I just realized that I never posted this here. It's been on AO3 for a while now. WHOOPS.

Worthy

"Get that shit out of my face."

Kaminari deflated in front of him, a flute of champagne clutched in his outstretched hand.

"You won't even break your no drinking rule for the Heroes' Gala? Dude, have a little fun!"

Bakugou gave the room a sweeping once-over, taking in the lavish decor, the expensive tailored suits, the glittering gowns in every color. There were small, spindly tables set up along the edges of a shining dance floor and long tables overflowed with food and drink at the back of the room. A stage, where awards would be presented and speeches given later in the evening, dominated the space beyond the dance floor.

And there were people everywhere.

Not exactly his idea of fun.

He wouldn't have come at all except that this was the prime event to get his name and face out there to higher ranking heroes. Bakugou didn't plan on staying a sidekick for long, and if he had to schmooze some upper level pros, he'd suck it up and do it.

"Think of it this way," Kirishima said brightly, moving from his spot beside Bakugou to sling an arm around Kaminari's shoulders. "Now you can go give that drink to a cute girl. I thought I saw Hado around here earlier."

Kaminari smiled nervously. "Hado just opened her own agency, man. She's not looking my way."

Kirishima shrugged, saying something about trying anyway, but Bakugou stopped listening. He scanned the room again, not really sure who he looking for since the idiots he tolerated more than anyone else were already standing in front of him. Sero wouldn't be bad, as he was less talkative, but chances were he'd be with Ashido and Bakugou was not in the mood for her kind of chatter.

Not that Kirishima and Kaminari were any better.

He had a list of pros he needed to talk to—Mt. Lady, who was skyrocketing through the rankings as easily as activating her Quirk; Endeavor, though he'd really rather not; Edgeshot, Centipeder, Empath, and Gunhead, the second, third, fourth, and fifth heroes in the rankings respectively. He'd take anyone else that Ryukyu would be willing to introduce to him, too, but the hero to whom he played sidekick was busy congratulating Hado Nejire on her recent move to a hero agency of her own.

The dragon heroine had taken on several sidekicks from their class following graduation, and would likely be trying to split her time between them all tonight.

Tch.

He watched the pair rather blandly for a moment—both in blue gowns with drinks in hand—considering just marching up to Ryukyu and demanding that she start introducing him to the other pros, when a third woman joined them.

He'd know that short-dress-and-sneakers combination anywhere, and he rolled his eyes as Uraraka slid easily in next to Ryukyu—like an old friend rather than a subordinate, rather than someone who was only there to get something out of it.

She said something that made Ryukyu and Hado laugh and took a sip from the already half-empty glass of champagne she held delicately in one hand.

"Uraraka's looking pretty fine herself," Kaminari said, drawing Bakugou's eyes back to the two spiky bastards he called his friends. "Though she's like a midget next to everyone wearing heels."

"I like the sneakers," said Kirishima. "Very practical—what if we got attacked?"

"She wouldn't be able to see over anyone to know what to do."

"She can fly."

As if summoned by their idiotic conversation, Uraraka extracted herself from the pros and made her way over to the three of them. Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes sweeping across the freckles on her shoulders—that strapless dress showing more skin than he thought was really necessary—and up to her face, where her light dusting of makeup looked simultaneously nice and unfamiliar.

She grinned at them, her pale pink lipstick the same shade as her dress, and reached out automatically to straighten Kirishima's tie. Most of their graduating class was like that now—no one had any regard for anyone else's personal space, which he supposed came from the amount of close-quarter training they's been put through and the sheer number of life threatening situations they'd all survived together.

Most people still knew better than to touch him, at least.

And yet, a traitorous part of him wished that it had been his tie that had been crooked.

"Looking good, you guys," she said, giving Kaminari a friendly elbow to the ribs. "Still working up the courage to ask Nejire out?"

Kaminari fumbled, shoving the champagne at Kirishima and lurching forward to put both hands over Uraraka's smirking mouth. "Not so loud, Ura, jeez."

