There's a full time reservation
Made in a bar at the railway station,
And there's a story, a kind of fable,
On a card at the corner table.
On it is a message; been there some time.
It starts off, "The coffee tasted so fine..."
As soon as he woke up, Bakugou’s brain registered two things:
First, he wasn't in his bed.
Second, his mouth tasted like death and regret.
Rolling on his back, he stared at the tiled walls. It was a bathroom, definitely a bathroom. And a bathroom that needed some cleaning, on top of that. That was fucking disgusting, almost as disgusting as the taste in his mouth.
Which brought him to his second immediate problem: something had died in his stomach and was contaminating his throat and tongue. Oh man, how he wished he was at home, with his toothbrush and mouthwash, and not lying down in Kirishima’s bathroom floor...
…Fuck, he was still lying in Kirishima’s disgusting bathroom floor.
He jumped up, and that was a terrible mistake – a final terrible mistake, to put an end in the long line of stupid shit that he had done the night before. He felt his stomach twisting, his head was hurting like a bitch, and he had to grab the sink – the dirty sink, for fuck’s sake, when was the last time that Kirishima had cleaned this fucking bathroom? He took one deep, calming breath that surprisingly helped to set his stomach a little, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He looked like shit.
Worse than that, he looked like the shit someone had stepped on. His hair was greasy, he was pale, he had big ass dark circles and his shirt was missing. Damn, now that he was paying attention, one of his Converse was missing as well and there were a lot of suspicious stains on his jeans.
After the shock subdued, a more familiar emotion started to boil inside him.
He was going to fucking murder someone.
Starting with Kirishima. Fuck him and his stupid surprise party and his lack of proper cleaning habits. Then, he would murder Kaminari, because he was responsible for getting him so fucking wasted with that stupid protein shake. Then he would murder Hagakure because he clearly remembered the invisible bitch giving him more drinks when he was talking to Uraraka…
At the moment the name “Uraraka” crossed his mind, his brain short-circuited.
He swallowed dry, not caring about the shit taste in his mouth this time. His reflection in the mirror looked back at him with terrified eyes.
He had talked to Uraraka when he was drunk. Worse, he had talked to Uraraka when he was sober. They had talked. To each other. About feelings. And stuff.
And she didn’t completely reject him. Actually, she had given him the impression that she wanted the opposite of rejecting him. He knew that the smile spreading on his face was fucking stupid, but he couldn’t find a reason to be bothered by it.
He, Bakugou Katsuki, had a shot with Uraraka Ochako. Nothing could possibly ruin that.
Well, that toxic breath probably could. Cursing, he searched for some mouthwash in the cabinet, and let out a relieved sigh when he finally found it. Concluding that a wet hair was probably way better than a greasy one and that he would prefer to wait until he got home to take a proper shower, he wet his hair the best he could in the sink, washed his face and started to feel like himself again. There was nothing he could do about the stains on his pants, but he decided to at least find his other shoe. He had the lingering sensation that he wouldn’t find his shirt and that he should blame Kaminari for that.
The apartment was in a pitiful state. Bakugou made a mental note to never, ever, allow parties at his place, because he wasn't sure if that floor was ever going to be totally cleaned one day. All the furniture was messed, stained or crooked in some way, Mineta was hanging from the ceiling wrapped in Sero’s tape, and something that one day probably had been a fake potted plant was scattered in pieces around the kitchen island. Something in the back of his mind was telling him that his Converse was probably lost in some limbo, but the option of borrowing Kirishima’s crocs made him cringe in every possible way.
The only thing he found, however, was Kaminari sleeping on the kitchen floor, with his shirt wrapped around his head. The idea of waking him up to let hell break loose was tempting, but hearing him whining about it, not so much. Instead, Katsuki filled a glass of water, didn’t drink it – he remembered vaguely something about even the water being spiked – and carefully balanced it on Kaminari’s sleeping face.
Bakugou was in an exceptionally good mood.
At last, he found his cellphone under one of the couch’s cushions, his wallet taped to one of the walls by Sero’s tape – another asshole to add to his revenge list – and his shoe inside the fridge. It was full of some disgusting green drink, that he vaguely remembered being called ‘the rapture’. The idea of borrowing crocs was still less appealing, so he cleaned the shoe the best he could in the sink, knowing it would probably go to a dumpster once he arrived home.
