Notes: Actually, fencer29, I'm having a lot of fun writing this, so no, I'm not gonna quit while I'm ahead. This is just for fun. Crack is crack. Luckily, I had this chapter written already. Got the prompt "Is that a threat?" + Kacchako. Thanks for reading!

Ever since taking out that hit squad at Bakugou's home three days ago, everything had turned on its end between Uraraka and Bakugou.

The main thing was that he was no longer insulting her, so that was an improvement, but it had turned into him trying to needle her for more information about her background. He was endlessly curious and, even worse, tenacious in his desire to learn. That must have been why he was so skilled in a shocking array of weaponry and knowledgeable of it too. He must have been a nightmare to his arms dealer.

Another thing was that he was pressing harder to attack the people trying to kill him. Now that he knew she was much more capable of taking care of business than the other suits he was used to dealing with, he was adamant that they need to strike soon and strike hard.

One thing could be said about Bakugou and that it was he was very proactive. He wasn't one to be idle. He was ambitious in his plans and desires. Most men in his line of work dreamed that ridiculous dream of making enough money to buy a mansion on an island, retire, and get out of the business. Bakugou had no such plans. Of course, he never outright admitted to any of the hired hits that he was accused of, but even if he had, it wouldn't matter. His testimony against one of the largest terrorist organizations in history, along with multiple high-ranking corrupt government officials around the world, was enough to wipe any slate clean, even one as soaked as his.

She should hate him for that. She should hate him for his aggressive personality, his unrelenting nature that never gave her a break, his casual affair with violence, his refusal to listen to simple orders, his disregard for most morals ("I would never kill a kid or an animal. Who the fuck does that? Women? I'm not with that bullshit. I've been stabbed by a woman. They can be just as evil as men if they want to be, just differently."), and yet…

Try as she might, she didn't hate him. Maybe it was because Uraraka found it difficult to hate people. Certain criminals were easy to hate. He should've been one of them, but he wasn't and she found that frustrating in itself. Every time he threw a smirk in her direction, she wanted to slap it right off his face and would instead take a deep breath and turn away from him because she also wanted to do other things and she did not like them one bit.

Maybe her colleagues were right. Maybe she'd been frigid for too long if this bastard was started to look appealing.

"Come on, you've gotta tell me something," Bakugou insisted, getting far too close to her on the couch. If he got any closer, he'd be in her lap. Maybe that was the point. Still, all she could do was not react. If she got up or pushed him away, he'd know that he had gotten to her. "Where did you learn knife skills like that? Because I've never seen a Suit work a knife like that."

Uraraka rolled her eyes to him. "Who says I'm just a Suit?"

A manic grin worked its way onto Bakugou's face. "Feisty, are we? That's not Suit-like behavior at all, I will admit, although you're such a stickler for rules."

"They're there for a reason." And it was a reason that she mostly followed.

"Yeah, to be bent for one's personal goals."

Uraraka gave him a sideways, unamused look and then stood up, acting as if she needed to stretch. Maybe it would give him the satisfaction of feeling like he'd gotten under her skin, but she needed her space. He had been ignoring personal space since then, using every excuse in the book to get close to her or touch her. It had affected her in unexpected ways. Realizing that it had been years since a man had put his hand on the small of her back had been startling. Finding out that her body turned to his out of instinct was even worse. It felt like a betrayal.

This whole thing wasn't ideal at all. Her boss had not been pleased at all by the outcome of the hit squad. He'd been happy that they were alive, but then there had been eight bodies to take care of. She honestly couldn't tell if Aizawa had been more frustrated that she had taken out three of them or that Bakugou had taken out five. He was supposed to be under protection, not racking up his body count. Not to mention that they'd been forced to relocate and Bakugou hadn't been happy about that. She had a feeling it had to do with the lack of a cache of hidden weapons.

