A/N: Sit back, relax, and enjoy:
Finding Your Purpose
His mother had gotten remarried not too long ago.
As far as he cared to remember, the ceremony had been wonderful, not too grand, the turn-out was nice—so nice, in fact, that he didn't even know his mother knew so many people. A part of him suspected a third of the attendees only showed up because of him, but they helped celebrate his mother's special day and that was good enough for him.
"Don't let me outpace you too much, sweetheart," his mother had said with a teasing smile as they shared a mother-son dance. "I would like to have some grandchildren to spoil, you know, before I'm too old to stand properly."
At the time, he had laughed and assured her that he was indeed working on it—even if the both of them knew he was very obviously lying—but once the well wishes were had, the cake was eaten (of which he was forced to take home several slices), and the lucky couple left on their honeymoon… there was little for him to do besides return home.
Nowadays, he didn't really do much. Not that he needed to, honestly, what with the royalties he made off sharing his side of the battle against AFO, deep-diving into how he felt, the determination to save the one soul he couldn't, the immense gratitude he felt toward all of his classmates that burned just as brightly today as it did then. And then there were the public meetings for up-and-coming hero's at schools across the lands, the memorabilia that bore his likeness, the endorsement deals, several of which he had to graciously turn down—like the admittedly lucrative one that would have used the shape of his genitalia for pleasure devices.
Sure, it would have probably sold well, especially based on searches for his name on certain sites, but there was no way Izuku could reconcile that with the knowledge that people, possibly people he knew, would not only know his size and girth, but use it to get themselves off. Hard no. On several levels.
"I suppose marriage would be nice… I suppose." The melancholy tones of his voice echoed around the spacious room, vacant save for himself. School had let out a few hours ago, and the last teacher had left a couple hours after that, waving him goodbye with the usual advice not to work himself to death, to which he responded with the usual platitude that if you're doing what you love, it's never work.
He relaxed in his chair, letting his head lull back. When the office was empty like this, while motes of afternoon light flittered through the blinds, this was when Izuku truly felt like something precious was missing. The silence that he liked to suffocate under towering stacks of tests that needed grading or the constant reprimanding of students with budding quirks, he never really liked to sit it in like this. Because it allowed his mind to wander, and after everything he had been through, that was rarely a good thing.
To say he had no regrets over the way his life had played out thus far would be an understatement. They all but buried him most days and gave him a case of crippling anxiety on others. He had made peace with the fact that he couldn't save Shigaraki all those years ago. Realistically speaking, even if he had, after all the damage and lives lost, jail or the death penalty were looking like his only options in life. When he was younger, Izuku didn't want to believe that was how Shigaraki's painful story would end, but his sensei at the time, Aizawa, didn't mince words about it.
"Scooting aside the immeasurable amount of destruction left in his wake, Izuku-kun, a good many heroes lost their lives during this exhausting campaign. And several more, including you and your classmates, were maimed, some even to the point where they can no longer resume hero work. That's not something a simple forfeit and change of heart can fix; it can't wash away all the blood that's been spilt. If it means anything, I wish you had gotten through to him, if for nothing else than to spare you the survivor's guilt you're going to be carrying, but honestly… compared to how he would have been treated once apprehended, death was your helping hand."
Death was my helping hand, huh? Izuku lifted a heavily scarred hand to the ceiling, flexing his fingers. This hand… this battered, battle-weary appendage… all the punches he had thrown with it were flashing over his mind, one after another… he could feel his knuckles smacking against flesh, hear his fingers breaking one by one….
Now that he thought about it, maybe… maybe this was his karma.
Swinging his fists from fight to fight, always beating down the villain, always coming out on top. But had he? Had he actually accomplished anything of measure dealing out a Delaware Smash? Or were those attacks merely bandaids that he slapped villains and wrongdoers with to get them to calm down without ever taking the time to figure out why they were like they were, why they committed the atrocities they did? Had he been utilizing his quirk the wrong way this whole time so the powers that be finally had no choice but to step in and strip it away…?
A mirthless chuckle passed his lips and he squeezed his hand into a fist.
No, that wasn't true, and he knew it wasn't. Out of everyone who carried the title of Hero, it was well known that his heart bled the most for villains. True, he did want to be the greatest hero to ever live—which was unofficially achieved the day he defeated Shigaraki, if only for a second—but he never really gave thought to other ways he could contribute.
Until he started teaching. It made the most logical sense given he had sacrificed OFA to ultimately end both Shigaraki's reign and his life. He had always been well-read, possessed a love of learning and passing on that knowledge, and no one could deny he was gifted when it came to giving speeches, much like the ones he had given around the world. Teaching just… came naturally. It even gave him a credible excuse to oversee new up and coming quirks, and with his stature, if he ever wanted to study one, whoever it belonged to was always happy to agree.
Anything for the hero that saved the world, don't you know.
