A/N: Augh. I'm so sorry for a late chapter. This is the first chapter of the year, and I wanted to make it decent. I actually asked one of my internet-friends to beta this chapter, and it still took forever for me to get my shit together. I hope you like it.

Boom. Boom.

In the security office of the train station, Bakugou used the outdated corded phone on the wall as the thunder roared from a window beside him. His fever had faded but a stinging sensation rushed through his cheeks and body. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gazed at the mop of nutmeg-brown-hair. She sat on a bench several meters away, staring up at the flickering fluorescent lighting above her as she kicked her feet like a wistful child.

"Are you listening, Katsuki?! I'm sending the money to you to get a hotel room. Don't blow it on games or whatever you've been wasting your time on over the past couple of weeks," his mother reprimanded.

Bakugou failed to listen: he was too busy staring at Uraraka doing something as mundane as kicking her legs. Why was she still there after the train security guard pulled him aside for disturbing the peace? They had stopped the trains because of power outages all along the route from the storm, so why would she stick around in this concerning situation?

As he scratched the back of his neck, he realized there was nothing but impatient silence over the line. "Did you do it yet?" he urged. "I don't got all day. We need to get out of here."

The scolding resumed. "Hold your damn horses. By the time you get there, you should have the money. It's across the street, right?" Mitsuki asked with a gut feeling that her son's mind had wandered elsewhere. For that night, she could let go of her typical "Be safe, alright? And, text me when you get there."

He hung up without a farewell and marched over to Uraraka. "Get up, we're going!"

"What are you thinkin' we should do? Maybe we can go to a diner until the storm stops, or maybe we can just walk to a bus stop," she gasped at her own idea. "Yeah! A bus stop." Cold sweat gathered on her forehead as she glanced up his stern and steady glare. She tried to think of what to say - maybe a joke - did he forget about the kiss? She hoped he did, for she wasn't sure if she could ever have the courage to repeat that.

However, if fate would have it, her latent urge would guide her to him like it had on that night on the couch. She attempted to hide her fluster behind her hands. Who was that girl that she became behind closed doors and beneath Bakugou Katsuki? He drew such a lurid and voracious side of her from her stubbornly cute facade. Who needed audacity with passion like hers in those moments?

For days, he recalled the sensation of her soft lips against his that night they stayed up and baked together. He could do that any night. The way his heart floated when she came within a few feet of him perplexed him and robbed him of sleep for hours, but now, he noticed a weight had lifted from his shoulders. However, tension remained at every joint in his body.

A single bead of sweat slid down Bakugou's temple. He would have gulped if he had less self-control, but instead, he grabbed Uraraka's arm and pulled her towards the door with him. "We're leaving. Now."

Thunder boomed and rattled the thick windows of the doors. He felt her tremble in the aftermath, but of course, he thought nothing of it at first. Bursting through the exit, he crossed the slick, empty streets. He never was the type to carry an only thing he held was Uraraka's arm.

The pink-cheeked girl had come with just a suitcase the size of a backpack for two days worth of clothes. Her only umbrella probably sat in her train seat without her. Otherwise, she would have come prepared for the storm they faced.

Thin shirts and moderately thick jackets protected them from the blustery chill of autumn, but nothing they had could protect them from the rain. No words - just silent resolution with reaching his destination.

As they walked, Bakugou's height blocked the windy rain from Uraraka's face. While she would have typically become frantically frightened by the roaring thunder, Bakugou's presence whited out the noise to a certain degree. She managed to feel the rumble at her feet, and so, she pressed against his body and shared a lengthy touch.

"Bakugou," Uraraka pleaded, "where are we goin'?" She kept her stare on the ground. Ignoring the fact that to the passerby, they probably appeared to be a couple that had been dating for years, she took a deep breath and focused on moving forward. Unprepared for inclement weather that day, she felt foolish; however, the reality of fleeing and drawing Bakugou out into the storm with her guilted her the most.

Left without an answer, she stared at his firm grip on her right forearm. "You know, if it weren't stormin' outside, I'd just poke you and send you up in the air," she joked with a passive-aggressive chuckle - anything to fill in the barren silence that left room for the chaotic uproar of the skies. Her furrowed brow didn't match her light-hearted words, and neither matched her strained tone as she tried to push words out without a whimper.

As she stared up at the darkening grey-blue clouds, she felt the cold rainwater drip down Bakugou's ash-blonde hair. She did not care where they went, but if he left her side for a single second, she might have shrieked. Such desperation soured her mood further. Anxious hairs would have stood on the back of her neck if water did not weight them down.

