Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

Chapter Twelve: Enough

[Day Twenty-One]

[Uraraka]

Uraraka had been in Bakugou's room before. She'd taken note of how he neat he seemed to be, even though that was a direct clash with the personality he put out for the world to see. She'd been here before but… back then, they weren't dating. She'd been a bit nervous before because she'd practically seen him naked but this time, they were sitting next to each other not just as project partners or classmates, but as boyfriend and girlfriend. And she was more nervous than she had ever been in her life.

The two of them had just finished up their supplemental lessons with Midnight and Bakugou had suggested that the two of them finish up their homework together in his room. Uraraka had agreed back at the school but…

She glanced over at him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, spikey bangs hanging over his furrowed brow as he scowled at his notebook, just a foot away. Maybe less. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted to…

Uraraka's gaze fell to his right hand, absentmindedly drumming his pencil while he read through his notes, and pursed her lips. What would he do if… she just took it? She'd held his hand once before when he was passed out in the hospital, but she didn't really feel like that counted. And even though this was day three of their relationship, everything had remained exactly the same as it had been before.

She was complaining, exactly. Their dynamic had been something she was worried about when trying to decide what to do with his confession but… she'd be lying if she wasn't a bit disappointed. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and she certainly didn't want him to change anything about how he behaved just because they were dating now—which was still an insane concept to wrap her mind around—but they could at least hold hands… right? They were alone right now, after all. That hardly seemed like a lot to ask.

Uraraka practically jumped out of her skin when Bakugou turned his head in her direction, redirecting his scowl from his homework to her.

"You haven't done shit," He accused, tapping at the empty notebook in her lap with his pencil.

She frowned, almost annoyed that he was so relaxed—it was like the two of them being alone together in his room didn't faze him at all. It made her feel ridiculous. He was so calm but every nerve in her body was hyper aware of his proximity, of each of his movements, and it was not fair that she was the only one that was a bundle of nerves. Actually, Bakugou had been remarkably calm around her since they started dating, while she had grown progressively more self-conscious.

"Hey Bakugou?" She ignored his accusation and rubbed the pads of her fingers together, unable to fight the heat that rose to her cheeks. If there was one thing that she had learned about Bakugou since this assignment had started, it was that subtlety would get her absolutely nowhere. She had to be direct… no matter how embarrassing that was. "Would it be okay if we… uh, held hands? Or… something?" Her voice was meek. She wondered if stuff like this would ever get easier.

A part of her expected him to laugh at the childishness of her request and deny her. Another part thought he might get angry, because he'd probably think it was stupid, and scold her for not doing her homework again. But instead, he lit up like he'd been set on fire—his cheeks burned red and the color spread to his ears, his eyes widened even as his brows sank deeper into the scowl, he stiffened like he'd been turned to stone, his bottom lip protruded into an embarrassed pout… but instead of saying no, he just shoved his hand into her vicinity, palm upward, and waited. It was impossible not to smile, because it was so unbearably, uncharacteristically cute.

Bakugou was cute.

Uraraka's stomach flipped but she placed her hand into his, tentatively, testing the waters. But as it turned out, that wasn't necessary at all because he laced their fingers together and squeezed first, thumbing small circles on the back of her hand as he turned his attention back to his notes. If hadn't been for the searing blush tinting his ears, Uraraka might have thought he was completely unfazed by their contact. And she'd be lying if she said her stomach wasn't tying itself in hot knots because she couldn't look away from their entwined fingers.

"Now do your shit, Round-face." He growled, his voice a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. She couldn't help but wish they were even closer—when had she become so needy? So desperate for his attention? He'd given her what she asked for, with literally no dispute, but it still didn't feel like enough.

It took at least twice as long to finish her homework than it normally would have but Bakugou didn't let go of her hand the entire time.

[Day Twenty-Two]

[Bakugou]

The days just kept dragging on, with no fucking regard for anything Bakugou wanted to do. After Uraraka's demanding request a few days ago, the two of them had been endlessly bombarded with extra homework, supplemental lessons to catch up on classwork, and supplemental training time in the evening—supervised—to work on their "special move", tag-team techniques, and more sparring work. It wasn't as if Bakugou wasn't enjoying it… actually, to be perfectly honest, he was having the time of his life; all the while being pushed to the brink of madness with his loss of free time. When Eraser Head had told him that he'd have to make up all the shit he'd missed, he'd been pissed, but the circumstances had led to spending most of his waking day with Uraraka.