His arm fell away limply and he closed his eyes, a grimace twisting his lips. Sometimes… he hated himself. Oh, he could make himself sick to his stomach with the self-flagellating feelings that festered in his heart. A therapist he had seen years back, that he and most of his classmates were forced to visit for a mental evaluation after the final war, had told him, specifically him, that it would take some time integrating back into private citizen status now that he was quirkless again—and that anything he felt during that transition was completely natural and expected.
So it made sense that whenever new dangers crept up, that he wasn't called. It made sense that, as time passed, his friends from class 1A would branch off to do their own thing, whether that be building agencies of their own or starting solo careers. Yes, it made sense that he would start to see them on TV more and more, normally after they had just vanquished the villain of the week or prevented a bank robbery. It made all the sense in the world that they would all still clamor for the number one hero spot, a quest that Izuku could no longer take part in despite it being central to his dream. And naturally, with all that going on, it made sense that contact with a lot of them would plummet from daily meet-ups to yearly texts.
Logically, it all made sense. And it all hurt like hell. Every time he saw his friends fighting not only for their lives, but the lives of nearby citizens while he himself was forced to be sat on the couch watching it unfold through a blasted screen, the way Izuku's blood would boil was almost enough to send him to the hospital. His friends were out there, still risking it all, holding the line against villainy…and nowadays he could only support them with cheers they would never hear. He hadn't felt such searing uselessness since his pre-quirk days—and having experienced what it was like to be a hero, to be able to help, to be able to make a difference, only to have it all snatched away was worse than never experiencing at all.
It was as if he had been factory reset.
Over the years, those feelings of utter uselessness lessened somewhat. He used to break down in frustrated sobs every other day, but now? He couldn't recall the last time he had suffered a relapse, and didn't try too hard to remember either. The busier he stayed, the less time he had to dwell on the past. The more he threw himself into teaching the youth, the more he was able to block out petty desires, wishing things had gone differently during that final fight with Shigaraki… maybe, perhaps… that someone else could have taken his spot and dealt the final blow. That way, he'd still have his quirk and be able to help out in the way he had always dreamed about.
Ah, but that was what being a hero was all about, wasn't it? Making the tough call. Making the shitty call. Putting your heart and soul into a Hail Mary play with an absolutely zero percent chance of success. Saving countless others knowing full-well you might be the one missing out on the next sunrise.
His grimace shifted into a somber smirk. "You know… I might be quirkless but my senses are still top-notch," he uttered, speaking to the sudden presence that had entered the room without nary a sound. Based off the frenetic energy that washed over him, he immediately knew who it was and sat up. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Kacchan?"
Currently sitting at number four in the hero rankings, Bakugo Katsuki stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets with a most hostile snarl aimed at his eternal rival. Even years later, while the urge to kill, murder, and destroy Izuku down to his last molecule had cooled off considerably, there was no masking the innate desire to be his better. It showed in those sharp, crimson eyes that cut into Izuku like an eagle's talons. His sandy, spiky hair was as unruly as ever, in complete defiance to every hair gel known to man, and, oddly enough, he was dressed in casual clothes.
Maybe a day off? Perhaps.
Instead of responding to Izuku's question, Bakugo approached until he stood at the former hero's desk. The energy that leaked off him was palpable, a testament to how much stronger he had grown over the years. Wordlessly, he pulled a hand free and lifted one of the test papers from Izuku's desk, his eyes scanning the front in silence.
He sucked his teeth. "Deku… just what in the hell are you teachin' these kids? These grades are worse than mine were back in the day."
"As shockingly horrible as that may be, that one in particular has the potential to be a great hero one day," Izuku said with a fond smile. "The determination is there in droves, the urge to battle villainy… she just has a passion for acting out and doing things her own way. Case in point, she only failed because she quit halfway through."
"With these questions I don't blame her. Like this one: 'explain in detail how a fire related quirk might be most effective in a bank robbery situation.'" Bakugo spared Izuku a withering look of disgust. "It would be most effective in roasting the flesh off the robbers, duh."
"Since that's a free-thought question, you're not technically wrong. A bit deranged, but not wrong," Izuku relented, "but concerning her test, as you can see—"
"The ones she did answer, she got right," Bakugo finished under his breath, a chuckle rumbling in his throat.
"Sounds like someone we know, doesn't she?"
Shaking his head, Bakugo purposefully set the paper back down in a completely different spot than where he picked it up. "Doesn't ring a bell, Deku."
"Figured. You never had a bell to begin with, Kacchan."
Something maniacal flashed in Bakugo's eyes and Izuku could clearly see the wanton desire to throw a left hook, or maybe blow up his desk—but no. Rather than reducing his desk to kindling, Bakugo leaned back against it with a sigh, crossing his arms. "I take it since you're still working this dead-end shit-hole of a job, you turned down the offer to have sex toys modeled after your junk, huh?"
