Baby Pink
Bakugou/Uraraka One Shot
Summary: Bakugou doesn't want his nails painted but he does want to sit close to her.
Uraraka hated horror movies and Texas Chainsaw Massacre was no exception.
But, Mina had insisted and once she had set her mind to something, it was almost impossible to persuade her otherwise. So, now she was curled up, eyes squeezed shut, beside Jiro, who seemed bored by the gore on screen. This seemed to be how they always ended up after one of Mina’s slumber parties.
They were a biannual tradition for the final night before semester break. Mina gathered all the girls in the common room to watch a movie and paint their nails or tease each other about who they found most attractive in the class. It was a small slice of normalcy desperately needed.
This year a few of the boys had even joined them. Kirishima was curled up on Mina’s other side, wincing at the movie and occasionally sharing a grimace with Uraraka. Kaminari was sitting on the floor, leaning against Jiros legs. He seemed nonchalant but was unable to suppress his flinch at a particularly gory scene.
Despite the movie, Uraraka felt pleasantly warm surrounded by her friends. As if they were just regular highschoolers with silly crushes and English homework. Not heroes in training having endured more trauma in their young lives than most adults they knew.
Finally, the movie ended. Uraraka cautiously peeking out from behind her blanket to see the credits rolling across the screen.
“See, ‘Chako, it wasn’t that bad!” Mina grinned at her.
Asui replied in agreement from her perch in the armchair adjacent but Uraraka shook her head.
“No, Mina! That was so scary, I’m not going to sleep for a week!” She cried, burying her face in the blanket again.
Her friends, apparently no better than the villains they swore to defeat, erupted in laughter, which in turn coaxed a small grin out of Uraraka (despite her best efforts).
Slowly, the girls began to trickle out of the common room, bidding goodnight to Ochako and Mina who were the last on the couch. Mina was painting her nails a pale shade of pink, Ochako made her do it after the movie lest she smudge them in her fear. She finished up and instructed Ochako to flap her hands about to dry them.
“Well,” Mina gave a big exaggerated yawn, “I’m pooped. I’d better hit the hay. Night, ‘Chako!” She headed toward the lift, throwing a conspiratorial wink over her shoulder, “And, goodnight Bakugou.”
Bakugou? Ochako scanned the couches for the grouch before she heard a distinct tch behind her.
He was sitting at the dining table, hunched over his workbook with a familiar crease in his brow.
He looked up and met her eyes. Ochako felt heat rise to her cheeks despite herself. She hurriedly spun back around and resumed flapping her hands around, although they were probably dry by now.
After the initial shock wore off, Uraraka scolded herself. It’s just Bakugou. She had spent her first years at UA intimidated by her overbearing nature, but after living in the dorms with him and her constant exposure to him in class she had been rendered mostly Bakugou-proof.
As if proving this to herself, she spun back around to face him.
“Hey, Bakugou,” She began, unfolding her legs to turn and face him, “Aren’t you going to be grumpy tomorrow from all this late night studying?” A teasing lilt to her voice.
“Fuck off, Roundface,” He gritted out, “Shitty Hair and Alien Freak are fucking all the time so this is the only place I could get some peace and quiet.”
She hummed. Mina made no secret of her sex life, so this wasn’t particularly suprising. But, she recognised his attempt at shocking her, like she was some innocent flower that would scurry upstairs at the mere mention of… intercourse.
“Well, I’m painting my nails.” She decided to continue on this teasing escapade, feeling emboldened by his glower.
“I didn’t ask.”
She huffed out a laugh, rising on her knees to lean her elbows on the back of the couch. He glanced at her before quickly averting his eyes. “Do you want your nails painted, Bakugou?”
Red eyes flicked back up to glare at her. “Fuck off.”
She giggled. “Oh, c’mon…” Before an idea struck her, “Deku lets me paint his nails.”
Bakugou scoffed and without looking up replied, “I don’t give a fuck what Shitty Nerd does.”
Moving closer to the dining table, she continued, “Yeah, I guess you’re just too insecure in your masculinity for pink nails…”
Another scoff. “Yeah, right.”
She leaned on the table. Again his eyes flicked up to her and quickly away. “Mina always says you can tell how mature a guy is by his nails."
“Who are you calling immature?”
Leaning toward him, she grinned. “Oh, so now you want me to paint your nails?”
Furrowing his brow, he thrust his hands toward her, fingers splayed.
Shock painted itself across Ochako’s features before she could school her expression into one of nonchalance. She hadn’t actually expected her goading to work and now that it had, there was a strange feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach.
Before he could change his mind, she darted across the room and grabbed the pink nail varnish, grinning wide. She plopped into the seat beside him and reached for his hand. His skin was clammy, a side effect of his quirk, she guessed.
Twisting his hand, she held his thumb facing up. His body seemed to stiffen beside her. In an attempt to ease his discomfort, she tried to get him talking, “So, what are you studying?”
She looked up, a friendly smile ready to ease him into conversation, and quickly noticed their proximity. He seemed aware of it, too. His shoulders stiff compared to his usual macho posturing.
“English.” He replied, tersely.
She hadn’t actually expected a proper answer. She rotated his hand, one thumb now a pale pink.
“I’m pretty good at English.” She replied.
He scoffed. She felt the puff of air stir the hair on top of her head. “Not as good as me.”
That seemed more like Bakuguo. She grinned. “Well, sorry I’m keeping you from your study then.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Tch… Whatever.”
