Katsuki Bakugo loved to blow shit up.
The explosion itself wasn't the addiction, but the power behind it — the growth. There had been a time when the crackling light show he used for threats and bravado was all the strength he could muster. Now his limits only pressed him so far as his body could withstand the kickback.
Adrenaline came naturally with his quirk, whether from the sight and feel of the blasts themselves or from an instinct buried in him from his years of training. It fueled him. When he was alone exploring the scope of what power he could produce, there were no limits, only expectations.
His passion tended to express itself as less of a drive and more as a hostile beast.
Bakugo held his crouch, eyeing Uraraka as she pulled up a knee to stand. She rubbed the dirt from her palms against her hips and raised her fists once more. Something burned in him when he looked at her as the sun cracked over the horizon. Something different than the taste of heat he'd felt in her kiss the day before.
Today he was, well, he was kind of pissed off.
She came at him again, only slightly faster than she had been during lunch yesterday. Her speed was not from her muscles — no, she hadn't had enough time to build her body up like that —but from her mind. She was learning. She leaned forward, revealing her next move and he lifted a guard, keeping his other arm in tight to protect his middle.
Uraraka was frustrated. He could see the change in her eyes as their training had droned on and yet she hadn't said anything. His instruction today had been minimal and most of his clipped words had been brutish and criticizing. But he just couldn't stop himself, couldn't find a breath of patience amidst his swirling mind, and instead had chosen to fight his way to peace.
Or at least just let off some steam.
She feinted, dipping to the ground and whipping out a leg — a strategy he'd only shown her once their first morning of training. He jumped back and away, but she clipped the toe of his sneaker and his balance slipped away.
Her eyes locked with his in a surprisingly haughty grin.
She looked down to where her fingers connected with the soft earth and his train of vision followed. Sucking in a heavy breath, she let out a guttural noise and pressed into the ground with force.
His brow furrowed as he moved to right himself, preventing his fall.
And then he was weightless.
But he didn't have time to see the way the pebbles from the yard floated gently around him in the dim morning light like a nebula of dirt and debris. Uraraka grabbed his ankle as she sprung from her crouch, lifting him up and over her shoulder. She spun with him in her grasp overhead and slammed him face first into the crisp, green grass.
"Release," she gasped, her breaths coming in quick.
Bakugo grit his teeth, sinking his elbows into the ground to rise up and rubbed a hand across his face. "You've been holding out on me, Cheeks."
He turned to see her stretching her arms as she stepped back to get ready to go again. "We've never used our quirks before," she said. "I thought it might be a cheap shot."
Pushing himself up to face her, he considered this. He rolled his neck. "We'll need a bigger playing field than my backyard or a school training room to go all out."
She nodded.
"But you can give me your all anytime," he added, taking in her responding blush with a flustering feeling that eased the tension he'd woken up with. "Let's go."
She fell into step beside him easily, her shoulder brushing against his arm. It was a comfort he was growing used to at a startling pace. His parents weren't around this morning for whatever reason, which wasn't out of the norm. He made the two of them a quick breakfast, noting the way Uraraka typically jumped in to help with anything she could around the house - except for cooking. Food in their stomachs, showers taken, and their bentos packed, they ended up with a few spare minutes before Cementoss came to pick them up.
They spent it making out some more.
Bakugo could hardly justify it in his mind; One minute she's walking over for her lunch, then he's turning toward her and she's just so close, smelling so clean. Then she's backed up against the kitchen counter, hands on his chest and he's pressing his body into hers, relishing the taste of her… again and again.
He nearly scorched the marble when a knock sounded at the door starting their school day.
The ride to U.A. was filled with Uraraka's musings about their upcoming tests and questions about the dorms that he didn't have answers to. Normally he'd be annoyed by someone talking so much, but after seeing her broken, quiet states, he decided he preferred her this way. He held her hand, a gesture she accepted without falter, but with a blush. She used their combined hands along with her free one to motion through her words - a ridiculous thing Bakugo had rolled his eyes about.
But when they arrived on campus, he'd let her go. She hadn't balked when he'd reflexively put an arm around her in front of the morons yesterday, and despite the fear she'd shared with him last night, he still didn't know what he was to her - what they were to each other. He wasn't blind or stupid - he could see that she was accepting him, reciprocating his feelings to an extent. Yet when there was so much else going on in her life, constructing finite boundaries to what they were doing seemed… inappropriate.
It was frustrating.
Bakugo thrived in order and discipline. He kept his possessions in place. He had a routine. When he committed, he showed up. He set rules for himself and as long as he followed them, he earned the desired results.
This… this gray area was not faring so well in his head.
Still, she was there. She stayed with him. She kissed him. She held his hand and slept in his arms. She looked for him when they were apart and she stepped up to his challenges.
So, for now, he would live in the gray area.
Even if he wanted to blow the whole fucking concept into dust.
They stepped into class side by side, finding their seats without a parting word. He summoned his seemingly lost independence to keep from looking over at her in the back of the classroom when Shitty Hair and Dunce Face crowded his desk.