Bakugou had twitched as soon as she said the word "poke." Heat captured him once again from the hand that grabbed her all the way to his cheeks. "What kind of girl forgets an umbrella? If storms bother you so much, then just wear a raincoat," Bakugou complained. Her pace quickened as they walked in silence down the block to t he hotel. Tilting his head to avoid looking at her, he awkwardly and rigidly stomped through the automatic doors with his knees slightly bent like the delinquent he was. They tracked puddles behind them without bothering to wipe their feet on the welcoming red mat at the front. The heater could not work fast enough to comfort their shivering, soggy bodies.

Shifting her head around, she noticed the concierge at the dirty, grey front desk and a round bulb that hung above them for dim but not cozy lighting. A red rug led up to the messy-haired young man in a royal blue, polo shirt. Uraraka stuttered out, "B-Bakugou, this is a hotel. What are you doing?"

She heard the soft, jazzy music playing from the speakers above them. No way was she ready for this kind of step. She didn't even like Bakugou, but did they really have no other choice? Nearly whimpering as she looked back to the windowed doors, she gulped. The fear of lightning and storms had consumed her and drove her into Bakugou's arms.

That night, she would have to be sure to keep up her guard in order to protect her innocence. Bakugou may have been a responsible hero, but he wanted her. Projecting a maliciously perverse grin onto Bakugou's scowl, she cringed.

Bakugou had appeared to her like a shark swimming through the seas, and by some stretch of the imagination, she decided to ride off with him. Made vulnerable by rejection, she leaped into the arms of a tormentor like the north and south poles of a magnet. Attempting to deny and subdue the curiosity of her own, she rationalized that staying the night with him was the only way to have a safe night.

As much as he wanted to stay collected, he trembled at the thought of explaining his rationale for leading her there. "Don't get the wrong idea, alright?" mumbled the young, troubled teenager under his breath. Turning to the man behind the desk, he explained as he placed an open hand on his chest, "Me and her need a place to crash for the night, alright? The storm ain't getting better."

Such a brutally blunt request spewed from his diaphragm and rattled the desk like he demanded a night with his long-time lover, but it calmed the young Uraraka. She leaned towards him and away from the darkening windows of the storefront near the entrance. Brushing her bangs back, she allowed her hand to linger above her ear that heard the banging thunder of the outside. "Please," she added.

Bakugou slightly jumped along with his heart at her cooperation. He leaned over the desk and grinned, "You heard her." Slamming his credit card, he then watched as the older man swiped his card and placed it back on the desk.

"Pick a room, and I'll give you a key," answered the man as he combed his bright purple hair to the side and looked back down at his magazine of scantily clad women after pointing to the wall of TVs. Each screen showed a live feed of the hotel room and had a bright, red button beneath it. He failed to give any further interrogation.

That easy? Bakugou was not prepared for such a lack of resistance. He marched towards the wall of TVs and redness engulfed his face once again. Why wasn't every room just the same like in most hotels? And, why were there chains in one room and whips in another? And why the hell did every room only have one bed.

"Bakugou!" exclaimed Uraraka. "T-This is a love hotel, isn't it?!" She had never seen one until moving to the city.

His arm became stiff. "Love hotel?" Bakugou asked to confirm. He had a suspicion that something differed from the average hotel.

For a brief reprieve, Uraraka could take the time to freak out over something aside from her worst fear. She yelled in a hurried whisper, "A love hotel is - it's a place where this and that happen." Gesturing to her left and right side, she knew that her explanation added no clarification.

Her face reddened by the syllable.

Bakugou leaned in to examine the despair in her lustrous brown eyes. His eyebrow twitched as he caught onto what "this and that" must have been. Dragging his hand down his face, he heard his heart thump within his chest, so he took a deep breath to retrieve his composure. The nervous furrow on her brow looked irresistible - he wanted more of that desperation, but moreover, he knew bantering her might make her run away.

They had wandered into not just a hotel - but as he saw the various rooms and furnishing. How did he not catch that? Picking a loud, red and orange room with tiger-like stripes, the image piqued his interest almost immediately. One large, black bed with orange carpet sat in the center. Orange flames patterned the black walls and a shag, red rug covered the majority of the floor. He shouted several meters away back at the front desk. "I want this one!" he declared as he pressed the button.

Without looking up, the man at the front desk tossed keys to Bakugou and went right back to his magazine.

Uraraka said as she bit her bottom lip, "It has no windows, right?"

Frowning at how willing she became, Bakugou nearly sniffed for the moment where he would jerk this moment from beneath his nose. Moreover, he worried that Midoriya's rejection altered her judgment. Bakugou knew he was a dangerous man - especially around her.