For a moment neither of them said anything. There was just the sound of their breathing, oddly in sync, and the gentle clink of the nail brush on the glass bottle.
“Why are you out here?” He said it so quietly that she almost could have missed it, blurted out on an exhale.
For the third time that night, Bakugou took her by surprise. She hummed again, noting the way his hands tensed at the sound. “Mina dragged all of the girls out,” she looked up to meet his eye, to hopefully communicate a fond exasperation, “It’s girls night.” She shrugged.
The corner of his mouth lifted, minutely, but she was close enough to notice the pull of his facial muscles, the way his eyes drifted around the room and his brow, for once, had smoothed.
As she focused back on her task she heard, “Pinky is always annoying me with that shit.” She felt each word as a puff of air on the crown of her head, he seemed to have leant closer to her, probably to critique her work.
“Girls night?” She replied, cheekily.
He scoffed, or maybe laughed, she couldn’t tell. “No. Just, like, boring group activity shit.”
“Well, just be glad she’s not making you watch horror movies.” She replied, moving onto his second hand.
“Horror movies are nothing. She could be… matchmaking.” She could hear the grimace in his voice.
She laughed at that. “Trust me, she does that to us, too.”
Looking up to share a commiserating smile, she was met with his face, much closer to hers than anticipated, his cheeks tinted pink.
He looked away. Suddenly interested in inspecting the laminate on the kitchen counter.
“Who does she want to set you up with?” He asked, quietly again.
She hesitated. “All done.” She looked up at him again, his burning cheeks now matching her own.
“Don’t smudge them.” She instructed, sternly.
He didn’t seem to be able to meet her eyes. “I won’t.”
She smiled but remained seated beside him. “Aren’t you going to tell me to fuck off?”
He laughed, no mistaking it this time. “Did you just say ‘fuck’?”
She raised her chin, indignant. “I swear all the time, asshole .”
He laughed again. His expression was so unguarded and oddly tender as he met her eyes again that she couldn’t help herself from blurting out, “Mina always wants to set me up with you.”
He froze.
“Sorry.” She shook her head, pushing her chair backwards. “I shouldn’t have said that, that’s so weird.”
“No.” He grabbed her wrist. “No, it’s not weird.”
Now, she was frozen.
“She tries to set me up with you, too.” He continued, “Because… I was… In our first year, I told her something.”
He dropped her wrist quickly, she hadn’t realised that he’d still been holding it.
She leaned back toward him, “What did you tell her?”
He was blushing furiously now, eyes firmly fixed on the table. “I said you had potential.”
That was not what she was expecting. “Potential?” She drew back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“No, Cheeks-” He grasped for her wrist again, but she pulled it out of his reach.
“And, stop calling me that. ‘Cheeks’, ‘Roundface’, why are you always trying to insult me?” She stood up, hands on her hips, “What if I called you, ‘asshole’ everyday?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, Uraraka.” He sighed, exasperated, “You were the only person I said anything nice about, that’s why Alien Queen-”
“Potential isn’t exactly nice, Bakugou,” She chastised as she sat back down beside him.
He scoffed, but there was none of his usual heat in it.
“Well, on that first day you weren’t exactly blowing anyone’s mind.” He replied, quieter than his usual speaking volume.
He was right, unfortunately. “Sorry that all the extras don’t have fucking explosion quirks, Bakugou.” She slumped in her seat, all the fire drained out of her.
He grinned. “No, you’re different, Cheeks.” He looked down at his nails. “You’re better than them.”
She blushed, despite the obvious insult to her friends. For once, she wasn't overshadowed by her friends. Of course, Bakugou would be the only one to comment on her and not Deku. “I’m hungry!” She shot up out of her seat.
“Well, fucking relax. I’ll make you something,” He grumbled.
“Oh! You don’t have to do that, Bakugou!” She urged, cheeks burning.
“Tch.” He turned toward the stove, “I’m hungry as well.”
She rounded the bench as he opened a pack of ramen. “Let me help at least.”
Hunched over the stove, he turned his head to look at her. His eyes lingered on her bottom lip, tucked up between her teeth as she bounced nervously on her heels. He turned away quickly, tips of his ears tinged pink.
“No offence, Uraraka, but I’ve seen you cook.” He grinned.
The insult barely registered, her mind was caught on the way he said her name. For the second time tonight he had forgone his usual nicknames. It felt weird.
“You can call me whatever, Bakugou. I don’t really mind.” She couldn’t look at him as she said it. All her previous bravado had evaporated when he offered to cook for her.
He hummed. “Okay, Angelface.”
Something warm stirred in her chest. “I like that one better than Cheeks.”
He turned to her, some snarky comment on his tongue but all at once she was overwhelmed by his smirk so big that the corners of his eyes crinkled.
“Do you-”
She cut him off, standing on her toes to press her lips against his.
He froze for a moment before his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her chest against him. Emboldened, Uraraka placed a hand on his cheek, the other coming to grip his t-shirt tightly.
He kissed her gently, his whole body pressing against hers. His lips finally pressing against the side of her mouth gently.
“Angel, can you put me down?”
She hummed, her whole body felt warm and soft. Opening her eyes, she saw Bakuguo floating slightly, anchored to her by the hand on his shirt. But he was grinning. Eyes sparkling as she hurriedly released him.
The moment his feet hit the ground he turned off the stove.
“Let’s go get something to eat.” He was blushing furiously. “Mochi or whatever.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door. “Something spicy or whatever.”
He laughed, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Baby pink nail polish perfectly dried.
