title: To Be Loved, To Be
genre: Romance, Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort
pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako/Himiko Toga
notes: Ugh, since I wrote Brightside I wanted to do this one. A little prequel moment with Ochako caught in between Toga and Bakugou because I'm a demon and I cannot be stopped.
You shouldn't have to read Brightside to get this since it's a prequel, but just know Kacchako is the Pro-Hero Power Couple. Ochako works with the Commission. And TogaChako get the DabiHawks treatment.
Toga always answers when she calls.
She is not sure why that surprises her.
"Are you alone?"
There is a momentary pause, a beat of music, then a laugh. "Why?" Toga's voice is airy and free, a ballerina spinning on her pedestal. She practically purrs into the phone. "Do you want me to be?"
Ochako rolls her eyes, though Toga is not here to see it, she will hear it in her voice. "Toga, seriously." She watches the tilted rim of her wine glass, deep red tipping to the edge. Deeper and deeper with each sip.
"Mkay, one sec," Her voice trails off, running together with the sounds pulsating around her—a club? a bar? Ochako's mind is overthinking—she can hear a collision of voices and laughter, all people having a better night than her.
The thought makes her feel shitty, and if not a bit awkward for ruining someone else's night, but the volume deafens then silences with the snap of a door, loud and enamel. The moment sits in the belly of silence, cool and dark as the apartment around her before Toga's voice is back in her ear. "What's up?"
She didn't think she would get this far. It's not rare that Toga answers her late-night calls. Toga had given her the burner phone for such reasons, and though Toga may not yet trust her, she is indulgent, steeping her toes into whatever this is that they have—that the Commission manufactured.
Toga makes a petulant noise. "Did you find something new? Or, did you just want to talk?"
She is tempted to lie. She has been instructed to lie, whilst being as honest as possible. She should tell Toga that Shinsou has been looking at her a little too keenly lately, been suspicious, with footing because Ochako is technically breaking the law—
"—no. I just wanted to update you on the Mind-Breaker situation." She shifts her grip on the phone, pinkie curling against her cheek. "I thought you might want to know how your little stunt went over."
Toga snorts at the words your stunt and yawns. "Ochako-chan, you know I adore you, but did you really just call me to rehash something I'm already aware of?" Ochako's brow crunches, then the realization of how weak her reason is sinks into her.
The stunt she is referring to is the slew of police officers that have been going missing the neighboring city with some claiming to lose hours, some losing days, others their very lives. All, however, have been embroiled in money laundering schemes or petty crimes, out or in uniform, dragging down public opinion and amping up general panic.
And, as per their agreement, Ochako had had to go down there and forcefully removed Shinsou from his own case, in his own district, because Toga is her villain, and the Commission would allow for no other narrative.
And Shinsou is not an idiot. He knows something's up, something bigger than the two of them and the titles they've earned themselves, but Ochako has not at liberty to discuss and when the Chief of Police—grinning and gold-eyed—shook her hand, Ochako swore Shinsou was putting the pieces together himself. And she tells her so.
"You're being paranoid." Toga asserts.
No, I'm pissed.
"Don't be," Toga continues, heedless, her voice is honied and lacking comfort. "Just relax. I've got him handled and around my finger. I'm not stupid enough to let him ask me a question. I keep all our correspondence through email."
Ochako knows, but she worries.
She wants a cable cord of a timeline. She wants a point a and b and reasons for her moves. She wants to move forward. She wants—
She wants stability. Comfort.
Not this. Whatever this is.
Ochako groans. "Right. You're right. I'm—" I'm sorry doesn't seem to quite cut it here. Doesn't fit, nor does it seem appropriate. She is giving Toga leeway over an entire police station because she asked for it, because she demanded with flashing eyes and curling lips, not making promises for casualties.
Toga didn't waste breath like that.
Her voice is drone and lazy when she speaks, spilling out of boredom into something like a laugh, a starburst crackle of a moment, sweet to the ear. "Are you feeling lonely, Ochako-chan?"
Ochako's heart jumps into her throat.
"No."
"Hm. That was too quick—"
"—why would I be?"
"It's okay." The teasing lit of Toga's voice creates a balm over her own shame. Curiosity fettered by the truth. "Relationships are tough, work is stressful," Toga's voice is warm in her ear. "And, I mean, I don't exactly mind."
Her words draw out like taffy.
"Where's your man tonight, by the by?"
She thinks of blond-hair, narrowed eyes, and a slamming door that rattled the pictures on the wall. Katsuki, a symphony of anger and pain, the composing lines of a man struggling to comprehend—
"I don't know."
Guilt sinks low in the pit of her stomach. It twines at the knot in her throat and then pulls deeper, choking her on her own admission, however unintentional. She loves Katsuki. Toga knows this. She works with Toga. Katsuki knows this. But the concessions of knowing are quite different than understanding.
Such a fine, dangerous wire in between.
She has been quiet a long time. The voice on the end of the phone sounds distant, far-off. "Just say it, Ochako-chan."
