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Bakugo expected pure silence on his weekend, well, aside from the loud downpour of rain that the news announced on his phone, which he blasted on the loudspeaker. Aside from that, it was nothing but peace and quiet.
Everyone else had scattered for the weekend, leaving Bakugo blissfully alone in the dorm. He was glad he’d insisted on staying to train, thunder or not, dodging Shitty Hair and Pikachu’s relentless invitations to join their idiocy. Babysitting his classmates was the last thing he wanted.
After washing up, Bakugo heads downstairs to cook breakfast, not bothering to put on a shirt, knowing no one else would see him anyway; the towel around his waist hung loose. Not bothered to wear shorts either. Being alone felt freeing, which is distinctly different from lonely. Some people can't seem to grasp the difference.
He set up in the kitchen, whistling to himself, when he heard a high-pitched scream of surprise, accompanied by the loud patter of rain. He whipped around and dropped the pan on the stove. His immediate thought was to grip the towel he had on.
"SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" Ochako, flushed red and embarrassed, said, eyes squeezed shut.
Bakugo muttered a curse, tightening his grip on the towel. So much for solitude. Of all people, it had to be the girl with pink cheeks sharing the dorm with him.
She scrambled and turned her back. "I thought I was alone."
His signature tch came first before he replied. "Well, you thought wrong."
He heard her clear her throat. "I'll, I'll come back later. Sorry again!" She yelled as she sprinted out of the kitchen without hearing his attempt to let her stay. Bakugo watched her leave before he grabbed his phone by the kitchen counter and checked on the class group chat to see whether anyone else was staying in the dorms this weekend, ruining his expectations for the weekend.
As he scrolled, everyone was just checking in on everybody, asking how everyone was doing during the storm and whatnot. His thumb stopped on Kirishima's message.
Red Riot: Uraraka, you sure you'll be okay alone?
Right, he told everyone he'd be going back home just to get them off his back about the weekend. No one knew he'd stay in, which explains Ochako's surprise. He really outta check in the group chat sometimes; he had put it on mute the moment Kaminari added him and kept adding him back despite his many attempts to leave. The three dots appeared beside Ochako's name, then came Deku's broccoli icon and their class president's.
Class President Engenium: The storm is rather strong; be safe, everyone.
DEKU: Uraraka, I got snacks in my room you can take!
Badass Alien Queen Pinky: You should sleep in there too.
Then multiple icons in the chat started typing, freaking— ugh. Multiple blush emojis flooded the chat.
Grumbling to himself, he took another plate out and took out a few more eggs from the refrigerator. He'd rather keep to himself than explain himself or get teased; it was up to Ochako if she'd say she had company.
Ochako wouldn’t be the worst company, he figured. Maybe she’d keep to herself and let him have his peace—if she knew what was good for her.
They rarely interacted outside group assignments and occasional sparring matches, so being alone with her wasn't that bad. They could spar to pass the time. Or stay in their rooms; he could tolerate her for the weekend. She's pretty to look at, never boring to stare at the back of her head during class. He admits to giving her a few glances now and then whenever she smiled or tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He's not blind.
No one can deny how beautiful she is, especially during the sports festival their first year when she almost beat him, or the time she defended Deku on top of a building in front of everyone. He'd talk to her if she tried to. It wouldn't be as annoying as the rest, and he wouldn't drive her away with his screaming. He hears her laugh whenever he's around too.
Maybe he could pick up some of her moves and finally beat her consecutively in hand-to-hand. He always only gets one win. She was a natural, taking down most of the class without even using her quirk.
Yeah, she's fine to be around.
But if it had been Grapehead or Deku stuck here with him, he’d have braved the storm just to get away.
He sets the food on the table and puts the pan in the sink. He quickly goes to his room, gets dressed, then walks to her door.
She opens it after two knocks. "Bakugo, hello." Formal, but also embarassed, still wearing the blush on her cheeks and a ratty old shirt.
"I made breakfast; come down to eat."
Another look of surprise colors her features. She opens her mouth to say something, probably to deny him, but his eyes glance down to her belly, and he's pretty sure it grumbled when he said the word eat. He knew she skipped meals when she was alone, her way to save money. Detrimental to her health, but who was he to scold her for it? So instead, he offers her a meal. Before he could yell something to get her down she speaks up.