And that he liked.

Even if he wasn't spending that time with her in the way he wanted to.

He felt selfish. Not only did he see sides to that weird floaty-girl that no one else got to see—or refused to see—but he was monopolizing all of her time now, even if it wasn't on purpose. It was an unfamiliar feeling: the giddiness… He'd even found himself thinking that he'd spend every hour of every god damn day with her if he could—which was fucking lame as hell, but he didn't have the energy to give a shit about that right now. After all, they were technically dating now.

Bakugou sighed into his pillow. The fatigue from their supervised training with Eraser Head that evening had really done a number on him. His teacher was ruthless. And he was fucking exhausted. All he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep in. But there was an annoying bit of his brain that just would not shut the fuck up and let him get to sleep. It was something he'd been trying to avoid thinking about. Because it was as if UA, the entire staff, and the whole curriculum, was purposely trying to throw a wrench in his first relationship. He and Uraraka hadn't really spoken much at all outside of battle tactics, homework questions, and explaining their quirks to one another. Every conversation had been almost… professional? Goal-oriented. Painfully fucking normal. Like nothing had changed. They'd held hands the day before, in his room, but it still didn't feel like enough.

Originally, he'd thought that everything staying the same was what he'd wanted. Because morphing into some boyfriend-type was so far out of his realm of comfort and because he'd fallen for the Uraraka that was like this. The one that argued and cried and spoke her mind and fought his stubbornness at every turn. But… now that things were different, it didn't feel right for nothing to change.

Bakugou was new to the whole dating scene but he knew that probably wasn't how this was supposed to work. No… saying probably was fucking delusional. He knew that they weren't doing this right. Things were supposed to change. He wanted things to change. But he had no fucking idea how to do that. Perhaps even more ridiculous was that he realized he didn't even have her phone number. But it seemed really, really fucking late to ask for it now. They'd been alone for about two hours the day before, but the pile of homework they'd been given hadn't really lent them any time to talk or… whatever. They'd been alone yesterday but for fucks sake, the mountain of homework they'd been given hardly lent to any boyfriend/girlfriend shit. The last time they'd been alone, actually alone, without a million other things to worry about, was when they'd been interrupted in the common room four days ago.

Interrupted… He felt his face warm at the memory. She was so fucking weird, smiling the biggest, dumbest grin he'd ever seen in his entire life. Even though he'd rendered her blind and left her at his mercy. She hadn't flinched, though. Or shied away. And it was unbearable but in the best kind of way. He had wanted to kiss her—he was going to kiss her. But he hadn't. Mostly because he'd never fucking thought he'd be in that scenario with Uraraka fucking Ochako but also because everyone around them had the literal worst timing ever, and… he'd never done it before.

Bakugou was a naturally gifted person—he'd spent the majority of his young life excelling at everything with minimal effort, watching those around him work tirelessly only to always fall short of the standards he'd set, but… did that natural talent apply to something like this? Besides, his natural talent had been overshadowed somewhat since getting into UA. He had to work hard now. He had to make sure he stayed ahead. Otherwise he was going to have to keep up, and that was entirely new territory altogether. He wasn't the only one gunning for the number one hero slot anymore. So… how in the hell was he supposed to work hard at this? It's not like it was something he could just fucking practice.

Or… maybe he could. With her.

Bakugou cleared his throat, despite being alone in his room, hoping to distract himself from his inner monologue. He pulled his tired body from his blankets and tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. This was dumb. Feelings were stupid.

He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. 11:43pm. It was late. He wondered if Uraraka was awake. He frowned to himself when he realized that if he'd asked for her phone number like a normal fucking person or a normal boyfriend—holy shit, would that ever sound normal in his head?—then he could just text her and ask.

He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants and grumbled to himself.

He couldn't sleep at this rate. His brain was filled to the brim with flickering memories, lingering regret, and an imagination that threatened to get carried away with the slightest runaway thought. Uraraka was on the same floor of the dorms… it would take less than a minute to walk over there. He'd barely be breaking curfew…

Bakugou pressed his fist to his forehead, trying to push aside the embarrassment that he felt tying that stupid fucking knot under his chest, and remembered the way she'd leaned into him, so willingly. She hadn't been able to see, which he still couldn't decide if he loved or hated, but she had no idea just how close they'd really been. He swallowed hard at the memory—the trickling heat of her breath, that shit-eating grin that boasted some kind of victory, the way she'd completely resigned herself to him. She hadn't even bothered trying to move his hand, she hadn't retreated, she'd just stood there, like she was ready to accept whatever he wanted. Unafraid.

