Building A Murder

by ShadowedSword21

Assassins and Heroes don't mix. As a rule one tries to save lives and the other tries to end them. Ochako Uraraka knows this. It's why when ProHero Aegis, Izuku Midoriya, steps onto her construction site to investigate a body she knows it's all going to spiral out of control. She kills for a living. He saves lives. Naturally they shouldn't ever get along... Right?

20. 20- Lust Love

Chapter 20

Lust ≠ Love (but Damn Would His Pants Look Better on Her Floor)

Ochako doesn't ask him about the Gala.

It's not because she forgot about it. It's not because she doesn't have the time to either. She has plenty of time to do so, given their spur of the moment sparring class had become a staple for his second and third period classes.

Especially given they practice their next lesson the night before.

It's a great idea in theory. It allows both of them to work out any possible kinks that might come up, get familiar with the moves and possible errors for the techniques for the next day, and gets them comfortable working together.

The issue is that it's an unavoidable two-hour time slot where Ochako has to focus on Izuku and talking to him despite the fact that her hands are all over him. And naturally, the universe will not give Ochako a break, as seen in him investigating one of her contracts, almost blowing his head off, having an emotional breakdown because he was her first outside friend, confessing her undercover job to him and his friends, him being her adoptive father's biological son, and her father dying, all in a relatively close timespan.

Maybe that's why Ochako is half relieved and half infuriated that by Monday night, Izuku hasn't asked her about the Gala yet.

It's driving her crazy knowing and yet not knowing.

She knows he has something to ask her. Whether that's something with his lesson plans or the gala question, she knows it is something. He's been fidgety ever since last Tuesday when she joined as a temporary instructor, and the nervous looks that he keeps giving Tsuyu is making her edgy and irritated.

"Do I need to shoot him?" Nagant asks from the kitchen.

Ochako peels her eyes off the television screen, drifting them over her cellphone as it buzzes, and then finally levels them at Nagant as she opens one of her cabinets and pulls out a stainless-steel tumbler.

"Not yet." She growls her response, and Nagant snorts as she fills it with ice.

Ochako slides her attention back to the television. Her cell buzzes again, and she huffs and rolls her eyes before begrudgingly picking it up.

"What are you talking about now?"

"How I need to try the homemade cookies his mom makes."

Nagant pauses, frowning softly before giving Ochako a confused look. "I feel like that's something only people in a relationship discuss."

"We are in a relationship." Ochako snaps back. She can see blue and pink hair whip around, and the smile on Nagant's face before she adds, "it's just a platonic one."

Nagant huffs, letting out a little groan as she slumps back into the couch.

Ochako rolls her eyes and shrugs. There was no telling with Izuku in some ways. All she knew was that she definitely isn't dating Izuku Midoriya. As much as half her heart wanted to be, the other half desperately wanted to avoid it at all costs.

Ochako tabs to the newest messages instead of dealing with Nagant further.

I'll have to let you know the next time she makes a batch.

-Sent 1817

Hey.

I have a question

-Sent 1818

Ochako stares at the last line, her cursor blinking lazily as her thumbs hover over the keys.

The couch squeaks softly as Nagant joins her. Ice clicks and rumbles in her cup before she feels the sniper drop her head onto her shoulder.

"Don't tell him your three sizes." Nagant offers, before taking a sip of something Ochako is sure is a mixed drink.

"You say that like it has ever once occurred to Izuku that I have boobs." Ochako swipes the tumbler from Nagant, sipping it.

She cringes. Rum and lemon-lime soda. Not her favorite.

Nagant doesn't fault her for disliking her selection of beverage, nor for ignoring her quip.

What is it?

-Sent 1820

She doesn't even get to set her phone down before it buzzes again. Nagant hums in amusement at his quick response, snuggling a little closer. Ochako hisses at her, or more specifically her ice-cold feet that she wedges against Ochako's calf.

"I have blankets in this house!"

"And?" Nagant shrugs the suggestion off with ease, taking another sip. "Tell him yes already." She gestures at the phone, and Ochako blushes as she turns her attention back to it.

So, there's a Hero Gala coming up this week… I was uh… wondering if maybe you'd go with me? It's Thursday. I'd pick you up at 6pm.

-Sent 1820

It's a terrible idea.

Just like helping him out as a provisional instructor is a horrible, bound-to-get-her-deeper-into-trouble idea.

She swirls her thumbs over the touchscreen as she debates her response.

"I will run your job Thursday if you agree to go." Nagant bargains.

Ochako purses her lips.

"I will spend all of Wednesday shopping for your dress."

She wriggles her toes, picking at the carpet underneath them. Her teeth attack the interior of her lower lip, gnawing at it as she tries to decide just how bad of an idea it would be to go as Izuku's plus one to a formal dinner and gala.

Terrible.

Absolutely unequivocally horrendous.

It would be an abysmal choice to attend with him.

There would be media and press and no doubt dozens of pictures taken of her with him. She would be featured on his arm in magazines and newspapers and All-Might knows what else, probably before she even got home. Before the end of the night, she would probably have reporters on all of her job sites hounding her for how she met him and what her intentions were. There would be press releases and inquiries and a horde of people digging into who she was and where she came from, if she even deserved to be seen with Izuku- as if random people had a right to decide who he spent his time with.

It would be a nightmare.

And yet…

"I'll call Corvan and get him to run your job sites this week." Nagant offers, "Just tell the boy yes already!"

What color suit are you wearing?

-Sent 1824

Black. Shouto says I've worn green too many times now.

-Sent 1825

Pick me up at 5:30.

Nagant also says if you don't offer me your jacket when I get cold, she's shooting you in the leg.

-Sent 1827

"I did not." Nagant protests.

"But you would."

"Never said it wouldn't be something I said, I just didn't say it yet." She takes a sip of her drink, and Ochako rolls her eyes.

I'll make sure I'm there.

-Sent 1827

He's eager.

And she knows it.

She can practically feel it coming through his texts as they talk back and forth through the night about their usual slurry of odds and ends. The next morning, she can see it in his jitters and how he keeps giving her nervous glances, and yet his lips keep pulling back into the start of a smile, even in the middle of him coaching students.

It's intoxicating, knowing that she is the one making him so excited.

She knows it's wrong.

She knows it's terrible.

She is a murderer. She has more blood on her hands than he could dream of or understand. She had no right to walk beside him as a friend, much less as… as…

She swallows the thought down.

She does not mention the Gala dance to Snow at their next session. They talk shop mostly, and Snow asks her how she deals with lining up long-distance shots and if she's ever had any issue with seeing death through a scope. It's an easy question, and one that Ochako laughs away and shrugs.

She was trained by the best. Watching a person's head explode into a red mist? She had probably seen Nagant do it a hundred times as her back up, and dozens of times herself. If that response bothers Snow, then her therapist doesn't say it. The back half of their session is them discussing her current crossword puzzle, and Snow stonewalling Ochako on why she knows interrogation and counter-interrogation tactics.

Nagant talks about the Gala animatedly Wednesday, dragging her from one shop to the next and throwing dresses at her all the while. Mina joins them at some point before lunch, but she mostly talks with Tsuyu. It's understandable; not everyone is comfortable around Nagant.

She also isn't sure who specifically finds the dress she picks.

She just knows it's going to knock Izuku's socks off.

Another terrible, dangerous, no-good idea that makes a heat simmer in her belly and a smile grace her lips as she considers herself in the mirror.

She looks good.

She looks…

She looks like someone that would deserve to be seen with Izuku Midoriya, Aegis, and the Shield of Japan.

The dress is form fitting, covering her curves in the most flattering of ways. Lace sleeves hide her scarred and muscled forearms, something that, for some reason, makes her nervous in this context. Her back is bare, and she knows those scars will be exposed, yet somehow, she doesn't mind the thought. Her hair is down, curled and primped by Nagant an hour earlier, and her brown curls hide the majority of scars- at least the more gruesome ones.

She wonders if they'll dance.

Maybe Izuku's fingers will skirt around her side and cross from the sleek fabric of her dress to venture onto her back. She shivers at the thought of callous hands skating over her scars.

This is a terrible idea.

She hears him knock on the door.

Thursday night at five thirty PM has come far too soon and yet not quite soon enough.

She does not rush to the door, though. She lingers and listens as Nagant gets it. She hears the quick exchange they have, more of Nagant threatening him than anything else.

Izuku laughs it off good naturedly.

The weight and burn that has been filling her chest all week seems to flare. It feels like hot lead being poured into her aorta and pumped into her veins. It's something she can't quite describe.