"Oh, okay, I'll be down in a minute." She says, and he nods, turns on his heel, and walks back down.
No one can deny his cooking; it was another thing he was good at. Ochako knew that, most especially after he cooked her dinner during their training camp in the woods. After that, she'd always linger around him in the kitchen, like a curious cat.
Once he's back down, he brews coffee and adds sugar to hers. From what he knew, she liked hers sweet. He preferred a pure black cup. Bitter, as many would say. After a few minutes of prepping and scrolling through his phone, he hears her enter the living room and then the kitchen.
"Whoa, didn't think you'd cook for two, Bakugo," she says, impressed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, her eyes sparkling at the food on the table.
"I did say I cooked breakfast; what'dya think I called you for? to watch me eat?" He responded with a raised brow and a sarcastic tone. Ochako wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, didn't think it through, anyways! Thank you for the meal!" She jumped to her seat, eyes gleaming ans mouth watering.
He sat across from her, and the two of them shared their thanks. After that, he didn't say a thing. A usual interaction for both of them. He intended to keep things quiet. It looked like she got the message, as she closed her mouth shut and marveled at the food instead.
They sat quietly for the next five minutes, enjoying the food. She'd occasionally whisper to herself, and he'd catch her say, "so good" or "delicious." Damn right it was, he'd think to himself as he quietly enjoyed the simple praises.
Up until a thunderclap roared and passed through the walls, she squealed and almost hid under the table in fear or surprise. In a quick second, the lights flickered off, and everything went black. Great, perfect, a blackout. Bakugo crouched down to where Ochako hid and made a small spark to see pinpoint where she was.
"Hey Pink Cheeks, you good?"
For a second, her face flashed before him, her lips quivering, hands over her ears. Their eyes met, and he could see the small sparkle of a tear in the corner of her eye.
"Oh yeah, sorry, just got surprised; that's all." She brushed off.
It was obvious she was more than just surprised—she looked ready to cry if he hadn’t been there. Lightning flashed, illuminating her darting eyes every few seconds.
"I'll go look for candles; don't know how long this blackout will last, probably because of the storm," the annoyance of the situation evident in his tone. His hands made small sparks, just enough for light, crackling against the dark room.
His phone was back in his room, and emergency lights were only in the halls.
Blackouts are rare nowadays, usually because quirks can fix problems in a second. One example would be their classmate, Pikachu, who can charge batteries with his mouth. Too bad he wasn't around. As Bakugo was about to stand up, he heard her scramble up too. "Um, Bakugo…Can I come with?"
He raised his brow at her. "Hah? What the fucking for? Just sit over there and wait for me."
It took a few deafening seconds before he heard her hum for a reason.
"Oh okay, it's just that…please?"
As thunder crashed, his palm sparked again. Ochako shrieked and lunged at him, knocking things over. Her arms clung to him, face buried in his neck, breath coming fast against his chest.
The second he realized it, it was a second too late, as she jumped back down. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that since the war I've been—"
The dark hid their faces, and they couldn't see each other's reactions to the sudden proximity. Bakugo wasn't usually the one to give in to his classmates' pleas and requests, but her voice stirred something in him. They never really talked about the war; he only had a vague version of what happened to her during it. She almost died too, as he did. Almost was the key word he liked to say to many who insisted he did. They shared adjacent hospital rooms during that time, and he could hear her crying in the middle of the night. Often, he'd make a few knocks on the shared wall, just to let her know she wasn't alone or, maybe, in her eyes, to get her to quiet down. She never really responded to his knocks then, so he never knew.
He never asked or went up to her during it, knowing it wasn't his place. Even when Deku and the rest of them came rushing to her side when she was at the edge of the cliff, it was a difficult topic to talk about, and he knew she didn't want all the attention on her then, so he let the others go to her. The others were better equipped to comfort her, plus he was sure he was high on medication at the time.
Bakugo was not the one for comfort in the first place. "Come on then, better not be annoying," he said, reaching for her arm and lifting her from her scared position on the floor.
"Thanks."
An hour in, Ochako has not left his side. Despite multiple attempts to scare her away, she doesn't budge; this wasn't how he expected her to be when he agreed for her to come with him.