"Hmph uhen." Her words were unintelligible, but her eyes were bright. She used the hand that wasn't holding her drink to pull his away. "You've been making googly eyes at her for like a year."

"Says the girl who made googly eyes at Midoriya for—" Kaminari stopped himself, the color draining from his face as he realized what he was saying. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't...shit."

"It's okay!" Uraraka squeaked, nearly dropping her glass as she waved her hands in front of her face. She forced a grin, the playful light dying in her eyes. "It's okay, I was t-teasing you first and—"

"No, that was different," said Kaminari, looking helplessly at Bakugou as if he could do something to fix such a stupid mistake. "I shouldn't have….gods I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said again, reaching out to put her hand on Kaminari's arm. She breathed in through her nose, a shaky intake of air that seemed to settle her. "You didn't…you know, mean anything. And I'm...I'm over that."

Uraraka took another long drink, draining the flute and not looking any of them in the eye. She shoved her free hand into the pocket of her dress and shuffled her feet.

"Even though…" Kirishima trailed off, but Bakugou knew exactly what he was trying to say.

Even though Deku is actually dating someone else now?

Not that Bakugou was keeping track, but it was hard to avoid every tabloid in the city—each with blurry photos of Deku and damn Todoroki splashed across the front.

Uraraka squeaked again, her eyes going wide as they landed on something behind Bakugou.

"I, er….gotta...pee," she sputtered rather gracelessly, pushing her empty glass into Bakugou's hand and spinning on her heel to disappear into the crowd.

Bakugou didn't have to look to know who she'd seen walk in the room.

"Well…" said Kirishima, punching Kaminari in the arm. "At least you've reached your foot-in-mouth quota for the day. Maybe you should talk to Hado now."

Kaminari groaned, and Bakugou clicked his tongue in irritation.

Uraraka—they'd spent three years together at U.A., and now they worked together as sidekicks under the dragon hero, and in all that time, he'd never known a version of her that wasn't fawning over shitty Deku in one way or another.

She tried to hide it through most of their first and second year at school, pushing herself harder and harder to become a top tier hero. Then, early in third year, Deku had gone and almost gotten himself killed for real, and everyone had been there to witness her bumbling, hospital bedside confession when he finally woke up.

"I've had f-feelings for y-you for a...a long t-time. And I d-don't want them to e-ever g-get in the way of our f-friendship or hero work! B-but I n-needed you to kn-know. I-I can't h-hold it in or p-push it d-down anymore. N-not after something like t-this. D-don't say anything right now! We can t-talk later. I j-just wanted to t-tell you."

Bakugou wasn't really sure why he remembered her little speech word for word, or why the image of her crying through it still started a painful twisting in his gut.

He wasn't sure why it was that image that made him agree when she came to him before their final Sports Festival and asked him to help her train (by which point word through the Ashido-vine was that Deku had turned her down). Or why he would rather see Uraraka punch Deku in the face than do it himself these days.

His eyes followed her as she ducked out of the main hall, dragging a hand through her hair and dislodging the braided crown that brushed her forehead.

Tch.

She had to have known Deku and Todoroki would be there. If she thought she couldn't handle it, she shouldn't have come in the first place—all she was going to do was make a fool of herself over that damn nerd again.

"Bakugou are you even listening?"

Tearing his eyes away from the door that had long shut behind Uraraka, Bakugou turned back to the group, which had grown larger in his mind's absence. Todoroki and Deku stood on the other side of Kirishima, both with shoulders slouched and heads down, probably to avoid unwanted attention—as if the two of them could ever not stand out in a crowd. Sero, Ashido, Jirou, and Yaoyorozu completed the circle in a haphazard sort of way.

It was Kirishima who posed the question, looking at Bakugou with a mix of confusion and concern on his face.

"It's not like you to zone out like that."

"Tch. If any of you had anything interesting to say, maybe I'd listen."

Ashido grabbed Bakugou's arm, never one for personal space, and grinned at him. "We were talking about starting up the dancing! Wanna join?"