Something she's almost scared to have a name for.

She walks out of her bedroom, and Izuku's gaze slides from Nagant to her. She sees his breath hitch, watches his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

"Y-you look…" He trails off, eyes raking over her.

From someone else, she might have felt offended to be given such an obvious once over, and yet her emotions and body betray her as she feels her face flush and a smile push to her lips before she can catch herself.

"Well, I couldn't just wear a black dress." She says, giving him a twirl. "So, I thought I might try red."

She almost hadn't.

She almost had been too scared to commit to the color because it was the color of blood, and it was the very color that Toga had been obsessed with. It had been Mina who introduced it, and Nagant had joined in on pulling red dresses as soon as she had seen.

Nagant slaps Izuku's back, and he coughs and swallows.

"-breathtaking." Izuku blurts out a moment later, as if he has only just landed on a word.

He is one to talk. His suit is… well-tailored to fit him. She can see the way his button up outlines his chest, and how as he steps forward and offers her his hand, his jacket catches on the muscles of his bicep. She might have been called breathless, but he was without a doubt just as attractive.

And tonight… even if it was just for tonight… she could call him her's. Her escort, her friend, her… date.

She swallows, and Nagant gives her a wink and a thumbs up from behind Izuku.

Ochako steps up, needlessly straightening Izuku's tie, if only to give her hands something to do and to pull her eyes off him. "Well, let's get going hm?"

She can't tell if she's eager or terrified.

"Bring her back at a reasonable time." Nagant adds as they head out. Despite the cheery dismissal, the door still slams as soon as Ochako gets out the door. Nagant must have plans.

That or she wants to get back to watching that raunchy French rom com she started last week.

Izuku offers her his hand as they get to the steps. She doesn't need it, but she takes it anyway, some small part of her enjoying the warmth of his hand and the rough texture of his callouses as they descend the spiral of stairs leading to the parking lot.

She's already spotted their car for the night. A long black limo that Ochako already knows isn't empty. It's Izuku. And as much as he is a kind and sensitive and thoughtful individual, she knows that he doesn't go anywhere without his classmates. So it doesn't surprise her at all when the door bursts open as soon as they get to the ground floor and Mina charges out.

Ochako has all of three seconds to realize that it isn't Izuku she's charging for, but her. Then she's wrapped up in a hug so tight Ochako can hardly breathe as Mina squeals right into her ear.

"You look so good! Oh, I knew that dress was the one! I'm so glad Tsuyu found it for us!"

Oh right. That's who found this dress.

"I- yeah." Ochako grimaces, unsure what to do as Mina squeezes her and pulls back.

"You look great. How do you feel?" Mina takes her hand, pulling her back to the car and leaving Izuku stunned and abandoned on the sidewalk.

She feels like she has a beehive buzzing around in her gut. She feels like she's going on her first mission ever all over again, and Nagant has handed her an empty magazine or a rubber knife. She feels like this is a set up and a horrible idea.

Ochako feels like she has made the best worst decision in her life.

She feels like her wants are getting in the way of her needs, and the only thing worse than agreeing to be Izuku's plus one tonight would be forgetting herself and asking him to dance.

She wants to feel rough and calloused hands drag dull nails down her back and his lips pepper kisses down her collarbone.

And she has absolutely no reason to want that because all she is, is a friend. She isn't his girlfriend. She isn't his spouse. She isn't anything to him but a friend.

Even if there is a near-tangible heat that slides into her veins as Izuku takes the seat next to her, his fingers grazing her thigh through the fabric of her dress.

Even if when they make awkward eye contact, Izuku apologizes and Ochako has to see if he noticed, they both blush and pointedly look in opposite directions.

"Don't flirt. Shouto is bad enough." Tsuyu grumbles from the other side of the limo.

Ochako scoffs, draining the emotion from her face to give her a deadpan stare.

Tsuyu's dressed in a jumper with a matching jacket. In that ensemble, she looks remarkably like the animal she's modeled off of. The flat look she's returning Ochako's death glare only seems to reinforce those similarities.

"I am not."

"No, honey, you absolutely are." Momo squeezes Shouto's wrist.

Now that she knows what she's looking for, she can see the faint discoloration on their fingers. Shouto doesn't seem to notice her staring as his gaze shifts to his wife. A smile flickers across his lips, his gaze softening as he leans over and whispers something into her ear. Momo chuckles, squeezing his wrist again before her hand slides up and their fingers intertwine.

They're adorable.

Her heart aches in her chest. Her fingers feel strangely cold and empty. She flexes them and does her best to throw herself into a conversation with Mina.

She does not think about how Izuku's hand is so close to hers.

She does not think about how nice it would feel to steal the warmth from his hand.

She does talk to Mina about her expectations of the gala.

"It's usually pretty chill." Mina assures her as the limo kicks into gear. "They'll serve drinks, and we usually keep a set of tables reversed for Class A."

Oh, thank God. Alcohol.

"Sero usually just cracks tape jokes all night, but I heard he got called away last minute for an overseas assignment." Mina purses her lips, obviously displeased at this development. Then she brightens, perhaps forcing herself to be happy as she tells Ochako, "there's also a full formal dinner and announcements. Someone finally agreed to do the dinner and the announcements together instead of separately due to time. And then there's some dancing for anyone inclined."

"Is there any media there?" Ochako can't help but ask.

Mina shrugs. "Usually a few outlets. Nothing major for the majority of it, though there's always hordes of them when we walk in and leave, trying to get the latest gossip about our lives." She shrugs again and huffs, as if the idea of people hounding her all the way from the car door to the building door was little more than a common day hassle instead of something Ochako would stab someone to avoid.

She could always call in a bomb threat… maybe clear out the reporters…

That was probably a bad idea.

But was it worth calling in a favor from Corvan to just… get her into the hall without all those lights on her?

The limo pulls to a halt, and Ochako flinches.

She can already hear the roar of reporters and the cheering of fans outside the door.

Fuck.

She's stuck.

She's going to have to walk out.

She's going to have to walk out of this limo as the plus one to one of Japan's most loved and most eligible bachelors.

She- as in a wanted ex-contract killer, who has blood on her hands and casual access to more weapons than some nations military- is about to step out of a limousine with Aegis- probably the only Hero in the world who could be described with the word 'Pure' and it wouldn't be a lie.

"Oh, fuck this is a terrible idea." Ochako whispers just as the door opens and Shouto and Momo step out.

There's a flash of panic across all the Heroes faces. Green lightning sparks and crackles around Izuku for a split-second as he whips to her, his eyes wide and his hands clenching into fists at the thought of a threat.

"It's just the media- Ribbit." Tsuyu seems to be able to read Ochako's thoughts, getting up and pressing a calm hand to Ochako's shoulder. "Don't think about them. It's all a game to try and make you crack. To try and scare you into giving away pieces of yourself to a group that only want to tell the best-selling story they can."

And then she steps out, pausing pointedly at the car door to adjust her hair. She does it slowly.

Like she's stalling for time.

Ochako presses a hand to her chest, sucking in a deep breath she hadn't realized she needed.

"You're fine." Mina adds, her hand rubbing a small circle on Ochako's back. "Izuku's got you. We've got you. We'll be waiting at the door. I promise."

Ochako nods, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. Mina steps out next, and Izuku takes her hand in his. He squeezes it, trying to be reassuring.

Her brain fumbles through a dozen different thoughts. His tie is a dark rich green, a detail she hadn't noticed in her apartment. His lip has been thoroughly chewed, as if he's been worrying about something all day, or perhaps all week. His eyes are wide, and she wonders if he knows there are specks of yellow and slices of brown in the forest of green that make up his iris.

"Give me a contract," She demands.

He blinks, staring at her for a moment. "Get me to the door and tell me exactly how many reporters take our pictures. If you can get which outlets and the description of the person, all the better."

Blessedly, he understands.

How on earth could she deserve someone that has to deal with her?

He lingers a moment longer, a moment too long for the media it seems, as they start calling his name. She gives him a nod, and it's only when he sees that does he slide out of his seat to the open limo door.

He steps out first, leaning back to offer her his hand. She allows him to lead her out the door, careful as she steps down onto the concrete. She flashes him a smile, sweeping her gaze over his shoulder as she reminds herself that he has given her a task.

A contract.

Something for her to focus on.

Something other than the flash of the lights, the click of camera actions and the roar of the crowd as they see her side by side with Aegis. This is something she can do.

This is something that she can focus on that isn't her guilt and self-doubt.

