A/N: As always, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT! Seriously, your reviews/favorites/follows mean the absolute WORLD to me.

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You guys can scream at me in those places all day long. :) (periods instead of dashes, and no spaces for the backslash for discord, obvs)

There's more art for this story on my tumblr! The AMAZING soulsborne123 is doing a COMIC for one of the scenes and I am DYING.


Chapter Nineteen: Enough, Part Two

(Uraraka)

They seemed caught in a frustrating dance, spinning just outside each other's reach as the week wore on—All Might cancelled remedial lessons on Monday to give them time to prepare for their upcoming midterm exams, Bakugou was made to go to extra provisional classes to ensure that he was ready to retake that test on Saturday, Kaminari and Kirishima dragged him away to help them study on more than one occasion, and Iida was keeping a watchful eye on Uraraka and Deku's study habits.

Every time Uraraka worked up the nerve to speak to Bakugou, something got in the way.

But not this time.

It was Thursday night and they had their practical exams the next day—she should be sleeping or going over strategies with Deku, discussing what the exam could entail.

Instead, she sat on her yoga mat in the grass outside the dorms, pretending to meditate as she waited for Aizawa to bring Bakugou and Todoroki back from their provisional lessons. She wouldn't let him slip away to his room this time.

Her heart pounded and her hands shook and she chewed her lip until it hurt thinking about what she would say to him. She'd been trying to come up with the right words all week, but everything fell flat when she remembered the way his thumbs had brushed across the pads of her fingers to calm her during Empath's test.

It wasn't like she could tell him "hi, I think I like you but I can't date you because I have to keep going out with the guy that's giving my parents money. I mean—if you even want to date me, of course. Which you might not! You've never exactly said."

Gods, even in her head she sounded stupid.

And then there was that horrible ache that thundered through her when she thought about that night in his room—when he'd almost kissed her and everything she thought she knew had tilted and changed.

She'd replayed it in her mind so many times she didn't even have to think to recall the details—

His eyes followed her hands as she ran the towel down her arms. The rain still pounded heavily against the balcony door, but the sound seemed far away as Uraraka sucked in a breath and came to terms with the fact that she was standing in Bakugou's room. She could feel him watching her, but it didn't feel...intrusive. If anything, there was something electric in the air between them and it made her heart beat an unfamiliar rhythm against her ribcage.

"What changed Nezu's mind?" Bakugou asked after a long moment. His room was cold, but the icy air against her skin felt a long way off under the heat of his gaze. "He can think whatever the fuck he wants, but he seemed pretty set on it being me, even if he never said as much."

The fire in his eyes had nothing on the burning anger in her heart at their principal. At the thought that

Bakugou of all people might betray them. "Uh...me...I think. I changed his mind."

"You?" His tone was both surprised and certain—like he wasn't expecting that answer but knew it couldn't have been anything else.

She brought the towel in front of her face to hide the redness in her cheeks. Bakugou didn't like being saved by others. He didn't like thinking that he was so weak that someone else had to come to his rescue. And yet...he didn't look angry. "I...um...I told him that you couldn't be the traitor...that if you were...than I was guilty too. Because it was just so...stupid."

Maybe she was making up for staying behind like a coward while the others went to rescue him from the League of Villains. Maybe he didn't want a defender, but that didn't mean he didn't need one.

And...he wasn't looking at her like she'd done something wrong. He wasn't looking at her like she'd overstepped her bounds or offended him. Instead, he took a step toward her and it seemed more like an instinct than an intention. Her elbows brushed his chest as she pulled the towel away from her face and he was standing so close she could breathe his gunpowder scent straight into her veins.

More than anything, it was the look on his face—something like shock and admiration and gratitude that all tried to cover up the way the walls were cracking in his eyes.

It was 'have some faith in your damn self.' It was deadfalls and dislocated shoulders and trust falls out of the sky. It was Bakugou, standing in front of her and breaking open even as he tried to hold himself together.

It was that darkness that she saw in him, the same pulsing pain that she felt when she thought of Nighteye. When she thought of the ways in which she wasn't good enough, wasn't ready to be a hero.

Threads that stretched between them, one after another after another, connecting her to him and him to her through all these shared experiences.

And people dared to think he would betray them.

It frustrated her. It angered her. A knife twisted in her gut for what it all must do to him.