"What kind of dumb fucking question is that?" Bakugou asked, shaking his arm to get her off of him. "I'm here to actually talk to the pros, not waste my time."

But Ashido just smiled up at him, unphased. "What're you doing in the U.A. friendship circle then?"

With that, she let go, latching onto Sero instead and dragging him away. Most of the others were quick to follow, but Deku, annoyingly, hung back.

Todoroki turned, giving Deku a look that so obviously said "Do you want me to stay?" that Bakugou nearly gagged, but Deku shook his head almost imperceptibly, so Todoroki let Kirishima and Kaminari hook their arms through his and lead him to where the rest of the group was making a spectacle of themselves in the middle of the room.

Once they were out of earshot, Deku turned to Bakugou and met his eye. He was no longer the little Quirkless boy that Bakugou had walked all over in their youth. He stood tall, looking at Bakugou like an equal and a rival instead of cowering in the face of him.

They'd gotten...better, if they could really call it that, since the end of third year. Since their last real fight and since the words "I'm sorry," had torn out of Bakugou's chest like marrow being ripped from his bones.

He'd meant it, gods he'd meant it, but nothing was going to change the nature of their relationship. Nothing was ever going to make up for the years of abuse, and Bakugou knew he'd probably spend the rest of his life paying for that cruelty.

But things were getting better. That raging feeling of inadequacey and foolishness and envy that used to flare up inside him at Deku's power had dimmed in the three years since Bakugou had learned about One for All. Even though he sometimes wondered 'Why not me?' it wasn't so hard anymore to see why All Might had chosen Deku to be his successor. And Deku...well he didn't flinch anymore when Bakugou came around, and that was good. Sometimes he hated himself for reveling in the fact that Deku used to tremble when he got close.

Some hero I would've been if things hadn't changed, he thought dryly, his eyes dragging involuntarily to Endeavor, who sat watching Todoroki with a disgusted look on his face.

Deku took a deep breath, like he often still did before speaking to Bakugou off the battlefield. The air felt tight around them, charged with years and years of missed and met expectations. But there was nothing for it but to keep going.

"Have you seen Ochako?" Deku said softly, like he didn't really want to know the answer but was forcing himself to ask. "Tsuyu said she'd be here."

A different version of Bakugou would've said "No, and why the fuck would I be paying attention?" but he wasn't that insecure kid anymore, not completely anyway, and so instead, "What do you want with her?"

Deku's eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up and mouth pulling down into a frown. His hand went to the back of his neck as he said, "I need to talk to her. I should've talked to her before...but everything happened so fast a-and—"

Bakugou had never pretended to be good with emotions. He'd never claimed to know what was going on in someone else's head except their next move in a fight. But something in him ached as he thought of the way Uraraka had clammed up and ran—a girl who met challenges head on had turned tail and backed out at the sight of Deku.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"W-what?"

"Tch, don't make me repeat myself." Bakugou slammed the champagne glass Uraraka had shoved at him onto a passing waiter's tray and put his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. "She doesn't want to see you right now."

Bakugou could see the 'How would you know?' look flash across Deku's face, and honestly, he didn't have an answer for it. It wasn't like he'd ever been all that close to her—Bakugou made a habit out of distancing himself from other people, but all things considered, he supposed he could count her among his...friends. He'd trained with her, he'd pick her for his team in a fight, and he'd helped her with that shitty history class she couldn't seem to get through in third year. She saw through him more than anyone, and he let her, eventually. He stopped trying so hard to deny the way she could throw his inner turmoil in his face—how she could pick out the things he most wanted to hide and make sense of them in ways he never could.

And though he'd never thought much of it, Bakugou supposed he could read Uraraka more than he could read just about anyone else.

"But…" said Deku, blinking at the ground. "I need to apologize to her."

"For what? For feeling something different than she did? She's not stupid, you know. She won't blame you for that."