This is also something that distracts her from how Izuku's hand slides off her own, how his arm curls around her back and as his fingers lacing through her hair and trail down her back. It takes him only a moment for his fingers to freeze and then retreat, featherlight on the edge of her dress, as if skin-to-skin contact is taboo.

There are seven photographers, eleven television reporters, and twelve assorted people taking notes on their right. She steps closer to Izuku, swallowing the rush of you're a killer, he's a Hero, how could you ever deserve to be anything more than an acquaintance with him, as she sweeps her gaze to the opposite side. She spares individual cameras only a second, a quick glance at logo and handler before moving on.

Her attention slides back to Izuku a moment later, giving him a breathless smile. It's a cover. It's a cover.

She has to remind herself that this is just a brief moment that she gets to attend as his friend, and that she's only supposed to be acting like she's breathless. Izuku makes that extremely difficult thought.

He greets the media and the reporters by name as they pass, exchanging quick handshakes and fist bumps and a curious elbow tap with one of them as he makes his way down the runway.

She notes each reporter in the back of her mind, cataloging details as they go. She forces herself to take the stairs slowly and to breathe. Izuku's hand slides up her back, and he gives her a concerned glance.

"Ochako?" He whispers.

"I'm fine."

She's fine.

She's fine.

They make it through the doors, and Izuku immediately pulls her off to the side. She slips away from his grasp, only to find herself sandwiched in between Mina and Momo. Both ProHeroes wrap her into a hug that Ochako actively has to work her way out of.

"We didn't realize—"

"We're just so used to it—"

"I didn't think you would—"

Ochako throws up her hands. "Guys. Stop. Come on." And their protests stutter to a stop. She takes a deep breath, smoothing out her hair before exhaling. "It's fine. I've dealt with the media before, it just hit differently."

Her reasoning appears to appease them, and Momo and Mina give her gracious smiles before heading off down the hall. Tsuyu lingers, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line.

Not everyone is convinced it appears.

Izuku included.

He offers her his hand again, and she takes it as they head down the hall after the others. His hand is callous and rough, just as it is in her daydreams. She wants to feel those callouses run over her back, filling her scars with warmth and making her drunk off the scent of him so close to her.

She wants to forget that in no world do they belong together.

She wants to forget that she does not deserve him and never will.

"There are thirty-eight reporters collectively outside." She says, sliding up beside him.

Izuku cocks an eyebrow at her, smiling. "I counted forty-three."

"That's because you count the ones with notebooks. Those are journalists, and there's actually seven of them here, two of them were in the second row and had to jump to see us."

Izuku's light laughter lifts the remaining weight off Ochako's chest. The others glance back at him, and there's a certain gleam in Mina's eye as she gives Ochako a look. It might have been pride. It might have been suspicion.

Ochako doesn't have time to analyze it.

They've made their way down the hall, and Ochako steps through an archway into an auditorium that makes her skin crawl as alarm bells go off in her head. It's wide and spacious, with half the massive floor dedicated to fifty or more tables. They're too close to be able to maneuver fluidly between one another, but just far enough away to be passed off as intimate spacing. The rest of the floor has been dedicated to a dance floor, the hardwood floor freshly polished and waxed for the event. There are bars on either side of the venue, and Ochako's gaze slides eagerly to one of the approaching waiters, sorting through the drinks before she finds a whiskey neat hidden amongst the other drinks.

She plucks it off the tray as they pass, and Izuku gives her a curious look as she sips it.

"If I don't drink, I'm going to run." She explains with a wry smile.

Izuku frowns, recognizing her playful tone as they slip through other unoccupied tables to one that seems to have been reserved. Shouto and Momo are the first to sit down on it, only to get up a scant moment later and head off towards some of the other early arriving Heroes.

"The security for this place is giving me nightmares." Ochako explains, glancing around. "No guards. The glass above doesn't even look bulletproof. You have alcohol and flammable surfaces and who even knows what other security risks all over."

"You realize that some of the most powerful Heroes in Japan are in attendance tonight, right?" Izuku questions her.

She gives him a 'Is that supposed to impress me?' look as she sips her whiskey and sets it down at their table.

"I assume that means you could break in without any issue."

Ochako scoffs, and that's enough of an answer for him.

"Tell me how you'd get in then." Izuku leans forward conspiratorially, a smile dancing upon his lips.

She can smell his cologne. It's a soft musky scent, or maybe it's going for the rugged rough-and-tumble vibe that makes her think of cowboys and dark rooms.

"Are you sure you want to ask me that?"

Izuku reclines in his chair, waving a waiter over. They wait, and only when Izuku plucks a mixed drink and another whiskey and passes it to her does he say, "I love hearing your thoughts."

Fuck this man and him not realizing how most people would swoon to hear him tell them that.

She takes a sip of her whiskey, glancing over Izuku's shoulder and meeting Mina's eye. She winks at her, and Ochako purses her lips against the rim of her glass.

"I'd sneak in with the reporters." Ochako finally says, setting her glass down. One of Izuku's eyebrows wings up, and so Ochako continues. "I didn't see any metal detectors, so I could bring a full load out in here. Maybe do a concealed weapon in a camera. I would target one specific Hero and have two or three mapped out exits."

"Which Hero could you target?" Izuku asks.

"You." Mina chips into the conversation.

Ochako shakes her head, considering for a moment. "No one in the top ten. It would depend on the kind of damage I want to achieve. If I wanted to hit the community, I'd hit a local Hero. In general, though, I'd probably target someone minor. It would honestly depend."

"You mentioned an escape plan?" Izuku presses, gaze flicking up to consider someone coming in.

Ochako swivels, eyes combing the entryway. The Heroes are coming in now, and she recognizes most of them despite never meeting them. It's a hazard of her new occupation just as much it is a result of her prior work experience. Her smile thins. Several of them had open contracts out for their life.

"Fire." Ochako replies finally, taking another sip of her whiskey and setting it back down.

The alcohol burns down her throat. It's a cheap whiskey, not the fine stuff she sampled in Scotland (where it's called whisky because it's "the real shit"). She'd guess it wasn't the cheapest but was likely barely above the bottom shelf.

"Have I mentioned that Hisashi used to have a liquor house?" She shifts subject, and this intrigues Mina enough that she slides her chair closer.

"You mean cabinet, right?"

"No. House." Ochako swirls her whiskey around in the glass, sniffing it as she recalls. Izuku leans back further in his chair, eyes bright as he considers and listens.

"He took me to it once for my birthday, when I hit the Japanese legal age, and let me try nearly everything. Not much, just a sip. He coached me through detecting all the finer tastes and hints of flavor…" Ochako sets her glass down. "He told me about one bottle that they make on this little tiny island off the coast of England somewhere. It's made whiskey the same way for centuries and hasn't updated or modernized their process in any way. It's amazing; you can even tour the facility."

"Sounds interesting." Izuku says, even as he sips his own mixed drink.

She wonders what he got.

Did he like it sweet or rich? Did he like to mix it with soda or juice? If she kissed him, would she be able to tell what flavors last graced his tongue?

"It's worth a trip." Ochako smiles at him just as the lights dim and the spotlight turns on.

She flinches, but she's been expecting it for a while now. She twists in her chair to consider the stage as someone walks up onto it. It honestly takes her far longer than it should to identify him. Nagant would be ashamed of her, but probably not as ashamed as she would be to know her junior was wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and flip flops to a Hero Gala.

"Heyya folks!" Hawks greets with a smirk and a flex of his wings.

He's wearing formal slacks.

Ochako feels her eye twitch and her lips wrinkle slightly.

"He does this every year." Mina whispers over to her. "The Commission makes him attend, and so he follows their rules to the letter."

Ochako cocks an eyebrow at her. "They haven't figured out how to get him in a suit yet?"

"They got him in a suit three years ago, but Hawk's got the sizes wrong on it, so he looked like he was wearing a crop top." Izuku quietly puts in.

Ochako would pay money to see that.

Nagant most definitely would as well.

"Tell me you have pictures."

"Not officially." Izuku smiles, sliding his phone out of his pocket as Hawks talks about the current Hero environment and things that they're looking to do for next year. He taps his password in, and Ochako can't help but note the different numbers in the eight-digit passcode. It takes him a moment, thumbing through his photos.

She frowns as he hands it over. It's not necessarily surprising; he's given her his phone several times before. She's even made calls from it before, but it still takes her by surprise. There is a strange sense of intimacy as he turns his attention back to Hawks, as if he doesn't mind if she snoops through the rest of his camera roll.