She didn't know how to make it better, but she knew what she would want if the roles were reversed, so in a moment of wild courage, she rose up onto her toes and threw her arms around him.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes even as her heart thumped hard enough to break a bone. Cinnamon and gunpowder shrouded her in a comforting cloud as she pressed her face into his neck and breathed it in right from the source. There was something else too, something so undeniably Bakugou that she didn't have a word for it, and it made her warm and jittery in spite of the rain still clinging to her clothes.

And suddenly everything was pouring out of her—the pent up rage that had collected inside her as she'd spoken to Nezu on Bakugou's behalf. Words tumbled over each other in a messy string that she hoped made some semblance of sense.

He didn't seem to get it, so she gripped his chin between her fingers in an act of bold defiance.

("Stop fucking looking down," he'd said to her once on the rooftop, tilting her face to meet his stare when Nighteye's death was fresh and heavy in her heart. He needed that now—someone to help him hold his head high when the world tried to drag it downward.)

"What would they see?" he asked, something desperate in his voice. He clenched his hands into fists at her sides—he didn't wrap his arms around her in return, but he didn't push her away.

She thought for a long moment, searching his face and marveling at the way he was actually letting her in, even just a bit. So often all she saw in him were walls, but this time he wasn't trying so hard to keep them up.

It took her breath away.

She chewed on her lip and didn't miss the way his eyes flicked to the movement. It caused a pleasant flutter in her stomach.

"You," she decided, pushing the butterflies aside because his pain was more important. "They'd see you, Bakugo. And that would be enough."

It certainly was for her.

That was the only thing she could think of that felt honest and real and true. The only words with the same weight as "have some faith in your damn self." The only words that might have the same effect on him as his had had on her.

"W-what?" he breathed, voice breaking in a way that was so unlike the Bakugou he showed most of the time. This was the version of himself he tried to keep buried. The one filled with all the same uncertainties that plagued the rest of them. The one who had been accused of betraying the only thing he clung to, the one that had been captured by the League of Villains and watched his hero fall in order to save him.

And it wasn't that there were two distinctly separate sides of him. Rather, his ego and his anger fed into the insecurity, and the insecurity in turn caused him to be bigger and louder and more in an attempt to hide it. He hadn't learned to balance them, but he was trying, at least a bit. She'd noticed the subtle shift ever since his fight with Deku.

He was trying to be good. Trying to be like All Might. But the people who were supposed to be helping him and lifting him up chose instead to shackle and suspect him, and it was sort of a miracle that he hadn't let it break him.

"If...if they'd actually pay attention they'd see that you as you are are enough. You're enough, Bakugo. Enough to be an amazing hero. Enough to be good."

His eyes widened just slightly and some part of her wanted to crawl inside them, curl up in the crimson and will the words into his heart.

It was what he had done for her without ever realizing it.

She'd spent a long time feeling less than, not good enough or strong enough or smart enough. She'd pushed through it and forced a smile, but there were days where she wondered if she really was cut out for this. If she really was meant to be a hero or if she would only ever amount to sidekick or support.

And then, the Sports Festival. Their fight. The light in his eyes and the grin on his lips as he faced her down like she posed a challenge. Like a round-faced, pink-cheeked, soft girl could stand up to all his explosive talent. The way people consoled her after, saying he'd been too hard on her when in fact he'd lit a spark beneath her and set her bones ablaze with all the drive and desire she needed to push herself and be better.

She wanted to do the same for him.

Her hand slipped from his chin and wound in his shirt, the freshly-sealed cut twinging as the bandages rubbed against it.

"Please stop thinking that what you've done in the past….that your Quirk….that what other people think of you….defines what you can be." She tried to speak with all the resolve he'd ever given her, needing him to know she believed her own words with every beat of her still-pounding heart. "I know you're trying to be better with Deku. And I don't understand everything between you two, but I can see you trying. You want to make it right. You want to be a hero. And I'll say it as many times as it takes to get it through your head—you don't want to be a villain, and so you won't be."

His eyes shifted and cracked and opened and before either of them realized it, his hands were on her face. His fingers tangled in her hair and brushed away tears she hadn't noticed were still falling. Rough palms pressed flat against her cheeks drew her closer and Uraraka's breathing hitched as he leaned in and rested his forehead against hers.

And his lips were so close she could feel a whisper of their warmth against her own.

The next breath caught in her throat because the want radiating from Bakugou was palpable. New and old all at once. Something she'd maybe seen in his eyes but never dared to think could have anything to do with her. All those times she couldn't place the expression on his face...maybe it was all some precursor to this.