He would have to walk three blocks to go back to his apartment, and he would retire early if there weren’t any paparazzi waiting for him – there was no way they didn’t know about the party that had reunited so many popular young heroes. He was partially happy that his phone was dead because the mere idea of pictures from the last night going viral made him shiver. He needed coffee before checking that. Either way, his coat could hide a borrowed shirt, but he didn’t want to have to explain to his agency’s PR why he had made the walk of shame with different shoes.
Maybe Katsuki was a bit paranoid, but his hero rank was already suffering enough from his lack of charisma. It was one thing to be accused of being a violent hero – what he couldn’t care less about, his results would talk for him. However, being portrayed as some playboy who got drunk and lost his shit in parties were something way, waaaaay different. He had nothing to hide, and exactly because of that, the gossip magazines had recently started the nasty habit of making up shit about him.
He definitely could understand Uraraka’s worries better now.
Oooh shit, he was smiling like a fucking idiot again. Not good, not good at all. He needed some coffee and food before he could fully process that new development in his mind. Oh fuck, he was excited.
“I saw that smile.”
This was getting repetitive.
He turned around, scowling and searching from the origin of the voice, only to find no one. Considering that Kaminari was still passed out and Mineta was probably dead, there was only one answer to that: the invisible girl was naked again.
Now, he could curse her. He could call her a “ghost” or something. But he was no longer drunk, his mind was sharp enough, and even though his head was still hurting, he quickly made some conclusions:
Hakagure was a sneaky bastard. She probably had some embarrassing evidence on her phone. She was Uraraka’s friend. She could make his life hell and interfere with the plans he was already making in the back of his mind.
The conclusion was obvious: he could play nice for once.
“Hakagure,” he looked around, waiting for any sign that denounced her position. “Why are you naked?”
“Don’t look!” her squeak hurt his ears, but he swallowed his complaints once more. “You perv! I’m going to tell Ochako!”
He fucking knew it.
“Hakagure, you are invisible. You work naked, for fuck’s sake!”
She laughed in response and kicked some cushions so he could localize her.
“I’m only messing with you,” she let out a little giggle. “But you get an A+ for the effort to not be a dick. I’m proud.”
Sneaky bastard? Scratch that. Hagakure was the devil.
“Were you sleeping on the floor?”
“Were you sleeping on the bathroom floor?”
Yep, definitely the devil.
“I’m out,” he declared, and put on the wet shoe. Disgusting. He just wanted to go home, he didn’t even need a fucking shirt – he could wear just his coat if he pulled the zipper high enough. That was better than staying here and getting roasted by the invisible devil.
“Aren’t you going to wait for Ochako?”
It was a trap. It was definitely a trap. He could smell it. She had carefully announced those words, using her sweetest voice, just like a hunter placing the bait inside the cage. If he answered her, it would be the emotional equivalent to stepping on a bear’s trap. It was a terrible idea.
“Is she still here?”
Maybe the alcohol had killed his brain cells. He blamed the hangover for his lack of better judgment.
Hagakure took a while to answer, as if she had nodded her head, and then she remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Sleeping like a princess, sandwiched between Tsu and Kyoka,” she kicked more cushions, showing she was getting closer. “Do you want me to go wake her up?”
“No need, I will...”
The problem was, there is no ‘abort mission’ command around Hagakure Toru, former class A resident Invisible Devil.
“Will you call her later? So cute!” he visualized her name slowly climbing up all the spots on his must-to-kill list. “But do you know what would be even cuter? If you took her to eat breakfast with you.”
Fuck, that really sounded fucking amazing.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” her whisper was so close to his face that Katsuki jumped back, startled. If there was one thing most of his annoying ex-classmates shared, it was the same lack of respect for personal space.
“Damn, Hagakure, you…”
He refused to think ‘oh, fuck’, again.
Breathless, Bakugou slowly turned around to face the girl that had emerged from Jirou and Kaminari’s room.
Her hair was all messed up, her eyes were still hooded with sleep, and she was wearing only one of Jirou’s extra-large band t-shirts. He kept his eyes firmly anchored in her face – only pervs stared at a girls’ legs.
“Oooooohhhh Uraraka’s legs!” Fuck, Mineta was still alive.
She irked, jumping back a little, and immediately tried to pull her shirt down to cover more skin. Hagakure laughed, attracting Uraraka’s surprised eyes to space by his side, and Bakugou made two mental notes: Uraraka was adorable when she woke up and Mineta should die a painful death.