"What do you fuckers want now?"
Dunce Face was grinning and Bakugo knew exactly what the horny dumbass was thinking about. He glared back at him.
"You coulda told us you and Uraraka were dating, you know?" Shitty Hair said, adjusting on his feet a little which left enough room for Bakugo to see Frogger over at Uraraka's desk talking with her and a turned around Iida.
"Idiots," Bakugo scoffed. "I already told you we're not dating."
Dunce Face laughed. "Right."
"I mean, I get that with everything going on with her you might want to lie low, but you can trust us," Shitty Hair said. "I can't believe the League of Villains kidnapped her parents."
"That's probably why we're moving into dorms," Dunce Face added.
Bakugo's upper lip twitched. "Shut up about that," he said, leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows. "And tell everyone else who knows to keep it quiet."
"Aye aye," Dunce Face said with a salute as Shitty Hair opened his mouth only for Aizawa to walk in. They rushed back to their desks.
"Alright," Aizawa started, sounding as if he was biting back a yawn. "We have some announcements today." The class hushed and Bakugo reclined in his chair. "First of all: Move in day is tomorrow. You'll have from 0800 hours to 1700 hours to complete the process - including unpacking. I don't want any of the time you all should be using studying later on wasted on petty decorating."
Pinky let out a quiet sound of despair and Dunce Face whispered something to her.
Aizawa eyed them and they snapped to attention.
"And second," he said, his shoulders slumped, "you all might have forgotten about the summer training camp. I admit I've avoided the topic for the last few weeks, due to the possibility of its cancellation. However, the staff have met and come to the decision to follow through. The location has been changed and will not be disclosed to you or your parents, though they've all been mailed the notice of its continuation and safety measures."
The teacher let out a sigh. "You'll have Sunday to prepare. We leave Monday."
"What?!" a chorus sounded from the class.
Bakugo hid his surprise, clenching his jaw before relaxing again. He'd known of the camp, though a date had never been set. He wasn't opposed to going, considering the amount of training he'd be able to put in. It would be a week solely focused on growing their quirks - one of his favored activities.
"So soon?" Frogger said.
Pinky shot up in her seat. "Sensei! Don't we need more time to prepare?"
Aizawa waved a hand, quieting anyone else who was about to spout off. "You have Saturday to unpack and Sunday to pack again. Figure it out."
And then he left. Classes continued as usual. Bakugo's note taking was crisp and full of a shorthand that helped him stow away all of the new information for easy recall. He fought with the restlessness from this morning that had soured his mood before Uraraka's giddy ramblings in the car had dispelled it. A part of him knew what was twisting in his gut - royally pissing him off, really - but he didn't want to think about it.
Didn't want to think about his silent agreement from last night.
When lunch came, he remained in his seat, telling Shitty Hair, Dunce Face, and Tape Arms to shove off and giving Uraraka a nod toward the door - urging her to go on without him when she'd met his eyes holding her bento.
He waited until everyone had filtered out of the room before throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading out to a destination he'd yet to have ever visited. The teacher's lounge was open, the door propped ajar as a few pros he wasn't familiar with ducked in and out.
"Yo! McSplode!" his least favorite teacher appeared, his blonde hair feathered high above his head and a croissant in hand.
Bakugo frowned. "Is Aizawa here?"
"Affirmative, baby hero!" He turned into the room. "Let me just-"
Aizawa appeared behind Present Mic, startling him.
"Shota! I could've dropped my croissant!"
Aizawa and Bakugo both ignored him until he finally walked away grumbling.
"Bakugo."
He crossed his arms, trying to level himself with the prowess of his perpetually irritated teacher. "I know about the letter."
Aizawa paused before removing the doorstop and stepping out of the teacher's lounge. They backed up away from the door, sticking near the wall. "And are you going to tell me how you gained this information?"
"Doesn't matter," he said as he bore the weight of his teacher's gaze. "I want to go."
Aizawa scanned Bakugo's face before letting out a sharp breath, closing his eyes. "That's not happening."
"Bullshi-"
"I suggest you stop right there," Aizawa said, his hands hanging limp at his sides. "It's not an option and never has been. It's obviously a trap for the three of you."
"All Might would go," Bakugo pressed.
"Wrong. All Might has the mind to know what the villains hope to gain. Their leverage is likely only a bluff and even if it weren't, the odds that the villains would hold to any semblance of honor and the three of you would make it out unscathed is miniscule."
Bakugo dipped his chin.
"Your intentions are that of a hero," Aizawa said. "But heighten your awareness to the bigger picture. The pros are working with the police now that we have the knowledge of who your friend's parents are with and the investigation is confidential. If anything breaks, she'll be the first to know about it."
Bakugo raised his face to his teacher, tension pinching at his features, and grunted an assent.
"Now go eat and leave me alone."
. . .
Bakugo stared into warm, brown eyes completely bewildered.
"What did you just say to me?"
Uraraka knit her brows, her eyes darting around the backseat of Cementoss' car. "Uh, I asked if you were okay."