Izuku stiffened where he sat, hands clenching the arm rests of his chair. He couldn't even begin to fathom how Bakugo had found out about that incident, because he had told no one, not even his mother. The embarrassment alone was enough to ensure he took it to the grave and beyond. And yet, there was this smug smirking blonde just leering at him—
"It was you," Izuku suddenly whispered, a horrible realization lighting up his face.
Bakugo's grin damn near turned clown-like and he started to laugh. "Ha! Guess all this teachin' is keepin' your mind sharp," he chuckled. "Yeah, it was me, I told those folks you were interested in that type of thing."
Now Izuku dragged a hand down his face, his chest caving with a deep exhale. Every impulse he had begged to throttle his former rival, but, as always, he resisted the urge and mustered a stringent, "Just… why?"
"Because look at you, man!" Bakugo extended a hand so fiercely in Izuku's direction it was a wonder he didn't dislocate his shoulder. "Look at you doin' all this borin' teaching shit! I figured you were low on cash or something so I tried to give you a way out!"
"I'm not tight on funds—you already know that—but more importantly, even if I had been, you thought selling toys modeled after my genitals would be the way to go?" Izuku argued back while trying to keep his voice down on the off chance somebody happened by.
"Better than this shit, honestly." Bakugo hunched his shoulders, truly uncaring as he stared around the darkened office. "This is some sad shit, man. Bunched up in this oversized cubicle like a sardine, gradin' these godawful tests"—he smacked the stack, causing it to wobble ominously—"and for what? Just to be all by yourself in the dark like how I found you. You could at least show a little gratitude and make a few toys for some of our classmates."
On the verge of losing his temper the more Bakugo bashed his line of work, it was the last few words that threw Izuku off track. "I—wait… what? W-what do you mean by—"
"Oh, yeah, I told them 'bout the whole thing," Bakugo said easily, and he snorted when Izuku's face sagged. "What? I was trynna help you drum up some early buyers! You won't believe who was actually interested, either. Get this, it was—"
"No!" shouted Izuku and he lifted a staying hand, his cheeks flushed at the mere thought. It was bad enough that other people were privy to such a thing, but to know that he had been right, that people he knew wanted in on it—"I'd… you can keep that to yourself, Kacchan, I'd really rather not know…."
"You sure?"
"I'm positive," Izuku ground out, lips barely moving. He could only thank the patience he had gained through teaching; he felt that was the main reason why he hadn't wrestled Bakugo to the ground in a chokehold.
He inhaled sharply when Bakugo suddenly leaned forward, invading his personal space with the most hauntingly wide-eyed expression Izuku had ever seen.
"What if I told you gravity girl had wanted one?"
The blush from only a few moments ago, that had begun to fade, came back full force, lighting up Izuku's face from his hair line down into the collar of his shirt. His stomach fell right through the seat of his pants and he forgot how to breathe as Bakugo's mouth curled into a devilish grin, one that effectively pinned the former hero to his chair.
Gravity girl… Izuku swallowed. Of course Bakugo meant Uravity, or more to the point… Uraraka.
Truthfully, he didn't like for his thoughts to drift that way, in her direction, because directly underneath his burning desire to protect people like how he used to, just being in Uraraka's exuberant presence and being able to converse with her was something that Izuku sorely missed, so much so that he often went back and reread some of their old texts to glean some sort of comfort. He tried not to notice how distant they began to grow, going from several glowing notifications throughout any given day to just a few basic words here and there every few weeks.
She was a darkened corner of his mind that Izuku didn't bother revealing in therapy because what good would it have done? He already knew he wasn't handling it well—seriously doubted if he ever would—and to do the obvious thing, to reach out, always seemed so inappropriate, especially since their conversations had devolved into such basic co-worker dribble. He didn't feel he had the right to pester her, to ask what had happened to cause things to slip so much….
"Ochako-san wouldn't—" he started dryly, but Bakugo cut him off by slamming a hand down on his desk.
"Who the hell is Ochako-san? That's crazy formal for ya'll two, ain't it?" the blonde pushed, quirking a spiked brow. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound like you're talkin' about one of the other boring ass teachers around here and not the chick you've been catching boners for since we were kids."
The boldness of that lewd statement shot Izuku straight past embarrassment where he crash-landed into flabbergasted. His eyes flew wide and his jaw dropped like he had been slapped. "Kacchan," he started slowly, swallowing before forcing a weak grin, "I know we're close but keeping an eye on my groin is another level of friendship I don't think we've reached."
Straightening up, Bakugo blinked like Izuku had lapsed into another language, then he threw his head back with a round of laughter. "HA! See, that's it! That's the Deku I wanna punch square in the mouth!" he growled out, forming a feral fist that ignited with his quirk. "You ain't stupid—you're a teacher, after all. So you gotta know she's waiting for you."
Softly, Izuku shook his head. "No. She's not."
"The fuck you gonna tell me she's not? Since you settled into bein' a teacher, I've probably talked to her more than you have," snapped Bakugo. "Doesn't that bother you?"