Deku looked like this was news to him. "It doesn't matter if she blames me or not, Kacchan. I shouldn't have…"

"Turned her down?" Bakugou supplied, rolling his eyes and considering reaching out to jab the nerd in the forehead. "Stop that shit right now. I...don't do emotional stuff, but I'm not an idiot either. If you'd accepted her just to be nice she would've resented you for it. No one wants to be a fucking pity project."

"I...yeah...I guess you're right."

"No shit."

"Thank you, Kacchan…" said Deku, hesitating before meeting Bakugou's eye. "For…"

"Spit it out, dumbass."

"For caring about her—Uraraka."

Bakugou felt heat blossom in his cheeks and the tips of his ears and he hated it. He hated the way those words clanged around in his skull like his godsdamned alarm clock, hated the way his body did things out of his control.

So he turned his head away with a 'tch' that didn't sound as irritated as he would have liked. But he didn't—wouldn't—deny it either.

"Whatever, Deku. Just leave her alone. She'll come to you eventually. She always does."

The last few words were filled with way too much resentment and Deku grimaced.

"I know…"

They stood for a moment in awkward silence, and Bakugou thought that no amount of time spent would make it easier between them. Things were just too...tangled. There were too many big things, too many mixed emotions, for them to ever find themselves in comfortable quiet.

"Would you…" Deku started, then stopped, looking away again and crossing his arms over his chest. His shoulders were slumped and he stared at the floor as he continued softly, "would you...go check on her? Please?"

"Me?"

"Yeah...she trusts you, Kacchan. And you...you're not too close to things, like Tsuyu or Iida might be. I—I know you don't think of me as a friend, but don't do it for me, okay? Do it for her."

Uraraka didn't need him, he knew that. She didn't need any of them. But...damn it all, it wouldn't fucking hurt.

"Whatever," he said again. "But I'm not here to clean up your messes."

"I know," Deku clenched a fist in front of him and looked to where his friends were dancing awkwardly together. "And I don't expect you to fix anything I've done. She could just...maybe she needs you."

"Tch."

"She admires you, you know." Deku seemed to gain resolve as he spoke, meeting Bakugou's eye and refusing to look away. "You should—and I should—be working every day to deserve that."

"Piss off already, you damn nerd. Uraraka will be fine."

"I know."

He turned then, meandering off toward the dancefloor and leaving Bakugou with a choice—he could find a spot at one of the spindly tables and plot his course around the various heroes in the room, or he could follow Uraraka out that door.

But fuck it all, it wasn't really a choice.

He waited for Deku to look away, too caught up with Todoroki and his friends to watch what Bakugou would do, before slipping through the door and out into the hall. It was a large space that stretched in either direction, with wide windows in front of him that revealed the cityscape below and a few smog-smothered stars above.

Bakugou sort of hated the fact that he knew Uraraka tended to go left when faced with a choice between the two—it was just an observation really; years of knowing someone made you notice weird shit like that. Taking the left path, he followed the hallway around, passing several locked doors and a few supply closets, and he was beginning to think that he'd been wrong about the route she'd take when he came upon the stairwell.

She didn't like elevators—the enclosed space freaked her out because there was no way to move up or down, but stairs...stairs were a different matter.

Bakugou pushed through the door and didn't even have to look, for there she was. Sitting on the steps that would lead up to the roof, she had her legs stretched down in front of her and her elbows resting on the landing behind her, where an empty champagne glass rested beside a half-full one. Her eyes were sort of hollow as she looked at him. They were rimmed in red, like she'd been crying but had decided to stop, and there was a streak of black makeup smeared across her cheekbone.

"Hey, Bakugou," she mumbled, then paused, like she was trying to think of something to say that would convince him that she was doing anything other than sulking. Clearly drawing a blank, she sighed and blew a stray strand of hair from her face.

Hands in his pockets, he let the door close behind him and went to stand in front of her. The dim light of the stairwell cast her features in a soft orange glow, but even still he could tell that her cheeks were rosier than normal.

"Never known you to be the type to run."