She swipes through a collection of photos from that Hero Gala. Hawks in a suit is only one of the spectacles Izuku managed to capture. There's a picture of him and Mina, with him sporting a worn, dark green suit that makes Ochako wish he'd worn that this year. There's a smattering of other pictures that catch her eye including what looks to be Sero next to a line of shots. The Hero looks like he's regretting every decision that has ever led up to that moment in time.

His eyebrow raises in silent question, and she tilts the phone towards him in answer. His smile peels back in a show of mirth, and Ochako feels like she just took a shot of tequila as her skin warms and her stomach somersaults at his smile.

"There's a running bet with Sero and Mina on who can do the most shots and not get caught." Izuku informs her with a little grin. "I guess we'll have to get back together later this year since he's busy."

Izuku reaches over, oblivious to how he invades her personal space as he swipes on the picture to return to his gallery. He flicks up a few times, only to stop on a separate picture and tap it.

It's a selfie of him and his mom in the tiny kitchen of his apartment. He's covered in flour, his lips parted as if to laugh, all while his mother gives him a stormy look.

"She wanted to bake a batch of cherry cookies for us, and I asked if I could help. It went about as well as expected." Izuku explains quietly.

She can picture him now, laughing and covered in flour with his mother reprimanding him for doing something too fast or too roughly. She is willing to bet when he truly tries, he's a fantastic baker and cook. It could just be her own fantasy, envisioning him standing before a stove or a grill and cooking something delicious.

"You stay out of the kitchen then and let your mother bake for you then."

Izuku almost looks offended. "It's rude to ask her to bake alone when it's for my friends."

"Then I'll bake with her." Ochako says the words before she considers them. It's out of her mouth and into the open air and there is nothing she can do to take it back.

She blinks.

Izuku's smile broadens. "I'll let her know." He says, like it's the most fantastic thing he has ever heard.

Ochako opens her mouth to rebuke it, to take back her prior statement and excuse her outburst. But her traitorous tongue instead says, "Though I won't guarantee what I make you won't be terrible. I never bake."

"I'm sure you'll be better at it than me." Izuku jokes.

Mina swats his arm, a bit too dramatic for Ochako to take as genuine. "Is that because she's a woman?" The frown on her face keeps breaking into a smile, and she turns away before her act can break.

She's playing, and Izuku is just trying to give her a compliment, but he still balks at it, fumbling over his words to try and explain himself.

"No! I would- not at all- I mean- I she's." He bites his tongue, hissing in pain before snapping his mouth shut.

Mina tries to hold back her laughter, but Ochako can see— and more importantly hear— her snickering. After calming herself down, she places a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, promise. We all know cooking doesn't like you."

Izuku lets out possibly one of the largest sighs she's seen from him. Mina starts patting him on the shoulder, and it's actually fairly cute.

Ochako rolls her eyes, smiling at him as she takes his wrist, placing his phone into her hand "I appreciate the attempted compliment. I've never attempted baking, and I know you weren't trying to be sexist."

Izuku whines, grimacing slightly as he rolls his tongue around in his mouth. He must have really chomped down on it for him to even feel it.

"Thanks." He mumbles.

He's adorable.

His tongue slides between his teeth, and he reaches across the table and shamelessly picks up Shouto's water and takes a small sip of it. If the exchange of drinks bothers Shouto, then he doesn't show it, his attention almost entirely captured by Hawks. When it isn't, Ochako notices that Shouto has been stealing glances at Momo, his eyes combing over her and drinking her in like she is everything he has ever wanted or needed in life.

Ochako shivers.

Has Izuku ever looked at someone like that?

Something cold and bitter solidifies in her stomach. She knows the answer, at least on a romantic level, but the feeling still simmers in her gut.

It's selfish to want someone so kind and good as him.

It's more selfish to want him as more than a friend.

Ochako sets down her first drink, ice clinking together as she picks up her second and forcibly swallows a mouthful. It burns down the back of her throat, bringing pinpricks of tears to her eyes before she exhales and pushes the feeling aside.

"Pace yourself." Mina warns from across the table, hypocritical as she finishes off her own mixed drink and sets it to the side. "There's dancing later, and I intend to make Izuku spin you around for at least a few songs."

Ochako smirks, "I dance better when I'm tipsy."

Tsuyu hums, but doesn't respond, and Ochako feels the weight of her gaze linger for just a moment before they turn back.

"But I've blabbered on long enough, and I'm sure you're hungry, so before I tell you all what magnificent awards that you get to frame and put up around your cute little cubicles, how about we eat!" Hawks bows artfully, stepping backwards and disappearing off the stage.

Service staff appear, rolling silver carts topped with assorted trays and dishes through the tables. One stops at every table, and Ochako has to grab the bottom of her chair to stop herself from going for the knife she's concealed on her person. What makes it worse is that the server stops behind her.

Izuku's hand finds hers after a moment, pulling it off the bottom of her chair and slowly moving it to the table. His eyes are focused entirely on her, and she swallows and does her best to ignore the noise and sound of someone working behind her.

She can hear the scrap of metal on metal. One part of her identifies that as a Smith & Wesson 9mm, while the other part recognizes that it's just the waiter removing the dish cover. She hears the scrap of knives behind her, and her left hand tightens around its hold of the seat frame. It sounds like the scrap of a sharpening stone across a K-bar blade, but she has to assume it's the tins of a serving fork across the edge of a carving knife.

The first plate is set to her left, and Tsuyu slides it around to Momo. The carving knife she heard a moment ago is set delicately across the corner of her plate, a steak taking center mass.

"I hope you're okay that I picked which dish you wanted." Izuku mutters to her, and she is grateful that he's chosen to speak if nothing else because it takes her mind off the noise behind her.

"There were options?" Ochako asks with a frown. He hadn't asked…

"It was seafood, hot pot, or steak." Izuku explains. "The seafood dish isn't very good, and the hot pot usually comes out cold."

"How'd you order my steak?" Ochako asks.

"Rare." Tsuyu mutters from behind her, and Ochako scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Tsuyu." Izuku warns, his eyes only briefly leaving her to give his friend a sharp frown.

"I'm joking. She's a badass, not an animal."

Another plate is set beside her, and Tsuyu rotates this one over to Shouto. It's the hot pot, and Shouto takes it in both hands and frowns at it. He sighs, dipping his finger into it. A flash of heat emanates from his side of the table before a soft hiss of steam comes from his bowl.

"I ordered it medium." Izuku finally says. "I figured if I got it wrong, I could always ask Shouto to cook it a little bit more."

"Rude, but I would." Shouto doesn't look up at them as he picks up his spoon. "Steaks are a bit harder to do than heat up meals, Izuku."

Ochako frowns lightly at that, and a third plate is set onto the table beside her. This one Tsuyu passes directly across the table, and Izuku slides it to Mina.

She distracts herself with the conversation. Four more dishes, the last of which is her's, and she fumbles her way through a tenuous conversation with Izuku that is interrupted with snippets or sass from Mina or Tsuyu.

The server leaves, and Izuku offers his thanks before he picks up his own utensils. Ochako shakily lets go of his hand, wiping them dry on her napkin before picking up her own utensils.

The steak is slightly more medium-well than it is medium, but Ochako's palate has never been refined enough nor caring enough to really care. The seasoning is good, and there's a slight hint of spice to it that she enjoys. The meat dish had been served with a helping of steamed vegetables, something that's more of a Western style addition, but Ochako doesn't mind it. She eats quickly, using the lull in activity to calm her nerves and remind herself that she doesn't need to worry about crowds and assassins and people trying to stab her in the back.

That is all something from her past life.

She is Ochako Uraraka, CEO and founder of Uraraka Construction. She is not Ochako Uraraka, ender of lives and wielder of lethal weapons. She does not kill. She does not accept contracts on lives. She builds houses and buildings and an assortment of other structures. She does not stuff bodies into half poured concrete slabs.

"And now that we're sufficiently stuffed our faces with tax dollars and income gained through selling our bodies, faces, and reputations to a handful of mostly vetted but probably questionable companies, let's talk about what pretty little plaques we get to hang up by our names for the next year."

Hawks is greeted with laughter, and the wild smile that appears in response makes Ochako think that even if he's a more serious Hero, he enjoys making sardonic comments.

Hawks launches into giving out awards. Despite his chipper and sarcastic attitude, he's knowledgeable about the Heroes he calls up for each award. There isn't a teleprompter or even notecards in his hand as he describes their career and some of their accomplishments. Which means that despite his attitude, Hawks genuinely seems to care.

