By: MakeThisFun

Midoriya's heart hadn't quite settled, the echoes of his flustered conversation with his friends still bouncing around in his mind as he entered the classroom the next morning. His cheeks still tingled from the embarrassment, and his nerves were shot from the persistent questions about the sparring session. He'd barely slept, his thoughts spinning like a cyclone between what had happened with Bakugou and how he had awkwardly tried to dodge the truth in front of his friends.

He wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that Bakugou had stormed off in such anger and embarrassment, or that everyone seemed to sense something had gone terribly wrong between them. His mind was a blur of thoughts, still trying to make sense of the kiss, of Bakugou's reaction, and the simmering tension that lingered between them like an unresolved storm.

"Midoriya," a familiar voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Midoriya jumped slightly, blinking as he realized that Eraser Headhad entered the room, his ever-sleepy gaze scanning the students with the same weary disinterest that usually accompanied his early morning lessons. Aizawa had an uncanny ability to seem both exhausted and ready for action at any given moment, and today, Midoriya could already sense that something unusual was brewing.

"As you all know," Aizawa began, his voice dry as usual, "today's lesson will focus on teamwork and strategic coordination during rescue missions. And that means we'll be pairing up for exercises."

Midoriya's stomach immediately dropped at the mention of 'pairing up,' an icy dread creeping into his chest. He didn't even need to turn his head to know that Bakugou was seated a few rows behind him, probably glaring at the back of his head with that same intensity that had left him trembling the day before. The thought of being partnered with Bakugou again—especially after what had happened—made his pulse quicken, panic bubbling up in his throat.

"You'll be working in pairs to simulate real rescue scenarios," Aizawa continued, clearly not picking up on Midoriya's internal turmoil. "I've already assigned your partners, so listen up."

Midoriya held his breath, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as Aizawa listed off pairs of students. Each name felt like a countdown to some inevitable disaster, and with every pair called, Midoriya's anxiety only grew.

"Todoroki and Kirishima…"

"Uraraka and Asui…"

"Bakugou and—" Aizawa paused, glancing down at his clipboard before his gaze landed directly on Midoriya, who had instinctively shrunk in his seat. "Midoriya."

Midoriya's heart skipped a beat, the weight of Aizawa's words hitting him like a truck. He could practically feel the heat of Bakugou's eyes burning into the back of his skull, even though he didn't dare look over his shoulder. A wave of panic surged through him, his thoughts scrambling as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he would have to face Bakugou again. So soon.

And in front of everyone.

Behind him, Midoriya heard the unmistakable sound of Bakugou shifting in his seat, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The tension in the room seemed to spike, and Midoriya didn't need to see Bakugou's expression to know that this was the last thing he wanted too.

"Great," Bakugou muttered under his breath, though loud enough for the rest of the class to hear. "Stuck with Deku again."

A few heads turned toward them, some students exchanging glances. Midoriya's face flushed with heat, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to keep his composure. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind flashing back to the kiss, to the way Bakugou had reacted—so angry, so embarrassed—and how he had stormed out afterward. Midoriya didn't even know how to begin facing him now, much less how they were supposed to work together in a mission scenario.

"I expect you all to perform your best," Aizawa continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between Bakugou and Midoriya. "You'll need to rely on each other, trust your partner, and communicate effectively. No outbursts or losing your cool, understood?"

Bakugou didn't say anything, but Midoriya could feel the weight of his silent rage simmering behind him. His heart raced even faster, his palms sweating as he tried to calm himself down. He could do this. He could work with Bakugou. They had been paired up before, right? But this time… this time was different. Everything felt different.

"Pair up and meet me in the simulation room," Aizawa said, dismissing the class with a wave of his hand.

As soon as Aizawa left the room, Midoriya slowly gathered his things, his hands trembling as he shoved his notebook into his bag. His thoughts were racing, but he knew there was no escaping this. He would have to face Bakugou again, no matter how awkward or tense it was. No matter how much his heart raced at the memory of their kiss.

"Hey, Midoriya," Kirishima called from across the room, his tone casual but curious. "You and Bakugou good? You guys seemed pretty tense after sparring yesterday."

Midoriya nearly dropped his bag, his face flushing with embarrassment as he stammered, "Y-Yeah! W-We're fine! Totally fine!"

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Uh-huh. Sure, man."

Before Midoriya could even attempt to explain—or come up with another awkward excuse—he heard the familiar heavy footsteps behind him. His heart leapt into his throat as Bakugou appeared at his side, his face set in a deep scowl.

"Move it, Deku," Bakugou growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We've got work to do."

Midoriya swallowed hard, nodding quickly as he grabbed his bag and stood, his hands shaking as he tried to keep himself steady. He dared a glance at Bakugou's face, but Bakugou wasn't looking at him. His jaw was clenched, his expression hard, but there was something else beneath the surface—something that Midoriya couldn't quite place.

Without another word, Bakugou turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his movements stiff and aggressive. Midoriya hurried to follow, his heart still pounding as he tried to steady his breath. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to face Bakugou again, not after everything that had happened. But there was no turning back now.