"Pft," she said, laughing humorlessly. She ran a hand through her hair again, dislodging the braid still further, and then put both hands in her lap, the thumb of her left hand rubbing across the pads of the fingers on her right. "That's because I usually float away instead, but you know, dresses aren't good for that."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

She took a long sip from her champagne. "Maybe."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not too much, Bakugou," she said, slurring his name a bit and swaying slightly in place. She brought the glass to her lips again, but Bakugou reached out and took it from her hands. "Hey! I don't need a babysitter, Bakugou."

"Stop saying my name like that. And you're about to have had too much, shit-wit."

She stood abruptly, unsteady at first but quick to find her balance. The movement sent a wave of that lavender smell that hung around her toward him, and Bakugou found himself breathing it in more deeply than he should have—it was the scent that sometimes fluttered to him on an after-training breeze, mixed with sweat and blood and pure adrenaline.

The scent that lingered at the table they used to share in the U.A. library, that now settled around his desk at Ryukyu's building whenever she stopped to say hello on the way to her own. It was familiar and subtle and it brought back memories he didn't even realize they'd been creating.

"Saying your name like what?" she asked, her voice low and thick. "You don't like how I say your name, Bakugou?"

Her tone was pure challenge, and her words stirred something inside him and now was not the time for that.

"Just stop already," he said, taking a step back away from her.

She sighed and sat back down, resting her elbows on her bare knees and her chin in her hands. She swayed back and forth a little and looked at him like she could read every thought he'd ever had.

Sometimes he thought she could.

"You're not gonna tell me to go back to the party," she said—a statement of fact rather than a question. "So why are you here?"

A beat passed.

"So Deku wouldn't come looking for you."

"Oh."

Another beat. The silence not awkward, but charged, like it so often was between them. Words, caught on the edges of their teeth, hung unspoken in the air.

"It's so dumb," she said at last, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. They left black smudges in their wake as she pulled them away. "I haven't even felt that way about him in ages, and yet here I am turning into a blubbering idiot all over again."

"You haven't?" The words were out of Bakugou's mouth before he could stop them and he wanted to kick himself for letting her moment of drunken vulnerability get to him. And yet...part of him needed to hear her answer.

She looked away from him, sighing deeply. "When you pour your heart out to someone only to have them tell you that their career is too important to have time for anything else, it's not exactly easy to harbor a crush. And I mean, I get it, you know? But that doesn't make it hurt less. And Deku more than anyone thinks he has to carry the whole weight of the world on his shoulders and no matter how many times I told him that I could help he never wanted me. Maybe he never thought I was strong enough or skilled enough or good enough and—"

"Uraraka."

Her hands stopped dancing in front of her face and she met his eye again, fresh tears threatening to spill over.

Knowing he would probably regret it, Bakugou took his hands from his pockets and went to sit beside her on the stair. Lavender mixed with the sting of champagne in the air around her and there was a part of him that wanted to bury his face in her skin and breath in the scent.

But, like always, he swallowed the thought and pushed it from his mind. She didn't want him. There was no point in even pretending that she did.

He hated seeing her like this—so torn up and down on herself over Deku's opinion, as if what the nerd thought could make or break her.

Bakugou wasn't good at this. He wasn't good at knowing what to say, but she had always tried for him, even when he didn't want to hear it.

"Don't," he started, looking ahead instead of at her beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees, scar tissue on his palms snagging his vision—some of those scars were from her, from the sheer power she forced from him when they fought all out. "Don't let him make you think you're not good enough."

A weight against his shoulder startled him, and glanced over to see her head resting there.

"It's hard," she mumbled.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it again, having her touch him for no other reason than that she wanted to made his tongue thick in his mouth.

It's the alcohol, he reminded himself. Lots of people get extra touchy when they've had too much to drink.

Not to mention the fact that she was admitting this to him. Admitting some of her heartache instead of feigning a smile. That was probably the alcohol, too.