“I-I should probably…” Uraraka mumbled, avoiding Bakugou’s eyes while she slowly retreated to the room.
“Ochako-chan!” Hagakure jumped in, quite possibly literally. It was hard to tell. “Ochako-chan, Bakugou wants to have breakfast with you!”
“What?” the question came from the other three people in the room. Uraraka held her cheeks, blushing furiously; Bakugou let out little explosions, ready to blast that invisible bitch out of the apartment.
Mineta, however, was the first to recompose himself, violently struggling against Sero’s tape. “Oh, no, no, NO! Uraraka and Bakugou? Hell no!”
“Eh? What do you mean by that, little shrimp?” Bakugou exclaimed, redirecting his murdering instincts back to the graperv. It was easier to channeling his violent instincts, instead of trying to express the feelings he had for Uraraka.
“The cool guys can’t have it all!” Mineta screamed, still fighting to free himself. “This is unfair, life can’t be that easy for you just because you’re tall! We need short-guys-revolution! Anarchy! I-”
“Just shut the fuck up,” Bakugou screamed, exploding the tape and sending him crashing to the ground. “Or I will murder you.”
“Bakugou!” Uraraka exclaimed, making him freeze.
They stared at each other, blushing like a pair of idiots and fuck, he couldn’t care less about it. He had wanted her for so long and there was no way in hell he was letting those noisy, supposedly well-intentioned friends to get in his way.
“Uraraka,” he said, approaching her. He threw Mineta’s complains to the back of his mind, focusing his attention on the only person that mattered. “Uraraka, do you want to have breakfast with me?”
Hagakure chuckled and he ignored it.
Uraraka’s smile was so bright and big that it made his heart stop for a second. She crossed her hands behind her back, slowly balancing on the heels of her feet.
“Yes, I would like that.”
He wasn't an ungrateful bastard, he would thank Hagakure later.
“Great,” he smiled (just a little).
“Great,” she smiled back (a lot).
“Oh my God just kiss already, you dorks!” Hagakure squeaked behind them, startling both. Uraraka covered her face once more and Bakugou reconsidered everything he had decided about being ungrateful or not.
They heard glass crashing against the floor, and Kaminari rose from behind the kitchen island, coughing and wiping water from his face. He looked worse than the shit someone had stepped on, which was a small victory for Bakugou, all things considered.
“What’s going on here?” he slurred, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
“Kaminari!” Mineta exclaimed, contorting on the floor. “Bakugou is trying to bang Uraraka!”
“Good for him,” Kaminari mumbled, before slowly slide back to the floor.
This was Bakugou’s cue to go before he indeed murdered someone.
“My place, in one hour,” he told Uraraka, who now seemed horrified beyond belief, blankly staring at the point where Kaminari had disappeared. “I’m going to cook.”
Yes, he was bringing out the big guns to this battle – his plan was to charm her with his cooking skills and he wasn't ashamed of it. Judging by the way her eyes sparkled at his words, he had hit the jackpot.
“It’s a date,” she said. Fuck, hearing that sounded amazing. She was also going big – he didn’t expect less from her.
The fact that he could compare their flirting with a fight was a good sign for him.
“Your underwear isn't ready for battle!” Hakagure exclaimed, surprising them once more. Bakugou wasn't going to lie, it was a little hilarious to watch Uraraka being dragged by an invisible force back to the room. She barely had time to wave goodbye to him before the door closed.
He was curious about that ‘underwear’ talk, but for now, he should probably go before something else extremely embarrassing happened.
The first thing Bakugou did after shutting his door was to blow up his disgusting Converse. The smell of smoke and burned rubber was infinitely better than the putrid alcohol it was exhaling before. He was right about the paparazzi waiting for him, so the walk of shame with the sticky shoe had been worth it. His PR wouldn’t have to explain anything to his fans – Ground Zero sleeping over in Red Riot’s apartment was old news. He could take a day off on his birthday.
All of that was bullshit in his opinion, but he had a good reason to pay more attention to those details.
Pushing those thoughts to a dark corner of his mind, he redirected all his energy to vigorously wash his hair. Bakugou brushed his skin until he looked like he was sunburned, the scalding water pouring unmerciful over him, but he didn’t stop until the lingering feeling of alcohol and Kirishima’s disgusting bathroom left his body.
