midoriya felt strung between her and Bakugou. Years and years of walking and talking and arguing and laughing and it all felt like it might snap if she didn't answer, “Kirishima was just an example!”
“Well… it's… it's where and when too!” Bakugou took a step forward, one hand gesturing wide, “It's on a dumb stage and it's fake and—”
Midoriya pushed her hand against Bakugou's chest when he dared to try and puff it out intimidatingly. Her confidence came back as Bakugou tried to force his own to dominate. She wouldn't back down. If he thought he was right, she'd need a stronger explanation, “So, what? This one is just a stupid kiss that doesn't matter?”
“Yeah!”
“Well I don't know if one matters if I've never known when it does!”
She barely had time to register the irritation at feeling on the outside of everything romantic and lost in the rules Bakugou was creating when the sound of the keychains on her bag clattered against the pavement and Bakugou's water bottle clanged as it crashed into the curb. Before she could even fully gasp at Bakugou's sudden rush to discard their bags and grab her wrist and pull her close, her anxieties became a thing of the past.
He was as hasty as he'd always been to tug her along in the spaces he wanted her to stay, safe, guarded against whatever he deemed a hazard. That fierce pull was countered by the tenderness of the hand against her jaw that weaved back into her curls. He kept her close, nudging his nose alongside hers, their lips slotting together as naturally as Bakugou's hand had always slid into hers when he said she was too slow or liable to get lost or made up myriad reasons to keep her near.
As soon as it started, it ended.
Bakugou pulled back, cheeks a golden red like the setting sun that lit up the world behind him. He huffed, picking up their bags while Midoriya stood still, the ghost of Bakugou's hand tangled in her curls.
“There,” He muttered, grabbing her hand once more, pulling on her until her knees unlocked and her body allowed her to breathe, “Now you know.”
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