An attendant passes him another award, and where Hawks had been polite and even chipper about the presentations of awards thus far, he seems down right excited about this one. He almost skips back to the front of the stage, plucking the microphone from its stand. His wings vibrate, flexing slightly before he tucks them back in.

"I'm sure everyone knows this Hero, and he's always been an outstanding one. If there's anyone that deserves this award then I think it would be him. He might not be Number One yet, but I think that's just because he wants to stay under a certain someone's wing for a few more years before he officially signs his soul to the Hero Commission."

Ochako feels Izuku tense, and she gives him a curious glance. He fidgets, and the rest of the table turns to stare at him with devious grins.

"Guys, we talked about this." Izuku whines quietly.

"I never agreed to anything- Ribbit."

"Tsu!"

"He's always going the extra mile, and I'm sure Sir Nighteye appreciates having someone so dedicated to the job. If there's anyone that deserves the title of All-Might's successor, then I think it's this kid right here." A spotlight clicks on, spiraling around the room.

It's swirling closer and closer, and Ochako can't help the small smile that tugs at her lips.

It's about time that he is recognized.

"Let's give the recipient of the All-Might's Spirit Award and Shield of Japan, Aegis, a hand ladies and gentlemen. And while he's up here and to streamline things." A dozen feathers shoot out from Hawks wings and disappear backstage. "I might have memorized the roster of awards for this. I'm not ashamed." He whispers conspiratorially into the mic. "He's also the recipient of the Hero Life award, for having the lowest casualty and fatality ranking this year, and the Hero Heart, for logging the most humanitarian hours!"

Ochako is the first to start clapping, and she enjoys watching his cheeks flush a deep crimson. He stands slowly, glancing at the stage and plotting a course to it. He passes by her, and she shivers when his fingers slide over the back of her chair and his thumb grazes her neck. It's involuntary, but when she twists around to look at him, he is glancing back at her, some small smile on his lips. Highlighted in the spotlight, the rest of the room darkens compared to him, and it looks like… it looks like that tiny little smile is meant just for her.

Something in her chest aches. A feeling or a want burning inside her bosom, a rattling of the cage that she has tried to lock it inside of. It's burning in her chest, words and feelings and uncertainties tangling together and climbing up her throat.

Izuku's gaze slides off her and back to the stage.

Ochako reaches out, picking up her half-finished whiskey and bringing it to her lips. The alcohol burns, but the liquid does nothing to quench the fire in her chest, and the heat cannot match what burns in her heart.

She exhales, trying to release the growing pressure in her chest as Izuku ascends the stage and slowly takes the awards from Hawks. There's also a struggle for the microphone, Hawks shoving it into Izuku's hands and the other pushing it back before Hawks simply drops it. Izuku instinctively catches it, and it's only when he looks up and sees Hawks floating just a few feet off stage does he realize he's been had.

He swallows, slowly bringing the mic up to his lips.

"So…I guess I have to do a speech o-or something?" He mutters.

There is a cheer and a whoop of agreement as response. The whoop may or may not have come from Mina.

He laughs, bending down to set his awards down by his feet. Once that hand is free, it curls around the back of his neck. She can see it tangling with the emerald locks there, anxious energy given momentary purpose as he clears her throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Thank you for the award." Izuku starts, and Ochako rolls her eyes at him. He shuffles his feet for another moment before he seems to decide on what to talk about. "There's a lot of things that have contributed to what work I've been able to do, and what hours and time I've been able to dedicate to the job. I always tried to give it my all, always made a point to sacrifice my own time in order to try and save just one more person, or catch one more villain…" He hesitates.

His eyes comb the tables, as if he's forgotten where he sat. They chance upon her face, holding it for a moment. A smile softens his nervous expression, and his hand finally leaves the back of his neck. Then his eyes move, shifting ever so slightly to consider the others at the table.

"I've been lucky enough to have friends that let me do that. Friends that are willing to help me when I'm tired and I've been overworking myself. So, I… it might be a bit impudent to say, but I think the real award should go to my friends."

There's a soft cheer from the other occupants, and the spotlight that had previously been on Izuku swivels around to focus on their table. It's a half reaction and half-conscious decision for Ochako to quietly slide her chair back, so that only her feet are in the spotlight.

"I couldn't have done any of what I accomplished this year without them. Someone recently pointed out to me that, even though I'm doing the hours, I'm only capable of it because I have such wonderful supportive friends watching my back. I hope you'll forgive me for taking away my own thunder, but…" Izuku hesitates, eyes searching that spotlight.

Possibly for her.

She doesn't know.

She doesn't want to be thanked though. Not for what she's done. She doesn't deserve it.

"I want you to thank them, because without them, I wouldn't be half the Hero I am today."

The others are smiling, and there's even a tear in Momo's eye that she wipes away with the back of her hand. Tsuyu is stone faced as ever, but Ochako can see the appreciation in her body language, the way her arms and legs are relaxed. Mina wears her heart on her sleeve, the hint of tears in her eyes. The normally stoic Shouto's lips peel back into a smile. He raises a toast, and the rest of the Heroing community joins, raising a glass to Izuku and his friends.

"Thank you." Izuku says again, bowing.

Hawks descends, accepting the mic from Izuku. "Wonderful speech, kid. Now that we've had that heart wrenching moment, let's resume our regularly scheduled program and dinner."

He calls for the next award, but Ochako tunes it out. She slides back up to the table, picking up her fork again to push the last bits of her steak around the plate. If the others' notice her sudden bout of melancholy, then they don't say. She sets her fork down as Izuku returns, standing and heading for the bar.

"Ochako?" He asks, ever vigilant and ever caring. He catches her arm, his eyes filled with a question that she cannot answer.

"I'm fine." She lies, giving him a smile that she does not feel as she makes her way through the tables.

She is fine.

At least, by all logical measures, she should be fine.

She's at a Hero Gala. She's safe and secure. She's financially stable. She's attending as Izuku's friend, as his plus one. She's Aegis's plus one, something that she knows people would actually kill for. She's friends with his friends.

So why isn't she fine?

Why does her chest ache?

Why doesn't her heart seem settled?

Why can't she stop thinking that she doesn't deserve this?

"Four shots of Lunazula."

The bartender gives her a look. Ochako does not shy away, and very slowly, the man pours her a shot. She picks it up, knocks it back, and sets the glass back in front of them. He fills it again with a bit of hesitation, and Ochako repeats the action with a soft hiss.

He blinks, as if weighing his options and the woman in front of him. He sets a second glass in front of her and pours both shots. Ochako takes both, knocking them back one after the other and setting them back on the bar.

She huffs, closing her eyes as the tequila burns down her throat and hits her stomach. She slowly inhales again, steeling herself for the rest of the event before she nods.

"Much appreciated." She waves to the bartender, feeling appeased at the moment as the ache in her chest is replaced by the warm buzz of alcohol.

She heads back to the table, joining Izuku and the others. She laughs when they ask her where she went, and simply smiles. Tsuyu does not ask, and Ochako notices, but decides that tonight it doesn't matter.

She's a killer playing at being a civilian. She can at least have fun with it. She can at least forget for a night.

She can forget that Izuku is a fantastic person and that when he looks at her, he doesn't see a killer or a menace: he sees a friend. She can forget that she doesn't deserve that affection or that care or a scrap of his attention.

The awards conclude shortly, and Ochako nurses the last of her whiskey through it. When a waiter brings by another round she plucks a third glass off it, despite Tsuyu's frown.

"Ochako."

"Don't." Is all she replies with, bringing the glass to her lips. "Not tonight. Not right now."

She knows the talk that's going to happen. She knows what Tsuyu will say, about pacing herself and not running away. She knows. She doesn't need it right now.

Right now, what she needs is to forget how terrible a person she is or was and try to enjoy tonight. She just wants to enjoy one night, where she can think about Izuku and her, and not keep puzzling over how on Earth he can stand her, or all the many reasons she does not deserve him.

Tsuyu wisely does not press the issue. Izuku does not seem to notice, wrapped up in a conversation with Mina about the awards. Ochako swirls the ice around her glass, listening to the quaint music floating around the room. A band is setting up on stage, and she can see some others getting up and heading to the space behind the tables to start dancing.

Dancing…

She hums at the thought.

Izuku's hands sliding down her back, thumb catching on every scar and dipping into it. She could imagine the flicker of a smile on his lips as his fingers dared to go lower, perhaps tumbling down her spine only to get halted by the edge of her dress.