After the shower, he stared at this wardrobe, uncertain about what to wear for the first time in his life. Bakugou briefly considered staying with only his towel wrapped around his hips, mostly because he wanted to see what kind of reaction he would get from Uraraka. He wasn’t Mineta, though, and didn’t want her to think he was dressing up for her (which he totally was), so he chose simple sweatpants and a black shirt.
Now, for the important part: cooking.
He had no idea of what kind of breakfast Uraraka preferred. He barely remembered what she used to eat back in U.A. – he wasn’t a stalker, for crying out loud. They weren't friends back then, nor had they done anything together, let alone sitting at the same table at Lunch Rush. He only knew she liked mochi – a lingering memory, a bit of information his younger self had considered useless for so long.
Ha, his younger self was a fucking idiot.
Bakugou started with a strong black coffee for him. He knew he should probably be drinking water to rehydrate, but his hangover mind needed caffeine to function properly. He wanted to be at his sharpest if he was going to spend the next hours alone with Uraraka in his apartment.
He was going to spend the next hours alone with Uraraka in his apartment.
Ok, he wasn't going to panic like an idiot now. He had been alone with Uraraka before. They had spent a night together in a bar, talking about piña coladas, their jobs, and interns who still needed to be taught a lesson. They also had been alone in the bathroom last night for a few minutes, before he had thrown up.
He should probably be embarrassed, but the memory of Uraraka’s hand holding his, her promise to talk about them, only made him feel good. A girl that sits with you in a disgusting bathroom floor and holds your sweaty hand while you are about to puke, is a girl to keep.
Bakugou wanted to keep her forever, if she wanted him too.
One could say that he was being sappy for a girl he hadn’t even properly dated, but one of Bakugou Katsuki’s best qualities was that he knew himself. He knew that what he was feeling about Uraraka wasn’t a temporary thing, this was the real deal. She hadn’t even tried to make him like her, and he hadn’t paid any special attention to her either.
They were not high school sweethearts – they had been more like rivals.
They were not best friends – they were superhero colleagues that had just become close friends.
They were not insanely attracted to each other – he had never even allowed his mind to imagine her like that.
Nah, he had a simple reason to love Uraraka, one that didn’t need complicated explanations. He would tell her if she asked.
All he needed was a little time to prepare himself mentally, get the food started…
His doorbell rang.
“Shit!” Bakugou looked around for his phone, and then he remembered that it was dead and forgotten in his coat. Maybe he had spent too much time in the shower, or maybe he lost count of how long he had been daydreaming about her while staring at his coffee machine. “Shit, fuck, fuck, shit!”
He practically ran to his front door and pretended that he didn’t. He also pretended that he didn’t right his shirt and tried to fix his messy hair.
He didn’t hesitate before opening the door.
Her hair was still wet, her cheeks were rosy as if she had run all the way to his apartment, and she wasn't wearing her party clothes anymore – a simple pink t-shirt and jeans shorts. Fuck, she was beautiful, he was so screwed.
“Hey, come in,” he said, trying to sound careless about it. She said a simple ‘hey’ and excused herself, taking off her shoes.
“Did the paparazzi give you any trouble?” Bakugou asked and pointed at the extra pair of slippers he kept by the door for visitors – or Kirishima, to be more specific.
“Nah, not really, Toru helped me with them,” Uraraka explained. The slippers were huge on her feet and that distracted her a little. Or maybe she was just using them to avoid his gaze. He couldn’t blame her for that – he was nervous as hell. “She used her quirk to help me leave the building without being noticed.”
“Good,” he commented, feeling like an idiot.
“Yeah… I also had a change of clothes for emergencies in their apartment, so…” she trailed off, finally staring directly into his eyes. Too soon, though, she averted her gaze, blushing and scratching the back of her head. “Sorry, I… Hmmm… I know I’m a little early, but Toru was being so noisy and she wanted to wake up the other girls and-”
“It’s fine,” Bakugou interrupted. Oh God, this was so awkward. “I haven’t started breakfast yet, so-“
“So we can cook it together?” Uraraka finished, clasping her hands, her eyes suddenly lighting up with excitement.
Crap, she could suggest that they did any stupid shit and his answer would be “Hell yeah”, as long as she was doing that cute face.