As they made their way toward the simulation room, the tension between them was palpable. The memory of yesterday was too fresh, too raw, and every glance at Bakugou's stiff posture only made Midoriya's heart race more. He could feel the heat rising to his face, the awkwardness wrapping itself around him like a heavy cloak. There was no getting past this without addressing it, and yet…

"Kacchan…" Midoriya finally forced the words out, his voice soft and tentative as they walked side by side. "About yesterday… I—"

"Shut it, Deku," Bakugou snapped before Midoriya could even finish his sentence. His voice was cold, almost harsh, and Midoriya flinched at the sound.

Bakugou's eyes remained forward, his scowl deeper than usual, as though he were trying to keep everything at bay—the memory, the embarrassment, the shame that had surged through him the moment he lost control. "We're here to work, not talk about that."

Midoriya's mouth clamped shut immediately, the words dying on his lips. His heart sank, the sting of Bakugou's rejection hitting him harder than he expected. He had thought—hoped—that maybe they could talk, maybe they could make sense of what had happened. But Bakugou clearly wanted none of it.

They reached the simulation room in silence, Aizawa separated the pairs, putting the rescue victims into the simulation room while the rescuers waited. They didn't usually pretend to be hapless victims. They had professional actors that got paid for that, but sometimes it was better to help them understand both sides.

It was the key to this lesson.

Understand the vulnerability of the victim.

"Good," Aizawa said, his voice low and monotone. "You'll be simulating a rescue mission in an unstable environment. Your primary goal is to locate the individual and extract them safely. You'll need to perform field medical aid as they will be injured. You aren't just trying to save them, you are protecting them from further harm. Some injuries, especially mental ones, can't be so easily healed."

Midoriya's stomach tightened at the thought of having to rescue Bakugou. The idea of working so closely with him—after everything that had happened—made his chest constrict with anxiety. But he nodded quickly, swallowing his nerves. "Yes, sir."

Aizawa gave them a curt nod before gesturing to the door leading into the simulation. "Midoriya. Get to it. And remember—communicate. Work together. If you fail, the consequences will be much worse in a real-world scenario."

Midoriya stepped inside alone, the door closing behind them with a soft hiss. The simulation environment immediately shifted around them—a crumbling building, the ceiling partially caved in, rubble strewn across the floor. The air was thick with dust, the faint sound of distant alarms echoing through the space, simulating the aftermath of a disaster.

The young hero scanned the room, his mind snapping into focus. He needed to find Bakugou, locate him as the injured victim, and get him out safely. He couldn't let the awkwardness between them interfere with the mission.

Bakugou had already moved into position somewhere deeper in the simulation, out of sight, acting as the victim who needed to be rescued. Midoriya's heart raced as he carefully made his way through the wreckage, his footsteps careful and deliberate as he navigated the unstable terrain.

"Bakugou?" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty, simulated ruins. "Kacchan, where are you?"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a low groan echoed through the rubble, followed by Bakugou's familiar voice—strained, but unmistakable. "Over here, you idiot."

Midoriya's heart leapt in his chest as he moved toward the sound, his eyes scanning the debris until he finally spotted Bakugou slumped against a broken pillar, his leg trapped under a heavy piece of rubble. His face was twisted in pain, his breathing labored, but there was something else—his eyes were burning with frustration, clearly annoyed at his position.

Midoriya rushed over, his heart pounding as he knelt beside Bakugou. "Kacchan, are you okay?"

Bakugou grimaced, his jaw clenched as he glared up at Midoriya. "No, I'm not okay, Deku. Get this damn thing off me."

Midoriya quickly assessed the situation, his eyes narrowing as he examined the rubble trapping Bakugou's leg. He needed to move it carefully to avoid causing more damage. Bakugou's leg was pinned at an awkward angle, and from the way Bakugou was grimacing, Midoriya could tell it was injured—potentially fractured.

"I'll lift it," Midoriya said quickly, his voice steady despite the tension between them. "You need to stay still."

Bakugou grunted in response, his jaw tight with pain.

With a deep breath, Midoriya gripped the edge of the rubble and activated One For All, his muscles surging with power as he carefully lifted the debris off Bakugou's leg. The weight shifted, and Bakugou let out a sharp hiss of pain, his hands gripping the ground as Midoriya moved the rubble to the side.

The moment the weight was lifted, Midoriya knelt down beside Bakugou's leg, his heart racing as he realized the injury was worse than he thought. The simulated injury had left Bakugou's leg with a deep gash, blood trickling from the wound, and it was bent at a strange angle, indicating a possible break.

Midoriya's throat tightened. He knew what came next.

"I need to treat your leg," Midoriya said softly, reaching into the medical kit Aizawa had given them before the exercise. "It's… pretty bad."

Bakugou let out a frustrated growl, but he didn't protest. "Just do it."

Midoriya nodded quickly, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the bandages and disinfectant. He positioned himself closer to Bakugou, his hands carefully working on the wound. But as he did, he realized the gash was higher up on Bakugou's thigh—far too close to his pelvis for comfort.