Those fucking extras really had the worst timing ever.

Shit.

Bakugou stood up quickly, as if his bed had shocked him, and stared at his door. Debating. He could go. For just a minute.

Idiot, he scolded himself. She was probably asleep. He should be asleep. And what the fuck was the point? It wasn't like he could go over there late at night, past curfew, and just kiss her, right? Or… could he? Was that something couples might do? Was he supposed to ask first? Or would it be better to be spontaneous? What if she didn't want to or…

"Oh, my fucking god…" He mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. This was starting to feel idiotic. And it was getting later the longer he debated with himself.

His frustration was threatening to boil over into full-blown rage. Wasn't shit supposed to get easier once all that confession shit was out of the way? Everything still felt so uncertain and Bakugou was not a fan of uncertainty. He didn't like not knowing what he should do or say. He knew exactly what he wanted to do—but Uraraka's response mattered too. It was important that he think about what she wanted. It wasn't like he could just go to her room and fucking jump her—what if she wasn't ready? What if she didn't want the same shit he wanted? Was there a certain amount of time they were supposed to be dating first? This wasn't hero training or sparring, this wasn't a competition like the sports festival; as much as he fucking ached to just do whatever the hell wanted, he knew it probably couldn't work like that.

So far, dating was nothing short of a headache.

Bakugou glanced at the clock again. 11:51pm.

Fuck.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at his bedroom door before moving to switch his lamp off. He fucking hated it, but he knew it was too late. Even if Uraraka wasn't asleep by now, it was probably too risky to chance being seen sneaking into her room in the middle of the night. That would start endless rumors that he knew he didn't have the energy for. They hadn't even talked about whether or not this relationship was something they should tell their friends or classmates, yet…

He was torn between thinking they had no right to know, because it was none of their god damn business, and wanting to tell every single fucking person he could find. So that everyone knew they couldn't have her. She'd picked him and he'd picked her, however batshit crazy that realization actually was.

Before Bakugou could reach into his lampshade and pull the toggle, 3 familiar knocks sounded on the other side of his door. He practically jumped to open it and even if he'd wanted to, it would have been near impossible to stop himself from grinning at the girl that had appeared before him.

Uraraka was standing there, cheeks florid even in the dim light, a soft, uncertain smile on her face—god damn it, he liked her. He liked her so fucking much and the thought was so grossly automatic that he had no idea why he'd been wrestling with himself just a few seconds ago. He liked her so much that it was horrifying and exhilarating and a million other things all at once. It just made sense. Every ounce of uncertainty faded away as he stepped aside to let her into the room and closed the door behind her.

But his exhilaration quickly morphed to panic. He suddenly felt overwhelmed—overwhelmed because he wanted to make sure she knew how much he liked her, even If he wasn't sure how the hell to do that yet…

He could probably start with doing what he wanted. Because she liked him back—and if it hadn't been obvious before, he could feel it now. She hadn't sat in her room debating whether or not to go see him, like he'd done; she'd taken initiative. It was one of the many things he liked about her—oh fuck, that would never sound lame as shit—so now it was his turn.

He wasn't into being upstaged.

Unfortunately, despite the resolve, his throat was suddenly drier than a god damn desert and the first thing that came to mind was, "Give me your phone number."

It took all his strength to resist hitting himself upside the head—he hadn't even asked, he'd just demanded it like a fucking psycho. No greeting. He was an idiot.

Fuck.

He wanted her phone number—but that wasn't the fucking point. He was supposed to be taking the lead. He wasn't used to struggling like this.

Uraraka, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed at all and that stupid, warm, nauseating feeling worked its way back into his gut as a result, "Oh, yeah! Here, let's trade." She reached into the pouch of her hoodie and handed him her cellphone, like he hadn't just been an absolute fucking degenerate.

Bakugou handed his own phone over and then froze again as he opened her contact list. This was only a momentary moment of peace. His calm before the storm. He hadn't thought about what to do afterward.