The request is, at once, unreasonable, and unfair. Toga's demands for her were ever-growing, curtained in more time, more affection, more of her than she was at first willing to give. Now, she frames herself in platitudes, staring at the wall, wine glass and a dark apartment, guilt gripping her throat, and Toga's breathing in her ear; the deeper concave of loneliness making a hollow home in her chest—
She swallows the mire on her tongue, composes herself. "I don't—" Toga makes a frustrated noise, snappy, quick.
"Say it."
It feels like pulling teeth, upending something deep and rooted.
It feels like the easiest thing in the world.
"Can I see you tonight?"
"So, when is the boy-toy planning on coming back?" Toga had followed Ochako's discretion in taking the side stairwell, tipping her head low under the glare of the cameras as she wound her way through the halls to Ochako's floor.
"I don't know—"
Toga drops her faux fur jacket into Ochako's hands as she sails through the door. Ochako watches her, taking in the outline of her back and the length of her skirt before Toga ventures further into the apartment, boots clomping, chains swinging. She spins a circle in the living room and nods, almost to herself, "Seem very him, don't it?"
Ochako's fists close around the jacket.
It smells like her.
Like the night, cigarette smoke, the rind of a lemon, and floral perfume. The slip of something metallic lingering beneath, but nothing Ochako is at liberty to pursue. Nothing she can do about it legally, anyway.
Such is the drawbacks of a hero aiding villains.
The sound of something toppling in the kitchen has her dropping the fur coat—or, she thinks she does, after a moment the rain-damp thing is matted to the ceiling—and charges after the noise.
Toga is on the countertop, sitting pretty, legs crossed at the knee and an open cookie jar on her lap. It's her All Might one. Filled with the cookies Katsuki made for her. Her throat closes. Toga makes it look like the most natural thing in the world, as if she had done this before, hundreds of times.
"So, you don't know?"
"Hm?"
"Where he is tonight." Toga riffles through the jar. "You really don't know?"
She blinks. "No. I don't."
Toga's brows peak, but it is all the amusement her face betrays. She bites into a cookie—chocolate caramel with walnuts—and hums thoughtfully. "Well, that's unfortunate."
A beat.
Then, two.
"Why?"
Toga has a secretive smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flirting over the stem of the two wine glasses Ochako had gotten down—for her and Katsuki—earlier. Before. "Wouldn't want him to walk in on anything."
Ochako's eyes widen, but despite her initial surprise, she keeps her expression smooth, leaning coolly back against the adjacent kitchen island, arms crossing under her chest. She keeps her tone low, but affronted. "What do you think he would be walking in on?"
Toga's eyes slit a moment before breaking her gaze, dipping her hand into the cookie jar for another. "Why'd you call me then?"
That horrible, horrible guilt is gnawing at her.
Ochako's eyes fall to the curve of Toga's legs, the twin blade holsters that rode mid-thigh beneath the helm of her skirt. She is wearing tights under them, opaque, dreamy. A run slipping down the curve of her knee before dipping into the cuff of her boot.
Her gaze rides up, to the bow of a mouth, pink-stained, and looks down again.
She tries for truth.
"I was lonely." She says after a moment too long, but perfectly measured. She has Toga's eyes again, but she doesn't meet them. Keeping her gaze fixed on that cookie jar. The broad grin of All Might coaching her on. Her nose wrinkles. "And I didn't want to be alone."
Toga had outgrown the schoolgirl uniform years ago, but she still enjoyed a little flare, the traces of the style; skirts and cute sweaters, maryjanes and tights.
It puzzles her to think about all the things she knows about Toga now.
When her makeup looks good, she never wants to take it off. She'll fall asleep and leave glitter streaked across her pillow. She triple-knots her boots because that is how Dabi taught her to tie her Docs. She loves her comrades with an unflinching, brusque loyalty.
And that she will flay Ochako's better judgement if she winds back now.
Toga sets the cookie jar aside on the counter, hands bracing.
"And you just wanted," Toga's fingers drum, clean, sharp nails clicking against the marble edge, "some company for the evening?" Her gaze tips and Toga's eyes are back on those wine glasses, one used, red staining the whisper-thin sides. "You know I don't drink."
She licks her lips. "I figured I would ask."
"Hmm." Toga slides off the counter to stand in front of her.
They are the same height. Toga's sight hitting, if not a bit higher to her brows, in her platform boots. The height is unintimidating, but the weight of Toga's stare is. Ochako feels herself steeling beneath it, the want to curl and hide and sunder falling away under the unerring desire to prove herself.
She hasn't felt like this since Yuuei.
Not since an arena buckled under an explosion, and earth plummeted from the sky, and a cocky smirk, screaming her name—
The thought makes her shiver.
That Toga makes her feel like that.
Toga, the master of disguise, the mistress of the underground, the founding member of the League and later a solider for the Paranormal Liberation Front, makes her want to fight. Toga, who has run circles through the criminal underbelly since before Ochako could properly use her quirk, makes her want to be better and best.