Her hands wrapped in his shirt felt like a rope to an anchor—a steady weight to balance out the fluttering of her heart and the floating sensation in her stomach. Letting go might mean getting lost at sea.

But…

She wasn't in this only for herself, she never had been, and an image of Naegi forced its way into her mind like lightning striking a mast.

Pulling away took more effort than she thought it would and the breath finally came out of her in a small, strangled gasp. She didn't let go of his shirt, not completely, but she blinked back fresh tears and choked, "Bakugo, I—I can't."

He tensed beneath her fingers and took a decided step backward, the fabric of his shirt slipping out of her grip and leaving her empty hands grasping at the new space between them.

"I can't." The words hurt more the second time, echoing in her ribs like an out of tune piano.

His eyes were all walls again and that was worse than anything he could've said.

—The thought of speaking to Bakugou—really talking to him—after all that seemed much more daunting.

"I hope you learn to fucking live with it," he'd said about her choice before she'd dropped his hoodie on the floor of his bedroom and ran.

Had she learned to live with it?

Honestly? No.

She was sitting there trying to figure out how to have it both ways and it wasn't right. It wasn't fair to anyone.

She flopped onto her back on the yoga mat, covering her face with her hands and hating that dull, twisting pain in the pit of her stomach—like she'd swallowed a shard of glass.

Up until now, it hadn't really been hard. She'd always wanted to be a hero and doing it for her parents wrapped all her dreams into one. But now...now it was a choice. A difficult one. One between two disparate pieces of her heart and she felt like parts of her were breaking away as she tried to hang on to both options.

Naegi was stability. He was happiness for her parents. He was the life they deserved and had worked so hard for. Being with Naegi meant saving the people who meant the most to her.

Bakugou was...too much. Enough. Everything she never knew she wanted or needed and all of him was crashing into her like pieces falling perfectly into place. Like his burnt edges aligned with her fraying seams and instead of falling apart they put each other back together.

And it was a colossal effort to pull away from that.

But being a hero meant being willing to pay any price. To do whatever it took to save others even if you had to force a smile just to keep yourself from breaking in the process.

But, then again...

Perhaps if she spoke to Naegi, they could work something out. She still hadn't given him an answer.

"I...I'd very much like for this, between us, to be real," he'd said to her that day after their photoshoot.

She couldn't force herself to feel something for him, he had to know that, right? It would be one thing if there was no one else, if she could give it a try because there was nothing holding her back.

But every time she even thought about being something more with Naegi, it was Bakugou's rough palms on her face that settled in her mind like boulders at the base of a mountain—steady and sure and immovable. Red eyes and a careful scowl and truth as biting and beautiful as a song.

Naegi would understand...wouldn't he?

Car doors slamming and footsteps on the path broke her train of thought before she could decide, and Uraraka sat up and dropped her hands from her face as Bakugou and Todoroki approached.

Todoroki nodded and lifted his hand in greeting before continuing toward the dorms, but Bakugou stopped, shoving his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants and looking at her like he was waiting for something.

He seemed calm enough, though his eyes shifted when they met hers and she was finally starting to be able to read them—nervous, wary, certain, wanting, determined.

"H-hi," she said lamely, heat rising in her cheeks as she remembered again the way he'd run his thumb over the pads on her fingers during Empath's test.

He didn't move, and neither did she, still sitting cross-legged on her mat in the grass. She'd dressed warmer this time—leggings and a sweater instead of her usual tank top. This way, he couldn't get onto her about it, couldn't give her the hoodie (gods, he was wearing that hoodie) again.

If he even would.

"Well?"

Uraraka jumped at his voice, at the edge in it.

"Well what?"

Bakugou breathed out hard through his nose and worked a muscle in his jaw. "What do you want, Uraraka?"

"I…" she fumbled for words. Surely….surely he wanted to talk about everything that had happened? Surely there was something to discuss. "I wanted to talk you, about….you know. Everything."

Uraraka pushed herself to her feet, knees weak with nerves, but Bakugou deserved that much at least—for her to meet him head on in this and everything else.

He swallowed, hesitated, searching her eyes like they held more answers than he wanted to find but he still needed to look.

And it struck her suddenly that Bakugou didn't know any more about any of this than she did. Just because he was brave and confident and always had a plan when it came to fighting villains didn't mean that he was….experienced with...with all this emotional mess.

Bakugou was hesitating.