“Can you cook, round face?” he asked, in part because teasing her was easier than trying to keep a normal conversation. But he mostly just wanted to see her reaction to his challenge.
She didn’t disappoint him.
“Of course I can cook!” she declared, putting her hands on her waist and glaring at him. “I will let you know that I’ve been cooking my own meals since I was ten!”
“Oh?” he crossed his arms, smirking. She was so fucking adorable when she was all nervous. “And what is your specialty, round face?”
“Katsudon!” she answered with confidence. There was nothing in the world hotter than Uraraka being confident, and Bakugou would fight anyone for that.
“Well, cheeks, we can’t have katsudon for breakfast, so I’m going to be the one in charge in the kitchen,” he patted her head, still smirking. “I will allow you to assist me, though.”
“You are terrible,” she snorted, brushing his hand.
“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he joked, and then his brain registered what he just said.
Before he could say something else totally embarrassing, Uraraka giggled. She was blushing, yet she had the softest look in her eyes when she answered:
“Yes, I do.”
Bakugou let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding until now. All he wanted to do was take her, to pull her against his chest and to hug her until his arms went numb. Here she was, this cheerful and bright woman who had conquered his heart so thoroughly, leaving him without any option but to love her, love her until the end of the world.
“I like you too, Uraraka.”
Euphemism of the year.
“Yeah, I figured that,” she was grinning openly, her eyes shining with mischief. “It was hard to miss, after yesterday.”
“I refuse to talk about yesterday before my coffee,” he retorted. His intention was to growl like he always did, but he was too happy for that right now.
What a pair of idiots they were.
“Oh, coffee sounds like a good idea,” she sighed. Paying close attention, Bakugou realized that she also had dark circles under her eyes. She seemed exhausted.
“Come on, round face, let’s put some caffeine in your system,” he said.
She followed him back to his small kitchen. The one-bedroom apartment didn’t have much space, but two people could share the kitchen without bumping into each other every given minute. He poured two mugs of coffee and showed her where she could find sugar, which she promptly dismissed.
Mental note: Uraraka likes her coffee as bitter as his soul.
“I don’t really like the taste, you know, but I don’t mind it either,” she explained, sitting on a chair. “The caffeine is a blessing, though.”
“Especially after night patrols,” Bakugou agreed. He opened his refrigerator and inspected its contents. “What kind of breakfast do you like? Traditional? American? Other?”
He turned back to see her reaction. She blinked innocently at him, hiding her mouth behind her mug.
“Hmm… do you have any melonpan?”
It took a few seconds to his hangover mind to process what she was implying.
“Uraraka,” he closed the fridge, narrowing his eyes.
“Bakugou,” she looked away.
“Uraraka, are you telling me that you only eat melonpan for breakfast?”
He propped his hands on the table in front of her, lowering his body to make sure their eyes were at the same level. She was still blinking innocently, the dumbass.
“Didn’t you just say that you cook ever since you were twelve-”
“Since I was ten!” she exclaimed. Uraraka left her mug on the table and crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks. “And I know how to cook just fine! I just don’t care about breakfast, that’s all!”
“I don’t buy it,” Bakugou retorted, correcting his posture. “I bet you are just a lazy person in the mornings… or that you always oversleep or something.”
The way she blushed and turned her face away from him told him everything he needed to know.
“Fuck, Uraraka, you have to take better care of yourself! Melonpan every day, un-fucking-believable,” he mumbled the last part to himself before starting to put ingredients out of the cabinets. “You are demoted of your kitchen-assistant privileges. I’m going to make a legit asagohan, maybe this way we can purge your body and soul out of your bad choices.”
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t turn around to see why. Bakugou was already in full cooker mode, diligently preparing the ingredients. He would make steamed rice, miso soup, grilled fish just to start. More than a silly plan to charm her, now it was a matter of honor. He would show her how a real breakfast tasted, or his name wasn't-
“Bakugou,” she called him. Tiny but strong arms embraced his waist and he froze, the chopping knife still in hand. “This is why I like you, you know,” she mumbled, resting her forehead against his back. “You may act all harsh and brute but… You care. You genuinely care, you are always taking care of people, in your own way. That’s why I started to think about how would be like to date you.”