She watches Toga cross her arms over her chest. Her stare is tipping from her eyes to her brows, to her hairline to her nose, to her mouth—
"I think I would ruin you." Toga says, no fluff, all metal. Ochako inhales under the pressure of the blow, fist to the ribs. Lungs on fire.
Regret. Guilt.
Curiosity.
"Would you?"
"Would I?" Toga huffs with a tilt of her head, cat-like, the glimmer of an earring shimmering against her lobe—an elegant blade falling against her neck. Whisps of blonde hair. "You tell me. Where do I fit," Toga gestures to herself and then fans out her hand to the apartment, the lush furniture, the sunken entertainment space, the three bedrooms, and back to the kitchen, "in all of this?"
Ochako does not take her eyes off Toga's.
That piercing stare, cat-slit pupils and warm honeyed irises wreathed in deep brown. There is such little romance for brown eyes. Ochako often went maudlin in her younger years that in a world of such diverse genetics, she was sunk with such a plain color palette. However, the ferocity of Toga's eyes makes her grasp for words, fitting the puzzle pieces of scattered literature for the correct order to describe them—
Toga is beautiful.
It's not something she can deny.
She is so close now, hovering in that fingerbreadth of space between their bodies, not touching, not feeling, but connecting. Ochako feels a little thrill go up her spine, and it peters out with a coil of ice down to her tailbone.
Where does she fit in all this?
"I don't know." She says.
Toga frowns.
The first time since she came through the door, the curve of her mouth crumbles into that folded displeasure. Toga inhales, eyes falling closed and sighs. "You're not ready yet." Ochako feels herself stiffen, question burning in her mind.
"What do you—what are you talking about?"
Toga's eyes slide open, not angry, not judgement, but resigned. "You're not ready for me to tear up your life yet."
"I don't want you to tear up my life."
"You do." Toga cants her head, so sure. "But you don't. You're not ready. You—" Toga looks at her again, the pin-prickle of anticipation writhing up her shoulders, lifting them higher. "You still love him more than you want me."
Ochako presses her lips thin, eyes burning—
"You think I want you?"
Words barely a whisper.
Toga looks mused by her tone, the cut, the gridle of teeth sinking into words. Although Toga is interested in her, pays attention to her, makes her feel—she can be downright cruel. Nose to nose, Ochako can only look at her mouth as she shapes the words.
"The dilated pupils, the wandering eyes, the fist-curved hands," Toga leans in, warmth against her mouth, "it's all textbook. Physiological. I can read that."
Then, then—the barriers of touch are open with a gentle press, fingers slipping soft and too-light over her hips as if she were fragile, made of glass. Her back hits the kitchen island, gently pinned as Toga invades her space. Chest to chest, mouth tipping against hers, nose brushing hers—
Her eyes close.
Toga sighs, contented.
If not, a little sad.
"But you forget I've also got a fine-tuned nose as well. I can smell desire on you." Her fingers press harder, still sitting politely at the top of her hips, fingers splaying against the waistband of her shorts. Her nose tucks against her cheek. "It's a sickly thing, isn't it? Wanting someone while belonging to someone else?"
She can feel the shift in the ground beneath her. That fine thought that something other than her might exist in her bones. That hairline shiver that feels more ripple than skin. Her stomach feels empty. "Please," she whispers, unsure what for. Her hand is on Toga's elbow, pinkie raised, four fingers curling.
For what, for what, for what—
She tries. "Don't."
"Of course not, Ochako-chan." Toga's hands wind around her, coming to a steeple at the small of her back, pulling their hips together. Ochako's fingers tighten. It's too much contact for comfort. "When you're mine, I want you to be mine entirely." Toga leans back, and her eyes slide open.
Her expression is a horrible blend of sympathy and mirth, puckering unkindly at her lips.
"I know you want me as much as I want you, Ochako-chan." She says, again so sure. Ochako's heart feels like its crushing. "But you're not ready for me. Not yet."
It sounds like its supposed to be a comfort, but Ochako can barely think past the aching pain in her chest, the thundering of betrayal, of Katsuki—
Toga's hands run up her flank. "Let's watch a movie, hm? I know you like action, but given the circumstances, I think you should let me pick a rom-com."
She can't remember nodding, but she must.
Toga's fingers tangle with hers and lead her through her apartment, into the living room, and onto the couch—
End Notes: Um, yeah, remember when I said I might continue the storyline of Brightside? Whelp, my mind decided to go a bit dark with it. I don't know, I've always pictured a Villainelle/Eve dynamic for them? Killing Eve is one of my favorite shows, and I think I do kinda model my Toga after the Villainelle character.
Also, I wanted to go a bit deeper with the versions of these characters I started. I wanted to explore Ochako's loyalty to Katsuki (not well) and her attraction to Toga (also, not well, but it's what we got)
I promise I will get around to writing a Traitor AU that doesn't end so sadly. Namely, my other TogaChako fic the world has teeth like you or me kinda flopped, but my happy TogaChako fics do so well! Ooh, I worry about this one.
-cafeanna