His lips parted and he studied her. "Why are you asking me that?"
Her concern morphed into an incredulousness. "Because you skipped lunch and you're being quiet?"
"I train during lunch sometimes and I'm always quiet." Okay, not always. Sometimes he was yelling. But that's besides the point. Since when did anyone ask him if he was okay? Since when did he let them?
"I don't know," Uraraka said. "You just seemed off."
He eyed her. "I'm fine."
"Okay," she said quickly.
"Okay then."
He turned away from her. Cars passed by in the tinted windows, the sun glaring in at an odd angle. Expecting her to pick up a new topic or even shift away from him on the upholstered bench seat, her lingering presence was a buzzing feeling pressed firmly into his side.
"I talked to Aizawa about the letter."
"You what?" she snapped, her high-pitched voice quieter than it had been. "When?"
"During lunch," he growled, annoyed. "He said they're not going through with the meet up, but the pros are working with the police on your case now."
She was silent for a beat and he slid his eyes to her. Her head was cast low, staring at the floorboards. "You asked to go, didn't you?"
Bakugo wasn't sure why her words filled him with dread. "Yeah."
She swallowed heavy, letting a pause fill the space between them. She reached for his hand.
"Thanks," she said.
He froze for a moment before he said, "You'll be the first to know when they're onto something."
She nodded, raising her chin to look out the front window at the street ahead. He twisted his hand in her grip, intertwining their fingers and she leaned on his shoulder for the rest of the drive home.
. . .
Packing was not his strong suit - though he'd never packed all of his things before, much less attempted to organize an overly helpful Uraraka. She'd seemed to slow down her zeal after dinner, which he survived without undergoing anymore of her ganging up on him with his parents.
"You could just do homework, you know," he said as he taped together another cardboard box.
She sat on the floor of his bedroom, determinedly folding the clothes from his dresser into a duffle bag. "This is kind of nice."
He set down the All Might figurine from his desk on top of some stuffing that concealed his game system in the box closest to his door marked fragile. "It's weird," he said stepping around a box of his video games and collected books to open his top drawer nearly over her head. He emptied the sock and underwear drawer into a new bag, keeping the contents out of her sight before tossing it on a stack of finished boxes.
"Yeah, well, we're weird all the time," she answered, tucking another pair of sweatpants away.
"I'm not weird," he argued.
She laughed in a huffing sound. "You're so weird."
"You wanna go, Cheeks?"
She waved him off. "Save it for the morning, tough guy."
Bakugo narrowed his eyes at her. "Tch. I'm not weird."
"You didn't know my name a week ago."
His mouth popped open and he scowled at her. "So?"
She set down the last pair of sweats from the drawer unfolded in her lap. When she turned to look up at him, he found himself taking in the full view her face like he'd done many times before, recording the pink of her cheeks and the light in her eyes. "So - now we're… this."
"This?"
Her shoulders dropped and she scanned the room before meeting his stare again. "You know," she said. "Whatever this is. That we're doing."
He bit back a grin and ignored the way his heart picked up. "Not sure what you mean, Princess. What is this?"
Uraraka blushed and he couldn't look away. "You know, like, uh, making out, and stuff."
"I like making out with you."
She bit her lip. "I like making out with you too," she said, pausing. "So that's why it's weird," she said, matter-of-fact.
He bent, crouching down beside her with his arms resting on his knees. "What's weird?" he asked, telling himself that he wasn't baiting her - wasn't trying to hold her hand through the conversation that had plagued his mind on more than one occasion.
"You!" Her eyebrows raised, the corners of her mouth upturning. "You didn't know my name a week ago and now we're basically dating!"
"But we're not dating."
She dropped her head, suddenly needing to examine her finger pads. Just when he started to think he'd fucked up, she whispered, "Why not?"
"Why aren't we dating?" he asked her, repeating the question more to beat it into his own skull than to confirm what she'd said. Was she really asking him that? Did she really not understand how atrociously obsessed with her he'd become?
"Yeah," she said from behind the veil of the longer pieces of her hair.
"Cheeks," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd meant it to. She whipped around to look him in the eye. "I've told you how I feel. I've said it more than once."
She pressed her lips together, searching his face.
"You want something, you just gotta say something," he added.
"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Okay."
"Okay?" He was really going to blow something up if they were going to do another fucking round of the bullshit roudabout 'okay' thing.
"You want to be my boyfriend?"
Well. When she put it like that.
"Boyfriend is a stupid word."
For whatever reason, she was grinning now - a big, shit-eating grin. "Then I'll make sure to say it all the time."
"You're impossible," he sneered.
Her grin faded into a smile that he found himself slowly mirroring. He reached out a knuckle to her cheek and she picked up on her knees and kissed him.
"Thank you," she said against his lips. "For everything."
"Hn," he grunted as she pulled away.
"You're such a good boyfriend," she said as she started to fold his last pair of pants.
"You're completely infuriating," he growled, snatching the bottoms from her grip and tossing them aside. Taking her face in both hands, he kissed her again.
So infuriating.