And maybe not because he didn't want, but because he didn't know what to do.

It made her feel infinitely better and absolutely worse at the same time—she wasn't in this alone, but she couldn't expect him to take the lead or make the decisions or make this easier.

Then again, when had Bakugou Katsuki ever made anything easier?

"Is there…" he started, then looked away with a scowl and cleared his throat. "Is there anything to talk about?"

You tell me, she wanted to scream, wanted to ask him to give her a straight answer as to what exactly he wanted or expected out of this, but how could she demand answers from him when she didn't have many to give him in return?

Her cheeks heated and she waved her hands in the air vaguely, searching for something, anything, to say. It was like they kept passing the ball back and forth but neither had a shot at the goal.

Have some faith in your damn self.

"Yes," she said finally, her voice a little breathless even as she steeled her resolve. "There is."

He met her eyes again and gods if she could bottle that look, if she could always remind herself that as hard as it was for her to admit that there was something, it was just as hard for Bakugou to ask if there was anything in the first place.

"Yes," she said again, rubbing her thumbs across the pads on her other fingers. Her breathing was erratic and her heart was banging in her chest and she kind of wanted to vomit or float away or both. But Bakugou was trust and resolve and fight and she could be all those things in return. She could be all those things so he didn't have to be—or, at least so he didn't have to be all those things alone. "There's...a lot to talk about...I think."

Bakugou studied her face, and even though her blush deepened, Uraraka didn't feel the desire to shrink beneath his gaze.

Instead, she wanted to meet the challenge she found there. She wanted to be mountain, not a flower.

"Then—"

The jingle of an incoming call to her cellphone blared through the night air, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

Uraraka deflated as his eyes hardened. Knowing it could be any number of people, about any number of things, she couldn't just ignore it, so she looked away from Bakugou and dug through her bag for the offending object, fishing it out as the ringing seemed to grow more insistent.

[Incoming Call: Naegi Nobusuke]

She might have groaned out loud, though she couldn't be sure. It was lost in Bakugou's angry "Tch."

"I don't have to…" she started to say, but she did. She needed to answer it. She needed to talk to Naegi before she talked to Bakugou, needed to do this right and cause the least pain she could. She needed to figure out where Naegi stood if she were to tell him no.

"Answer it, Roundface," Bakugou said, eyes narrowed as he worked that muscle in his jaw again.

They stood across from each other, the twilight breeze teasing their hair and blowing through their clothes and it was so like that night he'd shoved his hoodie into her arms. And so like that night when she'd felt like such a failure and he'd built her up with his own brand of confidence.

They stood across from each other, more than a meter between them, and Uraraka thought perhaps neither of them had a good answer, neither of them knew what to do.

They stood across from each other, a bit like their first real encounter at the Sports Festival, and Uraraka wondered how things had managed to become so complicated since then. How his simple "The real fight starts now, Uraraka!" had turned into this.

The phone stopped ringing.

Bakugou looked at her hand, still clinging loosely to the silent device, and then back up at her face, a question heavy in the set of his jaw and the tug of his eyebrows.

Mountains didn't shrink away from storms. They didn't bow in the face of uncertainty.

And mountains….they didn't live their entire lives for someone else.

"Do you really think..." Uraraka began softly, chewing on her lip and forcing herself to keep her chin up. "Do you really think my parents would….want me to….to…." She swallowed, willing courage into her bones and her heart and her tongue. Her cheeks were warm, and a shaking feeling buzzed through her veins like a drug. It was terrifying. It was thrilling. It was too important to give up or walk away from. "Do you think they'd want me to risk their jobs for something that I...that I want?"

Gods it sounded selfish. But maybe…maybe the line between taking care of people and giving too much had grown blurry over the years. Maybe her desire to take care of her parents had caused her to forget that they could take care of themselves, too.

And it didn't matter that Bakugou had never actually said that he wanted it too. Uraraka was going to be a hero, damn it, and she could be brave enough to put herself out there first.

So she left the question hanging in the air like debris above a battle stage.

(Bakugou)

Something that I want.

Something she wanted that would be a risk to her parents' jobs. Something that would involve ditching the Pretty Fucker.

Bakugou.

Him.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Stars were bursting to life in the inky sky above them—dancing pinpricks of light in her eyes that remained perfectly undimmed in their imitation.

Her face was red even in the dark, but she held her ground across from him, standing up to him and staring him down and daring him to meet her half-way. To bring it on, to knock her out of the ring. To fight her and fight beside her and match her blow for blow.