The candles they found were small ones, ones they used for their surprise dinner for their homeroom teacher. They lit only a portion of the hallways, two in the kitchen and only two were left for his room
"Pink Cheeks, the electricity will come back any minute." He said, exasperated, his anger gone. For the past five minutes, he'd been asking her to leave him alone, not because she was annoying him or anything, but because, well, he doesn't know why, but she's just—
He also can't seem to leave her alone. Why the fuck can’t he?
"I know, but I just don't want to be alone during it, you know."
"Ugh," he groaned as his head hit the table, the emergency light between them turning to her side.
"Why don’t we play a game or get to know each other while we wait?" she suggested, only to flinch as thunder rattled the walls again.
That was the third time she'd reacted that way since the storm. Bakugo looked at her in the dim light and noticed her lips still quivered despite her biting them to stop it.
Bakugo would have asked why she was afraid of the storm, but he really wasn't the asking type. She'd say it when she was comfortable saying it. The wooden legs of the chair he sat on squeaked, his palms pushing themselves from the edge of the table as her eyes followed him with a question.
He took the emergency light in one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other. "Come on."
She made a small sound but still followed, her body bumping close to him as he kept his hold on her wrist. He felt her tense when he stopped, and she bumped fully into him, mumbling an apology before bowing her head and avoiding his eyes.
But she still didn't let him go.
Her hand found his arm, her chest pressed close against his side. So close.
When they arrived at his room, the first thing he looked for was his headphones. She peered over him the whole time, not having much of a choice as he held onto her wrist the whole time. It was a similar situation earlier, when they looked for candles. He placed his emergency light and hers in the corners of his room to brighten the space while he rummaged through his drawers.
Once he found it, she asked what it was for, but he didn't answer her; instead, he connected it to his phone, played the first song on his playlist, and put it on for her.
*Just Look At Me started playing and for a second Bakugo wished he tapped on a different song.
"Bakugo I—" she looked at him, the candles flame reflecting on her round brown irises, her lips hesitant to say something. He swallowed a thought and shakes it away with a different dilemma.
The battery could last for the next two hours, but he should probably save it for emergencies, then again, he didn't care; as far as he knew, they were in the safest place they could be in a storm. She needed the distraction.
He pulled her to sit on the edge of the bed on the carpet and wrapped an arm around her while her head fell on his shoulder. She was tense but looked up at him with her captivating eyes, her hand on the headphones.
"The storm will be ending soon, so stop worrying," he said, loud enough for her to hear him through the blasting drums of classic rock. His hands covering hers.
A small smile curved on her lips, and she nodded, mouthing thank you as she took his hand and wrapped it around his; her fingers tracing small circles on his palm.
They stayed huddled on the carpet until sleep claimed them both.
Bakugo was the first one to wake up, feeling half his body go numb from the body curled up beside him. His head craned to see a portion of her face still buried in the crook of his neck, her hair a blanket down his shoulder. Slowly, not to wake her, he turned, her head falling to his arm and chest as he hooked the other behind her knees. The electricity hadn't come back, and it looked like the storm had worsened while they slept. His headphones fell to her lap while her head pressed onto his chest, his fingers curling into itself as she stirred, nuzzling— into him. "Cheeks," he hissed under his breath, his voice still groggy as lightning flashed through the window and his heart matched the sky's roar.
"Hmmm," she stirred again, the peaceful look on her face dipping, her nose scrunched. "Five minutes," she murmured, her fingers grasping his shirt. Now that he was carrying her, he wondered whether to take her back to her room or let her stay on his bed. The open door provided little light, only the small, dying candles they left in the hallway.
A flurry of questions stirred around the top of his head, the girl in his arms mumbling words he couldn't hear.
After everything that happened while they were together, Bakugo had strangely been unable to put her down and bark his usual anger. By now he should have kicked her out of his room or never really called her in. Their time together wasn't much, just the silent breakfast and the awkward one-word conversation. At the same time, they looked for candles, the reasoning in the kitchen of sticking together, and the small moment of understanding on his bedroom floor.
Their shared stormy death experience.
He shook his head to reorient himself and adjusted her in his arms as the lightning once again lit the room for a split second.
