_a/n: contains far-from-organized, sporadically-paced, disordered pieces of a drunk night gone wrong gone kind of… right? cheers to breaking rules
not your (manic pixie dream) girl
D - Designated Driver + the not-so-average Damsel
Somewhere along her first night drinking, she loses her sweater, a game of rage cage, and naturally, her dignity. But not so much in that order.
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Come with us, they said.
Take another shot, they said.
Seven is okay for your first time, they said.
It will be fu—
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3:46 am.
Ochako proceeds to puke the contents of her stomach out, a repulsive mixture of acidity from those goddamned vodka tonics to the bitterness of the beer she'd thoughtlessly chased them with. Seventeen and still so, so stupid.
"Goddamn bitch, you're a fucking mess."
Ironically enough, the view of the Zero Gravity Girl hurling on the side of the road isn't new to him—to anyone, actually, considering she had spent a year or so prone to motion sickness due to her quirk. So when she says she's gotta go, without a second's passing, Katsuki stops the motorcycle along the edge of the road and demands her off because there is no way in fucking hell he's going to continue being designated driver if she gets her vomit on either his bike or jacket.
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10:04 pm.
Okay, so she's never really done this before. This is obvious. But apparently they all do. This is also obvious.
Her sneaker getting caught in the rose trellis should have already signified that this was only going to be the beginning of a horrendous, but eventful night. And she knows she could have prevented the stupid obstacle of getting her foot freakin' caught in the process of sneaking out of her room on the fourth floor by A: checking if her shoes were tied before climbing out of her window and B: (the more practical route) using her quirk to hover down. As for alternative A, she had simply and carelessly thrown her feet into the closest pair of Converse from her exit without having checked the status of lacing. In her defense, she'd been terrified shitless of what she had agreed to do and prior, had been pacing back and forth in her room in clear-as-day anxiety with the concept of sneaking out. When one of Jirou's earjacks tapped on her window, cueing her to leave, Ochako gulped and tried to mentally prepare herself for the repercussions that would follow shortly after the girls were caught.
That would be a nightmarish turnout. The fear of Aizawa-sensei's annoyance, however, did not induce as much fear as the inevitable, disappointing dread that would drown her if she had been placed on house arrest. There was no way in hell she could miss out on class and any opportunity to train. She came to this school to be able to kick ass, not get her ass kicked (and for something as stupid as a high school party! Not even by a villain. How shameful.)
As for route B, not only would using her quirk at this hour be a rule breaker (totally not ironic at this point), but to get sick before even leaving? No thank you. If she was going to let herself participate in rule-breaking shenanigans, despite her torn feelings, she'd like to still try to enjoy some of her night, in the least.
"Hurry up, Ochako-chan!" Mina ushers.
"Quit takin' your sweet time," Jirou Kyouka whispers loudly shortly afterward.
The brunette shakes her right leg in attempt to hurriedly escape from the entanglement caused by a single shoelace, trying to wriggle herself out of the situation. During so, she allows herself to glance down to look at the faces of the girls waiting for her. Big mistake.
One look at her current elevation, and Ochako feels her heart drop to her ass.
Alright, so she should be used to height. She wields gravity for god's sake. She should be used to levitating herself, too, but the past year she's been focusing more on strength—floating heavier mass objects, heightening her velocity, quickening her speed. Now her own body flying… that's another story. She still gets a bit sick at the thought. But she's almost there. Really.
The prevention of her motion sickness is definitely still in the works. However, as for experiencing height. Also another story. She gulps. Curse being on the fourth floor.
After finally letting the lace loose from where it had gotten caught, she scurries down the trellis along the wall as fast as she can, avoiding the length and keeping her eyes on her grip.
"You could have just dropped, y'know," Yaoyorozu Momo suggests (too late) as Ochako's feet meet the grass, a soft smile prying the corners of her lips upward. "I could have caught you or created a trampoline or something."
Ochako quickly double knots the ties of her red All Stars before replying, "It's no big deal. Quirk usage isn't allowed right now anyway and I wouldn't want you to waste the energy or risk getting caught for me."
"Woah, woah, did you guys hear that jab?" Jirou asks sarcastically while leading the pact in the direction to off campus grounds, where their get-away-car awaits them.
Hagakure Toru giggles, skipping behind her. "I certainly did."
From beside her, Tsuyu monotonously, pointedly states, "You do know you had a choice in coming along, right? There was never an obligation."
"We can turn around if you'd like, Uraraka-chan. We can drop you back off," suggests Mina.