A shiver goes down her spine at the thought, reminiscent of her dreaming of his hands.

"Does anyone feel like dancing?" Momo asks, and Ochako could kiss the woman for suggesting it.

"Always." Shouto answers, rising and offering his wife his hand. She takes it, and the two head off to the dancefloor immediately.

"Tsuyu!" Mina darts around the table, something devious in her expression as she passes by Ochako. She grabs the frog Hero, dragging her out of her chair to the dancefloor.

Izuku's attention turns to her, teeth teasing the edge of his lower lip in the most intriguing of ways. His lips always look so chapped and rough. Maybe he had an issue with chewing on them, or with biting his lower lip when he got nervous. She wants to know how they feel, underneath the pad of her thumb as she steps closer, and he pulls her flush to his chest.

"Do you want to dance?" He asks, perhaps for the second time, perhaps for the first.

"Of course." Ochako flashes him a smile.

She finishes her drink, setting the glass down as she rises. She can feel the alcohol in her system, knows that she's just a little bit more than tipsy, edging closer to inebriated. Then Izuku's hand is on her back, and she leans into it as he guides her through the tables to the dancefloor.

She doesn't know what song is playing, but the rhythm is familiar, and her body moves to the beat as Izuku leads her through the dance. He's fluid, but awkward around her, his smile nervous as he keeps glancing around. Mina and Tsuyu spin past her, both girls laughing a little. Shouto and Momo seem to be in their own little world, dancing slowly in their own little corner.

"How are you feeling?" Izuku asks.

"Fantastic." Ochako replies with a grin, feeling his hands slide around her waist, digging in slightly as she leans into his grasp. "I didn't know you could dance."

"The others taught me." Izuku explains, pulling her close and dipping his head down. His lips brush against her ear, and she gasps softly at the feeling.

He's so close…

But it's only to talk quietly, not to tilt his head and press butterfly kisses to the skin just under her ear or to nip at her earlobe.

"Tsuyu taught me to waltz and salsa. Mina taught me the other more pop kind of dances. Shouto and Momo pitched in and taught me a few of those regency dance numbers. Though I can't tell if they were pulling my leg about gala's having them every now and then or not. I've been to ten of these things and haven't seen a single one. And there was square dancing three years ago."

Oh, she would have paid to see that.

She'd also pay to have his lips caress her ear, and for him to pepper her skin with kisses all the way down to her exposed collarbone.

"Can you tango?" Ochako can't help but ask.

"Tsuyu." Izuku replies with a small hum.

He glances towards the band, seeming to weigh his options. Ochako wouldn't be mad if he changed the music, something spicier, something faster. Anything to give her the excuse to press her body flush against his and feel the weight of the music and the warmth of tequila encourage her bad decisions for the night.

She could settle for a salsa. A rapid intimate spin around the dancefloor. She could even tango, though it had been a few years since she last practiced. A waltz wouldn't be terrible, as it would afford them the ability to talk and flirt and his hands would be on her back and hers on his shoulder.

She might even take swing dancing if he twirled her.

He does neither of those things, and the band continues playing assorted covers of other popular songs, none of them with the right rhythm or beat to make any sort of formal dance out of it.

She's closer than she should be for what they're doing, which is basically just swaying to the music. But she can't help herself, and there aren't enough consequences in the moment for her to regret edging a little closer so she can feel the heat coming off his body and the brush of his chest against her.

He smiles, but one eyebrow ticks up. A nervous flutter, as if he's surprised. "You're a bit closer."

"I'm aware." Ochako replies.

"You've been drinking."

"So have you." She counters. "And Tsuyu is still watching us anyway. We're both adults and we both aren't dumb enough to cross any boundaries. We're friends."

There. She said it.

She told the truth. The cold hard truth. That they were friends and nothing more even if there was a part of her that didn't like it.

He gives her a nervous look. "I don't want to break any boundaries." He whispers quietly.

She could say, 'I want them broken.'

She could say, 'It's not breaking if I let you in.'

She could say, 'They were broken the moment I didn't pull that trigger, and everything since has just been me slowly and painfully realizing that I think I might like you a little bit more than as my best friend. So don't worry about boundaries and don't worry about tomorrow, just kiss me and hold me, and we'll figure out the rest tomorrow.'

Instead, she says, "Just dance with me, Izuku."

He nods, a bit stiffly, before he obliges her request. His hands loosen, curling politely around her hip instead of where they had been on her back. It's less intimate, and she sees him swallow as if it takes effort to distance himself from her.

They dance.

Slowly at first, and then as the band changes and picks up a few faster pace songs, more intensely. Somewhere they switch to a DJ instead of a live band, and the songs swap from rock and pop to hip hop and rap. Ochako isn't particularly mad about it.

It gives her an excuse.

To catch another drink, press one into his own hands, and then slip in as soon as he finishes it to drag him back out and let her hands betray her hidden intentions.

She should thank Mina later while she's at it.

She thought Izuku would be bashful and scared when a particular song came up, and she twists around and backs up into him. Instead, his hands slide to her hips, and she hears him laugh. Clarity of the moment is fleeting, but Ochako thinks it has less to do with the alcohol she's consumed and more to do with the company she's keeping.

Izuku is intoxicating to be around, no alcohol required. His laughter takes her breath away. It's pure and light, and she wants to hear him laugh while their chests are pressed together, and she has curled her lips up to press against his throat.

It's the way his hands are, regrettably, respectfully maintaining their position on her hips instead of daring to sweep lower or climb higher to trace the bare skin of her back.

"Izuku!" Mina grabs Izuku's arm, and Ochako startles slightly, trying to remember where her thoughts had been just a moment ago. "We're going to head out. Did you want to ride separately?" Mina casts her eyes meaningfully at Ochako.

Ochako doesn't miss the smug smirk that Mina has on her lips.

Izuku twirls her around once more, eyes tilting up to consider the star speckled sky above them. "No. We'll head out." Ochako's back presses flush to his chest, and she tilts her head back to look up at him the same time he looks down at her. "That alright with you?"

Anything is alright with her if he would be so kind as to take his hand out of hers and trail it down her hips.

Izuku doesn't.

He's too much of a gentleman, and instead, he spins her back out, then pulls her back to his side and casts his arm so they're walking arm in arm off the dancefloor. Mina trails in front of them, catching doors and giving Ochako small winks in the fleeting moments that Izuku is glancing somewhere else.

The front doors creak back open, and Ochako isn't surprised at all to see that the media presence hasn't diminished at all. Izuku leads her out fearlessly, choosing not to stop and talk to any of the reporters or journalists. It seems most of them are preoccupied anyways, a horde of them excitedly chatting with Momo and Shouto. Tsuyu seems to be engaged with another pair of reporters, and when a journalist shoves a microphone out towards Izuku, Mina intercepts it.

Ochako startles a little as Mina launches into a pitch for some of her new merch that's coming out. Izuku chuckles, giving Ochako a small, almost knowing smile as he escorts her to the waiting limo. He helps her inside, waiting until she's entirely seated before getting in and taking the seat beside her. Their knees tap together, and Ochako shifts to try and make it less awkward.

She isn't sure she succeeds given their calves are still touching, but she argues that it's less intimate given its further down her leg.

Not that intimacy couldn't be established further down the leg. There's a sudden thought of Izuku's lips leaving a trail of kisses from her ankle to her knee, all while bright emerald eyes stare up at her, and she shivers at the thought.

"Are you cold?" Izuku asks, leaning forward as Tsuyu slips into the vehicle and takes a seat across from them.

She gives Ochako a displeased look, but whether it was from her answering questions from the reporters or because of her proximity to Izuku, she isn't sure.

"I'm fine." Ochako assures. Traitorous eyes catch on Izuku's biceps as he shrugs off his jacket, and despite her minor protests, he slips it around her shoulders and pulls it tight. He gives her a smile, and Ochako blames her shaky, "Th-thank you," on the unexpected kindness and the wonderful warmth of the jacket.

"Oh my god-Ribbit." Tsuyu mutters, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her seat. She pointedly looks to the door, pursing her lips as she waits on the others to join them.

Shouto and Momo join them next, slipping into the car while lights flash and different journalists shout questions at the pair. They both let out long suffering sighs as they ease into their seats.

"You didn't have to come out and tell them." Izuku says, frowning slightly at them.

Shouto shrugs, not offering any explanation for the wave of reporters.

Momo simply smiles. "It was about time the rest of the world knew anyway." She drums her fingers on her knee, and that's when Ochako notices the golden band encircling her ring finger. It shifts slightly, Ochako can still see the white tattooed band hidden underneath. She hums suddenly, then looks up at Izuku. "When did you find out?"

