only two weeks since the last chapter went live? this might be my new record best.

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS, Y'ALL.

Katsuki's on his back, weighted down again by Earth's normal force. For several unnerving seconds, the only sound he can hear is a high, piercing frequency. Through swimming vision and the acute, relentless ache of his motherfucking everything, he casts his gaze into the darkness, trying to see if anyone's coming after them, wondering if it's possible anyone up there –namely, the wayward brat with top-notch taste in heroes—survived the blast he noped the hell out of there to escape.

As though from far away, "…ou…" reaches him as a dull echo. Just as dully, through a deep fog of unreality, he becomes aware of Uraraka, hands pawing at his damn face, hair poured around him like a dark, liquid curtain, eyes wet with unshed tears and big enough to swallow planets, and –is she on his fucking lap?— suddenly it's years ago and she's falling out of the sky and into his arms and she's weightless and breathing hard and he's fending off the latest crop of Variations' augmented enforcers* and his arm is fucked and she's got her tongue in his mouth—

"Bakugou!" Finally breaks through, but her voice is tinny, and too low. "Please, speak to me-!" She pleads, choking off on a sob. He violently smothers the impossibly still-vivid sensation of that fucking catastrophe of a kiss from their first tag-team victory, rationalizing the phantasm as the fault of all that head trauma he's recently suffered.

Ultimately, "Get the hell off'a me." Is all he can settle on biting out, closing his eyes to the sight of Uraraka's damn moon face filling his whole fucking horizon, because shit is this ever not the fucking time.

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Bakugou takes the brunt of the surprise blast he miraculously anticipates; he's got her wrapped up and the both of 'em craterin' through the floor just as the person-shaped mass o' water spontaneously erupts with a concussive 'BANG!' that hurts her ears even smooshed as they are between the palm of an always sweaty hand n' the hard planes of Bakugou's chest.

It won't be 'til long after this mess is over and done with that she understands how or why this disastrous explosion happens, but the notion Bakugou might be at fault for it never even occurs to her. No way he'd jeopardize so many lives –his n' hers included—unless the situation was dire enough to warrant desperate measures. And it wasn't – far as she could tell, after she bubbled the last of member of this ragtag crew –which she'd been in the middle of doing when Bakugou slammed into her—that'd be that and they'd be done. They'd round everyone up and hand 'em off to the police, help Riot and Jack finish clearin' the building, and then meet up with Deku's team to either debrief or, if necessary, assist with the aftermath of the evacuation order. But the riskiest bits'd be over.

Instead, they're smashin' through floor after floor, pushed to a dangerous velocity by the very explosion Bakugou's running from, 'til her booster rockets finally sense she's on a runaway plummet and activate to reassert her equilibrium. Unfortunately, they're fallin' so hard n' so fast that the sudden propulsion doesn't right them so much as send 'em corkscrewin' wild across the new floor they're on, which only ends when they collide –Bakugou-first—into a water cooler.

Dizzy from the hyper-speed insanity of the last few seconds, Ochako drops her technique and tries to blink away the world's sick, tilty twirl as she scrambles up the length of the body beneath her, which has just gone worryingly slack. His arms, 'til now like iron bands around her, wilt and fall away, and his head lolls insensibly.

"Bakugou…?" She tries, tentative, swallowin' back panic-thick bile when he fails to respond. If he's out more'n a few seconds, there's a good chance somethin' serious is wrong, so she's gotta get him conscious, pronto— "C'mon, wake up!" He doesn't flinch. Refusing to cry, Ochako takes a deep, shaky breath and starts feelin' around his head n' neck for any obvious external injuries. All that jumps out at her right away is the small trickle of blood runnelin' out his left ear – a sight that makes her feel guilty in a…fuzzy kinda way, since she'd likely have a busted drum or two of her own if he hadn't had the presence of mind or inclination to protect her. "Bakugou!" She cries, horror startin' to seep in, "Please, speak to me-!" Finally, his long lashes flutter open, and she can't help the high, hysterical sound she makes.