His heart raced as his hands hovered uncertainly near Bakugou's upper thigh, his fingers trembling as he worked the bandages around the wound. The proximity to Bakugou's most intimate areas made Midoriya's face flush with heat, and he tried his best to focus, to ignore the sudden tension that had flared between them again.

Bakugou gritted his teeth, his face scrunched up in pain, but there was something else there, too—something unspoken that lingered in the space between them as Midoriya's hands brushed dangerously close to his pelvis.

"Just hurry up, Deku," Bakugou growled, his voice strained but tinged with something Midoriya couldn't quite place. His body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring, but he didn't say anything else.

Midoriya's fingers worked delicately, trying to avoid any unnecessary contact with Bakugou's more intimate areas, but the angle of the wound made it nearly impossible. His hands were trembling slightly, and as he moved the bandages closer to Bakugou's upper thigh, his hand slipped.

His fingers grazed against something firm and unmistakable—Bakugou's thing—and Midoriya's breath caught in his throat, his entire body freezing as the reality of what had just happened hit him.

Bakugou's body went rigid, his breath coming out in a sharp, almost strangled sound. For a split second, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with an unbearable tension that seemed to crackle with electricity. Midoriya's mind went blank, panic flooding through him as his face turned a deep shade of red.

"I-I'm sorry!" Midoriya stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he quickly pulled his hand back, his heart pounding so hard that he thought it might burst from his chest. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't trying to—"

Bakugou's jaw clenched tightly, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at Midoriya, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and something else—something Midoriya couldn't quite place. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. "Shut up, Deku."

Midoriya's breath hitched, his eyes wide as he struggled to form coherent thoughts. He could feel the heat radiating off Bakugou's body, could see the tension in his muscles, the way his chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. Bakugou was angry—furious, even—but there was something else in his gaze, something that flickered for just a moment before being swallowed by the usual frustration.

"I didn't—Kacchan, I swear, I wasn't—" Midoriya tried again, his voice shaky, but Bakugou cut him off with a low growl.

"I said,shut up," Bakugou repeated, his voice low and dangerous, but there was a tremor beneath the surface, a subtle crack in the anger that told Midoriya that Bakugou was just as thrown off by what had happened as he was.

Midoriya's hands shook as he tried to focus back on the task at hand, his face burning with embarrassment. He needed to finish wrapping Bakugou's leg, but now, with the proximity of his hand to Bakugou's body, every touch felt magnified—every brush of his fingers, every shift of his hand seemed to make the space between them even smaller, even more intense.

Bakugou's breathing had become heavier, and Midoriya could feel the weight of Bakugou's gaze on him, watching his every move. The heat between them was almost suffocating now, the closeness impossible to ignore. Midoriya's hands trembled as he finished the bandaging, his entire body humming with a nervous energy that left him lightheaded.

"There," Midoriya said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he tied off the last of the bandages. He couldn't bring himself to look at Bakugou, not after what had just happened. "I-I'm done."

For a moment, Bakugou didn't say anything. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable, until Bakugou finally shifted, wincing slightly as he tested the bandaging on his leg. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight as he finally spoke, his voice low and gruff.

"Get me out of here."

Midoriya blinked, startled by the sudden demand, but quickly nodded. "R-Right. I'll help you walk."

He reached out, his hand hovering near Bakugou's arm, but Bakugou jerked away, his glare sharp and unforgiving. "I don't need your help, Deku."

Midoriya flinched at the harshness of Bakugou's words, but he swallowed his response, nodding silently as he stood. Bakugou's anger was still simmering beneath the surface, and Midoriya didn't want to make things worse by arguing. He could still feel the lingering heat of Bakugou's body, the memory of that accidental touch burned into his mind, making his stomach churn with a confusing mix of emotions.

Bakugou pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he put weight on his injured leg. He wobbled slightly, the pain evident in the way his jaw tightened, but he refused to let Midoriya help him. With a grunt, he began limping toward the exit of the simulation, his steps heavy and deliberate.

Midoriya followed silently, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as they made their way out of the simulation room. The tension between them hadn't eased—if anything, it had only grown more unbearable, more complicated.

As they reached the door, Bakugou stopped abruptly, his back to Midoriya. His hands were still clenched into fists, his shoulders tense.

"Don't talk about this," Bakugou muttered, his voice low and rough, barely audible.

Midoriya blinked, his heart skipping a beat. "What?"

Bakugou's shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenching as he turned his head slightly, just enough for Midoriya to see the sharp line of his profile. "You heard me, Deku. Don't talk about it. Don't think about it. It didn't happen."

Midoriya's throat tightened, the weight of Bakugou's words settling over him like a heavy blanket. He wanted to protest, wanted to say something—anything—that might ease the tension between them, but the look in Bakugou's eyes told him it would be pointless. Bakugou wasn't ready to talk about what had happened, and pushing him would only make things worse.

So, instead, Midoriya nodded, his voice small and uncertain as he responded. "Okay."

Bakugou didn't say anything else. He turned and limped out of the room, leaving Midoriya standing there, alone with the weight of everything that had just happened.