He huffed and made his decision, his arms unhooking around her as she settled on his bed. This is a first: someone sleeping on his bed. A hand ran through his face, and he gritted his teeth; his eyes stayed on her, wondering, questioning, lingering. He reached down to brush her hair back, the tangles loose against his fingers. She should wake up.
Bakugo recalled the flashes of light during the war, the thunder and rain ringing in his ears, soaking him on the ground while he bled, the pain, the way he couldn't move and say a single word. It must have been the same for her.
Then, all her little quivers made more sense.
A sigh left his lips as he sank into the chair by his bed, the candle flickering against the emergency light on the table. "You know," he heard her whisper, as if she had been reading his mind. He looked up to see a knowing smile on her face, her eyes still closed. Even when she's asleep, she looks as kind and peaceful as she is when awake, unlike him. He tilted his head at the thoughts forming in his mind, her smile flashing—calling to him, inviting him. To what? he didn't know.
To share a smile too.
"Yeah, pretty obvious"
When he said those words, she scooted over and patted the bed. "This is your bed; shouldn't you be the one on it?" she asked, her tone hesitant, as if she wasn't sure how to bring up her being on his bed and him on the chair. It must have surprised her too, how gentle he is with her.
"I don't share beds," he answered, chest puffed and arms crossed. He didn't want to make a big deal of it, especially with the blush he was hiding in the dark. He heard her hum in thought, the candlelight bouncing off her round pink cheeks, his eyes drifting down to her lips buzzing.
"Well, this should be the start then." She says so naturally, casually, as if they've been friends and it was only natural for her to say it.`
He averts his eyes, closing them, and grits his teeth to stay in control. Ochako is always an unpredictable girl who's always in the corner of his eye. She'd be shy, a blushing mess, hiding at the sound of thunder; the next, she'd be a bad-ass, confident girl, telling him it's only natural to be in a bed— his bed, with her in it.
It took a second for a rational thought to form before he pushed it away.
The chair he was on creaked against the wooden floor, his lips pursed as he ordered her to scoot a little more while the bed dipped with his weight. She placed a pillow between them, and her smile hovered over it. "Here, better?"
He ignored her, leaning back against the bed frame, eyes fixed on the candle’s flame. It was easier than looking at her. If this was how she wanted it, fine. He felt her shift, his knuckles tightening on the blanket. This would be his routine until the lights returned: ignore her, or grunt in her direction. But with pink cheeks, nothing ever stayed routine.
Something hits the window, and another thunderclap roars while the candles blow out. He hears a small, restrained whimper; her hand reaches for his in the dark. Four of her fingers on top of his knuckles. "What was that?"
In a thoughtless, unBakugo way, he flips her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and pulls her in again, just like earlier on the carpet. A sound comes from her lips 'oof' as her head lands on his shoulder, her side of the blanket bunched up. "Probably just an object that got caught up in the wind. He hoped it wasn't a dead animal. What was that thought of ignoring her again?
"I've just been having trouble with storms since that day… you know…" she trailed, as if shes been waiting to explain her sudden skittishness for storms.
"When we died? Yeah, I know."
They share a look, both their brows raised, smiles small but with a known understanding.
For the next few hours, Bakugo ate his words about ignoring her. By the second hour, they were both on their backs, heads on the pillows, and a conversation about their favorite heroes buzzed between them. He, of course, still humbly bragged about All Might (not that she already knew about it, but it was also something he had never talked to anyone about), how he would watch all the documentaries and movies, keep up with all the new merchandise drops, but only got the subtle ones.
And he also had one person he couldn't stop talking about.
"I did notice your winter suit resembled Best Jeanist; it's so cool!" Her voice was filled with excitement. Best Jeanist had been an inspiration for his winter suit; the high collar was his favorite part of it. "He's a good mentor for you, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight," she said, with a failed imitation of his voice. Bakugo scoffed and rolled his eyes at her, putting her fist in the air as she made low screams, like how fans would call out for their favorite heroes.
"Dynamight is fine," he said under his breath. A lot of people, mostly their classmates, had a lot to say about his name, although he didn't care; it can be tiresome to say every time. But he'll stick to it.
"Well, it is too long, but if it's what you chose, I'll say it every time you save the day." She repeated the fist in the air, her legs kicking the blanket. "Best Jeanist did say hero names are important, right?"