"No," Ochako confidently bursts. She'd always been the one to miss out on their night-outs, feeling excluded during the days after when all they'd talk about for the following five days revolved around the events of their high school mishaps. It wasn't like she was never invited, either. She'd just been responsible is all. Iida Tenya has served as a pretty big influence on her. The thought of him finding out about her breaking any rule causes a tremble to creep up her spine. She would never hear the end of it.
"Good," Jirou Kyouka turns her head to send Ochako a satisfied smile. "No pussying out now."
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The get-away car is jam-packed. It's totally illegal, but no one seems to mind… except for Ochako, that is. Squeezing this many people in the backseat… and without seatbelts? Is this what she signed up for? She tries her best to act natural. Really.
According to Mina, the deal is this: apparently Jirou and some boy from Class 1B have been on and off—Awase, was it?—and from those sporadic hookups came about the inevitable hangouts with his friends, which had also led her to spend a lot of time with that class. At this point, she'd gotten well-acquainted with them. And apparently every weekend, since their homeroom teacher is apparently much more easygoing than theirs (Momo thinks it has to do with the fact they're class B, but they'd fight her if she voiced that aloud) Kendo Itsuka throws some insane ragers. Open-invite. BYOB. Floors three to five are restricted. Screwing around is only allowed on the second floor. You break it, you buy it. Weed available.
It'll be fine. She'll be fine.
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11:38 am.
"Whaaaaaaaat? I made that fair and square!" Ochako exclaims before sipping on nth red cup.
They disqualify her. The bitches.
How could they not believe in her extraordinary, total beginner's luck, skill in the art of beer pong? And to accuse her of manipulating the gravity of the ball? How dare they.
Had she really been that obvious?
Oh, well. Next. Strip poker or rage cage?
Her eyes sparkle.
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"It's only been about an hour," Momo observes, watching her friend's buzz become heavier as the minutes pass. "You think we should have monitored the amount she's had?"
"It shouldn't have been that many," Kyouka replies before taking another hit. She's always been more a smoker than a drinker. "Let'er have fun. Girl's gotta experiment some day."
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2:57 am.
"Uraraka, fucking relax."
"I'll relax when you stop swearing," she dances away from him, a sight of swaying jubilance in a crowd of what he'd refer to as knock-off heroes. He knows he isn't totally welcome there. Not like he wants to be there, anyway. He retaliates the judgmental stares with a threatening grimace accompanied by a middle finger. If anybody dares fuck with him, he'll incinerate them.
He trudges after her, feeling like a fucking idiot dog. He really had to lose a fucking game against the stupid shits of housemates and had to end up being the designated driver for the very girl who had called each and every single one of them (with the exception of Four Eyes and Purple Ballsack, for some apparent reason) to spill that big ass heart of hers. She'd rambled on about how she's grateful for each of their existence and how their hard work in heroism have never and will never go unnoticed. Bakugou Katsuki included, to all of their surprise.
Am I not fucking admirable?! He had spewed out to the rest of the awakened boys in Class 1A.
What was that about? Kirishima Eijirou had asked, rubbing his eyes. They had all gathered on the first floor, clad in pajamas and confusion. Most of them were clearly half asleep.
It's obvious that she wasn't… Tokoyami coughed before correcting. I mean, isn't in the right state of mind.
Uraraka-chan… drunk? The disheveled, green-haired, freckled boy had asked in shock. The concept of his fragile-angelic-gravity wielder friend-slash-potential romantic interest appeared to be new to him. B-b-but where? How?
Wooow, a bad side to Uraraka-chan?! Kaminari had squealed, clasping his hands. How cute!
Katsuki had rolled his eyes. Leave it to Deku to be the naive bitch and leave it to Pikachu to find it appealing. He smirks at the fact the Purple Ballsack isn't here. Must've meant she hadn't called him. You fucks do realize it's not unusual to drink at this age, right?
The real matter at hand is who is going to make sure she gets home safe? Came in Todoroki Shouto.
And the rest of the girls, too, yeah? They're all MIA.
They do this every week. I'm 99% sure this is Uraraka-chan's first time joining them.
What a rebellious group of girls…
Troublesome.
This does require the risk of getting in trouble with Sensei… again.
And getting unnecessary shit from Iida…
So that's why Iida-kun isn't here. She doesn't wanna get in trouble!
Who does?
Who even can, at this point in time?
Err… So who's gonna step it up?
I don't mind getting in trouble if it means making sure Uraraka-chan is safe!
Maybe it was how Deku stated it; how it had implied that the Gravity Bitch was in need of saving, like some sort of damsel in distress, and how he had obliviously come off as superior for going against the rules solely to Be A Hero that ticked Katsuki off beyond belief. His irritation at the comment must have been evident, and is probably why Kirishima had intervened, stating that he shouldn't feel obligated since he was her closest friend, before suggesting a quick name-drawing game to choose who would take initiative.