"Get the hell off'a me." He snaps, eyes screwin' shut. Immediately frantic, thinking he's slippin' back under, Ochako bows over him, lowers tremblin' fingers to his cheeks –and pinches the bejeezus out of 'em.

Desperately, "Stay with me—!" She starts, and just as abruptly stops, 'cause whoops, turns out he wasn't tryin' to pass back out on her after all! And he looks pissed about the manhandling. 'Cept, with his cheeks pulled out like they are, his glower's more…endearin'ly silly than she's used to. A manic giggle rolls out of her, and her heart aches with relief, 'cause if he's lucid enough to be irritated by harmless overtures of genuine concern, she figures he's prob'ly gonna be okay.

"Oi." Bakugou menaces through exposed teeth (since his lips're comically drawn back with his cheeks), glarin' murder 'til Ochako remembers she'sthe reason his face looks this way, and lets him go, suddenly sheepish.

Then, she asks his least favorite question: "Are you…okay?" It comes out stilted, 'cause now she's not in tunnel vision freak out mode anymore and has the chance to really check him out, she sees he actually looks pretty rough. Candidly, "You look awful."

Indignant, "Fuck you, I look cut-ass goddamn rugged." Another snigger spazzes out of her, 'cause maybe she's more rattled by this whole affair than she cares to admit.

As patronizin'ly as possible, "Of course you do." Ochako punctuates this playful condescension with a couple light taps against his pinch-rosy cheek. That's all it's meant to be, too, a fleeting, teasing, token touch. But her gaze catches again on the thin spill o' blood forkin' out of his ear, the paltry trickle belyin' the undoubtedly terrible pain he's in on her behalf, and before she knows it, she's obliging the raw, clawin' impulse to slide her hand oh-so-gently along the curve of his jaw and sink her fingers –'cept her pinky—into the wet, bristly plush at his nape. With a strutted, steady thumb, she carefully wipes away the blood at the lower margin of his ear. "Thank you for protecting me." She says, with utmost sincerity.

After, certain she's tryin' his patience with all her heartfelt gratitude and unsolicited handling, she spares him a watery smile and makes to 'get the hell off,' as previously commanded. By him. Which's why it's so startling that the instant she tries to pull back, Bakugou abruptly reacts to stop her. He catches her by the forearm, grip assertive without bein' forceful, unmistakably insistent she stay put, but lettin' her know she's got the out if she wants it.

She doesn't take it.

Ochako stares down at him in rapt silence, not darin' to guess what he'll do next, but unable to quash the budding, wretched, ridiculous hope that maybe, just maybe…Jirou's not chasin' ghosts.

And then. Warm pressure at her hip; the damp, heavy slide of fabric, shiftin'; the bunch n' flex of core muscles, tightening; and the delirious, berserker lurch of her heart, madly poundin', as Bakugou raises himself into a seated position with predator poise and tectonic consequence.

Ochako lets him guide her up n' scoot her back onto her knees, very much in his lap, an' he's still got her by the arm n' the hip and he's so close they're breathin' the same air and he looks…so intense. Angry, definitely, but also some combination of confrontational an' expectant n'…determined, possibly?

Before she loses her nerve, she lays her free hand over the ridge of his shoulder, and feels a telling, convulsive twitch of the fingers at her hip. And there's this suspended beat of a moment between 'em, strange and poignant, that leaves her feelin' dizzy all over again, n' tingly, and terrified that he's concussed, or lookin' for any sign her organs were liquefied in the shockwave of that bananas explosion, or that she's the one who actually passed out, and this's just some crazy fever dream, 'cause there's no way in hell Bakugou's actually leanin' up—

"Alright, you two, enough with the suspense already –okay up there?" Kirishima's voice has a cold water shower effect, and sends her flyin' to her feet in guilty shock. This time, Bakugou doesn't try to stop her. "Jack said you were both at least alive and I should give you a minute, so I waited one whole minute—"

"Forty-five seconds, tops—" Jirou quips.