Knowing that was a very likely possibility, that Uraraka talked to others more than him, bothered Izuku to the depths of his soul and caused his stomach to churn somewhat. He grit his teeth and fought against it, like he had done time and time again. "She's not mine to privatize, Kacchan. She's a grown woman, she can talk to whoever she wants to…."
A snort left the explosive hero. "Is that a fact? And what if I was fuckin' her, too?"
Festering and broiling, a rage the likes of which Izuku couldn't remember feeling since fighting Shigaraki, tore through every fiber of his being with a dizzying quickness, fueling his muscles with so much power that he would swear he had just inherited One For All again. In his mind, he saw himself rising like a snake, delivering a lightning quick uppercut that sent Bakugo through the roof—but on the outside, the only indication Izuku gave that he had heard those fouls words was a half-smile.
"Well, if you are, you'd better do the right thing and make an honest woman out of her," he said, drawing on a calmness that betrayed the storm thrashing behind his chest.
"You fucking—she's waiting on you to make an honest woman outta her!" Bakugo roared, and there was a very real chance that the hand on Izuku's desk would go off and turn it to cinders so great was his anger. "You need to get off your ass and take back your life! You wanna find meaning again? You wanna feel like you're actually doing something? This ain't it—and you know it's not! This ain't nothin' but a distraction! If you want that itch you can't reach to go away, it starts with findin' that gravity girl and—"
"I CAN'T!" The words burst from Izuku's mouth in a shout that overshadowed the incensed blonde and they both lapsed into a stringent silence, one pair of eyes glaring right into the other.
"And why the fuck can't you?" Bakugo growled out.
Chest heaving, Izuku continued to hold Bakugo's stern gaze, until he slumped forward, elbows to his knees and struggling to not only catch his breath but center himself. He had begun to see red, and that was never good. Along with that blinding curtain of crimson came all sorts of scenarios of a better life that he no longer had access to since sacrificing his quirk… since sacrificing his dream.
"There's… there's plenty of reasons," Izuku started slowly, joining the tips of his fingers together as he often did nowadays to gather his thoughts. "The statistics around hero/non-hero unions are disastrously low—an overwhelming majority barely last half a year, and I… I wouldn't want to put anyone through that, especially a well-known hero like Ochako-san. I'd be less of a partner and more of a chain keeping her shackled." He chuckled, the sound hollow. "I know her, Kacchan… I really know her, better than the next person if I can be so bold. If we did wind up together, she would worry and feel bad for having to leave me behind each and every time she had to handle a crisis, because she's that much of a caring person. We'd miss a lot of dates, a lot of anniversaries—and I'd be fine with that, but she wouldn't. And I would never, never ask her to give up her hero work for my sake. Having basically done just that just to stop Shigaraki-san, I know firsthand how that can make someone feel, what it can do to their mental…."
Something harsh tightened the scowl over Bakugo's face, but he said nothing.
"She's out there saving lives, Kacchan, impacting the world in a great way. I admire that, how she just keeps climbing, even after what happened with Himiko-san, she didn't let that get her down. I remember our talks about it, every single one, because I drew strength from her words. She called me her hero once, and then I turned around and called her mine. Now, she's shot past me, and just entertaining the thought of taking her away from that, from the amazing platform she's built, or even causing her to angst over it for my sake… it makes me sick…."
"Then become a hero again," said Bakugo simply.
"I already am a hero," said Izuku, not without some bite. "I'm just a hero in a different way, on a different path."
"But this was never supposed to be your path, you fuckin' idiot."
"Yeah?" Now Izuku angled his head, glaring at his friend with a cold indifference. "And how would you know? What makes you so sure that where I'm at right now isn't exactly where I'm supposed to be?"
Some of the ire left Bakugo's face and for a moment that might have lasted an eternity, the way he stared with his brow furrowed, it almost seemed as though he might reach out a hand to his former rival, much like Izuku had done for him when they were toddlers.
"Because you're not happy."
The tenderness in Bakugo's unexpected response disabled Izuku so bad that all he could do was gape, his lips floundering for a rebuttal—but none came. He had nothing to say to that, no witty remark or phrase to save himself, and what made the whole thing ten times worse, what really punched him in the gut, was that Bakugo was absolutely right.
He wasn't happy. He hadn't been happy for so long that he couldn't remember the last time his smile had been genuine.
A mirthless chuckle left him. How obvious must he have been if even Bakugo of all people could see through his charade? But then, thinking that made him feel like a right asshole, because not only did it undermine Bakugo's level of cognitive understanding, Izuku knew full well that Bakugo's emotional intelligence was matched only by his intuitive combat prowess. The boy just had anger issues.
"You're right," Izuku whispered.
"Duh, I know I'm right," Bakugo snapped. "So I'll say it again. Just become a hero."