Alas, Bakugou Katsuki had ended up in some house of some random knock-off hero, needing to associate, scout, and retrieve a lost pink-faced child. The stupid fucks had named this endeavor Mission Return Uraraka Ochako.
As if the bitch needed saving. If anything, just a little help.
"Time to go home," he demands behind her. She's randomly made it to the backyard, which he deems is going to be a pain in the ass to clean up. It's completely trashed with empty beer bottles and plastic cups. The entire area itself reeks of dank.
"Go home?" she spins around to face him, a pout on her glowing face. She leans in close. A little too close. He narrows his eyes. "But I don't want to."
Her breath is a breeze of pineapple rum, and although dealing with drunks isn't his preferred heroic act, hers is a better scent than the dark liquors his birth giver consumes on the daily. Gag.
"Don't be difficult," he mutters exhausted. "Am I really going to have to fucking carry your ass outta here?"
If he thought she was a little too close earlier, she's even closer now. Her eyes are the damned biggest he had ever seen them. He flinches back when her whisper comes in too close. She places a hand on his chest to steady him, before gripping his collar to pull him back toward her.
He ignores the heat she radiates. Her exhale ghosts over his lips as she murmurs, "You touch me, you fly."
"Is that a fucking threat?"
She releases her grip and turns around once again, dazily waltzing away in her alcoholic glory and annoyingly wide smile. "What do you think?"
With a single, effortless twist of her wrist, she has him in the air for a second he (shamefully) has no control over, before allowing him to plop his feet back down onto the concrete.
He grunts while hearing her snicker, trying to regain his composure.
Katsuki should have known this was going to be much more challenging than expected. It's Uraraka Ochako for fuck's sake.
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2:33 am.
"Designated driver? You're here to take her home?" Hagakure asks, after Bakugou Katsuki had ironically spotted her first. Invisible girl and all. "Did you really not trust any of us to bring her back safely?"
"Don't get it fucking twisted. This wasn't my idea and spending my fucking night here instead of in bed is the last thing I wanted to do," he replies loud enough for her to make out within the rowdiness of their surroundings.
"But she's not a baby. She can handle herself."
His eyes roll. "Tell that to fucking Deku."
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4:28 am.
"You're lucky this location is twenty-four hour," Katsuki comments grimly, watching her pour a mountain load of strawberry syrup on her powdered sugar waffles. She drowns the breakfast slash dessert slash post turn up meal before beginning her starstruck consumption, one that almost looks as if she hasn't eaten in days. She pays no attention to him, stuffing her face in and filling the hollows of her stomach.
He glares, watching her attack her side of bacon, as he taps his fingers rhythmically along the table.
The food and the gulps of water in between help her sober up fairly quickly. Momo had given her a few tips when it came to preventing hangovers, including to make sure she had tons of bread and water before going to bed. She hadn't questioned as to why, though. But if she can sober up before going to bed, then that works, too.
She doesn't talk to him as she eats (either still too embarrassed, in shock, or only half-ready), leaving him to take a glance around the empty iHop. The diner-inspired restaurant's bright multi-colored lights and interior design give him a high definition view of the girl seated in front of him. Now he can actually look at her, unlike his view of her outside.
For a person who'd just thrown up a shitload, she looks slightly better than he would have expected. The twinge of mascara she had on her (very long, he notices—he notices everything) lashes is smudged just below her eyes, and he's never seen her cheeks pinker. He swears they're a shade darker than usual. Her hair's been pulled up in a rather poor ponytail, and draped along her shoulders is his jacket, since somewhere along her night, she'd forgotten where she'd placed her sweater.
He had rolled his eyes when he saw her shivering after her rounds of puking all over the street. Before she knew it, he had covered her shoulders with the jacket he'd shrugged off before offering a single demand, "Wash it before returning it to me."
He had turned away from her only moments after, leaving it at that.
It would be a lie if he claimed he didn't find her in his clothing appealing. It's… attractive. Really goddamn attractive. He doesn't let his thoughts linger, though. The machinations of his sexually deprived teenage boy mind would do horrible things with the concept, so Katsuki resorts to keeping his eyes on her untouched hashbrowns as a distraction.
She must have noticed though, since after downing the rest of her water, she addresses him. "Are you hungry?"
He denies, ignoring the growl of his stomach. The aroma of the breakfast foods had just been enticing, is all. Not her not her not her.
She smiles, soft and hesitant, before sliding the plate of potatoes toward him. She's not fucking cute, he has to tell himself over and over.