"What's going on with you?" he mumbled in a soft voice and stopped moving. "Don't overthink this. We're just getting a place to crash - you don't think I'm that much of an asshole, do you?" Bakugou could promise he would practice restraint.

He feared any slight confirmation in her eyes, so he kept his stare on the ceiling. He could feel every tremble in her body, and it made him hyper-aware of her presence

Uraraka thought she feared the storm before she knew the anticipation that brewed within her. She had always been curious about the secret sides of Bakugou, but she also feared the face he'd reveal in a setting meant for lovers. The type of adrenaline that fueled her during a fight raced through her blood and sped her beating heart. "Let's just go to the room, please," she pleaded with an anxiously high pitch to her voice.

No way. He couldn't believe how she rushed him to their room, tugging him along. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his face like tears. Silent tunnel vision lead him to the elevator. He could hear how in-sync their breathing had become. Every exhalation, every inhalation matched perfectly with hers, and he found that observation incredibly satisfying. Leaning against the dark walls of the elevator, he had difficulty holding his tongue. Many questions rushed through his mind, and he knew they'd burst through the seams.

Bakugou decided that if they engaged in something intimate like that all-nighter they pulled in the commons, he would have to make sure she knew the connotation. He could not let her get away with thinking he saw her as anything less than his fucking soulmate. "Don't rush me!" He blurted amidst the screaming silence.

Running his fingers through his hair, he tensed at the sudden chime of the bell for their fateful floor: 5. He marched with heavy feet and nearly ran to the door before he freed her from his clutch to fumble with the card key for the door.

Was he ready for anything more than a kiss?

"Are you okay, Bakugou?" Uraraka asked in her soft and peachy voice, but she knew he probably had something naughty on his mind.

Bakugou's hair spiked along with his blood pressure. He growled, "I'm fine, dammit! Why wouldn't I be?"

She giggled, and he heard it echo up from her diaphragm: soft and deliberate, like a song. Melting, he pushed the door open to reveal the black color scheme with bright, orange flames decorating the walls.

"Not bad," he admitted as he surveyed the room.

Uraraka continued laughing, "It's a Bakugou room, for sure, but why are we at a love hotel?"

"Stop saying that!" he barked. If he heard the term "love hotel" one more time, he would never be able to rid himself of the erotic mirages that he saw around the room. A young man like Bakugou had dreams, desires, and a drive to rip her clothes off where she stood. And, he could hear the arrogance in her laugh.

Bakugou wanted that dominance that composure provided.

With a smarmy grin, Bakugou tossed his soaking wet jacket to the side and stripped his black shirt that clung to his body without a second thought. Room. Wet clothes. Take them off. He failed to consider the girl in the corner of the room.

Thinking to jump in the bed, she kept her back turned to Bakugou as she heard his clothes splat on the carpet. Tightly closing her eyes, she squealed, "W-What are you gonna do to me, Bakugou?" Hugging her body, she remembered how soaked her shirt had become in the rain, but she had the decency to excuse herself before stripping!

A barrage of booms erupted in Bakugou's hands in rapid succession. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing! In fact, I'm not even gonna look at you. Don't get anywhere near me and sleep on the floor, you damn girl!" He shouted, despite the fact that she stood well within earshot of him. He needed to get over himself.

"Bakugou," his name flowed like a song from her mouth, "you don't gotta be mean to me all the time, you know?"

Leaning forward with his arms across his bare chest, he studied the smile grow on her face like magic, for just a few moments ago, she had lost all shine in her big, brown eyes and lost all luster in her round hair. However, all that had returned like the brightness of her had never left. The fact that her essence had left in the first place continued to gnaw at him. Tightening his fist, the sight evoked memories of that green bastard Deku. She must still be in pain for him.

Bakugou's eyes followed the zipper of her pink jacket down the center of her body. Her heavy jacket slid down her arms to the floor. Splat. He tilted his head as the jacket fell to the ground like the curious dog he was. His eyes glued to the puddle of rose-colored, cotton fabric on the floor as he hesitantly and slowly turned his head to look at her.

Hands on her hips, she expected his interest and frowned to stifle her smile, "See? You're lookin' at me."

"How the fuck can I look away from that?" exclaimed the volatile young man as he gestured towards her thin, wet shirt that shined like black paint from her body. Grappling the air with his rigid fingers that bent at the knuckles, he let out a low, frustrated growl. "That doesn't even look like a shirt."

Why did she enjoy his attention? She turned around and sighed, "Jeez, I just took off my jacket. Where's the bathroom? I'll go-" she stopped and squealed, for a small explosion erupted inches from her body.