The very idea of doing such a thing, reaching for the unobtainable, prodded uncomfortably at Izuku's insides and he quivered in his chair. "You say that like… like there's a button or something I can just flip on and…" He shook his head. "How would I…?"
"I think I have an answer to that," spoke another voice in a sweet, recognizable tone that instantly set Izuku's heart on fire, and he sat up bolt right, his gaze lifting to see her walking through the office entryway. Dressed in a dark sleeveless sweater with a cream-colored pencil skirt that stopped halfway up her thighs, Uraraka's gorgeous visage left Izuku breathless as she approached, carrying what looked like a heavy-duty metal suitcase.
"O-Ochako-san…."
Tucking a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear, she fixed him with a watery smile, the look in her eyes displaying a care so deep and mesmerizing that Izuku half-wondered who in the world she was really looking at because there was no way it could be him… is what he thought until she paused a few feet away, her strappy heels clicking over the tiled floor.
"But… before that…." With a steadying inhale, Uraraka lifted a hand to her chest. "Izu-kun, d-do you love me?"
The speed at which Izuku responded, "I do," shocked not only himself, but the girl in front of him, whose eyes widened for only a few seconds before lowering into a satisfied half-lidded stare, the smallest of smiles playing over her glossy lips.
Folding his arms with all the petulant energy he could muster, Bakugo sucked his teeth. "It's about damn time, shit."
At this point, Bakugo might as well have become a backdrop under the weight of Izuku's surprise, of the confusion that marked his face. He didn't know how Uraraka had come to be here, how she had found him or even knew he would still be at the school—Obviously she came with Kacchan, his mind rattled off, and he accepted that as fact—because he still couldn't believe that he had just answered such a personal question so openly. He could only assume that was the culmination of his feelings for her, the ones he had feverishly tried to keep buried for the past seven years, afraid that if they bubbled to the surface they would be rebuked, ridiculed or, worse yet, ignored.
"If that's really how feel then"—Uraraka tapped the briefcase with all five fingers, relieving it of gravity, and gave it a gentle push toward the stunned boy she adored so much—"then quit making me wait, you dummy!" she snapped, and her glistening eyes began to spill over with tears.
"Ochako-san!"
Much like he had done all those years ago, Izuku's body moved without any thought on his part, dodging the briefcase as he rushed to Uraraka's side. The warmth he felt just from being in such close proximity was calming, as was the scent wafting off her, a mixture of her natural aroma and whatever mellow perfume she had spritzed herself with, and he could only smile adoringly when she began to pound on his chest, sniffling through each half-hearted blow.
"Y-you"—thud—"are"—thud—"such"—thud—"an"—thud—"i-idiot!" she cried out, fixing those angry, bloodshot eyes on him, though her pouting greatly marred the effect she was going for. "Which is crazy because you're a teacher! L-last I checked, you had to be smart to be one of those!"
"Lies," said Izuku gently, taking one of her balled up hands in his. "Some of the most nonsensical people I know teach at this school."
"I know. I'm looking at one right now," came the sharp response, almost as sharp as the finger Uraraka used to poke at his chest. "I… I never cared that you were quirkless—or that you inherited One For All. None of that mattered, and it still doesn't! All I've wanted to do… all I've ever wanted to do… is just stand by your side, Izu-kun. So many times I thought we had it, so many times I just knew we were going to take that final step and just… be. But," and she gave a hopeless shrug, "it just seemed like we were destined to grow further and further apart. I didn't want to bug you, I didn't think I had to right to ask for more of your time, it's just… the thought of losing you scared me…."
A warm sensation trickled through Izuku's heart. As terrible as it was to hear that something concerning him had troubled her so greatly, knowing she cared enough to be upset by the very same problems that plagued him was more comforting than he could express, because he agreed with her every word. There was no other notion that haunted his thoughts more, that skulked about his dreams turning them into nightmares than the possibility of losing the girl before him in any capacity, whether as talking buddies, friends or… something more. As if to convey what he couldn't speak, he hugged her into him, squeezing tight with a glance back at the briefcase now floating idly around his chair.
"That's from Mei-san, isn't it?" he wondered, noting the intricate yet telling design over the front and back.
Nodding, Bakugo patted the case with a manic smirk. "I'm not gonna lie, that ol' mech-nerd really did the damn thing with this one. We told her you needed some top-notch gear to get back in the game you helped revolutionize—"
"Wait," said Izuku. "We…? Who's we?"
The way Uraraka snorted due to her running nose probably would had disgusted anyone else but Izuku only hugged her tighter. She flushed a brilliant red. "We of Class 1A. We all chipped in to help Mei get the materials she needed to craft you a new suit. It's at least four generations ahead of anything on the market now. She calls it the X-Treme Body Buster Boogaloo—and that's extreme without the first 'e'. She said to make sure you knew that."
The urge to laugh was strong but somehow, Izuku quelled it down to a chuckle. "I appreciate Mei-san's, ah… efforts, but I'm never going to call it that."