"—but you guys still haven't checked in, and that explosion was nuts, so can we confirm no one's like, seriously injured already?"

"We're fine, shitlips." Bakugou rumbles, at the same time Ochako says,

"We're okay, I promise." Kirishima breathes an audible sigh of relief. "What about y'all? And –oh goodness, please tell me there wasn't anyone else up here—!"

"Everyone's fine, don't worry. Most of the personnel on the upper floors hit the elevator or stairwell as soon as the sirens started up and came down on their own; we've mostly been rounding up the stragglers –and Malware—and everybody's here in the lobby now. We were about to lead the way to safety when we felt the explosion." Jirou explains, easily an' concisely answerin' all of Ochako's questions before she has the chance to ask 'em. "What happened up there?" Ochako looks to Bakugou to supply the explanation, 'cause the truth is, she doesn't know herself.

He meets her gaze head-on, eyes narrowed. "Nuclear motherfucking fission happened, Earlobes. And we can talk about how that happened after I get my hands on that pink-headed fucking devil woman and have a day of damn reckoning about her shoddy fuckin' tech."

"You're gonna take on Hatsume? Please can I come watch?" Kirishima ribs, knowin' full well he's pokin' the bear. Incredibly, Bakugou doesn't rise to the bait. Ignores his best friend completely, as a matter of fact. Or maybe Bakugou doesn't fully...hear him?

"Long story short, I canary-in-a-cold-mined us the fuck outta there, and now I can't hear dick."

"Do you really miss hearin' dicks, though…?" Jirou heckles. Bakugou definitely hears that one, and fumes in mortification, palms crackin' off like sparklers.

"Your days are fuckin' numbered, Wiretap."

"Glad you're still in one piece, Sparky."

Kirishima again, "Yeah, man, if all you've got to show for that insane blast is a busted ear, I'd say major kudos are in order." Bakugou tuts dismissively while Ochako resists the compulsion to tell their teammates he's more banged up than he's lettin' on. If he wanted 'em to know, she reminds herself, he'd say somethin'. And anyway, she knows, and she's keepin' close watch.

"Jack?" She starts, tryin' to fix 'em all back on the mission. "It's…probably a longshot, but on the off-chance there're any survivors, could I get'cha to listen in for any signs o' life above us?"

Snappin' to purpose, "You got it, Uravity –hang tight." The line briefly closes while Jirou puts her expertly-honed, incredibly sensitive quirk to work. Mindful of the partial hearing loss he's just copped to, Ochako waves at Bakugou to catch his eye instead of callin' out to him.

"I'll head up to check things out after Jirou gives us a read on what to expect. You stay here and—"

"Not on your fuckin' life, sweet cheeks." He interrupts, trottin' out a nickname he seldom ever uses and starin' her down in blatant challenge. Bein' the object of Bakugou's undivided attention always triggers her fluster reflex, but now, on the heels of that too-fresh Almost, the effect's about a zillion times worse and…has…has the air always had a pulse?

Hot and very bothered, she breaks his gaze.

Clearin' her throat, "Fine. But I'm taking point." His answering grin's a wicked promise that hits her like a hot jab to the gut.

"Uravity," Jirou says without warning, startlin' her out of her wits, "I am getting one heartbeat, but it's crazy weak and fading fast." Ochako swiftly changes gears –an easy enough thing to do when there's a life at stake—and beelines for the hole in this floor's ceiling, Bakugou in lockstep behind her.

"We're on it, Jack, thank—" She begins, but Jirou cuts across her.

"Hold that thought. Something's wrong—!"

Whatever Jirou says after that is muted by a sinister, thunderous 'CRACK!' that splits the sky and echoes into the night. The accompanying seismic shiver of the entire building and the apocalyptic cacophony of glass shattering and floor beams screaming and concrete rupturing that follows can only mean one thing: Fissure. Fissure's the survivor with the weak an' fadin' heartbeat, and he's doing what she's positive he meant to do all along: he's razin' the Registry.