She jumped and stood on his bed, her hands on her waist. "It's an honor being saved by the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!"
He followed suit. "You can't just stand on someone's bed!" he growled, but there was no bite in it, no anger, no usual spite.
A smile broke.
"Sorry, here." She giggled, both her knees bent up, tucking behind her while she floated above his bed.
Her laughter drowned out the storm as he attempted to reach her without using his explosions in a small space. In a way, she was distracting herself from the angered sky outside with an angered, explosive boy who could probably make the same loud noises as the storm.
Then, an idea from earlier came to him: figure out her techniques. He attempted to tackle her back down, arms flexed, but to no surprise, she dodged, and the next thing he knew, she had him in a headlock while still floating in the air. "You may have beaten me back on our first match, but I've grown since then."
"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean you can consecutively beat me," he mused as he switched them. He didn't elbow her stomach the way he usually does when he's in a headlock, but instead he surprised her by putting both his hands on her waist. The sudden non-violent contact stuns her as her arm loosens around his neck, her quirk deactivated, and within a second he faces her, and they fall back to the bed with a loud huff from both of them.
"See?"
His hand flattened on the small curve of her back, their chests meeting with the breaths they released. Their eyes lock, and something shifts. The thunder roars again, and the candlelight flickers, but she doesn't flinch. The color of her cheeks deepens to red, and he feels like his are mirroring hers. His free hand reaches to tuck a stray strand stuck to her cheek; his thumb brushes her skin, and her eyes close for a second, her brows dipping in the middle, her lips in a thin line. A hand steadies his elbow, four fingers on his arm.
All reason leaves his head; his thumb lingers near her lips, her brown eyes lift to meet his, and his forehead rests against hers. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice low, fear of rejection thumping in his chest, tension in his jaw, sweat forming in his palms but his head buzzing with her in the forefront. His eyes follow her as she nods, her breathy yes breezing his face.
Ochako's eyes fluttered shut, and his thumb touched her lips. Soft, plump, inviting— he cups her jaw and kisses her softly, as softly as he could, restraining the explosions running all over his body. Just like he knew, it felt soft under his thumb; her lips were soft on his lips too. Sweet, her mouth opened, and he slipped his tongue in. He wasn't really sure what he was doing, but he'd seen enough of people doing it, and he hoped he was doing it right. It felt right; it felt—no words. No word could describe it, at least not right now. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and her back arch, taking the pressure off his arm. He slid it off and settled it on her hips. Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his head, while his hand slid down to her neck, and their tongues met.
Fuuckkk.
If kissing felt like this, he wondered how he hadn’t kissed anyone before, or maybe this is only because it was her he was kissing?
He'd kiss her again to confirm.
And probably again, if she lets him.
The only reason he could think of for her breaking away was that she needed air. "Whoa," she whispered between them with a smile. He pressed his forehead against hers and smirked, his lips inches away from hers. Whoa indeed.
"Was that your first kiss?" he asked, curious. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, how to respond to him. The question just came flying out of his mouth, and suddenly he really wasn't sure how he'd respond if she said it wasn't.
Ochako's eyes widened at the question as she bit her lip, embarrassed. Oh? Was it?
She sighed and nodded, turning her head to the side to avoid his eyes, and his forehead fell against the side of her neck. He hoped she felt his smile against her skin as he whispered, "Mine too."
Heat came from her cheeks, sharing it with his.
A breath released from her, and he knew it was from relief; he couldn't help but chuckle at it. She squirmed and adjusted to face him again, still chewing on the lower lip he'd had just minutes ago. He cocked his head curiously, his hand back on, cupping her jaw as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "Was it go-
"Want to share a second?"
His jaw fell but closed back up and curled into a smile before answering her with his lips. They could share a lot more than a second.
The rain continued to pour, and the candlelight slowly died by their side, the emergency lights dimmed, and the lightning cracked, but he didn't care, and so did she. Maybe it meant she wouldn't be that scared of the storm anymore, having shared something as a first kiss during it. Perhaps, share it with the storm of their shared death. A new memory she could associate with it, just like how he associates it with the thundering in his heart when their lips met the second time.
Bakugo never thought he'd have a good memory from a blackout, let alone his first kiss.