Well… that wasn't entirely true. He had thought about it. He'd been thinking about it since the day they'd started dating a few days ago. When he covered her face with his hand. Since she'd leaned into him like that. When she'd listened and cared about all his dumb shit without looking at him like he was weak or broken. Since they'd held hands in his room yesterday. Maybe he'd even thought about it before all of that…

He wanted to kiss her.

Maybe it was because she was standing a few feet away or maybe it was because they were alone without anything else demanding his attention, but this time Bakugou felt the flush creep up the back of his neck and settle on his ears as the thought crossed his mind. He couldn't just… do it, could he?

Ah fuck, now she was staring at him. Blinking as she tried to hand his phone back. But he hadn't put his number in yet. He was just staring at the screen. What was his number again? Holy shit. Why couldn't he remember? What the fuck. What the fuck?

"Bakugou?" Uraraka's voice broke through his veil of unfamiliar, building anxiety and brought his gaze back to her face and the concern she didn't bother hiding that had crinkled her brow, "Are you alright?"

He didn't know. Was he alright? Or was he fucking dying? Because this felt like he might actually be dying. Like he was going to burst into flames at any moment.

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be?" It came out like a croak. His face was burning.

This was it, wasn't it? Bakugou wasn't going to die in a loud, thunderous explosion, saving the world, sitting at the top of the hero charts. He would die here, in his fucking room, with Uraraka's phone in his hand, forgetting his own god damn phone number, stumbling over his thoughts and thinking about kissing his fucking girlfriend. The most pathetic, embarrassing way possible—that was how he was gonna go.

But then she smiled, like smiling at him was so normal, so natural, like he was the only person she'd ever smiled at like that, and the scrambled mess of his brain melted into a pool he could finally make sense of. He tapped his number into her phone and handed it back to her, feeling the roughness of her fingertips as her hand grazed his palm. Like yesterday. The contact sent a shiver up his spine.

Uraraka tilted her head to the left and peered up at him, seemingly unfazed by the touch, and quirked an eyebrow, "You're… really quiet today—oh, geez, it's late, isn't it? Sorry, you're probably tired…" She eyed the door, as if she were getting ready to bolt as soon as he kicked her out.

Instead, Bakugou just shrugged, hoping to appear indifferent, and sat down on the floor against the side of his bed. She hesitated, like she wasn't sure if she was supposed to join him, but eventually did after his silence stretched on a bit too long.

Bakugou glanced at the clock, now reading a few minutes after midnight, and realized that he hadn't even thought about why Uraraka had made her way to his room in the first place. She definitely hadn't come over to have him demand her phone number.

Then she spoke, as if she were reading her thoughts, "Um, I actually wanted to… talk about some stuff."

He nodded and eyed the long stray hair that had drifted into her bangs. She was pretty. Had she always been this pretty? Since when did he ever think anyone was fucking pretty?

Despite what she said, Uraraka was silent, staring ahead with wide eyes, twiddling her thumbs, pressing the pads of her fingers together over and over again, like she was hoping that she could just will a hole into the wall of his dorm room. She made no movement or motion to actually speak, though, and Bakugou was only vaguely aware of the fact that her hesitation would have pissed him off not too long ago. Now, it was almost frightening. Not because he was worried about what she might say—somehow every ounce of his reeling brain knew he didn't have to bother worrying about not liking whatever it was that might come out of her mouth—but because, despite his own nervousness, he didn't want her to be nervous.

Either without thinking, or with an enormous amount of effort that he'd never admit, Bakugou reached over and grabbed her hand. Uraraka tensed, like she was surprised, but turned her head to face him, and gave him another one of those unfair moon-faced grins that made him feel like he was floating in her zero-gravity bullshit. Every single fucking time she looked at him like that, like she could see right through him, he felt like he was at her mercy—

Everything that came after was involuntary.

Bakugou leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

[Uraraka]

Uraraka Ochako had never been kissed before. That was an obvious, glaring fact, especially given her current circumstances. Because, she realized, as Bakugou leaned towards her and eventually planted his lips on top of hers—she had absolutely no clue what she was supposed to do. Uraraka was inexperienced but she wasn't stupid—she understand the core concepts of kissing from the platonic side of the spectrum all the way to the romantic side. She'd kissed her parents on the cheek, she'd seen a ton of movies and tv shows where the love interests finally revealed their feelings for one another and chose to portray it in a moment of physical intimacy. She'd even read it in books. She understood it. In theory.