"I told you I didn't fucking want them," he annoyingly reaffirms.
"I never said you had to have them," Ochako points out. She grabs the bottle of hot sauce to her left and pours it atop the still steaming hashbrowns. "They'll just be here. Fresh, still crunchy, and now with some flavor."
"Tch," he rolls his eyes. She hated spicy.
When he finally picks up the fork, he ignores her beaming smile, fully aware that the bright lights of the room make the shade of red that paints his ears visible.
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6:11 am.
"Can you stay?"
There is no reason for Bakugou Katsuki to be caught off guard. With how the night had gone, this should have been expected. She's been such a brutal, batshit mess, and he's already spent hours commenting on her deranged teenage girl absurdity. Even he—deranged teenage boy with immature and questionably aggressive tendencies—would have never placed himself in unnecessarily risky situations, the pathetic kind, he would specify: the ones so prevalent in movies and average "normal" (non-UA student) lives. Unless it had to do with fucking a villain up or something. That goes without question.
But for some reason (that he forces himself to push back and not ponder over or he's fucked), he freezes.
It's as if she, herself, has some kind of gravitational pull—a hold on him, or some shit. The fucking gravity girl. Because although he had set out to leave, there's just something about hearing the need in her voice that ushers him to back away from her door. It's almost instinctive, a heroic—no, scratch that—hero-esque (she's no damsel) reflex that keeps him in her vicinity.
"Now what do you want?" he scowls in the dark, turning away from the exit to face the foot of her bed.
"You," she pauses. Breathes heavily. His face heats up in an absolute flash—that is, until she continues, "To kill me."
Good fucking thing it's both dark in her room and she's too far gone to even glance over at him, or she'd very clearly see how dumbstruck he had initially looked. Luckily, her eyes are glued to the ceiling. From what he can see, she also has a large, shameful smile on her face. Katsuki wonders if she's on the verge of hysterically crying. She better fucking not.
Puking, rough-housing, and saving the day: these are the few things Bakugou Katsuki can deal with.
But crying?
Uh, fuck that.
"Please," Uraraka Ochako groans while turning her face into her pillow. She wants to barf all over again, and not because of the repulsive aftertaste of dark liquor on her tongue. The blurry recollection of pathetic things she'd whined about in the bathroom of the house party is enough to make her want to bawl and barf altogether. "Just blow me up."
"I'd be goddamn happy to."
"I was…" her voice cracks.
Oh no.
"So embarrassing…"
She's crying.
"...at the party."
"You still are." He's not good at verbally comforting. Whatever.
Surprisingly enough, the comment manages a soft laughter to erupt from beneath her pillow.
"Let me guess. You were cryin' about not being enough for the bastard Deku or some shit like that, huh?"
The silence on her end is more than telling. And then a sniff. Confirmed.
"That's fucking stupid," Katsuki deadpans. This girl. Jesus.
"I knoooow," she sobs, dragging her vowels. "People probably think I'm so pathetic… that I want their sympathy for being in Deku-kun's shadow… I'm just w...weak. I'm so embarrassed."
"You should be embarrassed," he replies. "For feeling that way."
Ochako remains silent, pondering over what he means.
"It's one fuckin' thing looking like a sad shit mess at a party—whatever—the majority of fuckin' losers there probably have their insecurities. You just had a shot too many in comparison. Fuck their judgment," Katsuki goes on, unaware that he's speaking much more than usual. "But reducing yourself to 'weak,' and thinking that you're in someone's shadow—now that's fucking pathetic."
She stays still.
"You've gotta be shitting me if your confidence is that low," he remarks, shutting his eyes for a tad too long when he shifts his hand over to the back of his neck. He sighs. It's almost pity. Not quite, but almost. "Get it together. You're stronger than you think."
With that, Katsuki turns on his heel and moves from the foot of her bed to the door.
"I'm leaving now."
"Wait," he hears, as one foot makes it past the doorway.
He pauses, growling. "Now wha—"
"Thank you." For everything, she thinks. He knows.
After a wordless, acknowledging moment, the door shuts behind him and he continues to his own room.
Whatever.
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In the morning, she'll be a little surprised when she wakes up without a hangover. She'll be tad confused to see that her recent calls have been deleted from her phone, and that none of her housemates (aside from the girls she'd partied with) will approach her over last night's misbehavior (or her forgotten, alcohol-influenced phone calls.)
She won't know that he'll have threatened all of the boys to keep their mouths shut to save her from the embarrassment.
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fin.
_a/n: the amount of times I almost seriously gave up on this piece is incredible.
I also am a sucker for the idea of Bakugou riding a motorcycle oh my. i just had to