Not one to give up so easily, Bakugou eyed her like a wolf might a deer (or a mate) and then jumped to his feet. "You didn't learn that at the Academy. That's for damn sure." No, she hadn't. She had learned how to use a knife in her youth, back when she had lived on the wrong side of town. "That was an inborn skill, if I've ever seen one." He got in her space again, flexing his hands like he meant to put them on her hips, and she glared up at him, arms crossed over her chest. "Now what kind of girl with a skill like that goes federal?"

"I don't know," Uraraka countered, doing her best to ignore him. "What kind do you think?"

Every warning sign was going off in her head, but for what, she didn't know. Katsuki Bakugou was dangerous, she told herself. They didn't even have a number on his confirmed kills and none of them could even be fully confirmed to be connected to him. He could kill as quick as he could smirk and he didn't even need a weapon. She had been told to keep a respectable distance from him, which he had been ignoring and she had not been fighting against like she should have.

This was a terrible idea. She was not acting in her best judgement. She should request to be taken off this bodyguard duty immediately.

(She never reached for her phone.)

"I think," Bakugou drawled, lifting a hand to tug on her hair that framed her face, "that you've got a lot hidden underneath that suit of yours and I'm not just talking about those curves."

Uraraka rolled her eyes. "Is that the best you've got?"

Bakugou almost growled, his grin turning almost feral. "If you want more, I can give you that."

"Is that a threat?" Uraraka asked, her face a mask of unimpressed indifference even while her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. She wasn't used to having to act this unaffected. She was the type of person that admittedly wore her heart on her sleeve, but ever since coming here, she'd had to shove everything in a box that now felt fit to burst.

"Oh, I can do more than that, Angel Face," Bakugou told her and she knew that he meant every word of it. Even more frustrating, she wasn't pissed off over the little nickname that he tagged her with, not like she normally was. What was wrong with her?

Luckily (or perhaps not), her phone rang in that moment, its piercing ring cutting through the tension. Bakugou wiped his face and took a step back as Uraraka let out a breath and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. It was Aizawa. Of course it was him. He always had some sort of psychic timing when it came to his agents getting into hot water. He'd actually called when the hit squad had attacked them, but she'd been too preoccupied with not getting strangled to death to notice.

Uraraka turned away from Bakugou. "Yes, sir?"

"How are things at the new place?" Aizawa asked, getting straight to the point.

"Fine so far," Uraraka told him. "Nothing suspicious to report."

Except for Bakugou's absurd behavior with her, but she was not about to get into that. When she glanced back at him, he had his hands in his pockets and almost looked innocent, except for that gleam in his red eyes that had her frowning.

"He's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

Uraraka actually let out a low laugh. "Define 'hard time'."

Behind her, Bakugou cackled. "I could do that." She most definitely ignored that.

"Midoriya will be there to replace you at 0500 hours."

That made Uraraka grin a little. "He won't be pleased about that."

"He better not be telling you that Midoriya is your replacement!" Bakugou snapped viciously, his sense of humor dying immediately. Sometimes, karma was a bitch and other times it worked in mysterious ways. This was clearly payback for his outrageousness and Uraraka would bask in it.

After answering a few more questions, Aizawa was more or less satisfied and ended the phone call. By the time she slid the phone back in her pocket and turned back around, Bakugou had his arms folded across his chest and was scowling at her, which only made her grin even more. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. She would revel in this moment, no matter how childish it made her look. He was the one acting like a brat right now.

"You're cold-hearted, Special Agent Uraraka," he told her, displeasure dripping on every word.

"I'm being paid to protect you, not please your every whim," Uraraka said.

Bakugou glared at her. "I wouldn't have to pay you for that."

"You couldn't afford me," she responded, brushing past him so that she could do a perimeter check.

As she opened the door, Bakugou called out, "I'm pretty sure you'd be paying me after I was done with you," and Uraraka had to storm out of the house so that he wouldn't catch her blushing. If he wasn't killed before the end of this trial, there was a high chance that she would do it for them. He was just trying to push all of her buttons and set her off. Even worse, she kind of liked it. Damnit.