#this is mostly an extrapolation on their friendship but u can tag it as tho so /shrug

[panicbones]

Well I used to be an only son (Yeah) My heart was but a gambler Heavy as a loaded gun And it howled above the weather

“Eat your fucking pity,” Bakugo spat, face contorted and red with rage, but his eyes were shinning and his shoulders shook ever so slightly. Uraraka’s mouth worked around open air for moment, trying to regain hold of her next thought, but Bakugo was barreling on.

“Deku just couldn’t help rubbing off on you, huh? Fucking figures. Well you can go fuck yourself and wipe that fake fucking look off your face, because I--”

“Bakugo, stop,” Uraraka shouted finally. They both reeled back, stunned into silence that overtook the air in a stranglehold of tension. Uraraka, thankfully, recovered first. “Look, this isn’t pity. Hell, it’s not even sympathy. It’s empathy. I just- you and your mom. That can’t be a healthy dynamic,”

“I didn’t fucking ask whether or not you thought it was healthy,” Bakugo sneered, but he at least wasn’t yelling.

“Yeah, well that’s what friends do,” Uraraka huffed, but words came more easily now. “We give you advice you didn’t ask for because we care.”

“You’re not my friend,” Bakugo said automatically, too quickly. Uraraka rolled her eyes.

“Right. Well, if you ever want someone to talk to--”

“There’s nothing to fucking talk about,” Bakugo snapped, but Uraraka ignored him.

“--about whatever is obviously not bothering you whatsoever, you can talk to me,” Urakaka felt herself breathing a little easier. Bakugo stared at her like she’d grown an extra head or two, but it was edged with something much more vulnerable and volatile in the redness ringing his eyes.

“You’re fucking crazy. What the fuck do you have to say, anyways? Your family is perfect.”

Uraraka snorted, trying to fight down the urge to laugh. Really? Holy shit. “Even family that loves you can hurt you,” Uraraka said instead, her smile sardonic. Bakugo narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. Uraraka held up a placating hand.

“It’s late, and I’m tired. I just came here for something to drink, and then I’m going to bed,” she said, breezed past him. Bakugo stood very still, immobile, and behind him, Uraraka got her cup, filled it, drank, and then put it in the sink. She kept a good distance as she edged around Bakugo on her way out, but he still flinched. 

She didn’t say anything, but she felt it, even without touching. It made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t want to remember.

“Hey, what happened to the phone?” Kaminari whined the next morning. He gingerly picked up the warped husk of plastic, inspecting the hand prints denting its sides, and frowned. “Yo, Bakugo,” he called, not turning around.

Bakugo, with a spoon halfway to his mouth, stiffened. Uraraka sat a table away, quietly taking note; she hadn’t tried to approach him during breakfast, and he made a point, without looking at her, to sit as far away as possible.

“Did you use the phone last night?”

Bakugo’s hand tightened around his spoon, smoke rising between his fingers. Uraraka spoke up immediately, “Oh, some wrong number kept calling last night while we were studying, and he wouldn’t get the picture so Bakugo cussed him out and broke the phone,”

It was a solid alibi. Uraraka had been studying by herself last night, and Bakugo was certainly there at one point, but it was a good enough excuse that didn’t give too much away on either end. 

Uraraka watched Bakugo relax an inch, then he grumbled, “Piece of shit wouldn’t take a fucking hint.”

Kaminari nodded, appeased, and Kirishima dropped down beside Bakugo with his own breakfast, scowling. “Dude, we gotta work on your temper,”

The hum of morning chatter resettled like a comfortable blanket, and Uraraka let Midoriya and Iida tug her into a heated discussion over that week’s homework. A few tables away, however, Bakugo was staring.

They didn’t talk about it for a couple weeks after. Bakugo took a few days just to acknowledge Uraraka’s existence; she’d dropped her books while carrying her studying material to the living room, and Bakugo insulted her lightly while kicking her items closer to her but otherwise not offering to help. It was an improvement, surprisingly.

Uraraka hadn’t forgotten though, but she’d elected to think Bakugo ignored her offer. She didn’t lose sleep over it, but she certainly had it in the back of her mind. She hadn’t met Bakugo’s mom, but she knew of her.

“They’re really similar,” Midoriya had said offhandedly one day. “His mom kind of scares me, actually. I mean, she’s nice enough, but they talk to each other like they’re about to throw punches,”

It didn’t sit well with Uraraka, but she did not approach him. Bakugo was a wounded animal armed to the teeth even on good days; his baseline friendship with anyone was founded on hostility. Like any emotion other than raw anger or overinflated ego was totally foreign; some language he could hardly understand, let alone communicate.

Uraraka didn’t say anything, took what interaction and weird Bakugo-style “niceness” he gave her, and coexisted. It was nearing three weeks when he finally said something.

Bakugo wasn’t one for subtlety, and Uraraka had noticed the building tension rippling off of him in waves from across the living room. She couldn’t really stifle the yelp when he yanked the back of her shirt the moment her study partner, Sero, got up though.

“Calm the fuck down,” Bakugo snarled, letting go and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I need to fucking talk to you, but not here.” And then he was stomping off in the opposite direction, leaving Uraraka no choice but to tail after him, Sero be damned.

She’d nearly slammed into him when she rounded the corner, and a retort was on her tongue, but it died the moment she registered Bakugo. 

His whole body was stiff. Shoulders rounded, face lowered, brow crinkled and mouth mashing around a toothy growl. His eyes, though, were shifting, exposed. Uraraka didn’t feel like she should be seeing this, but he was speaking.

“You, uh. Fucking. Fuck you,” he snapped, but he was trying to find the right words. “You fucking said your family was also shit sometimes. So cough the fuck up, asshole, or I’ll fucking kill you,”

Uraraka, against her better judgement, was trying very hard not to smile. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away, a complex mix of emotions boiling in her gut. Remembering. Feeling guilty. Anger found its way in there too, old and subdued. 

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah, they are, sometimes.”