Again, Bakugou melted around her. He held his arms around her without touching her. The hand that set off the explosion hovered above her belly. His other hand hovered over her heart. His chest pressed against her back as he lowered his nose to her neck. He could smell everything - her tantalizing sweat, her heated breath, the lavender soap she used that morning. What a fucking recipe for this chaotic sensation that burst between them.

She stayed still and failed to deny him. She wanted him as close as he had gotten - or possibly even closer. "W-What are you doin', Bakugou?" Uraraka stuttered. Another small eruption crackled from his hands. The sound satisfied her like fireworks shining in the summer night sky, and she watched with the same level of intrigue.

Her penchant for his abrupt idiosyncrasies dangled her and forced her to fear the pleasure that she chased in his eyes. Right, his eyes, where were they? She looked to her left shoulder and saw him staring right back up at her. Gasping, the sound muted against another explosion from his palms.

"What do you think?" He said without a trace of hostility in a deep and monotone voice. "I'm drying you off."

Nearly panting, she replied, "Then, why didn't you do that with your clothes?"

Uraraka closed her eyes knowing that she could acknowledge the change of clothes she brought with her for a stay in her hometown, but she tightly closed her mouth to steady her breathing.

Bakugou no longer suppressed his silent interest in her body. He could not deny that his eyes wished to wander about the surface of her body - beneath her paper-thin shirt and below her waist, too, but if he were being honest with himself, the view he had of her in that moment could satisfy him. Anything more would overwhelm him.

"Can't you see that I'm drying you off? I'm not gonna hurt you or nothing."

Red rose to his cheeks. His heart sped as heat overwhelmed him. When she leaned back onto him, he thought he would lose control. His body tightened and became rigid at the joints, but explosions persisted from his palms. Leering down at her, his tongue hung from his mouth.

"I know," she sighed, for she could feel the effects of his gesture. Not only had most of the water evaporated from her clothes but she enjoyed the moderate heat that grew between them.

Then, another violent boom erupted from the outside and snatched her back to reality. Right, the storm. Almost instantly, she twirled around and leaned into him, and like nothing had ever happened, she squeezed the water from her eyes and took another deep breath.

As they stood together in the strange silence of the room, she found endless comfort in his arms yet again.

He pulled her into an apprehensive hug. "Don't tell me you're scared of storms."

Her blushing betrayed her. Oh no! She didn't mean to reveal her weakness to him.

Bakugou's dismay surfaced because he had no idea how the hell he could protect her from nature. Dizzy and lightheaded, he stumbled back a bit before she pounced on him. They fell back onto the bed. His eyes shot open, but instead of waking up from this celestial dream, she had swooped him down for a kiss.

Uraraka had a deep desire that she could no longer deny: the endless warmth and comfort in her eyes mixed with the raging hormones of her adolescent state piloted her to him. If he embraced her and kissed her, then thunder and storms and rejection of the day failed to disturb her.

The stubborn teens could not find the words to express their thoughts and feelings. Instead, their hands found each other. Bakugou gripped her full behind as Uraraka stroked the ridges of her lover's abs. Each touch expressed pages upon pages of untold affection.

Pulling back, Bakugou groaned and stroked the tip of his tongue against her hot neck like a paintbrush and flicked at her earlobe. Their mouths did more against each other than trying to push out muddled phrases or sentences. Anything they intended to say streamed past their lips into moans.

"You're really fucking annoying, you know that?" Bakugou finally scolded under his breath as he bit his lip to devour an area of her tender neck with a passionate kiss. "Pushing me to the edge like this."

She teased, for she sat on top of him in more ways than one - superior and confident, she whispered, "You said you weren't gonna hurt me, right?" Her back arched and curved to conform to the arm that wrapped around her. A smirk appeared on her lips once she felt him cup her chin and tilt her head to meet him for another deep and passionate kiss.

Deeper, they delved into their wonderous and ever expansive world. Intimacy on this level surpassed anything they had ever experienced. The same tension that unnerved them also drove them to achieve the blissful zenith of ecstacy between them. Like a drug, each touch stirred a deep craving for more.

Courage, fear, desire, they felt it all equally, and somehow the forces all led them to that moment of a kiss.

Pressing her palm against his cheek, she pushed her tongue past his lips and spread her thighs to properly straddle him. Moaning, she slid her hand down his body once more and lower and lower towards his waist before he grabbed her wrist.

Thunder boomed and she trembled staring down into his red eyes. "Wha?" she gasped. There it was again - reality.