However, what the tv shows and movies and books failed to show or mention was just how new the experience would be. It wasn't some electrifying shock that threatened to send her into cardiac arrest—not that she'd really been expecting that—but it was new. The sensation was softer than she'd been expecting, particularly if she took into account that the person on the other end was Bakugou Katsuki, the Lord Explosion Murder himself. And before this moment, she'd never chosen the word soft to describe him.

So no, it wasn't some electrical pulse that set her body on fire, but it was… something. Her chest felt warm and tight. Her eyes fluttered closed, because she knew that's what she should do, because all she wanted to feel was whatever this was. Her limbs felt light and cold, like they might float away at any moment, and she clutched his hand tighter because even though she had no idea what she was supposed to do, she liked it. She liked the feeling. She liked the weightlessness in her gut. She liked it when he pulled back, just a little, and their noses brushed together, and the tickling sensation of his spiky hair against her forehead, and how he squeezed her hand in return when he tried again. She liked that his kiss was just a little off the mark, his bottom lip catching under hers, and how he pressed on anyway. Like he didn't care, for the first time in his life, whether or not what he was doing was perfect. It was, though. She thought she might overflow because it felt so perfect.

Uraraka could feel his hesitation and it squeezed at her heart in a way that she couldn't put into words even if she'd wanted to. This was Bakugou, after all. Hesitation didn't go hand in hand with him—he faced everything head on, with a sometimes infuriating combination of confidence and arrogance. But this was overflowing with uncertainty and a vulnerability she couldn't help but love. It made her feel so horribly special. She loved it so much. She loved…

Her heart hammered away in her chest—she loved… what? Him?

"B-Bakugou…" It almost hurt to pull away from him, but her inner monologue was running wild and she was afraid if she kept kissing him, she might accidentally say it out loud. It was too soon for that—right? That would freak him out. Besides, she knew she liked him but… love? Things didn't happen that fast, there was no way, no way her crush on Bakugou had already morphed into that! Pull yourself together, Ochako! They'd been dating for like three days! He'll think you're nuts!

Finally, she opened her eyes, and for what felt like the millionth time in the past few weeks, it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

Bakugou's eyes were still closed, lips parted just a little, cheeks tinted a light red that she might have missed if it were any darker in his room. The ever-present wrinkles on his brow were smoothed. No scowl in sight. Even in his sleep he hadn't looked like this. Uraraka wasn't sure what this was, but holy cow, it squeezed at her heart in every which way, and she felt the smile work its way onto her face before she could even think to lessen it. Okay. Okay. Maybe the L-word wasn't wrong. But that didn't mean she was ready to actually voice it.

His voice was gruff with embarrassment and the scowl returned immediately as he opened his eyes, "What the hell are you staring at, Angel-Face?" It was like he had to remind himself that he was never supposed to look soft.

Uraraka laughed before she'd thought better of it and clapped her free hand over her mouth when he jerked away, the redness climbing from his cheeks to his ears. Did he think she was making fun of him? It wasn't like she had any kissing experience—if anything, some part of her had been expecting him to make fun of her. Honestly, she'd laughed because he'd been uncharacteristically adorable post kiss and all she could think was that she had officially gone crazy for thinking so.

Oh. Wait.

She hadn't considered it before but… was she Bakugou's first kiss too? For some reason, despite his lack of social skills most of the time, there had been a part of her that had assumed he had some experience there. Although maybe that had been silly… Romance and physical contact with anyone was something he'd avoided altogether until now. And Bakugou obviously hadn't dated anyone before if his awkward confession had been anything to go by. Not to mention how he was acting right now, squirming to get away from her like his life depended on it—and she'd laughed. She'd obviously not laughed at him or his kisses, but he couldn't hear her thoughts. They'd kissed. Holy shit—they'd kissed! And then she laughed!

Uraraka practically crushed his hand as he tried to yank it away, "No, no, no—" was all she could muster between an undeserved fit of giggles, twisting her body to grab at his shirt with her free hand and swinging her leg over his ankle in a poor attempt to stop his escape, "I wasn't laughing at you!"