He didn’t dare to respond. He didn’t dare to breathe. This was… this was her confession, right? She had said she liked him before, but this was different. This was personal, intimate. Uraraka was pouring out her heart to him.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it, ever since that night in the bar,” she continued. Shit, that had happened six months ago. She had been thinking about him for that long? Fuck. “And the more I thought about it, the more I paid attention to you, and I just…”
She tightened her arms around him. His heart was beating so fast it could explode.
“You know how strong you are, how smart and courageous and handsome…” she mumbled the last word, making him blush even more. “I knew all that too, that’s why I was really surprised when I realized another thing.”
She paused and he waited, silently giving her permission to continue.
“You are always trying your best, always trying to carry the weight of the whole world in your back. Not because you can’t rely on others, I know you can, but because…” she took a deep breath, snuggling her face against his back. “Because you’re always thinking that you can give more.”
He felt like his heart had stopped.
“It’s like if you were trying to compensate for something,” she continued, and his heart started to beat once more. Kamino. All Might. Deku. “Like, if you don’t give all you got, it will be your fault if something bad happens.”
How was she doing that? How could she know him, so truthfully? It was just like that one time, back in UA, when she asked him to be nice to Deku…
“And then I realized that… I didn’t like that. I didn’t want to see you doing that alone. I realized that I wanted to be by your side, always.”
Oh, fuck, he was going to cry.
“You’re amazing, Bakugou,” she whispered her final confession. “I really, really like you.”
And I love you, Uraraka, he thought, but didn’t say.
Instead, he left his knife on the cutting board and turned around with a heavy sigh. His left arm embraced her by the waist, pulling her closer, while his right hand rested against her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her skin. Her face was red with embarrassment and her eyes were wet, but she firmly sustained his loving gazing.
She was amazing, too.
“I really, really like you too, Uraraka,” he said, smiling just a little. “I don’t… I don’t have as many words as you to explain that, but…” She giggled a little and waited, her big brown eyes expectant. Fuck, it was hard to tell things looking at her like this, this was probably why she had embraced his back. Clever girl.
How could he even try to explain how much he adored her?
“I wasn’t particularly paying attention to you,” he started. A memory from the night before crossed his mind, and he gave her an evil grin. “You know that you have guts and roundness, I don’t need to explain that to you.”
Uraraka blushed even more, hitting his chest playfully.
“It’s really simple, actually,” he gently pushed the hair away from her face. “I can’t explain to you how it started, but I feel better when you are around. You laugh, and it makes me want to smile. When you’re talking, I want to listen. When you cry, I want to murder someone.”
Her eyes were huge, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I realized that when we are together, I never want you to go away… and that I was fine with that. I like the way you affect me; I like how you make me feel. I like you, Uraraka, because it feels right,” he said, simply.
He could tell her more. He could tell her about how he instantly relaxed every time he heard her laugh. He could tell her how he felt stronger, invincible, when they were in the field together. He could tell her about the sleepless nights he spent staring at the ceiling and thinking about her, thinking about what they could be.
But not now.
They had time.
Uraraka gave him a loving gaze, holding his cheeks with four fingers. Wetting her lips, she stayed on the tip of her toes.
“This definitely feels right,” she whispered.
He met her halfway.
Bakugou didn’t think – he was breathless, he was in heaven, he was insane. There was nothing else in the world at that moment, only Uraraka, her fingers touching his skin, her lips. His fingers enlaced her hair and he hugged her tighter. She was so warm, so soft. Uraraka let out a cute noise that could be both a sigh and a moan, and he decided that it was a good time to gently push her back.
He kissed her forehead, her hair.
“Damn right,” he murmured.
“Tastes like coffee,” she giggled.
“Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t kiss you this morning,” he growled, remembering the terrible taste in his mouth when he woke up.
“Hmm…” she mumbled against his chest. “I know I am lucky.”
How could she make him blush like that after they had just kissed?
“Flattery is going to take you anywhere, angel face.”
“Right now, I hope it gets me breakfast,” she lifted her head, so he could see her expectant eyes.
“And later?” he asked, not even trying to hide the hopeful tone in his voice.
“Later we can snuggle or take a nap,” damn, that sounded amazing. “Food first, though.”
“Tsc, are you already abusing your girlfriend privileges?” he joked. Uraraka blushed furiously upon hearing those words, but she didn’t look away.
“Yep, and you better get used to it,” she took a step back, putting her hands on her waist. “Now, show me your famous cooking abilities.”
Yep, he could get used to a half-asleep Uraraka bossing him in his kitchen every morning.