"Shouto always picks up and puts things down with his left hand. When you came back from the UK, I noticed he was using his right hand for about a week, and he kept rubbing at his finger for the next month. I noticed the ring around then. Figured you had a matching one."

God, how could Izuku be so observant about minor things like that and not have figured out that she does not belong with him? How hadn't he noticed that she was hopeless around him? How hadn't he heard the pitter-patter of her heart climbing up her throat every time she talked to him? How was it that he missed the way her lungs sometimes seized when he smiled at her? How hadn't he figured out that if it wasn't for him, then she wouldn't have quit? How was it that he didn't know what a wonderful, amazing person he was and that he deserved someone to match that? How hadn't he put together that she would never deserve him?

"Ochako," Izuku whispers, his hand rubbing her knee. "You're mumbling something about deserving things?"

Ochako blinks. Then snaps her mouth closed and tries to ignore the heat crawling up her neck and curling around her face.

"Did you drink too much?" Izuku asks.

Nope. Maybe. Possible.

"She's probably just drunk on you, idiot." Mina chimes in as she climbs into the car, having apparently caught that exchange as she closes the door and collapses in the remaining seat.

Tsuyu knocks on the roof, and the limo pulls away after a moment.

Shouto and Tsuyu start a conversation about something, but Ochako puts her head in her hands and tucks it between her legs. Izuku's hand drops onto her back, rubbing soothing circles in between her shoulder blades. She can hear him lean forward, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

"Are you going to throw up?" He's genuinely worried, and Ochako knows it's not just him asking to be polite.

"No." Ochako groans her response.

She hasn't quite reached the point where she'd say she was drunk. It might be rapidly approaching given she hadn't finished her dinner, but for the moment, she feels fine. Terrified, needy, emotionally conflicted, and filled with heartache, but fine.

"I didn't think about the media being a problem for you." Izuku adds.

Ochako shakes her head. "No no. It's fine."

"I guess we just don't think about it after so many years. It's just one of those things that comes with the job."

We we we we we. We as in Heroes. We as in his friends. We as in the people he fought and watched die around him. We as in Class A. We as in not her. We as in never her. Because how could she ever claim to be part of his we when she was the one that almost put a bullet through his brain?

"It's fine." Ochako whispers, emotion climbing her throat. She sits back in the seat, tilting her head up to try and breathe.

"We understand-Ribbit." Tsuyu adds, her head still turned towards the other discussion going on in the car. She side-eyes Ochako, pursing her lips. "It's overwhelming the first couple times, knowing that you're being watched, and your movements recorded. It's more unnerving knowing that what you say is being recorded or written down and paraphrased, but you get used to it. You develop tools. It's like an interrogation, except there's multiple interrogators, and none of them have any idea what they're looking for."

She isn't wrong.

The issue is that the media isn't what has Ochako's heart in her throat and her mind swirling and the alcohol in her gut churning.

It's Izuku.

Sweet, gentle, lovely Izuku, who danced with her all night and let her lead him back onto the dancefloor at every song and after every break.

And it's her.

Terrible, cruel, emotionally damaged her, who knows that she is only in his little circle of friends because of luck and the grace and mercy of his friends.

"Thank you." Ochako manages, because that's all she can get past the lump in her throat.

It doesn't express her feelings, but it appeases Tsuyu and seems to soothe some of Izuku's growing concerns. A moment passes, and then Izuku interjects into Shouto and Mina's conversation. Tsuyu shortly follows, and Ochako thinks that she will finally have a moment of peace with her thoughts.

Up until Momo carefully crosses the cabin and unceremoniously bumps Izuku out of the seat. Izuku doesn't seem to mind, and instead darts into Momo's previously occupied seat. Tsuyu changes with Mina, but their discussion seems unbroken as they play a brief game of musical chairs.

Momo is blessedly silent.

Ochako closes her eyes, steadying her breathing as she listens to the sounds of the engine, the rumble of tires on asphalt, and the mix of voices and laughter from the other occupants of the car. It's in the middle of that noise that Ochako feels a gentle tug on her sleeve.

She cracks one eye open, daring to look down to see what or who disturbed her fleeting moment of respite.

"I've seen that look before." Momo whispers, eyebrows crinkled with concern as she looks at Ochako.

Ochako huffs, closing her eye again. She should have picked up another drink before she left. Maybe then she would have thrown up and would have been left alone.

"That day at the hospital, you had the same strained and pensive look on your face that you do now."

"I'm just tired." Ochako dismisses.

"I'd be tired too if I was juggling an identity crisis under threat of imprisonment and all of it hinging on friends you made less than a year ago."

Ochako groans, and the conversation halts long enough for Izuku to ask if she's okay. She waves at him, and Momo assures him that they're just talking and Ochako is fine.

Ochako's picks up enough of their discussion to realize they're trying to decide if Mina should venture into a different category of merch sales. Ochako isn't listening enough to pick up the product, only that it's slippery.

"I'm just tired." Ochako repeats.

Momo hums. "You're trying to figure out where you belong, and you're unsure if it's here or not. And you're terrified that it might not be, but you desperately want to because if it's not here, then it might be somewhere else… somewhere without… him."

Momo doesn't name the 'him'. She doesn't have to.

"And what if that is what I'm thinking?" Ochako finally graces her with a genuine response.

Momo shrugs. "Then I understand."

Ochako scoffs, rolling her eyes, but Momo doesn't seem bothered by her dismissal.

"My parents wanted me to inherit their company." Momo explains, her voice dropping as she leans in. It's almost conspiratorial how she purses her lips and seems to consider her story. "They were utterly against me becoming a Hero, and I had to fight to get into UA, and then once events started happening freshman year… I had to beg and plead to stay in."

"Why did you stay?" Ochako asks.

"Because Class A became what I never had." Momo explains. "My parents wanted me to fit a specific mold. They wanted me to be a prim and proper woman, and to become the lady of the household and possibly the owner of my father's company. Class A accepted me as I was. There weren't any conditionals, not at the start, and definitely not once we survived together. We had a bond that was forged from something more important than how we liked our ramen or what our favorite flavor of mochi was. It was the first place I felt like I belonged."

Ochako hums.

"And you can belong there too."

She startles at that, whipping her head around before she realizes that's a mistake. She groans, clutching her head as the world spins and swirls. Momo's hand is on her back, another reaching up to steady her head.

"I mean it." Momo mutters. "We trust you. We like you. We wouldn't trust you with Izuku if we didn't. You just have to let us in. All the way in. Tell us your intentions, tell us what you're scared about. Tell us what frightens you, and we will help make you feel safe, and in exchange, we will tell you everything that terrifies us down to our very core. Our friendship is… it's special." Momo finally says. "We give each other everything because we know that we have been through the worst the world has to offer, and no one else can understand that." She hesitates then as she weighs her next words. "But you might, you just have to commit. We're already your friends, you just have to let us in."

"I might." Ochako agrees, her voice barely a whisper.

The limo pulls to a halt.

"This is your stop." Izuku chimes in.

"Just a sec." Momo flashes him a smile as Izuku pops the door open and steps out.

Momo squeezes Ochako's hand, giving her a tight smile. "Just… think about it?"

Ochako numbly nods, the already tumultuous mess of emotions that have been clawing up her throat now cloistering together into a knot just above her collarbone. It makes it hard to breathe as she climbs out of the limo. She accepts Izuku's hand, letting him pull her the rest of the way out of the car.

He gives her a soft smile. One that makes the lump in her throat drop straight into her stomach like a lead brick.

"Hey, I had a lot of fun tonight." Izuku offers as she loops her arm through his.

"Did you?" She isn't quite sure what to say. She wants to flirt. She should not, under any circumstances, flirt. Her body and tongue, however, seem to run away from her mind. "I had a lot of fun too. It was nice getting to dance."

Izuku hums, leading her up the steps, drawing his arm away so he can respectfully place a hand on her back. "I was a little worried about you, actually." She gives him a look, and he blushes and glances at the steps. "You uh. Did have a few drinks."

"I have a high tolerance."

Not high enough at the moment, because all of her thoughts were going towards the gutter.

"I noticed." Izuku chuckles, "You and Momo looked like you were talking about something…" He hesitates, pausing at the next landing as if he isn't sure.

"She was… trying to reassure me that I can talk with her and the others." She shifts, pulling away from the warmth of his hand and the safety of his touch to instead lean against the railing overlooking the parking lot.