"Fuck off, Uraraka—" He hissed, although she knew he could, very easily, distance himself from her if that was really his intention.

"Katsuki!" Her voice was too loud, and he froze in her grasp. It hadn't even occurred to her that she'd said Katsuki without the unspoken rule of adding Bakugou to the beginning, and Uraraka took advantage of his stillness to move her hand from the fabric of his shirt to the side of his face, bringing his wide crimson gaze back to hers.

She had intended to make him look at her and repeat herself, to make sure he knew that she wasn't making fun of him at all, to apologize for mucking up their first kiss, but instead she found herself acutely aware of the situation she'd found herself in. Or, more accurately, the situation she'd put herself in. In the small struggle that had ensued, she had half tackled him to the floor, tangled their legs together, and now she was holding his face—Bakugou Katsuki's face—mere inches from her own.

The two of them had been tangled up before so being this close to Bakugou wasn't exactly new; they'd sparred and wrestled each other countless times at this point, after all. But… this closeness had different implications now. They weren't just project partners or classmates, they were dating. This wasn't a sparring match, they'd literally just kissed like two seconds ago.

Her brain, for all intents and purposes, stopped functioning normally.

And then Bakugou grinned that infuriating, challenging grin—like he was daring her to do something. Like he knew that she'd shriek and scramble away at any moment now that reality had dawned on her. And maybe she would have if her brain was working the way it was supposed to. But what he didn't know what that Uraraka had decided a few days ago that catching Bakugou Katsuki off guard was her new favorite pastime.

So, instead, and probably against all sense, she kissed him.

It was unarguably much less smooth than the kiss he'd given her a few minutes ago if the clink of their teeth were anything to go by. Regardless of that though, Uraraka couldn't deny the smug satisfaction that welled up inside her when he froze again, although it only lasted a fraction of a second before he reciprocated.

Uraraka's face was on fire. She was 99% sure it was actually burning because she felt hot and lightheaded and giddy and twenty other things she couldn't even remember the name for all at once, especially when she felt Bakugou's free arm snake around her waist and just… hold her there. In their tight, weird, tangled, sufficiently awkward embrace.

She loved him. Maybe it was too soon, and she was being totally crazy. Maybe she didn't really know what that meant yet. Maybe she was a mess of raging teenage hormones and she was twisting that up with love. She didn't care. She just wanted to know more about him, she wanted to make sure he never felt alone, she wanted to make sure he was safe and happy, she didn't want him to suffer in silence or pretend like he could never hurt. She wanted anything and everything Bakugou. She loved him.

Even when he broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, his grip didn't loosen and Uraraka could feel the crazy smile lifting her fiery cheeks. She was faintly aware that it was late, that she hadn't intended on staying this long, and that she should probably leave before someone discovered she wasn't in her room, but all she wanted to do was stay. Right where she was.

It was only when Bakugou shifted her, so that her weight was back on the floor, rather than on him, that she realized she still hadn't accomplished the goal she'd come over here with in the first place.

"Didn't take you for the aggressive type, Round-Face."

Uraraka rolled her eyes, trying to shove off the embarrassment threatening to steal her voice, "Don't challenge me and I won't have to be aggressive!" She huffed, certain that she would have stamped her foot if she'd been standing, "A-anyway," she pushed forward, ignoring the defiant quirk of his eyebrow under his spiky bangs, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

He nodded, like he was ushering her forward, and she took note of the way he rubbed his sweaty palms against his sweatpants. If it weren't for that, or the still present twinge of embarrassment on his ears, she might have been fooled into thinking that he was completely cool-headed about everything that had just transpired.

Her entire purpose in coming to Bakugou's room that night was so they could discuss whether or not they were going to tell their classmates about their relationship. It wasn't like she was itching to tell everyone—honestly, she knew that she would get a barrage of questions from all sides that she was ill-equipped to answer. It would definitely be easier to keep it under wraps. But she also wanted to scream it from the rooftops because she was so happy, and she wanted to share that happiness with her friends, not hide it. However, Bakugou was the other part of the relationship and if he didn't want it broadcast, she didn't want to go around making him uncomfortable.

The issue was that she wasn't really sure how to bring it up without sounding like she wanted it one way or the other.

Still uncertain how she should phrase it, Uraraka said, "Do you want to tell anyone? That we're… dating?" Somehow, it still sounded crazy when she said it aloud.