"Motherfucker!" Bakugou bellows, undoubtedly comin' to the same conclusion.

The frightful cracking continues, and the nightmare intensifies as a cascade of structural failures ensues and the building begins to moan and sway. At this point, collapse is unavoidable, and imminent.

In a hurry to either get 'em both outta here, or more likely, to go after Fissure Freak and get all three of 'em outta here, Bakugou fastens her to his side and prepares for blast-off. But where she'd usually take her cue and peel away their gravity for max speed, instead she stares numbly into her open hands, petrified at what she knows she has to do –or at least, try to do.

Maybe 'cause she grew up shadowin' her parents at construction sites, determined to make herself useful asap, it's not hard to run a few quick numbers: if there're sixty-somethin' stories in this building, forty plus o' those directly above them; and if the Registry itself weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-25,000 tons; then even if she factors in a generous margin for error, and even if she only has to worry about what'll be comin' down on top of 'em and not what's under her feet, she's still lookin' at between 10-15,000 tons of steel and concrete and office equipment. Which is impossibly beyond her weight limit.

Filled with cold dread, Ochako goes into a tailspin, certain this is the end, that they're either gonna die or manage to escape by the skin o' their teeth and watch, helpless, as the Registry crumbles and crushes Kirishima n' Jirou n' Malware and who-knows-how-many city blocks' worth of people, then kicks up a toxic debris cloud several kilometers wide in every direction, killin' countless more.

In the grips of mortal terror, these're the only outcomes she can envision.

Until Bakugou reaches over and flicks her right between the eyes –hard.

"Ow!"

"Any goddamn day now, Uraraka!" Bakugou yells over the din. He's still waitin' on her to float them so he knows she's ready, so they can go. There's not a shred of fear in the sharp wedge of a grin he's wearin'; just impatience, and implacable certainty. Because to him, winning's not an option: it's an inevitability. And if she's not gonna be outpaced and left behind, if she wants to truly feel like his necessary complement and equal, the same's gotta be true for her.

Over the piercing 'screeeeee!' of foldin' metal, bucklin' under extraordinary strain, "I know what I have to do!" After she says it, she feels lighter, like she's already floating. Resolve crystallizin', she twists up in his hold and kisses his cheek, easy as breathin', an' steps back, trusting he'll let her go. He does, starin' down at her in open shock. Without the luxury of enough time to be embarrassed, she smiles softly, turns her eyes to the ceiling, an' activates her quirk. "Wish me luck!" Ochako calls, breathin' deep.

I can do this.

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Uraraka says she 'knows what she has to do' with buoyant self-assurance, and Katsuki believes her. But before he can work out what she might have up her sleeve, she plants one on him in an ambush for the fucking ages, and short-circuits the part of his brain responsible for critical thinking. So when she slaps on her boots and rockets for the ceiling, at first he's confused.

Then, as comprehension slowly dawns, his ability to parse reality switches fully the fuck off, because there is no way in hell Uraraka actually means to float a motherfucking skyscraper—

*Variations: full call-sign, 'Variations on a Theme;' a 'big boss' type villain who is barely foreshadowed in chapter one of 'this moronic episode.' hint: the line that sneakily refers to Variations in 'tme:' 'He makes a mental note, and an aggravated hypothesis.' with the name and the 'mental note' bakugou makes, anyone care to venture a guess as to what Variations' quirk might be…?

references for this chapter (because i have a *very hard time* visualizing things, which is why the plentiful, *incredible art* for this ship is such a blessing):

(THE moment in this chapter was based around this *amazing* piece by akeemi-chan:) twitter (period) com (slash) Akeemi_chan / status / 841118636857274369

(but the face bakugou's making during THE moment looks more like this:)
keiid (period) tumblr (period) com (slash) tumblr post / 163999461196 / kacchako-doodle

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[next chapter: bakugou has an epiphany.]