We're a team, she'd said before.

But were they ready for this?

He'd spent so long trying to convince himself that he didn't want her that way, that there were bigger things that deserved his full attention.

And then she'd come to his room while he was on house arrest—dripping rain water and still bloody from their fight with the League. She'd wrapped her fingers in the front of his shirt and tilted his world without using her Quirk—she'd made herself a part of his dream to become number one. She'd shown him that wanting both didn't lessen either.

And gods if it hadn't hurt like a solo deadfall when she'd pulled away. When he'd almost kissed her and she'd run.

But now...now the roles were reversed. Now she was standing in front of him offering up more than either of them had ever been willing to say aloud.

And he was fucking terrified.

He'd been training to be a hero since he'd first seen All Might on tv as a kid. He hadn't been training for, or ever expecting to have to think about, anything else—especially not things like the godsdamned mountain of a girl standing across from him.

He didn't know how to be...something more with anyone. He didn't know anything beyond the desperate ache in his chest in the face of her. He didn't have a plan or a strategy or that practiced fighting instinct to rely on. He had nothing but himself to give.

You're enough. Her voice in his mind like an anthem.

Tch, get out of my head, Roundface.

But she wouldn't.

Bakugou had always been the type to face challenges and overcome them, to figure out a solution and give whatever it took to make it happen.

But he'd never really had so much as a friend, let alone someone who was more than that. He'd never been good at personal things, at opening up or sharing his insecurities or helping someone else bear their burdens.

And more than anything, he feared he'd mess it up.

He feared he wouldn't have that innate talent. He wouldn't even be a contender, let alone be the best for her. And failure wasn't something Bakugou was any good at stomaching.

Uraraka was...so many things. Not only was she fighter and a badass and a hero, she was also kind. She was the type of person who was always there for others when they needed her...what if she needed someone who could offer that in return? Did she realize that he didn't know the first thing about any of that? Did she realize that he'd done nothing but take from her since they first became a team?

She stood across from him, awaiting an answer, holding her heart in her hands and asking if he wanted it.

And gods he admired her courage.

He let out a long breath through his nose, reminding himself of all the times she'd seen through him so easily. She knew him. She had to know what she was getting herself into.

"I…" he started, hating what he was about to say—the weakness in it—but also certain that he needed to say it. "I don't….I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be good at this." He paused, taking another breath and willing himself to find even a fraction of her courage within himself. "...But I meant what I said before—living your whole life for someone else isn't really living, and your parents don't want you to spend your life trying to make their lives easier. Just….fucking ask them."

She ran both hands through her hair, looking away from him and seeming...lost. And maybe there were some things that she didn't know how to do, too.

And maybe it was some deep-rooted heroic instinct inside of him, maybe All Might was actually wearing off in a way that mattered, because a piece of Bakugou ached in response to her pain. He wanted to help.

For no other reason than to stop her hurting.

Bakugou didn't know how to help, but damn it all if he couldn't try. Two strides closed most of the distance between them and he stopped in front of her, breathing in her jasmine and lavender scent and trying to determine what to do next.

There was one tried and true method at least, so he willed his fingers not to shake as he reached up and pulled her hands from her hair. He held them in the space between them, just in front of his chest, and rubbed his thumbs over the pads on her fingertips.

He marveled a bit at the roughness of her hands—this soft-looking girl with scars that snagged against his callouses. Marveled also at the fact that he could look at them and name where so many of them came from. They'd already fought so many battles side-by-side.

"Don't think about your parents for a minute," he said, his voice low as he took in the sight of her before him. He wanted to will the uncertainty out of her eyes and replace it with that familiar fire. She chewed on her lip, obviously trying to keep her gaze up at him rather than looking down—good. "Don't think about the pretty fucker or...or me and anything. What do you want, Uraraka? For no other reason than that you want it."

She paused for a long moment, searching his face. Her eyebrows pulled together as some buried spark danced back to life in her eyes.

"I want…I want to help people. To save people. To be a hero that people rely on. The type of hero that people want on their team. You know? I don't want to be support. Or just rescue. I want to really make a difference. And I want people to stop treating me like I'm so...breakable. It's like no matter how many things I do to prove myself it's not enough and ugh."

She stopped again, chewing on her lip. "It's not enough to anyone but...but you. I...I want people to look at me the way you do."