In typical Bakugou fashion, he simply shrugged.

Uraraka groaned and leaned her head back onto his mattress, "Bakugou! I'm serious!"

He was quiet for a second before he finally spoke, "Katsuki."

She frowned and lifted her head to give him an incredulous look, "What?"

Bakugou shrugged again, but there was a grin tugging at his features, "No fucking point in going back now, right?"

"Baku—"

He cut her off with a glare, as if to say that he'd decided and there was no way he was backing down now.

"Katsuki," Uraraka corrected, her voice quieter than she'd intended, "What do you want to do?"

Bakugou's grin might have been blinding in the sun and she was positive that calling him that was worth any shred of embarrassment that came along with it, at least if he smiled like that every time, "It's none of their god damn business, but I don't really give a shit," He concluded.

She sighed. That wasn't helpful in the slightest.

Somehow, his grin grew wider, "But if they hear you call me Katsuki, they'll figure it out real fuckin' fast."

Honestly, she was floored but she wasn't even sure what she'd been expecting. He hadn't said it, but that smug, maniacal grin said what he hadn't. He didn't want to tell people, not outright, but he wanted them to find out. Like it would be funny to probably kill half of the class with pure, unadulterated shock. Maybe Bakugou was rubbing off on her, because she couldn't help smiling, and there was a part of her that sort of agreed… it would probably be funny… although, she doubted anyone's mind would immediately jump to: "they're dating" rather than "they're friends now".

Uraraka sighed again. Maybe this dilemma could wait until after their assignment.

In the end, Uraraka left Bakugou's room without a definitive answer to her predicament, but not before he kissed her again.

[Day Twenty-Three]

Uraraka was absolutely exhausted. She had definitely stayed up too late with Bakugou, but aside from that, she had been in no mindset to actually fall to sleep once she eventually snuck back to her dorm room. Apparently, realizing you're in love and having your first kiss all within moments of each other made sleeping next to impossible.

She'd woken up way too late but, to her surprise, Bakugou hadn't made a single back-handed comment about her tardiness at all, which immediately raised her suspicions. Those suspicions only mounted when he'd greeted her in an almost alien-like, overly polite tone, with the most sadistic smile she'd ever seen. Which was saying a lot when it came to him. It was impossible to confront him about it outright, however, because their classmates were only a few feet away in the other room.

Bakugou had pretty much finished all the cooking on his own before she'd made her way downstairs, leaving Uraraka to plate the food and grab the cups from the cupboard, watching him out of the corner of her eye at all times. He was definitely up to something. It was written all over his face. Who knew what would happen if she took her eyes off him for even a second?

"Bakugou… what are you up to?" Her voice was an urgent whisper, but he didn't react at all. Like he hadn't heard her, "Bakugou?" She tried again, only a little louder. The results were no better with increased volume.

Uraraka pursed her lips. He obviously wasn't angry, so what the heck?

"No fucking point in going back now, right?"

Oh. That was what he was playing at, then? Uraraka rolled her eyes and decided her best bet would be to ignore the bait for now. It was too early for schemes and it was way too early to deal with the headache that could be Bakugou.

Besides, her friends were waiting for her at the table. And she was starving.

One of Uraraka's favorite things about the morning was eating breakfast with Ilda and Deku. It was always a nice, normal, relaxing start to her morning where she could get her brain refueled and recharged for the school day. It had basically become a ritual since Aizawa had given her and Bakugou breakfast-duty. And, despite having to wake up early, it was nice to spend the mornings with her classmates at the dorms rather than running to the cafeteria and dealing with the rush at UA before class started.

However, the sacred ritual had been broken. Today Bakugou, Kirishima, and Mina had joined her small group at the table. And Bakugou had made a point to sit next to her. Which, on the outside, wasn't outwardly obvious or suspicious. Everyone had gotten used to seeing them together because of the assignment they were working on, after all. But the fact that so many people had congregated at the table, and the fact that Bakugou had willingly sat across the table from Deku without screaming for him to get lost was weird enough to draw both Todoroki and Yoayorozu to the table as well, filling it up for the first time in weeks.

It wasn't that Uraraka didn't want Bakugou to eat breakfast with her in the mornings. If it hadn't been for that scheming smile, he'd given her this morning, she might not have thought anything of it. But. But. He had. And Uraraka couldn't shake the feeling that he was most definitely up to something.