While Uraraka giggled, Bakugo did a double-take. "Say what? Why not? That name smacks all kinds of awesome!"
"Of course you'd think that, 'Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,'" said Izuku.
"The fuck are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to say 'thank you,' Murder God. Thank you to you… and you, Ochako-san, and to all the others. The fact that everyone did this for my sake…" He squeezed Uraraka again, delighting in her softness, then said, "I… Ochako-san, do you love me?"
"I love you as strongly as I want to punch you, Izu-kun," came the funny reply.
"That's a lot of love, then, I surmise," Izuku said with a nervous chuckle.
"Oh, you better believe it."
"Well… would you still love me if I wanted to stay on as a teacher?"
The way Bakugo's palms sparked to life illuminated the entirety of the office for a dazzling second. "WHAT?"
The most serene smile spread through Uraraka's lips and she sighed, resting her head just underneath Izuku's chin. "Izu-kun, I wouldn't care if you told me you wanted to be a trash man. Just as long as you wanted me."
Just being in contact with her was enough to make Izuku lightheaded, never mind the way her answer made him feel as though as he could take flight. "I want you, Ochako-san," Izuku admitted, and just uttering those words, words that he had kept buried for so long, lifted a draining weight from his chest. "I've wanted you longer than you could possibly know—"
"Shit, ya coulda fooled me!" Bakugo interrupted, hands cupped around his mouth.
Izuku jerked, resisting the almighty urge to back-kick the laughing blonde. "Kacchan! C'mon!"
Now Uraraka laughed, her voice as flighty as wind chimes, and she tapped Izuku over his bottom lip. "Nuh-uh, don't go getting upset at him, I… I was beginning to wonder the same thing."
The part of him that was born from responding to his students off-the-wall remarks almost compelled him to joke about how being on the same wavelength as Bakugo was a terrible thing, but he fought the urge with a hard head shake and focused on the woman in his arms. "You did? Why?"
Adverting his eye, Uraraka seemed to hunch in on herself. "It's just… I guess it was me taking the easy way out, when we started talking less and less. I figured that maybe—maybe you had moved on from me—er, from everyone, I mean. Like I said, I didn't want to pester you if that was the case, if you really had found someone else or some other great life—because you deserved it!" she suddenly exclaimed, staring up at him meaningfully. "After everything you did, after what you sacrificed, of course you did. More than anyone else you deserved to rest and… and who was I to try and, you know, to keep bugging you with a lifestyle you couldn't…."
She paused when her voice began to break and inhaled deeply, held it for a couple of seconds, then gave a shuddering exhale.
"I told myself to give up, that it was over, whatever I wanted us to be," she uttered tightly, like her throat were constricted, "but I have this overwhelmingly stupid tick where I sometimes vocalize my thoughts, and Bakugo-kun overheard me." She inclined her head at the blonde who responded with a snide smirk. "He told me that I was being stupid, and that you were being stupider."
"I, uh… welp, I guess he wasn't wrong this time," Izuku relented, rubbing behind his head.
Bakugo snorted so hard it was a wonder flames didn't shoot from his nostrils. "I'm never wrong, you quirk-deficient bastard. How many times I gotta say it?"
"I really didn't want to bother you here, at your place of work, but he said he was going to visit you—something about genitals, I can't remember," Uraraka said, missing the way Izuku tensed up with a constipated expression, "and I… I'm such a push-over. He told me to give it one more chance and I just agreed, didn't even think about it. I'm glad I did, though… I'm so, so, so glad….And whether you want to continue being a teacher, jump back into superheroing around, or do some weird hybrid of the two, it doesn't matter to me. We can make it work."
She interlocked their fingers with a steadying squeeze.
"Together."
Even though Izuku was a certified teacher, he already knew there were no words that he could join together to convey just how much her sentiment settled his anxiety. It felt like her voice, her very essence, had knocked down a damn near impenetrable wall he had been trying and failing to overcome for several years. He truly didn't want to give up teaching—as shaping the malleable minds of young hero's was truly something he enjoyed, even if it wasn't fulfilling—and to know that she was fine with him keeping those duties in any capacity set his heart at ease.
It was… freeing.
He opened his mouth to speak, because even if he couldn't find the words, he would try anyway, but the moment he inhaled, Bakugo started making retching noises with his tongue hanging out. "Okay, okay, can we get past all this mushy shit already? Do that on y'all's time, I'm just hear for an answer." He turned those fiery eyes on Izuku. "So what's it gonna be, Deku? You gonna be a Hero again so I can beat your ass in the rankings? Or do we gotta get a refund for this thing?" he wondered, jerking a thumb at the floating briefcase.