"It shouldn't be hard," he said at last, and it came out with more bite than he intended. Bakugou was one for action, and words just...didn't come to him the way they should. They didn't come to him the way they might come to Deku. "Do you remember the Sports Festival second year?"

"Yeah..."

"You kicked Deku's ass—"

"Because he refused to use his Quirk against me—"

"His mistake!"

She pulled away from him and met his eye, hers searching his in a way that left him feeling exposed and open and thank gods she was sort of drunk because otherwise she'd notice him staring. The image of her ripping the entire floor of the arena out from under Deku's feet flashed through his mind and just like back then, it gave him the urge to kiss her and arm wrestle her at the same time.

"You…" he started again, tearing his eyes away from hers as he felt the tips of his ears turn red. "You shouldn't base your self worth on his opinion. It's like….fuck I don't know… it's like me and Deku and All Might."

Uraraka quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Don't make it weird, dumbass," he said, but part of him reveled in the teasing smile tugging at her lips. "You look up to Deku, right? So his opinion of you matters to you more than just about anyone's. So you….so you try to show him how fucking brilliant you are, but it's not enough. It's not up to whatever impossible bar that he's set. And godsdammit, it hurts. And then someone else comes along—someone you never even thought to expect—and seems to be good enough just by existing and it makes you wonder what could be so wrong with you that everything you had wasn't enough."

Uraraka was quiet for a long moment, her whole torso turned toward him, and he could feel her studying his face from the corner of his eye. A hot blush crept up the back of his neck and he cursed himself for saying so much. She was the drunk one, wasn't she the one who was supposed to saying things she would regret?

But instead of mocking him, she spoke slowly, like she was giving each word individual thought. "And you wonder...why this other person is...is so much more worthy of respect than you are. You wonder how big the chasm between you really is...or how big it seems to be to the person you admire. And it was so much easier thinking that they would just never choose anyone. The rejection was easier to swallow that way."

"Yeah."

"Thank you," she said softly, and his eyes found hers again. "For saying all that…. I know it isn't easy for you to open up."

"Tch."

It wasn't so hard, when it was her. When he knew that she wouldn't run away blabbing to everyone she saw. When he knew that she knew him well enough to know that this was for her ears only, and that he didn't need to tell her not to say anything because she just...understood.

"And...thank you for not treating me like that," she said, voice barely more than a whisper. Her cheeks, naturally rosy and redder still from the champagne, flushed even further—the blush blooming down her neck and onto her chest. She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit that Bakugou had grown to both love and hate over the years, and continued, "That Sports Festival, our fight after my fight with Deku….it meant more to me than I know how to say. You...you always have treated me like I'm worthy of respect, and it makes me want to be."

"You don't need me to make you worthy," he said, his voice coming out low like hers and she was right there. And it was like every moment and touch and fight and word and feeling that had passed between them since they'd met was echoing in the breath of space that separated them now.

She blinked at him, and there was gold in her eyes and a look flitted across her face that was something like an epiphany.

"You…" she said, more to herself than to him. She was wide-eyed and the blush persisted as she brought her hand up to her mouth. "You always…"

"Spit it out, Round Face." The wheels in her brain were turning like lightning but he couldn't read what she was thinking and it made his heart pound against his ribcage. Nervous. He was nervous in front of this five-foot high mountain of a woman.

Instead of speaking, she threw her arms around him.

It caught him off guard and they tilted backward into the wall, his shoulder slamming painfully into the stone. The ache felt far away though, because Uraraka had her face buried in his neck and strands of her hair tickled his chin. Lavender filled his lungs like a breath he hadn't realized he'd needed to take and he sat there frozen because he wanted it—this, all of it.

But she'd been drinking and wasn't in the right state of mind. She was hurt because of Deku and maybe she just wanted someone. It probably had nothing to do with the fact that it was him.

Unphased by his lack of response, Uraraka let out a breath against his throat that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Then, thickly, her lips brushing his skin, she said, "You don't need All Might to make you worthy either."