"What do you think you're doing? Do you know how much restraint it takes to not pin you down and have my way with you right now?" he growled as her abrupt gesture shattered him. "What's really going on, round face?"

A rush of tears poured from her eyes down onto him. She sat up and tried to wipe them away.

Those drops of salty tears felt like shards on Bakugou's skin. He gripped the sides of her waist, fighting back a grimace. "Stop crying and running away and just tell me who I have to beat up and what the hell is going on!"

Instead of replying with words, she shed tears and squeaked out apologies.

Sighing, Bakugou stood up and swept Uraraka over his shoulder. Grabbing a blanket, he marched over towards a door - the closet and sat her on the floor in there. He closed the door behind them. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" he informed her as he sat slumped against the wall a half meter away. "You come here, scared out of your mind then all of a sudden, you're jumping my bones like you're trying to climb me."

"Don't say it like that!" Uraraka pleaded. She had grown to detest the nymph that emerged from her when he got her alone. Maybe this had been deeper than desperation, for she realized that she had not only forgotten the torrential storm outside but the turbulent grief that burdened her heart from Midoriya's rejection.

"What are we doing in here?" She asked as she got to her knees.

"Why did you come back?" muttered Bakugou to change the subject, but in the darkest corner of his honest mind, his curiosity haunted him. He was reluctant to rejoice in the fact that she stayed by his side instead of leaving back to UA with Kirishima. Too much of his heart had been invested in her whims to allow himself to assume that she developed an attachment to him. As he recalled her playfully kicking her feet at the train station, he wondered if she felt the gravity of their reunion.

What did it mean to her to be with him?

He must have been referring to when she got off the train and ran back to him - she assumed. "Oh, I had no choice. I had to stop you from making a scene."

She threw up her hands. In the dark closet, she somehow spotted the whites of his eyes as he shot his signature glare back at her. Scratching her head, she added, "Then the kiss - it was just because of the emotion. I don't know why I keep doing that."

Was she really not going to admit that after all these intimate moments, at the end of the day, maybe she simply wanted him?

Bakugou stirred, shifting his weight forward to pull her to his chest. Thunder erupted as soon as they made contact. He closed his eyes and spoke against the noise and directly into her ear. "You're fucking stubborn just like she said."

How could she react to something as trite as thunder when he pulled moves like that? Uraraka furrowed her brow and complained. "I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"Alien girl."

"I told her not to tell you!" Uraraka shamefully buried her head into Bakugou's chest. Once she realized the innate reaction, she pulled away. Why did she always find repose in physical contact? She pressed her cheeks together with her sweaty palms and took a deep breath.

Bakugou covered the backs of her hands with his. "Stop running away from me. Why did you hide all damn day like a coward?"

Even in that moment, Uraraka lamented her fragility. Uraraka had too much pride to confess to Bakugou that the rejection shattered her and left her desperate for human touch. She had nearly begged with tears filling her eyes for Bakugou to embrace her, but as the night wore on, she realized she may have clung to him out of pure desire rather than despair. Given either option, she would rather remain silent.

Bakugou could not deny the frustration that stirred in his gut. Her impermanence unnerved him and caused him to shift his weight once again. Surely, she remained with him at that moment, but a strong breeze could whisk her away at any moment.

Strong, green breezes, like Midoriya.

And, Uraraka: she noticed during the flashes of lightning that pushed through the cracks of the closet door that she feared the celestial sensations that sparkled down her spine. Just by looking at him, she knew that she could no longer pretend that there was nothing between them but hormones.

She feared the storm within her more than she feared the thunder without.

Bakugou took a deep breath. He knew her answer would hurt, but he had no other idea how to make it clear how he felt. "Uraraka, I'm sick of making you moan my name like it is now. I'm sick of you leaving me dry every damn time. Do you know how crazy I went today? I thought you were kidnapped," he shouted in the closed in space of the closet. "Date me, and you won't even remember that green dork's name. I'll make you fucking happy," demanded Bakugou.

The loudest bang of thunder rang out after he said that, but Uraraka didn't move an inch. She sat across from him staring into his eyes through the thick shadows of the closet. What if Bakugou spoke from his heart? What if this was how he felt?

A/N: I got into two zines, and I'm really proud - Mirrors BNHA which is going to feature an angsty and fluffy Kacchako story. Then, Domestic BNHA which I'll be writing about a pregnant Uraraka that's having Bakugou's kid. Those are going to be my top priority because I have deadlines.

Then, of course, please join the kacchako discord.

discord.

gg

[slash]pd4VmCh

I'm sorry. I'm not good at typing links on this site, but hopefully, you understand. Also, I don't think I'll be able to do weekly chapters for a while.