To his questions, Izuku gave Uraraka's hand a comforting squeeze in return, repeating, "What's it gonna be…" under his breath, and then he suddenly beamed the widest he had in years. "Well first, before any of that, I'm going to take Ochako-chan on a date. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
The smile that lit up Uraraka's face radiated with so much beauty and happiness that it seemed to brighten up the entire office. "Yes, yes, all the yes!" she nodded eagerly, moments before her eyes widened and she looked fretful. "O-oh, but wait… isn't this a bit… sudden? You've still gotta finish grading those tests, right? I heard you mention them while I was outside…"
If ever there was a time Izuku regretted being a responsible teacher it was now as he glanced over his shoulder back at the pile awaiting his return. He sighed miserably, fighting against the urge to tell Bakugo to blow every slip of paper to ash. "I… yeah, you're right," he grumbled reluctantly, although Uraraka's understanding smile soothed somewhat. "I guess, uh.. I guess we'll just have to pick another time to—"
To what, Uraraka didn't hear when Bakugo issued a vociferous sigh. "Oh, for the love of fuck—oi, Deku!"
Patience reaching its peak, Izuku whirled around, primed to curse that blonde out in the most sincerely respectful way possible, when his hand lifted on instinct, catching the set of keys tossed at him. "Huh? What're these for?" he asked, examining them. They looked fancy, like they belonged to some sort of sports car.
"They're for driving, dumbass," growled Bakugo. "Just go now."
In unison, Izuku and Uraraka looked up so quickly that their necks cracked, yet it was Izuku who recovered first. "Ehh? What—you m-mean now? Now now?" He brandished the keys like they were a sword. "In your car?"
Massaging the back of her neck with a wince, Uraraka regarded the bombastic blonde as though seeing him clearly for the first time. "There's no way you… not in that car—have you seen that car?" she asked Izuku, and when he predictably shook his head, she gave a high-pitched laugh. "First of all, there's only three of that kind in the world! Did you hear me? Three! I don't even know how he found it, much less was able to afford it! Had me thinking I was riding in a stolen car!"
"What—stolen?" Bakugo blinked, tilting his head. "I'm a hero, you weightless ass. I saved the life of the dude who manufactured 'em. He made me one as thanks. I didn't have to pay anything."
"That was awfully nice of him," noted Izuku lowly.
Falling unceremoniously into Izuku's chair, Bakugo waved a lazy hand at them. "Yeah, yeah, just go already. The faster I get you two idiots back on track, the faster I can get to beating Deku's ass again…."
That was so out of character for the normally hostile blonde, to willfully give them free reign of his priceless car for the night, that Izuku entertained the idea that Camie Utsushimi was using her illusion quirk to prank him… but then he merely squeezed the keys in his hand, able to feel the estranged brotherhood the two of them shared. Of course it had to go like this, because Bakugo would sooner burn at the stake than come out and say he wanted to help; that just wasn't the way he went about things—his pride wouldn't allow it.
Nodding at his friend, Izuku smirked. "Thanks, Kacchan."
"Whatever."
"Really, thank you, Bakugo-kun," added Uraraka with a formal bow, one that caused Bakugo to suck his teeth.
"I said forget about it," he snapped, searching over the desk, his face creasing with annoyance. "Hold on, though, 'cause—what in the fuck, Deku… why's your work area so damn cluttered?" He pulled open a drawer, looked inside, didn't find whatever it was he was looking for, and pushed it close to open another one. "Where's the damn syllabus thing? The answer sheet?"
"Why?" wondered Izuku, and he tried not to be offended by the desk slander. Mostly because it was true, and several of his colleagues already made pointed remarks about the shabbiness, but still, after having so many kids mess it up, he just stopped caring.
"Why the fuck else? So I can grade these stupid tests. Those little bastards are dumb and they need someone that'll tell 'em straight up."
It was like a one-two punch the way Izuku staggered back, and he would've tripped if Uraraka hadn't caught him, but even she looked as though she couldn't believe her ears. If they weren't sure before that something was strange, they definitely were now. Not only was Bakugo letting them borrow his car, that technological marvel on wheels, but now… now he was willing to stay behind and take on the menial task of grading test papers?
"Who… who are you?" Izuku voiced, speaking from the heart.
The way Bakugo rolled his eyes was almost audible. "I'm the Great Murder God and you've got about five seconds to tell me where the answer sheet is before I take back—"
"Right side, second drawer," said Izuku instantly, pointing.
Once Bakugo had retrieved the correct form, a smile that bore no mercy split his face and he picked up a pen, clicking it with a manic glee. "Time for a reality check, kiddies."
It crossed Izuku's mind to warn Bakugo that each test had about a hundred questions and he had barely even started when he was interrupted—but then he figured who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially when the girl of his dreams had just wrapped her hands around his arm….
"Well, I suppose Bakugo-kun has things under control here," she started nervously, her cheeks flaring up even as she summoned the bravery to look him in the eye. "Um… shall we, er… go?"