And apparently, Uraraka had appeared wary enough for Deku to ask about it.

"You alright, Uraraka? Did you get enough sleep?"

She managed a weak smile and fought the urge to give Bakugou an accusatory glare, "I'm fine, just a little tired still."

Her green haired friend nodded, like her response was satisfactory, and continued, "How's your project going?" Deku risked a glance at Bakugou before adding, "Are the supplemental lessons tough?"

Her boyfriend and project partner was uncharacteristically silent and she squirmed in her seat, "Aizawa-sensei is the strictest so far but everything is going good, don't you think, Bakugou?" Uraraka practically slapped herself—she'd already made the same mistake once this morning. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him even though she felt his eyes boring into her profile.

He didn't respond. The table went quiet.

She gulped and stared down, wide-eyed, at her food, frantically searching for some way to salvage this before it got out of hand. The silence would only draw attention to it. Crap.

Uraraka forced out a laugh that even she could tell sounded nervous, "C-c'mon, Katsuki… don't you think?"

As if that hadn't been the most awkward exchange in the history of everything, Bakugou finally responded, "You're damn right! Whatever we end up doing for this shitty assignment, we'll kick all your asses."

"That's only if you're assuming it's a competition," Ilda chimed in, readjusting his glasses.

"Ilda's right, Kacchan, we still have no idea what we're gonna have to do," Deku said with a shrug, "I wonder why they've been keeping it a secret—"

"It's fuckin' graded, ain't it?" Bakugou growled, leaning back in his chair, "So whatever the fuck it is—we'll kick your asses." Uraraka had to suppress a smile at it the second time around. Had his vulgarity always been this endearing? Or did it only feel that way because he kept saying we?

"The probability of it being team against team is much higher is you consider the fact that we've been kept separated most of the time," Yoayorozu commented, with Todoroki nodding along with her, "If it isn't, then the secrecy was only to mislead us, which would only serve to inconvenience the staff, not us."

"Are we just ignoring the fact that Uraraka called Bakugou by his first name?" Mina sounded absolutely shocked, "And he didn't correct her! We're ignoring that?"

"I think we were," Todoroki deadpanned. They all seemed to ignore him.

"Does that mean we can call you Katsuki now!?" Kirishima shouted, his excitement might have been adorable if it wasn't just serving to draw the attention of their classmates who weren't even at the table. Uraraka felt the blood rush to her cheeks in defeat—she'd really thought it might slip through the cracks. Mina was way too observant.

"Fucking die, Shitty-Hair."

"Whaa—but Uraraka called you Katsuki!"

"Yeah, 'cause I fucking asked her to, idiot."

Uraraka jolted upright in her seat. It wasn't that she didn't want people to know they were dating but after Bakugou's seeming indifference yesterday—this morning?—she certainly hadn't expected it to come out this soon, if at all. Was that what he was going to do? Was he about to just spill the beans to the whole class? In the common room? Right now? An even mixture of anxiousness and excitement bubbled in her stomach and she realized, as an involuntary blush rose to her cheeks with a smile to match, that she really, really wanted them to, even if she wasn't sure why.

"That's unusual," Ilda commented, sounding the tiniest bit interested even though he kept his focus on his breakfast.

"It is unusual!" Mina echoed, eyes wide and sparkling, turning the full 45 degrees in her chair so that she was facing Bakugou. Kirishima peered over the alien-girl's shoulder, equally flabbergasted and added, "Ask us to call you Katsuki too, then!"

"No fucking way," Bakugou said, turning to give friends a threateningly heavy glare, "That shit is reserved so fuck off."

Mina squealed, obviously ahead of the rest of the table, and Uraraka stifled a laugh. He was acting all defensive, but he had so plainly set it up for the conversation to lead right where it was. He'd invited Mina and Kirishima to the table because he had known that they'd notice once he'd gotten Uraraka to actually say it. Something about all that made her feel nauseatingly giddy. He'd said it was no one's business and that he didn't really care one way or another if their classmates found out, but he did. Bakugou wanted everyone to know, just like she did, he was just a lot less likely to admit that out loud.

Kirishima was pouting, "What the hell, man! Reserved? Why can't I call you Katsuki?"

"Because I'm not fucking dating you, Shitty-Hair."