His arms were around he before he'd realized he'd moved, sitting up and pulling her half into his lap as he shifted them on the stairs. Her face was still pressed into the hollow of his collarbone and he buried his in the mess she'd made of her hair.

He wanted this, but he didn't have the words to ask her if she did too. He didn't know how to convey everything he'd pushed down and locked away for years while she was pining for his rival. He didn't know how to make it seem real, how to make it seem like it wasn't just another competition for him.

After a moment, she pulled back a bit, her eyes downcast. Her face was still right there, nose and forehead almost brushing his and she swayed again.

"I…." she started, chewing on her lip as she searched for the words. "I spent a long time feeling like there was something wrong with me. That I somehow was lacking because no matter what I did, Deku never saw me as an equal. And I know that he's got a bigger burden to bear what with All Might's power, but….I always thought….if he could see you and Todoroki and Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu as rivals...why not me?"

"Uraraka—"

"Wait," she said softly, her eyes flicking up to his as she touched her fingers to his lips to silence him. And it was such an intimate thing that any other words he might've had died on his tongue. She was looking at him, really looking at him, like she could see everything he felt for her in his eyes and that was terrifying. "Let me...let me finish. I...was so down on myself for so long, but you were always there to drag me out of it. You never meant to, I know, but you did. Just by...by treating me like we shared the same arena. So..um...that just...it makes you a pretty incredible hero to me."

Bakugou tried to speak. He wanted to speak. He wanted to tell her that she was a godsdamned amazing hero and that she deserved every inch of everyone's respect, but that would be admitting to her how much he thought about her. How much he cared.

"That was pretty cheesy, huh," she whispered. She meant it as a joke but as she spoke her breath hitched. "Bakugou?"

"Y-yeah?" He fucking stuttered.

She poked a small, padded finger into his chest and Bakugou prayed she couldn't feel his heart racing.

"I would...very much like to kiss you right now."

Make that: prayed she couldn't feel his heart stop.

"But," she went on, cheeks furiously red even as her eyes burned with all the challenge and fire inside her. "I'm not going to."

"Huh?" he said stupidly, pulling his head back a bit to get a better look at her.

She smiled, beautifully, heartbreakingly. "I know you, Bakugou. And I...I don't want you to think that I want to kiss you just because I'm drunk or sad or feeling lonely. So I'm gonna wait until I'm not drunk and sad because I want….I want you to feel worthy of l-love."

She swallowed, like maybe she didn't really mean to say that but it came out before she could stop it and Bakugou felt his heart restart like bomb going off.

"I, I mean!" she pulled away and waved her hands in front of her. "I just mean...I don't want you to think it has anything to do with Deku. Because it doesn't, but I probably never would've been brave enough to say anything without the alcohol and now I've made a mess of everything and—"

"Uraraka." He reached out and snatched her hands from the air, stilling them and running a scarred thumb over the pads on her fingers.

"Y-yes?"

In a moment of either sheer nerve or utter insanity, Bakugou brought her fingers to his lips and placed a gentle kiss atop the pads. Uraraka squeaked and went impossibly redder, but her mouth curved into a shocked sort of smile.

"If you fucking forget you said any of that I'll kill you."

And Uraraka laughed, a full bright sound that shuddered all the way through him and seemed to clear away all the unspoken things that hung in the air. Like everything that kept them apart cowered in the face of her confession.

Bakugou kissed her fingers one last time before standing and lifting her to her feet.

"Go get yourself cleaned up and come back to the party," he said. "Someone's got to save everyone from your friends' pathetic excuse for dancing."

Uraraka grinned and poked him in the chest again. "I'd like to see you do better."

She was all challenge, per usual, and Bakugou couldn't help the smile that twisted at the corner of his mouth.

Knowing full well everything that he was implying, every feeling he was admitting to and all the power he was placing in her hands, Bakugou leaned in close to her ear and said, "I think that will have to wait until you're not sad and drunk and lonely."

"I'm looking forward to it, Bakugou."

And she turned on her heel and bolted back out into the hallway, laughter echoing in the stairwell like a song.