Nodding, Izuku turned to Bakugo, prepared to thank him again for all his help when the volatile hero suddenly lifted his middle finger and aimed it in their direction, pausing to ensure they saw it before making an impatient shooing motion, one that Izuku understood perfectly and zipped his lips with a grateful smirk.
Returning his attention to the woman staring up at him expectantly with those shimmering auburn eyes, Izuku nodded and smoothly pulled himself from her grasp to hold his arm out with an inviting flair. "After you, ma'am," he tried to say suavely, but not only did Uraraka not move, she shifted her weight to one foot, placed a hand on her hip, and stared at the boy with an eyebrow cocked. Thinking he had done something wrong, Izuku's bravado melted like snow in the sun and he scratched behind his head. "Did I… did I mess up?"
"Quit tryin' to play it cool, loser, that's so not you," Bakugo called through a ridiculing chuckle.
While also yet another nugget of truth thrown at the back of his head, before Izuku could begin to shrink in on himself, Uraraka took such a charged step toward him that Izuku almost took one in reverse. "Shut up, Bakugo-kun," she spoke without looking in the blonde's direction. "Now you," she continued tersely, her eyes so wide and haunting that Izuku could see his reflection in them, "it's been almost ten years since I've been able to hold onto your arm—and you took it away from me." Her voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "You will give me my arm back."
It wasn't a question, and Izuku wasn't dumb enough to perceive it as such; it was a clear as day directive, one that he hastily followed, holding out the called appendage like it were a bomb about to blow.
"Hm…" Like a lioness surveying her prey, Uraraka continued to glare at Izuku, adding a comically predatory little sniff here and there before her gaze slowly slid to the arm he had offered up. Then she let out a pleased giggle and latched onto him like a squid. "Better!"
The sudden shift in energy from demonic to fluffy kitten was somewhat disorientating and left Izuku staring at the top of Uraraka's head like she had grown a second one, yet he dared himself to bring it to her attention. Besides, after being apart for so long, after dealing with the trauma of thinking they had given up on one another, he figured at least that much was expected.
"Let's go do this right," he told her.
"Day one of forever," she responded, that beatific smile making a return, and they both jumped, nearly out of their clothes, when an explosion went off behind them.
"HURRY THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" Bakugo roared, wisps of smoke rising from the small crater blown into the floor next to him. "And gravity girl! Turn off your quirk on this stupid briefcase before you forget and wind up nauseous later on!"
"O-oh! Yes, r-right!" Nodding spastically, looking flustered, Uraraka slammed her fingertips together and the briefcase fell smoothly onto Bakugo's outstretched hand.
"Just go be a dad already, Kacchan," Izuku chided with a thankful nod.
"And have to raise dimwits like these?" Bakugo slammed the briefcase down and gestured at the test sheet in his other hand with an affronted look. "Not a chance. Now get the fuck out so I can concentrate!"
Laughing, Izuku allowed Uraraka to grip his arm once more. "They're going to make you pay for the floor, you know."
"I truly couldn't care less. Unlike you, I'm not broke. GO!"
They really would have to do something nice for Bakugo, Izuku idly figured as he led Uraraka out of the office, because if it hadn't been for him and his annoyingly ferocious persistence, he and the woman next to him might not have gotten the chance to reconcile, to see eye-to-eye and talk through their misunderstanding. They might have kept going as they had been, thinking they were just a bother to the other, thinking the other had simply given up and move on….
"We'll get him a plushie," suggested Uraraka, her voice breaking into Izuku's mind so abruptly that he stumbled. She chuckled. "Whoa, there, tiger."
"How did you…?" he started, straightening up with a weak chuckle.
"Because that's just patented you," she hushed, tapping him over the nose. "It's one of your more endearing traits, Izu-kun."
"Ah. I'm sorry…"
Uraraka looked up at him in confusion. "Sorry? For what?"
Now Izuku stopped walking, a worried expression dawning over his face. "Because I'm being dumb. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, having you here next to me and… here I am thinking about Kacchan and what he did for us instead and—"
The softest hands Izuku had ever felt took him gently by the cheeks and he stuttered into silence, spine stiffening, cheeks flushing a vibrant red as his eyes focused on Uraraka to see her flashing an understanding smile. "Don't ever apologize for being a good person," she told him, and Izuku visibly relaxed, turning to putty in her palms. "As long as you don't think about him when we kiss, I'd say we're fine."
It felt so good to laugh just then, even better when she joined him—
"IF YOU TWO CHUCKLE FUCKS DON'T GET THE FUCK ON I SWEAR!"
—and it only grew louder when Izuku seized Uraraka by the hand and took off, the sound of their pounding shoes and ringing laughter echoing up and down the barren hallways. The act was so childishly fun that it felt as though they had sprinted back into their old school days… back to a better time. But that's exactly what they were heading toward now, wasn't it?
Better times. Better memories.
"Let's go, Ochako-chan!" Izuku shouted with a heartfelt smile.
She returned it, squeezing his hand. "Right!"