She can see the car down below, one of the windows cracked and someone's fingers curled around it, as if wistfully tasting the night air. She bets that someone else is peeking through the tinted glass, trying to spy on her and Izuku.

"Talk about…?"

"My feelings. I think." Ochako informs him, turning her back to the railing. The coldness of the metal seeps through the fabric of her dress, but Ochako welcomes the feeling because it's steadying and grounding for the rest of the thoughts. "That if I needed to talk about anything, then… then your friends would be happy to listen."

"They're your friends too, Ochako."

"Sometimes." Ochako crosses her arms, unwilling to meet his eye so she turns and considers the next stairwell instead. "Sometimes I feel like… an interloper, or a trespasser."

She sees him purse his lips out of the corner of her eye. His hands flex before folding into loose fists. He wants to fight, to rebuke what she said, but she knows that she's caught him off guard, and he's at a loss for words.

"They're your friends." He insists after a moment of silence.

"But not the same way they're your friends." Ochako reasons.

"That's just because we… we watched our friends die together. Almost died ourselves." He shoves his hands into his pockets, just for something to do with them before. "We have that kind of friendship."

"Me and you?"

He hums an affirmative.

"But whose fault is that? That you were put in the spotlight and had so many people tailing after you and trying to kill you?"

"Not yours." His voice has a layer of stone on it, hard and unyielding as he sets his jaw. "You don't get to own something that isn't yours. Same as I don't get to claim it's all my fault that my classmates died."

"Doesn't change what I am."

"Was."

"Am." Ochako argues. "I am a killer, Izuku. I have the instincts. I have the training. I have the capability. And when all is said and done and we go through and tally our deeds at the end of time, I will have names and lists of bodies I have put in the ground, and you will have one name. I have blood dripping off my fingers and staining everything I touch. And I can't bear the thought of getting that one you."

Izuku steps forward, grabbing her wrist. His hold isn't malicious, nor is it an attempt to physically pull her away from that train of thought. Instead he just holds her wrist, his grip loose as he pulls her hand up. Up up up until her fingers are before her face.

"You're not a killer." Izuku assures, his voice soft yet solid. "You do not have blood on your hands. You are not what those whispers in the back of your head call you. You are… you are my friend. You're one of my best friends."

"And I don't deserve you." Ochako whispers the fear that has burdened her heart in the second of silence between Izuku taking a breath and his next statement.

"You say that as if I deserve you."

"You deserve better than me."

"Not from my perspective.

"Which is?"

Izuku purses his lips. "Do you realize that you're the only person that I don't have to constantly check Danger Sense around? Even with the others, I'm strung out, anxious because every little thing can register as danger when I'm high strung. But when I get to be around you, I get to… to relax. Do you realize how much I… I value that?"

Ochako huffs, shaking her head and starting up the stairs. "Izuku, you could accomplish the same thing by just trusting your friends to have your back."

"I did that once. Sado died."

Ochako freezes.

"I trusted that he'd have my back, that he and I could handle whatever changes happened while we went searching for Eri. We had a team of Heroes, and Sado still…" Izuku purses his lips, shaking his head. "This isn't about that. This is about you."

"It's about us."

Izuku chuckles, a faint smile trickling across his face that doesn't reach his eyes. "I… I guess it is."

"I don't deserve you."

"But I think you do."

Ochako huffs, crossing her arms over her chest again, "Then we're at an impasse."

Izuku steps up, forcing Ochako to take another step up towards her apartment. "Or we could agree to disagree, and… move forward from there?"

Ochako snorts. "Agree to what? Agree that neither of us deserves the other? That sounds an awful lot like a love trope."

Izuku swallows and doesn't answer.

Ochako's heart slowly climbs back into her throat.

"Is it?"

Say yes.

Say yes. Please just tell her. Let those tentative terrifying words tip from his tongue. Please let it be what she wants to hear. Her heart yearns to hear it, to know that the feeling building in her heart haven't been unrequited and that it isn't just a fantasy.

Say no.

Say no, because she doesn't deserve it. Say no because there is no telling what damage saying yes could do to Izuku's reputation. It's bad enough that the media saw them out together; what will happen when someone starts digging, or Corvan can't quite manage the remnants of Hisashi's empire on his own? What happens if a rival organization leaks Ochako's real identity to the press? What happens when Aegis, the Shield of Japan is known to be dating a contract killer?

What happens to everything he worked for and everything he's trying to be? What then?

Say no.

Say yes.

Say anything.

"I…" Izuku hesitates.

Ochako takes a step back.

A game of cat and mouse. Her mind terrified of his next words but every atom in her craving to know his true feelings. She backs up the steps, teeth gnawing at her lower lip as Izuku follows. He grabs her hand, and she simply pulls him up the steps with her.

She isn't sure what she's doing now. Caught halfway between wanting to disappear into her apartment and blame all of this on the booze or wanting to linger and talk with him more.

"Ochako." He says, careful and curious as she stops just before her apartment door.

"Izuku."

"What if I told you that I… wanted to… um…" He licks his lips.

Ochako isn't sure if it's the alcohol or not at this point. It could be the whirlwind of emotions pumping through her veins or it could be the desperate and scared look in his eyes. It could be just how close he is, and how warm his hands are. It could be that he's taken another tiny step closer, and that she's pressing her back against the cold wall behind her.

"If you wanted to what?" She teases him, daring to look up, to see those emerald eyes darting between her own eyes and something a hair below them.

Her lips perhaps?

Wistful thinking, but her brain can't come up with anything that might actually be helpful at the moment.

"That I might want… want to…" He licks his lips again, swallowing as if he can't figure out the words to ask or even how to phrase it.

"Kiss me?" Ochako offers the words for him, hoping they're the right ones, hoping that he wants to just as much as she does.

He doesn't reply.

He doesn't deny it either though.

He does lean in.

"Tilt your head." Ochako mutters, and Izuku obeys. His head shifts just a little, just enough so their noses don't bump together as he closes in.

He hesitates.

Their lips are so close enough that she can feel his breath against her cheek.

A door opens.

He swallows.

She watches as emerald eyes close, and she dares to do the same.

Her lips press against cold metal, and her teeth click against it as she dips her head forward.

"Izuku Midoriya." Nagant's voice is hard and unyielding, and when Ochako opens her eyes, she finds her mother's rifle barrel separating her and Izuku's lips.

"Do not make the first kiss of this relationship one that is fueled by alcohol and lust."

Izuku swallows, and Ochako feels like her eyes are just as wide, though the difference is his are filled with fear and hers are filled with embarrassment.

Had she really been about to… to kiss him?

"Pick her up in the morning with some flowers and then we can talk about it." Nagant dismisses him.

Izuku hesitates, and Ochako glances at her mother.

The sniper twists off a section of her hair, calmly twirling it in her fingers.

"You feelin' lucky, boy?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good, because you weren't going to be tonight. Now get."

He opens his mouth to argue.

"I know you weren't about to take advantage of her. I know that you wouldn't dare do that. I know that you would treat her respectfully and that if she said no, you would listen. But you have been drinking, and she has been drinking," Nagant leans closer to Ochako, taking a sniff. "Tequila if I had to guess, and no decision is a good one when it's founded on tequila shots."

She didn't think it was possible for her cheeks to get any redder, but it appears that Nagant has managed to prove her wrong.

"Ye-yes, ma'am."

"Izuku?" Nagant hums, eyes slowly sliding from Ochako back to him. "Why are you still on my doorstep?"

"Leaving!" And he bolts.

Izuku doesn't bother with the steps. He throws himself over the railing, a crackle of green lightning trailing behind him as he activates his Quirk for a speedy get away.

Ochako watches him go, listens to the sound of the limo engine rev before it heads off a moment later. In the reverb of it she swears she can hear Mina whining and Tsuyu laughing.

She wonders if Mina lost a bet.

Probably.

"Now then." Nagant shifts her arm back to normal, clapping a hand on her shoulder. A dark smile crosses her expression as her grip tightens. "I think it's time we had a talk, young lady."

Oh fuck.

Why hadn't Izuku taken her with him?

Or just taken her back to his apartment. She might be edging towards being drunk, but she's damn sure the embarrassment from waking up at his place— hungover at that— is better than dealing with Nagant right now. Especially a ticked-off Nagant. Dealing with her is a nightmare and a half.

"You never got rid of that habit of voicing your thoughts when you drink tequila." Nagant hums from the doorway.

"Fuck."

"Just as long as it isn't around Izuku."

"Mom!"