The last few words were nothing more than a whisper, and her face was impossibly red. But she'd said them, while he couldn't even form his thoughts into sentences. While he couldn't even work up the courage to put himself out there in any way besides a few brash, impulsive actions.

And in spite of all of that, she seemed to understand. And she was here. And he made her feel like she was enough too.

Bakugou brushed his thumbs across her finger pads again, more for himself this time than for her

He'd wanted to kiss her that night in his room, but that had been a fleeting, passionate, desperate feeling. She'd been the one helping him, the one saying all the words he needed to hear and meaning them.

He still wanted to kiss her, but this time...he wanted what came after, too. That whole intimidating mess of emotional...stuff...connection—helping her, saying the words that she needed to hear and meaning them—it was…so much more than anything he'd ever wanted before. It was putting faith in someone else as much as in himself. It was giving and taking in equal measure and not knowing but working together to figure it out.

And maybe that was part of what it meant to be better.

"I want that too," he said, and he didn't know if it was the right thing to say, or if it was what she needed to hear, but it was already so much of his heart laid bare that he wasn't sure if he could muster anything better. "I want that for you, Uraraka….and I want…"

"Y-yes?" she prompted when he stopped, and gods her eyes. They looked into his, that spark and challenge raging through them, but there was also something like...like hope.

She wanted this too, whatever it was. And she didn't know how to say it either.

If she could be brave for him, he could follow her lead, even if it scared the ever-living fuck out of him to do it.

"And...I want you, Uraraka."

(Uraraka)

She stopped breathing.

His thumbs were on her finger pads and his breath was warm against her face and he was scared. He was nervous and unsure and he didn't know what to say but he was trying.

And Uraraka couldn't breathe.

He wanted this enough to put himself out there. He wanted this enough to make himself look weak. He wanted this enough to offer up a part of himself that he didn't show to anyone.

He wanted her enough.

And she hadn't realized that those words were all she really needed to hear.

All along, the Sports Festival and everything after, he'd made her feel like she was enough. She never felt like there was more she had to prove to him, only more that she wanted to prove to him, and that made all the difference.

"I—" she started, her voice a little choked. And then she couldn't help it—all the tension, all the fear and the pain and the pent up feelings, all of her frustration with herself and her heart, all her doubts about Naegi and all the joyful ache she felt for Bakugou—it all came pouring out of her in a laugh that started deep in her stomach and bubbled up out of her like a pot that finally reached its boiling point.

She entwined her fingers through his, ignoring his confused (bemused) scowl. "I want you, too, Bakugou. But I have to talk to Naegi first. I'll make him understand."

"And if he doesn't?"

Uraraka took a deep breath, knowing that Naegi very well might not understand, that he might fire her parents or coerce her to stay. But being a hero meant having faith in other people, too. It meant thinking that others would do the right thing, and Naegi had never seemed like the malicious type.

"We hope that he does," she said, the giddy grin refusing to leave her face as she gave his calloused fingers a squeeze. She stood on on her toes, trying to get closer to him without actually touching him beyond his hands—the happiness practically radiating from her was something she wanted to will into him, too, though she thought he might already be feeling it judging by the careful light in his eyes. "And we have faith in him to be good. And if not...then we cross that bridge when we get there. We...we're a team Bakugou. Whatever happens."

He opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from the dorm entrance burst through the bubble they'd wrapped themselves up in.

"Bakugou! Uraraka! It is three minutes past curfew!" Iida said, standing in the doorway in his pajamas. "What are you still doing outside at this time? Please come in and get ready for bed."

Bakugou growled, but Uraraka laughed.

"Coming, Iida!" she called backed, pulling her hands away from Bakugou's to roll up her yoga mat. They'd been positioned with Bakugou's back to the dorms, so all Iida would have been able to see would have been him. Not that Uraraka cared if anyone saw her holding hands with Bakugou, but she would like to officially end things with Naegi first.

"Saturday," she whispered up at Bakugou, trying and failing to wipe the smile off her face as she straightened and walked with him to where Iida waited. "While you're at your exam, I'll ask Naegi to meet."

"And then?"

Uraraka laughed again. Stubborn jerk, making her do all the talking, but he'd said the big things first, and she didn't really mind. "Then...we figure this out."

He didn't say anything else, but she swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward as he knocked his shoulder into hers while they squeezed past Iida through the door.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt wonderfully, exquisitely, unbelievably right.


A/N: I am pleased with this one. And I don't say that often. I hope you liked! Please review!